F l a s h l i g h t

by Stark Raving Lolly

Nathan Blake. Robin Lawrence. Charles Austin. Bart Ford. Four boys, all dead. A violently haunted exboarding school. A fire in 1969. A man named Cole to run from. A mystery to be solved...and a love to be determined. Busy, aren't we Suze? [FINISHED]

6. Moving Fast

'Where is this place again?' I asked Father Dominic, looking doubtfully at the map of California that was strewn across his desk. I was still like, totally against this idea. Well, okay, not totally. But I was not too chuffed about it, suffice it to say. I had no clue what was going to happen. What, Ghost Busters? We were going to jump in there and kick some spectral ass? Well, um, how about – I don't WANNA be dubbed "insane"?

But yeah. I'm already "emotionally unstable," what's a few more titles, right? Whatever . . .

'Gilroy, California,' Father Dom pronounced as he pointed its location out to me on the map, 'The garlic capital of the world.'

Oh, yum.

'Are you serious?' CeeCee cocked her head to the side in curiosity. She was sitting on the edge of Father Dom's desk, playing with a slinky that she found in the drawer where he keeps the confiscated goods. Adam had some new portable gaming device and Jack was flipping through some skateboarding magazine. I was just sitting in the old leather chair that I always used to sit in when I went in for my daily chats with Father D. Yeah, daily. And not for the Good News of the Lord lectures, either.

Heck, no.

I wouldn't admit it, but it felt so comforting just being there again. I had no idea how much I had missed everything. Missed it so much that it hurt. But especially, I missed being guided. Without Father Dominic around, I never knew what to do. I had to figure it out on my own, and just pray that I didn't screw things up. But I always did. So I used shifting as a last resort. And let me tell you, I've been using the shifting method a whole lot lately.

'Darn,' Adam said as he slapped his knee in disappointment, 'Then I can't go. My kind is not allowed there.'

'You're a vampire?' Jack asked, rolling his eyes as he was checking out the various helmets. Obviously he has never encountered creepy old men who think they are vampires. Word to the wise, Jack? Always keep those number two pencils on hand.

I felt a pang of pain at this little anamnesis. Aww, man . . . This wasn't going to stop, was it? I was going to keep on remembering . . . every little thing. And I was going to regret ever leaving . . .

Adam turned around for a few moments. When he faced us again, he whispered, 'Vat do you fink?' as he showed Jack his teeth. Jack jumped about a foot in the air from where he was seated. He sank back down in his chair when he realized that the teeth were fake plastic ones that Adam found in Fr. D's drawer.

I snorted loudly, and hid my mouth behind my fingers. CeeCee began giggling at Adam, who sauntered over to her, grabbing her and dipping her low, saying 'I vant to suck your blood,' and then pretending to bite her neck. And, er, in not such a vampiric way, after all.

I'm talking, "Oooh baby, I want you" biting.

Right in front of the holy man and the kid.

Not that they were really paying attention to everyone else in the room anyway. It was like they lived in their own little CeeCee Adam land, where no one else existed but each other. Mmm . . . must be nice.

'That's not too far from here,' I noticed, looking back at the map uncomfortably. It looked pretty close from what the map said. There was the Carmel-By-The-Sea area, Monterey Bay, and then Gilroy a little off a ways. Not too shabby for our first mission.

'It will take at least two hours to get there, if not less,' Father Dom said as he shuffled around some papers. 'We need to make arrangements for transportation and lodging. We have very little money, but I'm sure we can find a nice motel around there –'

'Father Dom,' I said flatly, 'I am not sleeping in a motel. Those places are disgusting.'

Granted, I had been in a great number of motels in my day. None of the visits were all that pleasant. But I really couldn't afford much else. That's why, whenever I visit Gina, I very politely request that she let me stay in her apartment the duration of my stay. Well, that and her Godiva chocolate giving boyfriend? He has some really good connections to the best restaurants in New York. Staying in a motel could never compare.

'Yeah,' Jack whined as he closed his magazine, 'They aren't very clean and they totally reek!'

'Like you!' Adam said to Jack.

Jack had sniffed his armpit instinctively, before he realized that Adam was smirking at him. Jack narrowed his eyes at Adam and cocked his head to the side. When he couldn't contain it any longer, a grin crept on Jack's face.

Adam coolly slipped the vampire teeth back in and walked over to one of the curtains in the office, throwing it over his shoulders like a cape. I seriously hoped that Father Dom had sterilized the teeth, because . . . um, ew? Wouldn't want Adam to catch mono or Hepatitis or something.

Father Dominic turned on his new spiffy computer and began looking up something. He mumbled the names of some hotels and motels, a frown growing on his face after seeing the prices.

Adam's acting like a vampire made me wonder about our first job. I mean, was there a certain story connected to this place? Did the infamous crazy cat lady on the top of the hill live there? Maybe the place was infested with vampires or something . . . EW. Only one way to find out . . .

'What's up with this place anyway?' I asked, crossing my legs and placing my hands in my lap.

'It used to be an old boy's boarding school,' Father D replied, now searching for the fax that he just received from our customer a few minutes ago. 'The owner, Mr – er . . . oh dear, his name has been blotched out by ink . . . ' he frowned lightly, his more deeply manifest wrinkles appearing across his forehead, 'No matter . . . yes, this boarding school was called, if I am correct in pronunciation, Fortunaschwein.'

CeeCee dropped the slinky.

Jack lowered the magazine.

Adam almost swallowed the vampire teeth.

'What about tunafish?' he grilled, his eyebrows quirked.

'Huh?' I gave Father Dom a weird look. 'Fortune swine? As in, pigs and . . . um, pig things?'

'This was a school for humans, right?' CeeCee checked, leaning forward, her sleek white hair framing her even whiter face perfectly.

Father Dominic's mouth twitched. 'I rather believe so,' he answered simply. 'Ninth grade till twelfth, I presume. And if memory serves,' he lowered the fax, his face going blank as he reminisced vaguely, 'There was some sort of tragedy that impelled the closing of the school. I do not recall, exactly, what that tragedy was . . . ' he said apologetically, his eyes glowing with soft blueness.

'My bad,' Adam squeaked, imitating Father Dom. CeeCee smiled up at him. He was still behind her chair, tantalizing her neck with his fingers. CeeCee looked like she was in blissful Elysium. Again, must be nice.

As opposed to Memory Lane.

Was it just me, or was Father Dom getting a little senile? I mean, with the whole forgetting things so easily. It took him five minutes to find the keys to open his office. Father Dominic, I'm afraid, wasn't getting any younger.

And yet, I envied him. Not that I wanted wrinkles or age spots or anything, I just wished so dearly that I could forget about the past five years in the same way Father Dom could forget about the tragedy at the Boarding School for Piggies.

That's how you know I'm pathetic for sure . . . I wish myself senior moments. Great, just magnificent.

'Lay off those who are holier than you, Adam,' I said as I shot him a warning glance. Father Dominic, even though he was very funny when acting old, was still one of my favorite people around. I felt inclined to defend him.

Adam stopped touching CeeCee's neck for a moment and looked at me in mock confusion. 'Oh,' he said after a few moments, 'You mean Father Dominic.' He then continued on, tucking CeeCee's hair behind her ears and then tickling her a bit behind them, causing her to giggle a bit.

'Hey,' Jack said, repulsed by the couple next to him, 'I'm right here. Hi, how are ya doing?'

I smiled at Jack. I noticed that Jack's attitude was kind of familiar. He reminded me of, well, myself really. His voice was slightly tinted with sarcasm, and he sat in his chair much the same way as I used to . . . leaning all the way back with arms resting, fingers lightly drumming on the ends of the armrests. The way he sat suggested that he visited Father Dom nearly everyday and also hinted of a certain confidence in himself . . . one that I used to have.

I was unstoppable, back in the day. I thought I knew everything. Anything was possible in my world. It was a nice place to live, really. A world where my biggest concern was if kicking a ghost's ass would ruin my shoes. Fashion, ghosts, and trying to grab the attention of a certain hottie were my high priorities. It all seems so childish now . . . but I was happy then.

Reality hit one day and then I realized . . . my fashion sense turned into that ugly green Starbucks apron, the ghosts become more deadly, and that certain hottie didn't want to go with me . . . he didn't want to be a part of my life. Life, in a matter of a few hours one terrible day . . . turned for the worst.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

There was a horrible lump in my throat . . . he wasn't supposed to say this . . . he was meant to be kissing me, and whispering sweet Spanish that I didn't for the life of me understand . . . and loving me. Not hurting me like this, no . . .

'I-I do not know what is holding me back, Susannah, but when I find out, that will be the end of me . . . of us.' His hands, I noticed, were shaking. But he had a soft hardness in his eyes. Like, he was trying to block out something very painful . . . or not show it. 'This is not easy for me. I want to be with you . . . but this is for the best.'

I felt like I couldn't breathe.

'I can't . . . I can't believe you're doing this . . . ' I whispered, barely audible.

My mouth was open very slightly, and I felt a deadly chill. Like I'd fallen through an ice lake, into the freezing water below . . .

'I cannot believe I am doing this either,' Jesse held his shaking hand out and looked at it. It was glowing. It always glowed. It served as a constant reminder that Jesse did not belong to this Earth any longer, and yet he was far from welcome in the spirit plane. He was stuck . . . stuck in some sort of limbo between the two, an outsider in both parts.

A hollowness overtook me, combining ruthlessly with the feeling of terrible, everlasting cold.

'I love you, Susannah. I wish you well . . . only the best. I may want to go with you, querida, but that is the last thing you need.'

He thought he knew what I needed? He didn't know anything . . .

Jesse stepped closer to me, reaching out his shaking hand to touch my face. His fingers were warm, but they made my icy face sting in pain. He let his eyes take over for a bit . . . searching mine for something, anything that could save us.

He found nothing.

