For people who strangely enough, got two author alerts - something screwy happened with the chapter. So I had to change all of the single quotations to those accent things, so they wouldn't come out weird. Sorry!
And I hope, Hayley, that it was okay of me to update already . . . I read over the chapter - er, skimmed - and it seemed fine. -
So yeah.
Let's start off with a memory from Suze . . .
I could feel the cold air-conditioning blowing directly on me, causing my hair to float into my face. The smooth leather upholstery even felt a little cool beneath my fingers. I fluttered my eyes open and realized where I was. I was in Paul Slater's shiny silver BMW with the black leather interior . . . the top down and everything. "Sheer, driving pleasure", as they advertise it on the television.
Only instead of being totally nice, I was actually pretty uncomfortable, especially since not only was the air-conditioning on full blast, but the cool wind was blowing on me.
I chanced a look at the driver, suddenly regretting my actions when I saw his beautiful brown curls tainted with small bits of gold from the last bit of sunlight that shined on it. Paul's eyes were locked on the road with a friendly grin plastered on his face. And even though his gaze seemed never to leave the road, I still had that deep feeling in my gut that I was being watched.
Of course, I let my gaze linger a little too long, because then Paul turned his perfect face towards me, causing me to instantly flush. Crap . . . he caught me looking at him. I turned away quickly and pretended to be looking at some of the pine trees that grew along the Seventeen-mile drive.
'We're almost there,' Paul said as we were coasting down a small hill. I could see his reflection on my window, regarding me in what sounded like a casual manner, but telling by the expression on his face, it was anything but. When I didn't respond, he added, 'There's this really nice spot I have to show you.'
I choked on my own spit. He had a nice spot to show me. I surely hoped that it wasn't the back seat of his car or anything. Knowing Paul's nature, I really wouldn't be surprised if he tried to pull that over on me. Well, too bad. I knew I was smarter than that.
'Really?' I asked him, my voice dripping in sarcasm.
'Yes,' he replied, keeping the road in his peripheral vision while watching me, 'it's got the best view.'
Best view . . . of what? Your mouth?
I kept my thoughts to myself, trying to fight them back. Paul had once said that I was cynical and mistrustful of others. I may be a little sarcastic at times, and I tend to be a little guarded around people, but that's just me being careful. I never knew when I was going to have to face another deadly ghost or a stunningly hot stalker or something like that. It's called being cautious.
Of course, normally being cautious with someone does not involve getting into cars with them and agreeing to let them take you to "nice spots". You're probably thinking that if I were truly being careful, that I would be in my room right now, watching a sappy romance flick while eating a pint of Ben & Jerry's, wearing my most comfortable pajamas. That's what most girls do when they've been dumped big time.
But who's to say I'm a normal girl? I do things my way, thank-you-very-much.
And as further proof of my abnormal tendencies, I started babbling again, like I always did when I was nervous. 'Views are good,' I said all too quickly. 'I like views. They, um, show lots of . . . stuff. Yeah, stuff.'
As stupid ramblings pushed out of my mouth, I couldn't help but blush. I mean, I shouldn't care if Paul thought I was a blubbering idiot. But for some reason, I felt completely embarrassed. No girl, normal or abnormal, wants to have a case of verbal diarrhea in from of a cute guy . . . no matter how much she despises him.
I completely turned my attention towards the pine trees, trying to see if I could see any deer between them. I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the ride there, praising the Lord that Paul didn't say much else. There's only so much a girl can handle you know? Embarrassment AND fearing for my life? Not such a good combo there.
Paul pulled into this little stopping point on the side of the road, pulling into a small parking space. He slid out of the car first, wandering over to my side to open the door for me. I hesitated for a few moments, and then got out of the car. 'Here we are,' he grinned as he shut the door behind me. I cringed a little, not because he slammed it or anything, but only because the noise seemed so . . . condemning.
Susie's sold her soul . . . things are looking hot now.
'Well,' I said cooly, leaning against the door he just shut, 'where's the infamous view you speak of?'
'Take my hand.'
' . . . What?' I let out in a quick, high-pitched squeak. There was no way in heck I was taking that guy's hand. Cooties went out in the third grade, but even still, I felt repulsed at the mere thought of letting his skin come in contact with my own flesh. It was just wrong in so many ways.
Plus I was afraid that if I did touch him, feelings that I tried not to feel would come bubbling back up. My soul had already been broken enough as it was, and I certainly did not need to go fling myself on some other guy, only to have him do the same thing. After what Jesse had done just a few nights before . . . no. I couldn't do that.
