A/N: Thank you guys so much for the reviews! They were definitely encouraging, and made write more, sooner than I probably would have otherwise. Here is the next chapter, where things get more… interesting. Read to find out what happens.

Oh, and BTW: midnightskywanderer, I know Paul and Jesse wouldn't have been so buddy-buddy, but since, you know, he does have the same power as Paul and Suze, I'd think it'd bee cool if he'd get to learn more about his craft along with Paul and Suze. But any way, that's just me.

So enjoy guys! Oh, and please R&R, thank you! :-)

Ch. 2: I SEE DEAD PEOPLE

Did I expect anything different when I arrived to school the following morning? I don't know, maybe for Jackie to come up and say "Hi!" to me in the school halls? Not really. Well, okay, so sue me for expecting some recognition from her, but I got nothing. Not as much as a wave, or a smile, or even a, "Stay away from me, you Spawn-of-Satan Jerk!"

I would have even taken a dirty look from her – did that make me a little more than desperate? Oh, by the way, guess what? I found out I had three different classes with Jackie Sonrisa and never even noticed her. That just goes to show that people see what they want – or don't want to see; and before, when I first moved here, I pretty much only wanted to see Suze. I didn't even notice Jackie until I was really looking for her. I felt a little guilty for not really seeing her there before. Now, I was more than aware of where she was. There was only one problem: I guess Jackie didn't want to see me. Okay, she literally saw me, but she seemed to look through me - like I was part of the wall or something. And that bothered me – a lot.

Would it seem too egotistical of me for saying that Jackie seemed to go out of her way to ignore me? Ego aside, I think that's what she was trying to do.

Why? I asked myself more than once during the day. I wanted to ask her myself the exact same question, but, I'm ashamed to admit, I was afraid if I did approach her and talked to her, she'd blatantly pretend she didn't hear me. And I didn't think I could stand such obvious ignoring.

Well, whatever. I tried to brush it off. I mean, who cared?

Okay, so I cared. It didn't mean I had to show it, and let her know she was getting to me. No one, ever, I mean, got to me. Why her? It wasn't making any sense to me.

It was later that night. Jesse, Suze, and I, along with Father Dominic, were trying to mediate five particularly ticked off ex-veteran soldiers. Who just happened to be dead, by the way. Yeah, yeah, we can see dead people. Don't act as if you're surprised.

And we weren't having the best of luck with them. In fact – even though I wouldn't be the first one to admit it – it was going quite the opposite. I noticed Father Dominic – the priest – whip out his cell phone that he had purchased a while back in December. I managed to duck another chunk of the benches in the basilica, and thought, who the hell could this guy be calling at this hour? Right when we were dogging pieces of the basilica that happened to be flying at all three of us, I mean.

Five minutes later, I heard footsteps and panting. I panicked. Who would be running into the church at this time of the night – besides us four, and five very pissed-off ghosts I mean?

Out of the shadows, I noticed, emerged…

Jackie?!

My attention was on Jackie, and I unfortunately wasn't paying attention to the splinters of railing headed directly at my torso. But I managed to turn just in time to avoid what might have possibly been an extremely painful collision.

I can't say I didn't mind having my attention distracted by Jackie. And I can't say I didn't appreciate the sight her mini leather skirt gave of her very long, very tan, very beautiful legs.

"I-I came as soon as I could, Father Dominic," she was breathing very heavily, like she just ran, or bicycled a long distance. Then she looked up and saw all four of us. "What are they doing here?"

She then spotted me. Her eyes narrowed.

"You," she said almost vehemently.

"Nice to see you again, too," I half-waved and smiled.

"Don't ever speak to me again, you hear?" she said roughly. She then settled into business. Jackie was wearing – besides the black leather mini skirt, I mean – brass knuckles on her hand, and was carrying a heavy wooden baseball bat. Whoa.

"Let's get the party started, chicos (guys A/N: I'll put Spanish translations, for those who don't know how to speak it, in parenthesis next to the word)," and proceeded to, ahem, do so.

Jackie fought dirty. Not in a bad way. Ghosts can fight dirty too – and most of the time, do, Suze once told me – so I wasn't arguing. Plus, I grinned on the inside; if I had learned to, I would have fought dirty against the ghosts as well.

With another person on our side – making it five on five, which was fair in my book – we managed to… persuade the ticked-off veterans to move on to the next side.

"So," I said conversationally to Jackie after we finished the whole thing, "You didn't mention that we happened to share the special gift of… well, you know… last time we chatted." Even though we didn't really chat; it was more like me blackmailing (I like to use the term, "persuading." Besides, she needed a ride, and there was no other way to get over her pride and attitude of, "I don't need anyone's help.") her to give her a ride home.

She glared at me in response, and stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then she finally said, "Didn't know you cared."

Ouch. I didn't want her to know that I cared about her, or anything. Did I care for her? Besides, it would just give her something to poke fun at me about.

I acted like I didn't matter at all, "I don't care. It's just, you could have told me. And I said I was sorry about the whole C.D.-stealing/throwing-out-the-window thing."