Nothing.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

'Suze? Hello, earth calling . . . er, whatever planet you're on, preferably Uranus, because . . . well come on, you gotta love Uranus – '

I snapped out of my stupid memory, and looked at Adam, who was waving his hand right in front of my face. Oh God . . . I felt as if these memories were stronger and more imprisoning, back in Carmel. They held me captive, and were relentless, back where the energy was strong, I guess. Carmel was the hotspot, the location of all of these things . . . But it was scary to think that I totally blanked out from the world, when I was consumed by these recollections. Very scary . . . 'Huh?' I asked in a daze.

'All right, Space Cadet, it's time to return to your home planet,' Adam joked, pointing to the globe that Father Dom had near his desk.

My home planet . . . where was that again? Certainly not Earth, because it was plagued by pollution, global warming, and we had a hole in our Ozone layer. The planet I hail from? The conditions there were much, much worse.

'I guess I zoned out,' I apologized, my face flushing. 'It's been a long day.'

'That is quite all right,,' Father Dominic assured me with his soothing voice. 'I was just saying that we need to meet at the boarding school by early morning tomorrow. Is seven all right with you, Susannah?'

I blinked at him, not hearing him for about six seconds. Then, delayed, I registered what he said. 'Oh, um, yeah. Great. Seven rocks.'

CeeCee leaned forward, slapping Adam's hand off her shoulders – he was trying to give her a neck massage but his hands were obviously chilly, otherwise she wouldn't have squeaked like that. Squeaking is my terrain, thank you. 'Er, Suze? Are you . . . ' she cast a circumspect look at Father Dom, who was searching the net – yes! The priest-beast has succumbed to technology – 'Er . . . do you do drugs now?'

I stared at her. Jack looked up from the skateboarding mag, grinning insanely. 'Ha, she thinks you're on crack – '

'I'm serious,' CeeCee said with a frown. 'Suze, those things are addictive, you have to remember that they can seriously cause you damage – '

'Hello?' I snapped, 'I am perfectly drug-free, thank you. Crack is whack.' I gave her a glare, and she backed off with a sarcastic, 'Well, sorry.'

CeeCee eyed me suspiciously one last time, and then returned to Adam-poo, patting the hand he had on her shoulder.

'So basically our new job is getting rid of some ghosts that are haunting this former boarding school?' I asked Father Dom. 'What do they plan to do with it once it's ghost-free?'

'Mr- um, I forget his name-, he plans to make it a bed and breakfast or a small hotel, I believe,' Father Dominic replied, sounding proud that he remembered something. What I'd give to be in his shoes. Well, actually Dr.Scholl's isn't really my style.

'What happened? I mean, how does he know he place is haunted with ghosts?' I asked.

'I . . . I think it had something to do with his wife. Some strange paranormal experience happened to his wife.' Father Dominic turned away from his computer to face me. The look on his face was blank. He pried his brain for a few more moments and shrugged, turning back to the page, which was only partly loaded. 'Oh, wait. That's right . . . they ran it in the papers the other day. His wife was rummaging around in one of the dormitory rooms, when she was all of a sudden locked in. They had to call the fire department to assist her. Oh, my, that must have been frightening indeed.'

'What about him? Has he seen anything?'

The computer made this annoying beeping sound just then, and the blue screen of death appeared on Father Dominic's computer screen. Father Dom uttered some very colorful four-letter words at it, banging his fist next to the keyboard.

'Father Dom!' I shouted, scandalized. I mean, sure, I um, said that one all the time, but – Father Dom didn't– he was . . . HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HOLY.

Ugh . . . kill my perfect little world, why don't you?

But – to think . . . a man that reminded me constantly to keep my mouth clean began cursing at a computer. He was a man of God for God's sake!

Well, THIS sure as hell was going down in the baby book.

Day 1: Father Dom says a yucky word.

Day 2: Father Dom goes Matrix on us.

Oh . . . I shudder to think . . .

Jack smirked widely in satisfaction. 'Ha! Father Dominic said – '

'Jack!' I yelled, covering his mouth with my hand. Great . . . now Father Dominic's sailor mouth was now corrupting the youth. Not that Jack wasn't already corrupted by having to watch his brother's make-out sessions with stupid British models.

'You are way too young to use such language,' I scolded Jack, waving my pointer finger at him as my mom used to when I was his age. Jack scowled and tried to bite it, but I quickly moved my finger away. Kids these days. . . and famines . . .

Father Dominic muttered a hasty apology as he tried to restart his computer. Jack was still grinning to himself. I knew he was silently regretting not having a tape recorder on hand.

We can dream.

I gave a sigh. Maaaan, I'd missed a lot. Since when was Dommy a potty mouth? Man, I would have loved to be at the butt-end of THAT. Father Dom – acting sanctified again, thank goodness, my head could only take so much, you know? – looked a little embarrassed. And so he should. Humph, all those years of telling me not to swear, not to use God's name in vain, not to spit, they'd all blown up in his face.

Kaboom.

Frowning a little, I moved to the corner of the room behind Father Dominic, near his bookshelf. His top draw was open. I noticed the absence of his emergency pack of cigarettes. Yay. At least my leaving benefited someone; Father D will live for another twenty years now.

I muttered to him. 'Father D . . . why do Paul and Danielle and Jesse have to be in this thing?'

He stopped clicking madly with the mouse, and turned to face me. 'Susannah, Mr. Slater has explained that already,' he told me.

'What?' I demanded, 'That I can't take it? THAT'S the explanation? Oh, great. Way to make a girl feel better about herself. Really . . . I feel confident enough to audition for the Miss America pageant now. Thanks.'

His fluffy eyebrows furrowed. 'No, I do not mean that. They are here because . . . well, strength in numbers, Susannah.'

'And Jesse?' I asked hotly. 'Why him?'

He blinked at me. 'Susannah, why are you so against this whole idea?'

'Because . . . ' I started, but then I trailed off. What's the use? No one would ever be able to understand. Jesse and Paul? They caused me great pain in the past. Such a terrible pain that haunted me every time that I woke up in the morning, every time I donned that ugly apron, every time Cole hit me, and every time I retired to my bed for another restless sleep.

'First of all, Dani and Paul aren't going to take this seriously. They'll probably take this as an opportunity to make-out some more. And Jesse? Yeah . . . he IS a ghost. Wouldn't that be a little bad for our name . . . a ghost busting team that has a ghost following them?'

'They can't see Jesse,' Jack pointed out to me. Darn kids and their logic.

'I just don't see it ever working,' I said, ignoring Jack.

'Come on, Suze,' CeeCee pleaded, 'At least try it. We may be able to do without Paul, Dani, and Jesse, but we certainly can't do this without you.'

For a moment, I felt very touched. CeeCee just admitted that the SIA needed me. Me . . . Susannah Simon. Headcase central. People relied on me. Mr. Whoever-he-is had a job for us to do . . . one that couldn't be pulled off without me.

But then I realized that that was a load of crap. CeeCee, being a sound reporter, knew exactly how to coax people into telling her things. And what she was doing, telling me that they needed me, was just another plot to get me to say yes. It wasn't going to work this time.

I wasn't going to be deceived, so . . . blah!

I supplied her with a miffed gaze. 'That's bull, Cee. Of course you could do this little ghost-buster-wannabe thing without me. I mean, hey? You have Super-Shifter-Paul on deck, right? I'm just there as a dumb sidekick or something.'

'Robin was a cool sidekick for Batman,' Jack said, so engulfed in his magazine that he really didn't get what we were talking about. He was SO not helping.

'But Robin was always Batman's shadow,' I replied. 'There is no Robin without Batman. And without Paul playing main shifter, I'd be, well-'

'Interior décor,' Adam said thoughtfully.

'Yeah, what he said,' I snapped. CeeCee shot daggers at him, and turned back to me. 'No, Suze. You're there because we need you. You're apparently a very adroit shifter – '

'More bull, Cee,' I butted. 'You didn't even know what a shifter WAS two hours ago. So don't give me that. Look, long story short?' I said, my hands officially on my hips and I gave her an ultimatum, 'Me, or those three.'

'Susannah,' Father D began reprovingly, but Jack got in. 'Er, Suze, don't be all PMS-y, please. That's totally not fair.' He pouted. 'I don't want you to not be in it. But Paul's my brother. Dani's his girlfriend. And Jesse's my best friend.'

. . . Oh, joy. That.

I shrugged. 'Well, I get the point.'

I know! I was being a right little brat. But, er, hello? I was NOT about to willingly plunge into a job where not only would I have to see PAUL'S face 24/7, but Jesse's! I wasn't emotionally or psychologically ready to do that. The torture that only a few hours of seeing them again had triggered, well, it was almost unbearable. Picturing me all calm and collected? Yeah, maybe on the surface. But beneath that? Get a clue, I was a wreck.

The thing is, I could hide it so well. In my psychology classes they told me that such behavior was truly dangerous. I knew that slowly my inner turmoil would eat away at my insides like acid. It'd also leave a nasty burn.

I refused to do this to myself. I WOULDN'T. They had NO IDEA what I had went through, trying to forget! I was already ripping apart my mind, tormenting myself just BEING here. I wasn't going to be in this pathetic SIA with – with them.

Both of them.

Together.

Oh God . . . hell . . .

'Susannah, please be reasonable about this,' Father Dominic said as he shook his head. Oh, no. Here it comes . . . the stop-being-childish-and- start-acting-like-an-adult-because-you-are-one-now-and-you-can't-blame-this- on-teenage-hormonal-problems-so-ha-busted speech. I've heard it a zillion times. From employers, my mom . . . the lot of 'em.

'Save it, Father D,' I said as I put up my hand to quiet him. 'I know what you are about say, and trust me, it will not do you a lick of good. I will not- I repeat WILL NOT- go on this little escapade if those three happen to attend. I'm sorry that's just the way things are.'

Jack pouted at me, his lower lip quivering just as it had when he first told me that he could see ghosts. His wide blue eyes were filled with sadness and a hint of a tear was welling up. I knew this was just an act . . . Jack probably used this face whenever Father Dom or Jesse told him that he couldn't do something. I should know . . . I've used the face before.

But the thing is...he just looked pathetic. And yeah, I'll admit, a little cute too, with his sad, sparkling eyes peeking out from under the brown curls that fell in his face. I became a victim of the dreaded pouty-face.