'I'll show you,' he replied simply, 'if you'd only take my hand.'
He held his large hand out, and I just stared at it for a moment as if it were a foreign object. It just looked so big and masculine, you know? Like if I were to give him my hand, that he could just break it in one swift motion. I wouldn't be surprised at all.
I noticed, despite the fear welling up in my heart, that the palm of his hand was a creamy white compared to the rest of his arm, which was light mocha. I looked at his hand curiously for a second, noticing a few other things about it. Like how he had no life line.
In my observations (not that I had observed too much or anything), Paul was left-handed. Thus, he offered me his left hand to hold. And since I am a completely paranoid freak, I just had to sit there and stare at it dumbly. Long enough to start reading his palm.
Now, I'm not very good at palmistry or anything, but life lines determine the quality of someone's life, not the length of it or anything. But I have no idea what happens to those who don't have one. Does that mean that their life is nothing? How could that be true? Paul has everything he could possibly want. Fancy car, good looks, loads of cash, and he even had the brains. So why wasn't his life line, like, wrapped around his hand a few times or something?
Paul cleared his throat, forcing me to draw my attention away from his hand, and into his steely blue eyes. Now I was pretty sure that I turned a deep shade of crimson then. Finally, after making enough of a fool of myself, I took his unusually pale life-lineless hand.
I'm sorry to say that when his fingers encompassed my hand that I felt a certain fire-and-ice sensation. My blood had drained mostly to my face, so the rest of my body was chilly, while my face and my hand in Paul's was very warm. I'd even go as far as to say hot. But not in a good way. At least . . . I didn't think so.
He led me up this small path. I would have worn tennis shoes or something if I had known that Paul was going to take me on a nature hike. Seriously, the trail was long, narrow, and mostly uphill. The path, you could tell, wasn't used all that often. In some parts, Paul had to break off some branches or hold them back for me with his free hand just so I wouldn't get scratched.
The more we walked, the more nervous I became. The trail just kept getting steeper and steeper, making it really hard to climb up in sandals. I was beginning to wonder why I even came in the first place. We weren't doing another shifting lesson, there was no school project, no reason at all for me to be there. So why?
Deep down, though I hated to admit it, I knew the answer was as clear as the cloudless sky above our heads. I didn't even have to search for it in the piney woods. The reason I was here was because of Jesse.
The only reason I ever saw Paul was because of Jesse.
But now, this was a totally different situation.
'I hope you're not afraid of heights,' came Paul's voice from in front of me. Kind of startled that he dared to interrupt my messed up train of thought, I replied a snippy, 'No, I'm not afraid of anything.'
He turned his head and gave me a smirk. A kind of smirk that said, "oh . . . right." You know the kind.
'Well,' I added, 'Not many things. Heights are okay with me. I jumped from a three-story house back in New York once, chasing after a ghost. But I wasn't scared. A little . . . no, I wasn't scared. Like, I don't specifically like bugs, but I'm not, you know, scared of them and I think that I'm perfectly within my right to not like bugs because they are small and evil and gross and black and they make a huge mess when you squish them –'
I saw that he was laughing. I gave him a crusty look, and I just shut up.
That was when he brushed aside a huge branch, and oh my God . . .
'Wow,' I gasped. The - the sunset! It was beautiful! Oh my God! It was a small paved area with railing that looked out over the whole of the Pacific Ocean. I ran over to the rail, with my eyes devouring the glorious ocean that crashed below, reflecting the radiance of the sinking sun. I'd never known this little place was here! It was the best view I'd seen in my entire life. Everything was perfect. Well, except the fact that it was Paul with me, and not Jesse.
And it would never be Jesse again . . .
Paul calmly climbed over the railing to sit on the edge, and turned his head idly back to look at me expectantly. Oh, bite your tongue Suze . . . but his features were kissed by the sunset, with his face divided into realms of light and shadow. His pale blue eyes in particular twinkled at me, mirroring the dazzle of the luminary and thawing the ice that held his irises captive. 'Well?' he asked, his voice in a shouted whisper over the rhythmic crashing of water so many feet below, 'Coming?'
I blinked at him, and swallowed. 'Promise you won't push me?'
God, I'm a loser.
He grinned. 'I promise.'
No sarcasm. He didn't say anything that didn't need to be said, for once. Just told me what I needed to hear. I nodded, and carefully climbed over the railing, sitting on it carefully, and not realizing how close I had actually seated myself to him. He was grinning at me still.
