Disclaimer: Beetlejuice and all related characters belong to Warner Bros. I wouldn't take responsibility for BJ if you paid me. No way, baby.


Chapter Two: Interloper

After dinner, Lydia trudged upstairs, determined to empty out the boxes that were filling up her room before she went to bed that night.

She had gone through the same conversation at dinner with her dad was she had with Deila about the photographs, and he had peered at the smudges curiously. But nothing stayed for long in her father's head, and the conversation moved on to school and his plans for an architect's studio. Lydia had been left with a curious sensation that she was missing something.

Once upstairs, she noticed that her room was still much cooler than the rest of the house, but it seemed perfect for the work she was anticipating. She stretched languidly, her hands reaching towards the ceiling, and then jumped, startled by what sounded like a stifled giggle. And her fingertips tingled. She peered at the ceiling, but nothing was there. Nothing at all.

Oddness. Hearing things, seeing things, feeling things. The house was probably haunted. "Whoever's in here, I hope you don't mind sharing…" she muttered. She settled down in the corner and lifted the first box off the top of the pile. It would be a long night.

Beetlejuice rubbed at the place where her fingers had brushed through him. Served him for being too curious, getting too close. His body tingled with warmth from her touch, and it was not an unpleasant sensation. He scowled. This little girl had to go. If she was still here in two weeks, he would eat his hat. And he wasn't planning to have to buy one. He settled in on her canopy to watch her as she worked.

Five minutes later, he was bored. Bored, bored. Her methodical movements were immensely irritating. Into the box, out of the box, book here, book there. She must be the most anal person on the planet. Books weren't supposed to be organized; they were much more interesting if you happened across one that had been underneath the kitchen table for half a century or so—it was like a little discovery. If you actually knew where everything was… well, it was just too much. Really, just too much to bear.

A penny found its way into his nervous fingers. Small metal objects had that tendency. He could fill his pockets with the tiny items collected in a day of roaming. The penny bounced from one hand to the other, and then began a circular boomerang path around the room, pelting closer and closer to Lydia's dark head as she sat absorbed over her work. She looked up just as it flashed by an inch from her nose, and she swatted at it as if it were a bug. Ah, now this was amusing. He swung it around until it was flying fast enough to leave a mark, and it whistled by her ear. She scowled, but turned back to her organizing. Swish. It must be making an audible whirring by now, just barely perceptible to the dull ears of a human. Then suddenly, with a loud thwack, it slammed into a hardcover copy of the poems of Robert Burns. Lydia picked the penny up off the floor, and in a voice clearly meant to address the entire audience, said, "That is really annoying." She tucked the penny into her pocket, and went back to her books.

Beetlejuice was a bit taken aback. The penny trick always got at least a nervous look, or a shiver, or some kind of reaction. But this pale little girl hadn't even broken stride. He chewed a bit on his bottom lip, pondering. Possibly he had underestimated this one. Well, if she required something spectacular, then he was more than willing to provide it. He hadn't gotten to stretch his legs in a long time. And if her books were any indication, she was just clever enough to be tricked into letting him out.

He settled back and closed his eyes. He would have to think about this. And she would get a little time to pretend that she had won this round. He absolutely refused to admit that she had gotten the better of him. Not such a frail, dark little girl. Not in his lifetime. But his eyes strayed open, and he watched her for a very long time, a nickel spinning hypnotically from one hand to the other.