'Fine,' I grumbled, holding my hand over my mouth, looking away from everyone.

DAMN THE SLATER PUPPY EYES.

'What? What was that?' Adam asked as he leaned over, cupping his hand over his ear. 'You might need to speak up. Father D's a little deaf now that he's an official senior citizen.'

'I said FINE,' I growled. 'Happy now, guys? Gosh, the things I do for you all . . . teach you swimming, vice presidency . . . giving up punching people . . . You all owe me. Big time.'

'Oh Suze!' CeeCee squealed. 'I knew you'd come around! This is going to go great! You won't regret it.'

'Thanks, Suze,' Jack said shyly. 'I'd really have a hard time breaking the news to Paul and Dani that they couldn't join. I'd rather work with you.'

I beamed and ruffled his hair playfully. Only, this time instead of scowling at me, his smile grew wider, his shiny white teeth nearly blinding me.

'Jesse, however,' he said, a grin tugging at his lips, 'I would sneak in.'

Everyone laughed, except for me. It was so not funny. This . . . it was certainly no joke.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Home sweet home at last. After a long evening at the Chapel, it was a nice surprise to come home with dinner on the table. Everyone was at the table, eating peacefully like a family. When I used to live here, I never ever would have imagined calling my mom, stepfather, and stepbrothers a family. But now they looked very picturesque.

Everyone was eating Andy's home grilled hamburgers with fresh French fries and a home grown salad appreciatively. And me? Well, I was late. My empty chair, my tired soul, and my growling stomach beckoned.

'I never thought you'd make it home,' Brad – no, Dopey joked as I took a seat. 'That thing at the chapel was pretty freaky, eh?'

He was asking me if it was freaky? Uh, duh, Bradley, it was quite possibly the freakiest thing that had ever happened.

Of course, he didn't know what was going on the whole time. He would have been even more freaked out if he realized that there was a dangerous biker gang that was after his former classmate Paul Slater and everyone that got in their way. He didn't see the motorcycles that tore the pews to shreds. He didn't even see the knife held at his own stepsister's chest.

I'd say he wouldn't know freaky if it came up and bit him on the butt.

Poor freaky . . . ew.

My mom fixed me a plate, shooting a few chanced glances at me. 'Do you know what caused the incident?' she finally asked when her curiosity got the best of her.

I let out a huge sigh. I loved my mom to death, don't get me wrong. If I were a normal woman, I would run to her and tell her all of my problems. But the only thing is she, like everyone else, would never be able to understand. Even if she did know that her only daughter was a liaison between the spirit plane and the Earthly plane, she would never know the hardships I had to go through to keep this whole thing a secret.

I did, for a few moments, consider telling her. I even thought to come out to my whole extended family . . . the Ackerman brothers and their father. David already had a hunch about me, and I'm sure Jake and Brad would understand. Jake would finally be convinced that I am no longer in a gang, and Brad would finally be convinced that there really was some truth to the nickname "Queen of the Night People".

But then again, my worst fears were bound to my heart like super glue binds to two fingers. I just could not spill my guts about my ability.

So I swallowed and replied, 'No, mom. It was totally weird, you know. It was like some unforeseen force was ripping up the pews.'

I hated lying to my mom. It was one of the worst things in the world. But after keeping this from her for so long, I could not blow my cover. It would be way too hard to back out now.

'Hmm,' Jake grunted, wiping some ketchup from his chin with his napkin. 'You know, that's probably the most exciting thing that's happened here in a long time, Suze. I'd say everything got a little more quiet since you left.'

I literally froze . . . my fork raised to my mouth. I set the fork down, clearing my throat nervously. Sleepy, though not the smartest or most awake of my stepbrothers, noticed that weird stuff only happened around me. I was busted . . . I was as good as admitted into that insane asylum. Straightjacket chic? Here I come . . .

'So, Susie,' my mom changed the subject suddenly, 'What are your plans? I mean, since the reunion is cancelled. Are you going back to work? You could stay here and invite Cole to stay with us too. I would love to meet him sometime.'

I began to choke on my food. Brad reached over and patted me on the back as I tried to swallow my food correctly. Cole Kennedy? I nearly forgot about him. Cole . . . the guy that abused me, hit me, and tore me down to nothing. I guess I was too busy worrying about two former flames that decided to parade in my life again. You know the long lost love of my life and the guy that I love to hate? They were back . . . back to ruin my life once more. And my mom wants me to invite Cole Kennedy over to my house? To meet the innocent members of my family?

This officially sucks.

'Well, I uh-' I stumbled, searching for the correct story, 'I think I'm going to, you know, er, go to, um, Canada. Yep, I'm going to Canada.'

What the HELL was I thinking?

'Canada?!' everyone asked in unison. I even noticed Max giving me a questioning glance from my lap. Oh man, me and my big mouth. Why the hell would I go to Canada? I don't even like Maple syrup all that much. Or hockey for that matter.

'Yeah,' I said, trying to dig myself out of the hole. 'I'm going with, um, Gina. Uh huh, Gina and I wanted to go to Canada just for the heck of it, you know? We'll be crazy twenty-three year olds wandering around in a strange country. Teehee.'

Andy looked at me in disapproval. 'That sounds-'

'Interesting,' Doc burst in, laughing uncomfortably, 'It sounds very, very interesting.'

I shot Doc a strange look. He smiled at me, giving me an assuring nod. Good ol' David . . . always being the hero. Whether it be offering his room to me bravely, doing some necessary research, or helping my parents drop an unwanted subject, I always knew I could trust Doc.

'I'll be fine, Andy,' I assured him. 'I'll send you some postcards. And maybe some of that maple syrup too.'

Andy forced a smile, I could still sense that he had some misgivings. Well, in reality, he had nothing to worry about. I wasn't even going to Canada. In fact, where I was really going wasn't even all that far away. I know that Canada was stretching it, but hey . . . it was effective. I mean, Canada is known for hockey and stuff and Gilroy is known for, well, garlic.

You can tell this will be more fun than a barrel of monkeys. And the monkeys will have garlic breath.

Sleepy, Dopey, Doc, mom, and Andy were all looking at me very strangely. It hurt that I couldn't tell them the whole truth. They were so concerned about my well being, and I was just pushing them away. Running away from them . . . again and again and again.

It suddenly became too much. I stood up and excused myself from the table, taking a few dishes away with me. My mom insisted that I let her do the dishes instead. I felt really, really bad for letting her do all of these kind things for me.

I mean, I had been a terrible daughter these past five years. I lied to her countless times . . . about my love life, my job, and about my livelihood. And now I was letting her wash my dishes? I officially suck.

'Susie,' my mom said, before I could manage to slink away, 'Are you sure you're all right? You aren't too upset about what happened at the Mission tonight, are you?'

'Um, no mom,' I replied softly, 'It's all good, you know?'

No, it wasn't all good. It was all bad . . . all terrible. But the more I lied, the more I hoped to believe myself.

'If you say so, Susie.'

'What's THAT supposed to mean?' I snapped, placing my hands on my hips. Of course she'd never believed me. Had I given her any reason to in the past? I mean, with all of the times I'd come home in cop cars, or woken up the next day with unexplainable bruises on me. It wasn't fair of me to snap, but I just wanted her to leave me alone about it.

'It's just that, I don't know, you haven't been the same since you left, Susie,' my mom said, a little shocked and hurt.

Of course I wasn't the same! My perfect life dumped me and left me with a life that just could not live up. The love of my life gave up on me, and I sought the comfort of one of my sworn enemies . . . and in the end, I ended up burned. I deserved it though. I deserved to live in misery.

'I'm fine MOM,' I growled, 'so just please, please leave me alone. It's been a long day, okay?'

My mom looked like she was close to tears, all because of me. But hey, I told her I was fine. Why couldn't she just trust me, like I wanted? Plus, it wasn't any of her business. She didn't need to know the goings on in my life. That was for me to know her never, ever, EVER to find out.

I exited the kitchen with a tugging feeling at my heart. I couldn't help but feel guilty again. My emotions were interchanging. At one moment I felt mad at everything . . . at my mother and the world, and the next I felt extremely guilty and depressed. My life was an emotional roller coaster . . . with its ups and downs, sharp turns, and loops. I never knew what was going to happen next.

But I do know that right now? My life is on the verge of the last major drop.

I headed up the stairs and rounded the corner to my room when I saw someone leaning against the doorway of my room. When I got closer, I realized it was Doc.

'Um, hi,' I said as I looked at the hand he had on my door, 'What's shakin'?'

'How's the ghost thing?' Doc whispered.

Whoa . . . sure hasn't grown any more tactful in the past five years. But in all seriousness, Doc knew that the whole deal at the Church had something to do with ghosts. He's not stupid.

'How'd you guess?' I asked sarcastically, rolling my eyes expressively.

'Well, Jake was right. The paranormal activity left when you did,' he replied with a smirk. 'What happened? At the Church, I mean?'

'Long story short,' I said, leaning my head back on my closed door, 'this whole gang of ghostly bikers decided to crash because they had some unfinished business with Mr. Slater. It wasn't very pretty, but Father Dominic, Jack Slater, Danielle Moore, Paul, Jesse, Adam, CeeCee, and I were all able to handle it.'

'D-danielle Moore?' Doc asked, gulping, his brown eyes going wide behind his glasses. 'Oh my God, the famous English model, Danielle Moore?! With the big –'

'Oh, shut up,' I snapped.

'What?' he frowned. 'I was going to say big hair, you sicko.'

'Yeah, well, there's another first impression you get when you see her,' I said darkly. Doc raised an eyebrow questioningly, so I motioned at my chest area. He got the hint, blushed, and cleared his throat to change the subject.

'So I assume you must have something to do with this new group . . . the SIA?' he said, changing the subject. I was glad of it. I did not want to talk about Danielle. Just because she was a known supermodel, I didn't need to hear her biography from Doc. My God.

'Guilty as charged.'