I looked out at the water. 'Wow,' I cherished, 'Look at the spray . . . and the reflections of the sun. It's blinding. Hey, it's just about to set,' I said in admiration, turning shining eyes back to Paul. What? I like sunsets, so sue me? He was still smirking at me. I could see myself in his eyes. With a warm smile, I looked back to the water.
This was what Carmel had to offer. Such rich, natural beauty. Gotta love home.
'I love the sunset. It's so . . . orange. Well, not just orange. There's heaps of other colours and stuff, but it's mainly orange. I love how the ocean goes orange too. As in a reflection. Like a mirror. Beautiful . . . ' I trailed off.
The sun was dying fast. It was but a semi-circle on the oceanic horizon now. Dull rays painted the sky, but were fast dimming. The whole ocean was cast in a warm orange glow, and the reflective surface merged from a brilliant orange to a cerulean blue as the water distanced from the sun.
I could feel Paul's grin as if it were burning a hole in the side of my face. 'What?' I demanded without looking at him. 'What's funny?'
'Nothing,' he shrugged. I knew. I was sitting so close that I could feel the movement of his arm brush on my shoulder. In a different . . . breathier tone, he added, 'just marveling the beauty.'
Weird . . . he wasn't even looking at the sun.
'Yeah,' I said nervously, trying to keep my gaze towards the sunset, 'Sunsets rock. They should have one everyday.'
Paul looked puzzled for a few moments and then started laughing. It took me a while to understand why he'd be laughing at little old me. I'm not THAT funny. Of course, looking back at what I said, I sounded like a total ditz. I laughed uncomfortably, trying to make it seem as if I'd meant to say it. Paul didn't seem to buy it though.
'There it goes,' Paul said, thankfully changing the subject. He pointed to the orange sun, surrounded by magnificent pinks and purples. I felt so small and insignificant with the tall pine trees behind me, the giant sun ahead, and the great waters below. That launched some major universe anxiety. You know, endless galaxies, little me all alone in the world.
Only . . . I wasn't alone. I was with Paul Slater.
Don't remind me.
'It's almost all the way down,' he said softly, leaning towards me as he talked. I swallowed as his fingertips lightly brushed my hand. I forced myself to keep facing the sunset. But pretending to ignore Paul's advance didn't make it go away. In fact, I could feel my face heat up all over again as the electricity from his touch shocked my every nerve.
'It moves so fast, doesn't it?' I observed, swallowing once more for good measure. 'It's so beautiful while it lasts. But then it sinks to the horizon so quickly in its last few moments. It's like you can't blink or you'll miss it, you know?'
'I know what you mean. You kind of hope that it . . . never ends,' Paul said, his voice dropping low as he spoke the last two words. I could understand what he was saying, but I was not entirely sure that he was talking about sunsets anymore.
If you know what I mean.
I was just starting to get caught up in this blissful, surreal world. That is, until I woke up.
Yeah. I'd been dreaming. Isn't that so like me? God . . . I dreamed about the past every night of my life. Trying so desperately to change it. They were reoccurring dreams. I'd done a whole section on them in Psyche, and yet I still didn't understand my own. Except, in my dreams about Paul, I always manage to do something differently. Here . . . it was exactly like how it had happened. Every memory, every movement, every smile, every touch . . .
Perfect.
I didn't WANT it to be perfect! What, seeing Paul again in the flesh could do something like that to me? Make me relive some of my most mortifying memories, without me having any control over what I saw? Because, if I could have had my way, I would have kicked a little more butt than I did, you know? Hell . . . if I could go back in time, I would have never even GONE. Because if I had have just stayed home, none of this stuff would have even happened.
But whatever.
I was caught in that land that existed between asleep and awake. Where the haunting aftermath of dreams still linger in your mind as your brain whirls, trying to figure it all out for you. I could never figure anything out. I didn't know why I still dreamed about all this stuff. The memories of Paul taking me to Big Sur, I mean. And Jesse breaking up with me. What? Was it a SIGN? Or just, you know, annoying me so much as to make me see some of the worst moments of my life?
Or the ones that weren't so bad, but you WISHED they were?
What? Hey, I never said I wasn't complicated.
But this lingering dream slowly faded as I realized that, I indeed had to get up. Grumpiness started taking over as I blinked blearily, feeling comfortably warm. I didn't really want to move, in fear of making the sensation of warmth leave. I hadn't been truly warm for a long time. I still wasn't here. But it was a start. I wasn't cold. I was usually always cold . . .
I frowned, my lip pouting tiredly, and sought the time from my digital watch. Oh, splendid. It was seven o'clock p.m. What? I couldn't even sleep through the NIGHT now? Oh, that's just GREAT.