"Secondly," she informed me. "How the hell was I supposed to know that you 'see dead people' too? Don't blame me for not telling you. In fact, why didn't you tell me?"

"Stop fighting, you guys," Suze came between us. "You two aren't making any sense. Paul, have you met Jackie?"

"Yeah," I tell her.

"Children," Father Dominic came. He was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. "It makes me so pleased to know all four of you are working together and saving lost souls. It is an indeed inspiring thing." Had he even been listening to the conversation Jackie and I were having? "But Jacqueline," He looked down, sternly. "I don't really agree, nor like, your style of … mediation. I told Susannah that long time ago as well. I don't know what they teach you in the city - you and Susannah both come from major cities, you know – but it's not what I'd like to see from you."
Jackie looked at Suze. "Are you from LA?"

Suze said, "No, but I came from Brooklyn. Are you from LA?"

"Yeah," Jackie gave a nostalgic smile. "Lakers, baby," she then whooped.

"So what are we going to tell every one, Father D?" Suze asked.

Father D sighed wearily, and ran his fingers over his saggy eyes. "I don't know, but I'm sure I'll figure it out in the morning. You four should get home now. I know your parents must be so worried about you."

Yeah right, I thought.

Jackie snorted.

"I doubt it," Suze informed the Father.

Jesse didn't have his parents around any more – and besides he was legally an adult so I didn't matter to him. He sighed and said, "I have classes in the morning, though." Medical school was very rough on him.

"That's right, Jesse. You all have school tomorrow, so go. I'll take care of this. Do you all have rides?"

Ah. The ever parental-side of the good Father.

Suze jerked her thumb to her boyfriend, "Jesse's driving me home."

"I got my car," I informed them.

"Jackie?" Father Dom asked her.

She blushed. That's right; she blushed again. She looked so cute while doing that, it made me think, if she weren't the heavy-eyeliner, tough-girl that she was. If she were more preppy, and dressed more like, well, Kelly Prescott, would I have ever liked her? Asked her out? Fallen in love with her? The last thought startled me. Love. That was like some crazy, farfetched, romantic dream. I shook my head to clear it from these thoughts that lead into dangerous territory for me.

Jackie muttered something. As we went outside, I saw why she was hesitant to answer the Father's question.

There stood a pink bicycle, with those ribbons coming out of the sides of the handle-bars, and it had a ringing bell on it, no doubt about it. It looked like it belonged to a five-year-old.

We all stood in astonished silence. "It belonged to my neighbor's kid…" Jackie began explaining embarrassed.

"Are you telling me you stole this bicycle? From your neighbor's child? You stole a bicycle from a child?" Father Dom said in horror and reprimanded.

"See, you told me it was emergency…" Jackie said, excruciatingly embarrassed.

"I thought you told me you couldn't pedal up the hill to your house?" I accused her angrily. Had she lied to me?

"I said I couldn't pedal up the hill to my house. I didn't say I couldn't pedal down the hill, going to the basilica."

"So what was your plan for getting home?" I demanded to her.

She shrugged, "I didn't have a plan. I'd just manage, and figure something out."

"Figure something out?" I say furiously. Had the girl no fore-sight? A wave of protectiveness toward her I couldn't explain came over me. "That's it. I'm taking you home. Get into the car," I gesture, my thumb in the direction of where I parked the car.

She looked up at me, with her eyes afire. "Since when did you become the boss of me?"

"Since you started not thinking ahead of time!" I yelled. "Who leaves their house, and doesn't consider how she's going to get back?! So get into the car, or I'll carry you in there myself."

"You wouldn't dare," Jackie hissed at me.

"Children, children, please! Calm down; I'm sure we'll settle this," Father Dom said nervously. How could the guy be able to persuade five murderous ghosts a minute ago, and then not handle two people arguing? Maybe he was feeling really worn down after the first conflict. I don't blame him for being exhausted already. Jesse and Suze had left ages ago. Then again, Jackie and I were in a world of our own, while arguing, and were oblivious to Father Dominic and everything else around us.

"Oh wouldn't I?" I cocked one eyebrow up, in response to Jackie. Then before she knew it, I swooped down, and picked her up, and started to carry her.

"Let me go!" she shrilled, screamed, kicked her legs, and punched me with her flailing arms. But I was carrying her in the "husband carrying a wife over the threshold" kind of way, and so she couldn't really be able to hit me really hard.

Or maybe she did, and I didn't notice, because I was a man with a mission. And Jackie was going to let me take her home whether she liked it or not. By the time I got her to the car, she'd given up, and stayed quiet during the car trip home. There was no No Doubt to fill the night's silence, and I didn't turn on the radio because I just didn't feel like listening to any music right now.

I dropped her off. She didn't say a thank you or anything and walked up the steps into her house.

"Until next time," I informed her weakly, as she went in, but then drove off into the night to go home.

That night, I couldn't sleep again. Why? I thought about Jackie too much for my peace of mind, I had realized. It was crazy. Why did I think about her so much?

Kelly. You didn't think she'd disappear entirely did you?