Doc smiled at me, scanning the premises for a moment. 'Come with me . . . I need to show you something,' he whispered as he grabbed my hand and led me to his room. I blinked in surprise . . . okay . . . He opened the door cautiously and flipped on the light switch.

His room hadn't changed in the past five years really. I mean, he still had models of the solar system hanging around the room along with the Periodic Table of Elements and a picture of Albert Einstein. He also had the same collection of books, along with a few additional books piled around in neat stacks. The only thing that stood out in his room, besides the new green plaid bedspread, was one lowly picture of a woman on his wall. My, my how our little Doc has grown. But I looked at the picture more carefully, instantly recognizing that bitchy face and glowing hazel eyes.

David had a picture of Danielle Moore hanging on his wall. Eww.

I tried to ignore the overly airbrushed image that was staring back at me, sneering, "Haha, little Susie. I'm more beautiful than you are. So hah" and I stepped in. What was Doc THINKING? Having her on his wall? Did he get DRESSED in front of that? Oh my GOD. What was with Doc and being interested in big-chested models, anyway? Was he harboring some fantasies that I didn't – and didn't want to – know about?

I think that "eww" covers this nicely.

Doc closed the door behind him, and began searching his closet for something. He finally pulled out a box and set it down on his bed. I sat down on the edge of his bed and peered inside the box. It had all of these funny little gadgets inside with all of these buttons on them and such.

'What's all this?' I asked Doc curiously.

'Well, I'm pretty sure funding for your new group is pretty scarce,' Doc explained, 'but these items ought to get you on your feet. This is some pretty high-tech equipment that some of the most well-known ghost research groups use in order to hunt down paranormal activity.'

'You mean, we aren't the only ones out there?' I asked, in shock.

'Of course not, Suze,' Doc replied. 'You'll find hundreds on the web. They even hold conventions and such. But they are a different type of people. They can sense ghosts very strongly, and with the aid of this high-tech state of the art equipment, they are able to find out if there are ghosts nigh.'

I blinked a few times. There were people out there that believed in ghosts. People that could even sense them strongly. People like me. Maybe I wasn't as crazy as I thought I was.

Of course, they had all of this fancy-smancy equipment to work with too. All I ever had to work with was just my plain ol' ability to spot a ghost on the street. And maybe a phone book or some old records. All of these electronic gadgets and gizmos looked a little much, you know? The buttons, gages, and metal doo-dads on it were pretty intimidating.

'Can you explain some of this stuff?' I asked. 'I mean, some of this stuff looks complicated to work, you know?'

Doc nodded as he pulled out a plastic rectangular device and held it for me to see. 'This,' he pronounced, giving it to me, 'is the Gauss Master EMF detector. It is used to measure the direction and magnitude of a magnetic field. Many use it to detect slight drops or increases in pressure that might have something to do with paranormal activity.'

I pressed the button, and read the meter. The needle pointed in one location, never waving. I took that as being normal.

'Here is a tape recorder. You will need it for recording EVP's-'

'EVP's?' I asked, interrupting him.

'Electronic Voice Phenomena,' Doc explained. 'Basically, it's a recording of spirit voices on magnetic tape. Many times you hear nothing during the process of recording. But when you play it back, you might catch some whispers or moans.'

I heaved a shudder. Ghosts had that type of power? To be able to mask their voices to the world, but making it appear on tape? That was way creepy, knowing that there were some things about ghosts that I, in fact, did not know.

'This thermometer is really cool,' Doc said enthusiastically. 'Look at this.'

Doc pointed the gun-shaped thermometer away from him and pressed a small button. It made a small beeping sound. Doc lowered the thermometer and showed me the display screen, which read 74 degrees.

'It takes the temperature instantly!' Doc exclaimed.

'Wow . . . Doc- er, I mean, David- all of this stuff is amazing,' I told him as I put the EMF detector back in the box. I was pretty impressed with how neat some of the stuff was. I mean, instant thermometer? Totally awesome!

'One last thing,' David said as he scoured his room. He pushed a few papers aside, and looked through a few drawers. For a smartie-pants nineteen-year-old, Doc sure was messy. Finally he looked behind the open closet door and picked up something. He brought it over to me and set it on my lap.

'This is the most important thing. Your flashlight.'

I stared at the cold, heavy flashlight that lay in my lap. My flashlight. Most important thing? Er . . . okay. This was going to be very, very interesting.

'What does this do? Instantly exorcise ghosts? Works like, an instant bomb?' I asked with a grin.

Doc stared at me. 'Actually, it's just a flashlight.'

'Oh,' I said, disappointed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It's hard to describe, how I felt. It was like, for a long time I had been living somewhere that was dark and cold. My body and my mind had learned to adapt to this climate. And now I was back somewhere with extreme heat. And I couldn't handle it. It was excruciating. It was such a harsh change and I didn't know if I could even learn to deal. I felt like my mind was a blur. It was a painful blur. Everything I saw was through half-closed eyelids, like five years ago, when I woke up on that hospital bed, I'd woken up with a horrible hangover even though I didn't drink anything.

I felt like I'd had a hangover that had lasted for five gruesome years.

All my memories were so overwhelming. Even as I was just there with Doc, I felt my skin tingling in something like . . . I dunno. Like it was painful, just talking to him. Just remembering the nerdy little David Ackerman who pleasured us all to detailed definitions about the importance of safe sex. This guy before me, he was Doc, but he was different. So different. I knew that I'd run away from him. He'd grown up, and I hadn't been there for him. I hadn't been there for anyone. I was no one's pillar, no one needed me. They'd all grown so fast, yet the time that had passed had gone oh so slowly. I felt like I couldn't even understand time anymore. Nothing really made sense. My whole life was one big confusion, one disappointment after another.

But now . . . oh, the SIA. What was I getting myself into? Could I really do this? Fight ghosts for a living? The living vs. the dead? Because God knows the ones we're going to be dealing with weren't gonna be some pansy- assed ghouls who liked hopscotch and afternoon tea with jam scones. Oooh, no. They were gonna be the rough stuff. The big leagues. I didn't know is I was ready for that. Psychologically, mentally, emotionally, physically . . .

But most of all, I just wasn't ready for Jesse.

He was the biggest thing that loomed before me, now.

I know, I know. "Jesse's so nice, he's so hot, he's so sweet, he's SUCH a gentleman, oooh, I'd like to make some sweet, sweet – "

No. That wasn't how the game was played anymore, girls. Jesse wasn't . . . well, I mean, he was still the same JESSE. He was still all gorgeous and wonderful and chivalrous and stuff, but . . . I couldn't ever look at him in the same light as before, you know? Pre-in-love-with-him? Those were my sunshine days. Now I was in my ice world. My winter wonder land. I was hibernating, waiting for the sun to shine again . . . waiting patiently in a depressed, scared silence for Mr Right to come along and fill the emptiness in my heart that Jesse had once occupied. I was waiting to forget about him. I needed someone to make me forget . . .

But no. All they gave me to forget about our favourite 6 feet (under) Latino lover was a violating asshole who couldn't take no for an answer. In other words, Cole Kennedy and every other man in my life that used me as a trophy girlfriend.

A big thanks from the Susie corner, guys. Really.

I just . . . I just felt like I'd been thrust into the spotlight and I wasn't ready to sing yet. Like I'd never be ready.

I couldn't face Jesse.

And I sure as HELL couldn't face Paul. Not everyday. Not ever, hopefully. Especially when I spent so long planning what my life was going to be without him. I used to think that Jesse was all I needed to be happy. But Paul proved me wrong by pointing out that whenever Jesse took off, I would run to him. Which, though I hated to admit it, was completely true.

I did everything I could to prove him wrong, though. And yeah, maybe I slipped up a few times by kissing Paul. But Jesse suddenly wanting out of my life so soon seriously hurt me. I needed comfort from someone who knew the story, and one who knew me. Of course, that meant running off to Paul and crying on his shoulder, all while he was trying to manipulate me to be his in my moment of weakness. It was difficult to try to push Paul away when he was offering me so much to me. But somehow, I convinced myself that nothing Paul would give me was enough.

Then all of a sudden, by some miracle, I had another chance to perhaps change Jesse's mind. I felt maybe everything might turn out all right, just as Father Dominic always said they would. But then Paul showed up again, and threw it all back in my face . . . and Jesse's too. I was faced with a choice, in the end . . . a choice that got me nowhere.

I was quick to snub Paul for Jesse. Paul said his last bitter goodbye, and I returned from my nightmare all alone in the hospital room. I had expected Jesse to maybe stick around or feel sorry for me. But all I got from him was one measly note. Just like that, I was kicked to the curb, just like Paul.

Life began to suck.

It was like no one even cared how I felt about this. They really were pushing me into this whole stupid deal. They were actually being kind of manipulative. I know it's bad to say that about CeeCee and Adam, but it's true. They probably didn't even want me there all that much, and they sure as hell didn't need me. They had Paul and Dani – the famous English model that everyone LOVED – to guide them on their path of spectral righteousness.

And heaven forbid Paul should want me there.

If he did, it was only to rub it in my face about how wonderful his life had turned out. How he had everything I'd ever wanted. How he actually had something.

I had nothing.

"Hi, I'm no one."

This was me, now. Sad, isn't it? I was such a disappointment. Or maybe I wasn't. Maybe people could see that I'd be like this. I liked helping people. The ghosts. I mean, I'd always complained, but I'd felt GOOD once they'd moved on peacefully. That had taken over my life. It was the ghosts that had pulled me down, reduced me to this thing that was only half alive.

Half dead.

Jesse was a ghost . . . it was as if his love had slowly made me die.

Well, bucko, you're halfway there. Don't stop, by all means. Make everyone happy and FINISH THE JOB???

Oh, joy of joys. Susie's a suicidal freak. Let's all stop and laugh in ridicule.

And subsequent to that, move on to Dani, to bow down and stare in wonder.

It really wasn't fair . . . how some people can have so much perfection in their lives. Why can't we all be equal? Where is the justice? Paul was perfect. He'd gotten everything that he – okay, I – had endeavored to obtain.