Mind, I did go to sleep at three, but . . . aww, shut up.
Feeling exceptionally annoyed, but not knowing at whom just yet - don't worry, I'll pinpoint blame as soon as I'm awake enough to remember my last name - I slumped out of the bed –
OW.
Oh yeah . . . my leg.
Actually, it wasn't hurting nearly as much as before. Not even now when I was vertical. Nup, in fact, it looked like it was almost healed. What can I say? Us shifters heal very fast. Impossibly so. But whatever.
I managed to catch my reflection in the mirror. My green mini-pocket polo shirt and skirt no longer sported the puddle of drool, but they were both pretty wrinkled from sleeping in them for about four hours. Plus, who would want to wear clothes with drool residue on them, even if it was dry enough not to notice? So I changed into some five-pocket Mudd jeans and a black Lycra top. Not as fashionable as it should have been, but it was flattering, and convenient. That's all I cared about. So yeah.
My stomach let out a terrible cry for help when I suddenly smelt the enticing aroma of food. I really didn't have a chance to eat much of a breakfast, and as a group we were all too busy looking around the school to squeeze in lunch. So, as you could see, I was pretty starved.
So I limped a little out of my room, stopping for a brief chilling moment when I crossed the dumbwaiter, a feeling seizing me suddenly. It felt as if someone had a tight death grip on all of my insides. The feeling left as soon as it had come, leaving me in a blinding confusion.
I wasn't scared, really. I just wanted to find that ghost. And I had a strange feeling that my choice of room would bring me closer to it. Maybe even a little too close.
I shook it off and continued out of the room and down the flights of stairs. So it took ten minutes or so . . . but at least I could still get around. That's all that mattered, right? The fact that I wasn't completely and totally useless cheered me up a bit.
Then as I approached the last step to food-freedom, my ankle buckled under me. Luckily, I was able to sturdy myself on the cold metal stair railing. I looked over my shoulder self-consciously and continued hobbling my way into the grand entranceway.
It was dark in there . . . the chandelier hanging above me in all of its sparkling glory. The crystal of it still shined, even though no light was hitting it. I searched the room for a familiar face, sniffing to see where the sweet aroma was coming from.
'Hello? Anyone home?' I asked, my voice echoing back to me in the emptiness. I looked around for someone, anyone. But the room was dark and empty as before. Only, now as I was looking at it again, it became scary to a point. Frightening because not only was I all by myself, but I was alone and with a handicap. No one to help me . . .
Isn't that how it always was?
'I take that as a no,' I replied to myself sadly. The darkness was all consuming, and the paintings and portraits seemed to give off that "you are being watched" vibe.
'You're never alone,' I heard a deep voice calling from the top of the staircase. 'You'll never be alone.'
I whipped around and saw that the voice was coming from none other than Paul Slater himself. He smiled down at me darkly as he descended the steps slowly, one by one. The tap of his shoes on the stairs made a small echo with each step he took. My heart began to pound with a heavy thud in my chest.
'What is that supposed to mean?' I asked him, swallowing hard as he finally took the last step down.
He smiled at me. 'To answer your first question, yes. Someone is home. And to answer your second . . . well, just think about it. For twenty-three years, have you ever had a moment to yourself? Without ghosts chasing you around?'
'Sure I have. It's called shower time,' I reminded him snappily. Paul shook his head at me, a bit of his hair falling in his face. He brushed it back casually, looking like one of those GQ models. You know, "Look sharp, Live smart"?
He replied with a sly grin, 'But are you sure you're really alone?'
I swear, if I hadn't been so tired and hungry, I would have marched up to him and smacked him across his perfect little cheek. How dare he insinuate that I would EVER let ghosts perv on me in the shower! Well, now that I think about it, I shouldn't be surprised, you know, considering the types of ghosts I got stuck with. It creeped me out just to think that all the times I THOUGHT I was alone, I may not have been. I heaved a shudder and tried to brush his comment off, saying, 'Whatever. I smell food.'
I know, totally lame. But despite Paul's attempts to scare the beejeezus out of me, and the creepiness of the dark grand entrance room, all I could manage to think about was the food. I could smell the aroma of cooked meat. It danced around my head, making my mouth water, my stomach growl, and my nose tingle with its delightful scent. I needed food. I was going to get food. I had to have some food. NOW.
'CeeCee and Adam may not share our supernatural abilities, Suze, but let me tell you, they work magic in the kitchen,' Paul said with a moony sigh.