No, to my chagrin, she did not fall off the map, disappear, or get abducted by aliens.

But, on the bright side, her calls were getting less and less frequent. Did she get tried of me? No, it wasn't that easy. It was because Suze's brother, Brad Ackerman, asked her out for coffee. I mentioned it to Suze, who laughed and informed me, "I told Brad he'd get two weeks off from washing the dishes if he asked Kelly out. He was more than happy to oblige – and I don't think it had to do with the dish-washing."

With that, I walked down to where I knew Jackie had her last class of the day. Jackie eyed me warily.

"Relax," I told her. "I'm just here to give you a ride home from school; so come on. Let's go."
Jackie sighed. In an exhausted voice, she informed me, "How many times must we go through this until you get it through your thick skull: I. Don't. Need. Your. Char-i-ty." She pronounced the word, "charity" in its individual syllables. "Got it?" she told me.

I smiled. "This isn't charity. I'm giving a friend a ride home from school." The words that came out of my mouth both startled and amazed me. Friend? Since when had I started thinking of Jackie as my friend? I don't know, but some how, for the moment that seemed about right. Friend. Okay, then. "So let's go."

I grabbed her hand, and started to half pull, half drag her to my car. The familiar jolt of electricity that I felt in detention when I held her hand sparked and danced about in my palm and fingers. I didn't – couldn't – look at her face to see what she was thinking and feeling. But she must have, must have felt it. No one could ignore something so… I don't know, magical.

I just did not think of that word. No I didn't. Paul Slater using the word magical… I didn't, couldn't have thought of that word. I automatically ran my free hand through my curly, thick brown hair.

JACKIE

(A/N: the name in bold letters means it's from his – or her – point of view. It'll either be Paul of Jackie's point of view.)

Paul grabbed my hand and started to drag me to his silvery BMW convertible. You didn't see any cars like this back were I come from. In the 'hood,' I mean. In LA, we had to rough things out.

Sure, we were pretty rich back when I was growing up. We lived in the city of Bell Air – you know, where the show, Fresh Prince of Bell Air "took place" in. We were living on high rollers then. Or at least I think we did, from what I can remember. I was only seven, when Dad left without a single goodbye – and that was just a faded memory in itself. Mom was forced to move to LA. Correction: the bad side of LA, in East LA…

Away, when Paul grabbed my hand, something weird happened, like my skin reacted – in a good way, I guess – to him, and my hand felt all strange. You know when a part of your body falls asleep, like a foot or your arm or something? And then it feels all tingly? Well, imagine that magnified by a hundred. That's how it felt like.

I yielded – again – and got into the car. The first time I let Paul take me home, I turned in blinding rage, and didn't know what I was doing. The second time, he carried me. That wasn't my fault, technically. And plus I promised Father Dominic to return the bike today to Brittany, my neighbor's daughter, who by the way felt so sad when she realized her bike was "lost", guilt struck me like a blow to the stomach (something which I have experienced before). I shouldn't have been surprised Paul could carry me; I was just surprised that he did. I mean, Paul is not on the scrawny side by any stretch of the imagination. Paul was hot, and even I wasn't immune to his good looks. But why should he know that? It's not like he likes me or anything like that.

We drove down the scenic way to my house – even though when we reached my neighborhood, it was anything but scenic.

Paul parked the car. We had just been exchanging opinions on that one mashing-up thing, where the band, Linkin Park, and rapper Jay-Z did a sort of 'duet' and remixed their songs.

Paul liked it. I thought it was a bit weird, and it took some getting used to, but I guess I could appreciate art, and that they were mashing two totally different genres of music to make the songs.

It was all a business, Paul informed me. In his opinion, it was another way for MTV to make money: besides, both Linkin Park and Jay-Z fans would by the C.D., so it was their way of doubling up their profits.

Well, whatever. I was going to get out of the car, then suddenly stopped, and turned to Paul.

"Listen," I began. It was kind of hard for me to say this; and the fact that I owed any one like Paul a thank you wasn't sitting too well with me. So, uncomfortably, I told him, "I just wanted to say: thanks. For the ride – rides. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

I waited him to say something. Anything; like, "About time," or give me some sort of self-satisfied sneer.

He remained quiet, but his eyes ran over my face. It was kind of scaring me. Any response was better than this – this that made me feel like squirming in my seat. And then, the worst – or should I say best? – part of it all, he started to lean. That's right: he started to lean towards me like he was – oh my God! He was going to kiss me! This scared me more than facing seven angry ghosts – back in East LA – at a secluded alley-way.

I didn't know if I was more scared of what I'd do if he started kissing me – would I kiss him as badly back? Or if I felt more excited that Paul wanted to kiss me – Paul, who'd just broken up with Kelly Prescott: the most popular girl in the school. I was also having a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach at the idea that I might actually like him.

I'd never felt that way about any one. So I did what any reasonable girl would do: I smiled, and said, "Well, nice seeing you. Bye Paul!" in a rush, and GOT OUT OF THERE as quickly as two human legs could possibly run.

When I got inside and was safely behind my front door, I exhaled loudly out. What was that all about?