You watch. He wanted me to know that I'd lost. That I was now inferior to him, instead of it being the other way around.

It's like they say with magic.

What you do will come back to you, three times over.

I was gonna get three times what I'd done. To Jesse and to Paul. I'd hurt them badly. I'd actually made them truly unhappy.

This was my penalty. I just didn't know why. I mean, so yeah, I'd hurt them. They were over it. Why couldn't I get over it too? Why couldn't I just forget about it? Why did I have to relive all the lows of my low life, every morning and every night? And every moment in between? I just didn't understand why I couldn't be at ease with what had happened in my past.

Ha. And Father Dom wonders why I'm not exactly God's biggest fan. Take a look around, Dommy. Do you see anything worth praising here?

Except my hair. That was probably my crown and glory. The thing that made me Suze Simon. I had the most gorgeous hair. And it made me happy.

Not much makes me happy these days.

I am being totally serious.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I was in my room again, packing my stuff after only just unpacking it. Andy had set up my boxing bag when he heard I was coming back, and I was very appreciative of this gesture. So after getting ready to drive to Gilroy at like, 5am – thanks Father Dom, just because YOU don't suffer from morning breath – I turned to the boxing bag, putting on the little knuckle protectors that I'd bought when I was fourteen. And then I just started letting go . . . letting it all out. Like physical diarrhea – I just couldn't stop once I'd started until it was all gone. Soon . . . I was attacking the punching bag. As if it were, you know, Cole or something. Or Jesse. Maybe even a little Paul. Or just your typical, brain-dead, sex- junkie. I wanted to rip apart all those who just treated me like a STINKING Barbie doll girlfriend.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted it all to STOP.

I punched and punched. A furious light sweat broke out across my skin, and I was panting . . . and thumping, and trying to STOP IT as well as try to stop MYSELF. Man, I was gone . . . I was furious . . . my fists were pounding with overuse, and my head was roaring in fury and savage protest. My eyes were screwed up and the muscles in my face were strained in concentration, and anger. I was punching, and punching the bag –

And with a blue shower of materialization, I was punching Jesse.

I fell back in shock, as Jesse was knocked right through the boxing bag. I blinked in shock, my spell of rage broken.

'W – what are you doing here?' I demanded, standing up quickly and wiping my upper lip hurriedly. The back of my hand glistened with tiny beads of sweat. Oooh, attractive Suze. Very.

Why did I care?

God . . .

Jesse stood up, looking kind of freaked. I guess I couldn't blame him. I mean, it must be a little odd to get punched in the face immediately upon arrival. Like, "Hello – OW! NOMBRE DE DIOS!" in Jesse-speak. Not that I can – or could – ever decipher what the hell he said to me. I mean, the Spanish was one thing. But when he didn't mean what he said? Well, that was worse.

Like, I remember "te amo, querida." There? Shiny example.

I glared at him, and then looked down. My hair was drawn back into a tight ponytail – something I despised, but hey? Have you seen my hair after a sticky punching round? I think it's safer to keep my locks out of harms way. Maybe some day I'll like, have a ten thousand dollar investment in my hair. No spoiling it now, right?

So yeah. We must suffer for beauty sometimes.

Me? I just suffer for everything else to. Oh, lucky, lucky me. Let's take a moment of our time to sincerely thank the gracious Lord, not?

He didn't seem to care about the whole ponytail thing. Or even the sweat thing, funnily enough. He took a step forward – just one step, thank you – and regarded me with an abstruse gaze. His eyes looked darker than ever.

Hell, I didn't care if his eyes looked like molten chocolate. They'd always appear as fresh dog shit, now. I . . . I just couldn't look at him and not hate him. Not after what he did. Even if it WAS "for the best," my God.

He thought I was BETTER OFF living like this?!

Man, does he need a rude awakening . . .

'Jesse, get out,' I said to him in an icy tone. He just kept staring at me, as if trying to find the right words. I didn't want to hear it. So I kept punching vigorously. And no, not him – tempting, but demented.

'Susannah,' his soft voice broke in. I stopped for a moment, and turned around to him, my eyes odious. 'What? Need an exorcism? Oh, happy to help.'

He looked hurt for a fleeting second, but ignored what I said. 'Susannah,' his accent was graced with a gentle, genuine concern. Oh, touching. About as touching as it had been when my fist had just touched his face.

Hostile? Me? Never . . .

'We need to talk.'

I groaned again, and whipped around to face him – again. 'You know, Jesse? We don't. We really don't. I'm perfectly clear about us, at the moment. So yeah, just you know, go rattle your chains elsewhere that's away, and not here.'

And I continued to punch.

He sounded annoyed. Like I cared? What, he didn't care about me, why should I care if I'd – oh shock, horror – hurt his feelings? Puah. I was starting to doubt if these ghosts had any . . . stupid life ruiners they all were . . .

And the hot Latino gentlemen? They are the worst.

They make you think that they're in love with you.

And then they leave you to rot.

Yes, just reeking with decay here, hi.

Punch . . . punch . . .

'No, Susannah, you do not understand. It is vital that I speak with – '

'You know what?' I whirled around, my face one of thunder, 'I really don't have time for you now, Enrique. I'm busy punching. If the boxing bag wears out, hey, I'll give you a call, okay? But as of now, I'm great. No talking required. So I think I already asked you to get out.'

His face darkened, and he took an angry step towards me. Instantly, my confidence oozed out from my feet. 'Susannah,' his voice was entwined with something of more . . . anger, and woe. Blah, Jesse. Blah. 'It is indeed true that we will be working side by side in this Supernatural Investigations Agency.'

'Hence the reluctance?'

Punch.

'Please, would you stop?' he requested, a bite of frustration in his tone. I ignored it, and continued in rancor.

'It will . . . it will be just like old times,' he said softly.

Whoa, BACK UP THERE.

I stopped, and turned to glower at him in fury. 'Don't you dare,' I said in a voice that resonated my abhorrence. 'Don't you dare remind me, Jesse . . . it won't be "just like old times." Nothing ever will. That time has been and gone. It's over, and it's dead. Like us, Jesse. I hope you come to terms with that soon, because over these five years, I've learnt to deal. Please follow my lead?'

He was just staring. Not a word. His gaze was so intense that I had to avert my own. I felt an illegal blush crawl across my cheeks. I just wish he'd stop . . . staring . . .

Nothing to stare at. I was prettier when I was sixteen. Oh, what happened?

So, I resorted to punching again. Hard, forceful, irate punching.

Aaah, just like dessert. Only . . . more um, violent.

That was when, without a word, Jesse just dematerialized.

GOOD. He took the hint.

. . . That bastard . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was dawn when I woke up. Literally. The sun was only just rising, and everything was cold and dark. Oh, welcome to my world. The window was closed, I noticed with some strange satisfaction and at the same time, a conflicting aggravation. My whole room seemed to be drowned in a very mild fog. Weird . . . That didn't happen back in Massachusetts. But I remembered . . . it had happened all the time here . . .

Jesse had been here since I'd fallen asleep, damn him. It freaked me out to think about it. I furiously banished it from my thoughts as I groggily began hauling all my stuff out the front. Yeah, this job? It was in Gilroy, about a two to three hour drive from Carmel-by-the-Sea. Gilroy, garlic central. Oh, I could just pee myself from the excitement, really.

I suck.

But yeah. Father Dom has warned me, that as our first job, we didn't know what to expect. We weren't sure how long it would take us to get rid of this ghost. Who did he think he was kidding, anyway? Father Dom was a total rookie at this thing. He didn't have any idea what he was doing. I knew he didn't. Otherwise, we'd appear at least an atom more professional, right? I mean, jeez . . .

Looking okay for five o'clock in the morning, with blow-dried hair and donning a green mini pocket polo with a khaki cargo skirt and some Sketchers sneakers. I mean, it wasn't hideous, right? What? Cute and comfortable, that was what I was going for. Not Prima Donna-oh-look-at-me-I- am-so-obvoisly-competing-with-British-supermodels or anything. No way. This was so casual it was almost uncompetitive. Why would I compete? What was there to win, anyway? Paul? Ha, gimme a break.

I stood on the five a.m. dewy grass, looking around me at the deadness of the street. My old home . . . my only true home. I was really back here, and it seemed that I'd brought the paralysis back to Carmel, from Massachusetts. Good going, Suze. Drug up another city with your depression, why don't you?

I frowned, and almost tripped over my suitcases.

What? YEAH, plural? Er, hello? Father Dom said he didn't know how long we'd like, be. Of COURSE I wasn't going to show up with a skimpy little handbag with a change of underwear and that's it. No, a girl needs options in the morning. I'd brought what I deemed to be a suitable clothing selection for, you know, ghost busting.

So, so WHAT if my Jessica McClintock had accidentally made its way in there? Sue me.

Oh, go the lawyer jokes. I'd finally have an opportunity to use them more.

That was when a shiny black Jaguar convertible (with the top up) rolled up in front of my house and the horn honked. I was dragged out of my half- asleep state. I looked around, wondering if it was honking at someone else other than me. Oh yeah, Suze. The whole street is going to be standing in front of their houses at the crack of dawn waiting for lifts as well. Get a clue?

Frowning, I hauled my luggage over to the trunk of the car. The windows were dark, so I couldn't see through them. Then I saw the number plate.

PSLATER.

Oh. Okay then. I'll wait for the bus, thanks.

Then passenger window rolled down, and Dani was sitting there comfortably, looking like a covergirl. 'Oh, hello Sue,' she subjected me to a dazzling smile. I could just imagine her white teeth twinkling sarcastically at me, even.

'Erm, it's Suze, actually,' I corrected her in an icy tone.

She continued to smile. Paul, I could tell, was next to her.

'Well? Are you going to stand there and shame the SIA before its first gig? Do get in the car, you can't embarrass us anymore, dear, wearing . . .well, that,' she nodded meaningfully towards my skirt. I blinked. 'Excuse me?'

She gave me a shrug. 'Well, you know. Last season, sweets.'

I gave her a shocked smile. 'Oh, I wasn't aware that England got bored of these already,' I said sweetly. Dani scowled.

Leave it up to Miss United Kingdom to comment on my clothing. Hello? Yeah, this was a JOB. Not a fashion show. I sure as heck wasn't going to wear some fancy designer hot-off-the-runway fashion to kick butt in. I don't know how Dani mediates, but they with the way I do it? Things get messy.

I picked up my suitcases as fast as I could without falling over, and started wobbling back up to the house. I was not- I repeat- NOT going to get in that car with Paul Slater and Dani Moore. NOT!

'Suze?' Paul's voice came from the other side, 'Just get in the freaking car.'

Well, so much for that.

I threw my stuff in the trunk angrily, and got in the back seat. Jack was lying there, and had nodded off. When I hopped in, he lifted his head for a moment, blinked blearily, and then yawned and rested his head on my shoulder. Joy. Deadweight to my left, narcs to my front.

'So, er, are we going to the mission first?' I asked.

Dani didn't bother answering me, so Paul replied in a sardonic drawl, 'No Suze. We're going straight to Gilroy. The good Father stuck you with us. Such a terrible arrangement, no? Although, Jack doesn't seem to mind so much.'

He was of course, referring to his little brother, who's head had rolled from my shoulder on to my breast. I shot daggers at him, and he chuckled, making my skin crawl horribly. Like ants were roaming my body, biting wherever possible.

. . . Dick.

The car zoomed down the street noisily, disturbing the silence to almost criminal degrees.

Oh, maaaan. This was going to SUCK. Why the HELL was I stuck with Barbie and Ken? WHAT DID I DO? Why couldn't I have gone with Cee, or hitched a ride, or walked or something? Why PAUL?

Father Dominic was going down after this . . .

Jack was lightly snoring into my chest. This was positively mortifying, because . . . well, er, duh? The guy was THIRTEEN.

This won't be on my record, right? Or, uh, his?

Ewww . . .

Well, the first five minutes were kind of painful. I was still getting over the fact that it was FIVE IN THE MORNING and I was actually still able to name the President, and that I was actually in a car with Paul Slater and wasn't screaming for mercy. You know? It was kind of rough. Then, I started getting bitterly mad at Father Dom for making me endure this car ride . . . he KNEW I hated Paul. That sneaky, conniving little –

Er . . . Man of God.

Aww, shut up.

Maybe I should have been more specific when I told him to send a ride over. I thought that maybe he'd be smart and not quite as brain dead to figure out that meant for HIM to give me a ride and not Paul Slater. What? Did he want us all to be killed? I mean, yeah Paul was a decent driver. But at times, I feared for our lives . . . especially when he was driving with one arm draped over Dani and the other barely gripped on the steering wheel. You know, like one of those guys in cheesy sixties movies? Yeah, like that. It was enough to make a girl feel very, very uncomfortable.

Speaking of which, it didn't help that Jack began drooling on my mini pocket polo shirt. And there was the fact that he was making it a little hard to breathe by resting his head on my chest. My hands, which were in my lap partly under Jack's sleeping form, were beginning to fall asleep too. You know, when your hands begin to feel very, very numb, and then it starts to sting and tingle after a bit? You get the idea.

I managed to stay silent the whole car ride, though. I employed this strategy because I really wanted to keep under the radar. I thought maybe if the two lovebirds forgot I was there, then it would make the trip more tolerable.

So I sat there as they chatted softly to each other about movies they saw together, places they've been together, and how the view at Paul's spiffy new lake house was divine. The movies they mentioned were ones I hadn't seen. The nice restaurants they went to were pretty pricey, too. The boyfriends I'd had in the past never took me to nice places like that. A trip to the movies for my previous boyfriends and I were sitting in a cramped apartment, making out on the couch while some boring movie played in the background. A fancy dinner would consist of take-out Chinese. My boyfriends never had fancy lake-houses with a glorious view. They just had rundown apartments with a nice view of the dumpster.

Dani and Paul didn't even have to speak to me to make me feel instantly low. They were doing a fine job just talking amongst themselves about how great their lives together were. Which was, needless to say, way better than mine was.

All of a sudden I grew very tired, not only because of the early rising, but because Dani and Paul's chitchat made me weary. What was the harm in a nap? Heaven knows Jack was comfy, so why couldn't I get in on some of that? I shifted in my seat a little, enough to get slightly comfortable without waking little Jackie-poo up. Then I rested my head on the window. If Paul weren't too busy chatting with Danielle, he probably would have told me not to lean or else it would leave a smudge on his window, but guess what? I didn't care.

I closed my eyes, letting the rising sunshine wash over my face. Sleep overcame me in the same respect that memories of the painful past did. I welcomed it, hoping maybe to wake up from the nightmare.

When I finally did wake up . . . let's just say I wasn't able to escape my nightmare as I had hoped. In fact, I was better off sleeping because my brutal reality was way scarier than anything my sub-conscious could come up with.

First of all, my wake up call wasn't that great, due to the fact that a certain Paul Slater thought it might be funny to blast really loud rock music. I mean, hello? I still have eardrums! I jumped instantly, nearly knocking Jack out. And that was another thing . . . Jack was still asleep. He wasn't resting on my chest anymore, though, thank God. No, his curly head was now face down in my lap.

Erm . . . okay . . .

'Rise and shine!' Dani shrieked over the noise, cackling like a horrible witch. She obviously enjoyed the pain her boyfriend inflicted on my poor defenseless ears. I scowled at her, my heart pulsating loudly. Paul turned down the music, but I could still hear my ears ringing. It didn't seem to affect Jack, however.

'Wow, that kid can sleep through anything,' Paul commented, throwing me a sympathetic glance. Though I appreciated his sympathy, it was not getting his drooling kid brother off of my lap.

There was really no other way out, you know? Jack was on not only my hands, but my seatbelt too, so I couldn't undo it. I couldn't every well shake the kid awake either because, well, the whole hand thing. All I could do was try to wiggle and hope my movement would make him wake up.

'Jack,' I said, once my wiggling plan had failed completely. 'Jack, honey, wake up. We're here. And . . . Auntie Suze wants the feeling back in her hands.'

Dani began cackling again, and then I realized it. The bitchiest voice couple with the most annoying witch-psycho laugh? Well, that equals annoying bitch. Great, just what I needed.

'Come on, kiddo. I know you are . . . comfy, but we wouldn't want Suze to get in trouble,' Paul teased with a terrible grin plastered on his face. 'And besides, she is way too old for you.'

'Oh, Paul,' Dani howled, 'you're TERRIBLE!'

The truth was, they were both terrible. I mean, they made it their duty to make fun of me during my most embarrassing moments. And hey, it wasn't MY fault Jack had to get up at the crack of dawn. I blamed it all on Adam and CeeCee, who conned us all into doing this in the first place.

I let out a huge sigh. With that, Jack lifted his head and faced me, blinking his eyes a few times. I'm serious . . . loud rock music, Dani's cackling, and his teasing brother wouldn't wake him up, but a sigh let out in complete annoyance could. I swear . . . this all sucks so much.

Jack, realizing where he was, quickly sat up. He turned bright red as he noticed the puddle of drool on my top . . . and a matching one on my skirt.

Least he was considerate, and he coordinated me. Thanks, Jack. Thanks a bunch.

'I'm sorry, Suze,' Jack apologized, his cheeks still tinged with pink, 'I was just really, really tired. I'm not much of a morning person.'

Yeah, well at least I can maintain my own saliva.

'It's okay Jack, me nei –'

'Be glad you got some sleep, little bro,' Paul cut in. 'Today is going to be a long day.'

'It can't be as bad as school,' Jack said as he wrinkled his nose. 'I'm so glad it's out already.'

'Don't you have something planned for vacation?' I asked. You'd figure the kid would get some sort of break from spending a long year balancing homework, swim team, and taking care of his grandfather.

'I guess I could have spent some time at the beach, but I'd much rather hang out with you guys and kick some ghostly –'

'Jack,' I snapped, 'language, please?'

'What?' Jack asked defensively. 'I was going to say butt.'

Paul and Dani cracked up. What? WHAT was funny? I didn't see ANYTHING funny? I was teaching the kid to be civil. Trying to not be naughty, instead nice. And what do I get?

Snorting from Pommie prima donnas.

Thanks, Santa.

Really.

I shook my head and exited the car with as much dignity as possible and gathered my things from the trunk of the car. Maybe if my hand slipped a bit while getting out one particularly heavy bag, it might cause a dent. Ooopsie daisy.

But no, I wasn't going to sink that low. That was Paul and Dani's domain.

That was when I turned, and caught sight of the school for the first time.

Holy crap.

The faded wooden sign before me proclaimed, "FORTUNASCHWEIN BOARDING SCHOOL FOR BOYS 1892 – 1969." The sign stood in front of a towering black gate, with spears on each point that seemed to puncture the air above. Like on Mortal Combat Three when you've lost against an opponent, and you're falling onto those spikes? Well, we had some Grade A ones right here. Tall, sharp, and black. They looked like prison gates, without the barbed wire. They seemed to have a Machiavellian vibe to it that made me kind of blanch. As if, once I passed through those gates, I too would be a prisoner of this terrible place.

And beyond the gates, oh . . .

It was one of the largest building's I'd ever seen, not including the New York sky scrapers and stuff. It must have been 500 meters long. And at least four stories, maybe five, I couldn't tell. The bricks were incredibly old. They were a faded grey brown. Grass grew in between cracks. Windows that lined each floor were all rectangle, and were curtained. The whole dwelling was incredibly overwhelming. It was HUGE. And there was ONE ghost that we were supposed to find? Oh, PLEASE. Give me a BREAK?

I had to admire the perfect darkness of the place. It seemed to disperse a subtle depression in the atmosphere, or something incredibly undisturbed and silent, as if one noise from one intruder would cause the whole building to collapse. The edifice reached an enormous height, and made my stomach kind of go icky.

I swallowed hard. 'Whoa . . . '

This was Fortunaschwein. A school. A haunted estate. My first job.

A car door slammed, jerking me away from the sinister spell that the school was casting on me.

I saw CeeCee and Adam get out of CeeCee's car, with all of their luggage, which was not as much as mine . . . but it still looked pretty heavy. They were both staring at the school in awe. Adam frowned, and murmured to CeeCee, 'Do they have electricity? Plumbing? Because you can't stop the forces of nature, Cee. And you can't force the forces of nature out into a hole in the ground outside, in an outhouse.'

Good point.

No toilets, no vacancies.

But I judged from the final date on the sign, 1969, that there was plumbing. I mean, that wasn't too long ago. Thirty years, give or take? I was never great at Math. Ask Paul . . . bleh.

But anyway . . .

I wobbled over to them and asked, 'How was your ride?'

'It was, um, pretty good,' CeeCee said as she looked down on the ground. What was eating her? Bad ride? I always remembered CeeCee being so energetic at school in the morning.

'How about yours?' Adam asked, snickering about something. 'Did you have an accident?'

'Well, surprisingly no,' I said, setting down my heavy luggage. 'You'd think Paul would be a reckless driver, but he really isn't –'

Adam and CeeCee began to laugh really loudly. Adam was laughing so hard that he dropped all of his luggage and slapped his knees.

Did I make a joke? I couldn't remember . . . had I made a joke?

I looked down and realized what they were laughing at. The drool on my lap, along with my stupidity.

Oh. That. Thaaaaaanks, Jack.

'Shut up!' I scoffed, turning away in embarrassment. Adam and CeeCee were still laughing at me. Father Dominic waved to me, not seeing the puddle on my skirt, thankfully. He then returned to writing something on his clipboard.

That was when a grating sound stopped us all in our tracks.

'Are you lot the SIA?' a strange voice said. I turned around and faced this really tall, intimidating man who was balding. He was old. The little grey hair he had left was thin and dull, but was combed over his bald spot. I HATE it when old guys do that. Like, they don't have bald spots. It looked SO stupid. I mean, I'm serious. Who did he think he was kidding? He looked like a guy who'd just been caught on Candid Camera, and he wasn't happy about it. Mystery man had what I would call crazy eyes . . . eyes that never really focused on one spot, and he never made eye contact. He looked very bitter about something . . . a frown seemed forever plastered on his face.

'Why, yes,' Father D looked up from his clipboard, 'we are. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Father Dominic.'

The man shook Father Dom's hand in his own warily. We all went around, introducing ourselves and shaking his hand. I got major chills when I shook his hand. His grip was overpowering and his hand was icy cold. It was very, very intimidating.

'I see,' the man said, looking a bit disappointed. 'I am Mr. Richard Head.'

Adam snorted accidentally, causing Mr. Head to ask, 'What are you laughing at?'

Father Dominic shot Adam a warning glance and continued, 'It is nice to meet you, Mr. Head.'

'Can we call you Dick?' Adam asked innocently. I swear, an infectious giggle almost exploded out of me then. Oh my GOD, what a name?! Mr. Dick Head. Jeez . . . no wonder he was already bald . . . CeeCee stepped on Adam's foot and Adam winced in pain.

Paul narrowed his eyes at Adam and stepped up professionally. 'All right, Mr. Head, what's the problem? What sort of paranormal activity have you experienced?'

Dani looked at Paul warmly, smiling at him and grabbing his arm. Yeah, hello? Business now. You can go all PDA on him AFTER the customer is done. Thanks . . .

'Well,' Mr. Head said, quite rudely, 'I've told the priest that there's something in that school. You've got to get rid of it. I guess you've heard about my wife . . . it was all in the news, you know.'

Was it just me, or did this guy sound a little proud?

Paul stood up taller. 'Yes, sir, we have. Have you yourself seen anything, perhaps?'

'Once,' Mr. Head replied grimly, 'long ago. That is all.'

And just like that, the subject was dropped.

'Just get rid of them,' he said flatly, 'and then you'll be paid.'

The way he had said that . . . it made a patch of Goosebumps crawl on my skin. Just get rid of them . . . like we were supposed to snap and POOF! They'd be gone. But he didn't know that that was not how it worked. It wasn't how it worked at all.

'Would you kindly show us which room your wife was trapped in the other day?' Father Dom asked, choosing his words very carefully.

Mr. Head looked at him like he was crazy or something. 'I'm not going in there. Can't you just get them out of there?'

'We will try everything in our power to help them on their way, but it would be easier if perhaps you showed us –'

'No,' Mr. Head stomped his foot angrily. 'There is no need to help them on their way. Just . . . get them out of there.'

Everyone stared at Mr. Head. His voice was soft, but commanding. He didn't need to raise his voice at all to get his point across to us. Another thing about him . . . he didn't seem to care about the ghost's emotional ties to the place. He just wanted it out now . . . selfish jerk . . .

Oh right, it was a school, wasn't it? My bad.

Mr. Head brushed himself off, regaining his composure. 'I believe that it would be best to take drastic action with . . . whatever you do. What is it you do? You say you deal with the dead . . . how so?'

Paul looked to me. I couldn't say anything, really. This guy gave me the creeps. Then he took the reigns seeing that I couldn't, saying, 'It is hard to understand, sir, but we can see, hear, speak to, and touch the dead. As in, ghosts. Usually the likes of Father Dominic and Dani can try to coax the ghosts into finding the reason they are still stranded on Earth. Susannah and I...we're a different story...'

I couldn't help but glare at Paul. First of all, he said the dreaded pronoun "we". And then there was that whole "Susannah and I" thing. It chilled me to the bone to be included in the same sentence with him. It was completely gruesome.

'See them?'

Paul looked ultra-annoyed. I didn't blame him because, well, I don't know how many ghosts I had to explain that to almost daily. Father Dom saw Paul's vice, and decided to take over. 'Yes, Mr. Head, we can see them. It is a highly unusual trait, but it proves to be helpful when – '

Mr. Head turned his attention towards me. 'You and him,' he said, motioning to Paul lazily, 'why are you two different?'

I froze. Here I was, about to admit to someone what, exactly I did. He was here to judge me based on it too. I felt my eyes widen and my heart race. All of a sudden, I didn't want to do this anymore. I just wanted to go home, back to my punching bag.

Punch . . . punch . . .

'We,' I swallowed, 'have an added skill. Paul and I – ' I cringed having to use that phrase – 'have the ability to travel freely around the, erm, spirit realm.'

'What good'll that do?' he asked grumpily, crossing his arms. I looked nervously to Paul, my confidence completely drained just as Mr. Head spoke. There was just something about this man. He had a sort of aura about him . . . an aura of creepiness if you will. I completely freaked.

'We only use that as a last resort,' Paul frowned. Obviously he had had a chat with Father D earlier, and the good father set him straight. No exorcisms, no visits to Shadowland, none of that. 'Of course, there are other sensory powers that we possess that could prove useful.'

. . . Excuse me?

Paul shot a meaningful glance in my direction. For a moment I could have sworn I saw something in his expression that said "See, Suze? We have powers. Too bad you never took the initiative to learn them. But now I have you right where I want you . . . you must face the facts and learn now . . . MUAHAHAH".

But it left a second later when Mr. Head said, 'Very well, then. Have a nice time. Call me when they're gone.'

Seriously . . . that's all he said. Have a nice time and call me when they're gone. Number one, it was going to be near impossible to have a nice time when confronted by two dreadful characters from my past and one of their awful girlfriends. Another thing . . . Mr. Dick Head seemed only concerned with himself. He didn't care, really, how we got rid of the ghost . . . just as long as we did.

As he left, I couldn't help having the feeling that there was something that Mr. Head was hiding. Something he knew about the ghost that we, the SIA, didn't. I narrowed my eyes at him as he jumped into his antiquated Cadillac . . . something that may have been something in the past, but was now a piece of junk.

Like me.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After that most enlightening chat with our new, and positively enchanting employer, I wandered back over to the gate again, placing my hands on the cold metal. Around me, the ground was merely dirt and rock and dead grass. Inside, it seemed so much deader. The trees were all black and sharp- looking with no leaves yielding from them. The grass was brown, and the long path that lead down to the school seemed to be composed completely of pebbles. Well, didn't want to have a Jimmy Choo crisis on THAT.

Native flowers that were trying desperately to grow were being strangled by the weeds that seemed intent on bringing them down. It was kind of depressing. The whole school was depressing. It was like, even the clouds above it were that bit grayer. The country air had been rich and beautiful as I'd been sitting in Paul's car, but now, there was like a pungent stench in the air. It wasn't immediately disgusting, just unpleasant and awkward. I wrinkled my nose a little, as the metal beneath my hands began to heat up a little from my body warmth. There were faint cobwebs in between the pikes of the towering fence. As if it hadn't been opened in a long time – or recently had, but only for a while. I observed how some of the webs were broken and were just clinging there, like fine grey silk.

I was pleased to note that the manufacturers of those webs were completely hidden. Ha, seeing is believing. Seeing is fearing, too. So yeah. No arachnids, no heebie-jeebies.

I could hear Paul and Dani and CeeCee and Adam and Father Dominic talking loudly behind me, discussing plans and methods of attack. I was supposed to be listening. I was supposed to be suggesting things. But I wasn't. I was standing in front of the gate, as if willing it to open. There was like a force that was drawing me to the school. It goosed my goosebumps and uneased my queasiness. I felt like a monstrosity that was about to enter a forbidden territory, unlawfully. I didn't know why. It was as if there was something saying, 'don't come here, you are not welcome,' but at the same time, a darker, more persuasive voice yearned, 'enter . . . we need you . . . '

I didn't know which one to listen to.

It was then when something warm made contact with my hand, and I flinched in surprise.

'Sorry,' Jack mumbled. 'I'm sorry about your skirt. Sorry, I didn't mean to go all spitty, but I was asleep and Paul said that my head was on your boobs too and I'm sorry for that too and I wasn't being disgusting, I really wasn't – '

I stopped him there, by rolling my eyes. 'Er, hello? I am well aware that you were out to the world. It's no big, okay? Saliva isn't permanent. Or well, it better not or you're death is gonna be permanent.'

He gave me a grateful grin. 'Okay, cool.'

And then he just stood there, gazing at the school too.

'Whoa,' he said suddenly. I gave him a ". . . .go on?" look, and he shrugged. 'It just looks so . . . I dunno. Unhaunted. Like, there's nothing there. It looks like it's been empty for years.'

'It has,' I said. 'Because the ghost that's in there? It can't count as an occupant. Ghosts aren't really there. They are to us, but not to the rest of the world.'

'It is nice to feel so wanted,' a Spanish lilt suddenly hissed in my ears.

I spun around, and Jesse was standing right behind me, looking down at me.

'Go away,' was my first line, but Jack totally grabbed Jesse around the torso and gave him a hug. Aww, affectionate little guy . . . he was so –

HUGGING JESSE, AGH! EW! GROSS! SOMEONE GET HIM OFF!

'Jack, come on, let him have some breath,' I said nastily, knowing perfectly well of his lack of necessity for our oxygen.

Jesse gave me a stony look. 'So, Susannah,' he said in an indifferent voice. One that I was aware I'd driven him to. 'Are you ready for this, then?'

I was about to answer something which wouldn't be considered diplomatic, in polite society when Paul practically shoved me out the way – subtly, because remember ladies, he's a lawyer – and rattled a large key in the lock on the gate. The bulky chain holding the gate closed slunk off like a snake trying to make it to the ground. It landed in a cumbersome black, rusty pile on the pebbly ground. Paul kicked it out of the way. He read the sign with tedium. 'Fortunaschwein. Must have been a nice place in its day, no? Makes you wonder what really happened.'

I gave him a scornful look. 'Probably just trained boys how to be butt monkeys is all.' Everyone started at me curiously. 'Oh . . . you meant the school in general, didn't you?' Paul raised his eyebrows, his hand still holding the key. Dani slithered over, and leant against Paul, her bodice looking particularly farfetched this morning in a very busy top by some French designer I couldn't even pronounce. May I say the top looked ridiculous on her? The colours were totally gross and the material was too thin and clingy to be taken seriously. Hello? My Starbucks apron had better fabric.

Needless to say, Paul ignored me and wrapped his arm around Dani, kissing her gently on the top of her head. Dani fluttered her overdone eyelashes at him, her hazel irises looking buggy and wintry. 'Okay, Dani?'

'Ready, Paulie,' she purred back, rubbing her fist along his chest. I felt my already nauseous stomach protest a wave of sick, but I managed to hold down my vomit better than Jack had held his own salivary excretion. 'Oh, bollocks, look at this place? It's not dirty inside, is it Paul?' she asked anxiously with a very unattractive wrinkle along her nose. He pecked her on her cosmetically blushed cheek.

I started coldly at the two of them, before I just lost my patience, groaned at them in aggravation, and stomped over to Father Dominic.

'I don't know why I'm here,' I informed him.

He gave me a weary expression. 'Susannah, not this again . . . please. We must forget about our less than fortunate circumstances, and look ahead to the task at hand. This ghost inhabiting this building is not friendly.'

'Not friendly at all,' I said softly, glaring sideways at Paul and Dani as they were trying to have a kissing competition while pushing the gate open.

I mean, one minute Paul tries to be Mr. Professional in dealing with the Dick Head, taking charge as our ringleader. Paul made himself the obvious alpha-male in our pack. But in a matter of seconds he dropped his business- like-manner in exchange for making kissy-faces at his plastic Barbie doll.

Typical . . .

Jack gave me a reproving look, and I cut it out. I mean, yeah, he was a drooler. I wasn't going to give his big brother evils in front of him. Oh, no. I'd wait until his back was completely turned, till I glared daggers at Paul.

Then, Jesse materialized right next to Father Dominic. I stumbled back a little. What? He just popped up everywhere. Again, like before . . . I was getting used to it again, okay? God, not that I WANTED to get used to it. Are you kidding me? I wanted him gone. I didn't want Jesse here. I just . . . I just wanted to do this job in peace.

But something told me I wasn't going to get what I wanted.

I bit my lip anxiously, and felt depressed. That was, of course, when my cell phone in my backpack started shrieking out its polyphonic rhythm, among all of the country noises. I received a jolt as it cut my thoughts, and slung my bag down, digging my hand in and grabbing the little vibrating phone. Everyone stared at me.

'Excuse me . . . ' I blushed, and I answered it with a hurried, 'yeah?'

'Suze, it's me . . . Cole.'

I went very pale as CeeCee and Adam eyed me curiously. Slinking to opposite Paul's car, I mumbled into the receiver, 'What do you want?'

My skin crept. Cole . . . I'd forgotten about him.

He ignored my question. 'It's so great to hear your voice again, Suze,' he said nostalgically. I just breathed for a moment, not knowing how to respond. I could already feel my heart pumping harder. This guy . . . he scared me. Yeah, Susannah Simon, punk assed bitch of Carmel-by-the-Sea, now a scared, abused girlfriend.

Irony. That's what it was. Tragic irony, at it's peak.

'Um . . . yeah, okay . . . ' I spluttered, 'I'm kind of busy at the –'

'Where have you been, Suze? I've missed you.'

I didn't answer. My head felt light with dread.

'Did you get my flowers, Suze?' he wanted to know. His voice sounded deep and masculine and enigmatic over the bad reception of the cell phone, like a prank caller. It was freaky.

'Um, yeah,' I said nervously. Then, biting back my apprehension, I snapped. 'You can have them back if you want. Oh wait. The garbage disposal's already been. My bad.'

' . . . You weren't at home, you weren't at work, and your car's still at the apartment . . . ' he continued on, not listening to me. His voice was getting louder. More dangerous. As if, if I pushed him, I'd truly regret it. Oh, didn't I know it? I still have the bruises. 'Tell me where you're been. Now.'

I lost my confidence again. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. This guy is not the best accessory for someone trying to build up their self esteem. 'I've just been . . . away.' Then I added, 'please don't call me again.'

There was an angry silence. Then he answered, 'No.'

'I'm serious, Cole,' I warned him. 'I really am.'

There was another pause. My heart kind of skipped a beat, and I was holding the phone very hand to my ear, so my knuckles were strained. 'So am I,' he breathed. 'You'd better find a way back home, you here? Or else I'll find you and make you. You're not that hard to track, Suze.'

A violent chill swept through me. Oh God, oh God, oh God . . .

'S-stay away from me,' I stammered. 'Cole, I m-mean it.'

There was a very soft chuckle in response. And then he hung up.

I held the cell to my ear still, kind of frozen on the spot. I stared ahead in horror. Not blinking much, either. Oh no, what had I just done? What did that mean? What was he going to –

'Who was that?' a certain Spanish voice wanted to know from behind me.

My nostrils flared, and I quickly stuffed the cell into my purse, swallowing and licking my dry lips. 'Um, no one, just . . . no one,' I mumbled kind of incoherently.

'Susannah...is there something I should know? You told whoever it was to stay away from you. Have they harmed you?' he enquired, coming to stand in front of me. His spectral glow very dully reflected on the metal clasp on my bag. He gazed down at me with what might have been concern. I blinked at him. I must have looked like I was caught in headlights or something. Then I quickly looked away.

'I'm perfectly fine, Jesse. This is none of your business,' I said in clipped tones, and I walked back to everyone else, breathing a little faster than usual. Jesse marched behind me. He then wandered over to Jack, and put his hands on his shoulders. It looked so strange . . . like Jesse was some kind of Yoda to Jack's Luke Skywalker. It weirded me out, to think that they were that close. They looked really chummy. Like best friends.

What Jesse and I used to be, before we fell in love.

Baaaah . . . don't go there.

Paul, who'd been teasing Dani about something – she was having a fit of pathetic giggles – give me an aloof glance. 'Who rang?'

I stopped, and shrugged. 'Er . . . someone from Massachusetts . . . no one.' I cast an icy eye to Dani, and then looked back towards the foreboding school. Fortunaschwein. It sounded so . . . grand. So ancient, and majestic. Yet kind of eerie, like it proclaimed an omen of death or something.

Just my luck.

But Paul wasn't finished, the butthead. 'Wasn't your boyfriend, was it?' he asked with a wise guy grin. I looked to the ground very quickly. 'I don't have one,' I snapped. 'I don't know what you're . . . ' I trailed off, as my voice had been diminishing in volume anyway. I settled for shaking my head.

"You're not that hard to track . . . "He'd said that. Did that mean he'd . . . no. He wouldn't do that . . . why would he do that?

'Susannah, what is going on?' Jesse asked again. He was beside me, with Jack. I didn't realize it. He sounded kind of angry. He had NO RIGHT to be angry. He was so mysterious all the time, well, now I had a secret that I wasn't telling him. So, blah!

Paul was also scrutinizing me skeptically. 'Whatever, Simon,' he shrugged. The gate stood open. It felt like we were opening the gateway to the Netherworld or something. Not so hot. Hey, what? You try opening a big, scary, pointy gate like that and see how fuzzy YOU feel, okay?

I really didn't want to go in there . . . into the boundaries of this possessed school. It's just not something I preferred to do, you know? But when Adam shoved me from behind past the gate – the point of no return – I knew that I wasn't going back.

Fortunaschwein ex-Boarding School for Boys? Suze Simon inda house.

Or school.

Or, um, abandoned mansion – hey, whatever, OKAY?

I was going for ATTITUDE, gimme a break!

Oooh, this wasn't going to be good. I could feel it in my ice-cold fingertips, and in my frozen blood that ran beneath my now pale skin . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: Oooh. There we go. She's there, in this building. This SIA is roaring into life. Let's see where it goes from here . . . how will Suze deal? With Jesse? With Paul and Dani?

. . . With the ghost that haunts this place?

Oooh.

Spooky.

Teehee, reviewable? Remember, LONG REVIEWS, okay? Really long and long winded, because we love 'em long.

Now let as all stare at Lolly and Hayley with raised eyebrows . . . yeah, that's it . . .

Love Lolly and Hayley.