'Well, then, don't just stand there, show me. Unless you want me to die of starvation,' I said, a bit on the rude side. You know, Paul had been plenty rude to me in the past. Well, except for that one time when he said he'd always be there for me. And, you know, that time he offered to drop all of his plans for me-
Well . . . other than that, he's a jerk MAJOR.
He looked down at my injured leg and then looked back up at me, holding his arm out elegantly, 'Allow me to escort you to our fine dining establishment, ma'am.'
The way he said "ma'am" sent a tickling sensation to my ears. You gotta hand it to him, the man knows how to be smooth.
Only, when I went to grab his arm, he casually moved it away and instead walked ahead of me, barely waiting up for me in my poor crippled state.
See? Rude, I tell you, RUDE.
I struggled to keep up with him, but let me tell you, the man was fast on his feet. I envied him as he glided down the hallway with no effort, while I was barely stumbling along. It didn't hurt much or anything; it just felt weird to walk on. The cloth from Jesse's shirt was a bit too tight, thus cutting off my circulation and making my foot go numb. It didn't even feel like I had a foot or anything.
So you could see why I was totally ticked at Paul. I mean, he didn't even offer to help me out, and it seemed as if he were doing all of these things just to annoy me. Or to creep me out, whichever came first.
'Paul?' I asked, not even bothering to make my tone light. 'Why on earth are you staying here? Why can't you just, I don't know, LEAVE?'
'Why can't YOU? You seem to be the only one that has a problem with this arrangement,' Paul pointed out casually, still moving along at his insanely speedy pace.
I was kind of shocked. I mean, after all the stuff I did to him, he didn't care? My being here didn't affect him as his sudden appearance back into my life had? What was wrong with me?
'YOU have a fancy car, a gorgeous lake house, and a British supermodel for a girlfriend. YOU have no reason to be here,' I sniped.
He turned around quite suddenly, making me almost stumble on him and land into his chest. But luckily, I caught myself by leaning against the wall.
'Oh, like you do.'
Ouch. Seriously, those words hit me right where it hurt. It oozed with his cocky confidence that seemed to taunt me with "I'm better than you are, nannie-nannie boo-boo, stick your head in doo-doo". Well, guess what? My head was in the biggest pile of shit around.
'Y-you're not needed,' I stuttered, trying to choke down any tears that might have been trying to escape my eyes. I vowed a long time ago, that nothing anyone, even Paul Slater, would ever affect me like that and make me cry. But it just felt as if Paul was dragging me by my hair through this bed of hot coals, leaving me painfully burned and feeling terribly low. All over again.
'Well, actually,' Paul pointed out as he looked down at me, 'You heard them. They said they did.'
'They were just being nice. I'm not,' I said. I placed my hands on my hips and leaned on my good leg, looking up at him with the most intimidating look I could manage. It was hard to do, considering we were so close that if I moved my head too much, I might accidentally hit his nose. Hilarious as that may have been, I didn't want break his nose (again). I just wanted him to feel as small as I did right then . . . dust on his high-dollar classy shoes.
'Your ability, though ultimately as strong as mine, is untapped,' Paul replied cooly, breezing by my intimidation tactics as if they were a footnote. 'And besides, if I go, Dani goes too.'
'Puh-lease,' I drawled sarcastically, 'what on earth can DANI do? Blow kisses at the ghostie? Like that'll do us any good.'
'She happens to be a great mediator, Suze,' Paul said rather defensively.
I laughed. 'My mistake, then. As much as I'd LOVE to chat about the inability - er, I mean, ability - of your girlfriend, I must cut this discussion short. I'm starving.'
'Fine,' Paul growled as he pivoted sharply. The wind that his turn produced blew a little of my hair into my mouth. I brushed it aside and continued to follow him until we came upon these huge elaborate French-style doors.
'Well,' Paul said as he put his hand on the large curvy doorknob, 'here we are, hop-along.'
I sneered at him. Was that supposed to be cute or something?
'Hop-along? Hah. The only thing I'm going to hop along is your-'
But before I got to finish, Paul opened the doors to the huge dining hall. And by huge, I really mean GIGANTIC. There were several long tables with dusty untouched chairs. The décor was brighter, simpler, and a little plain in comparison to the rest of the rooms in the place. The walls were a pale blue color that clashed a bit with the wooden tables, but that only added to its simplistic beauty.
CeeCee, Adam, Father Dom, Dani, and Jack were all seated at the second table, sitting closest to the end. They were chitchatting while eating their food appreciatively. Jack lifted his head and caught my eye, throwing me a smile.
'Suze!' Jack called happily, 'Come here and sit next to me! I saved you a seat.'
'Whoa there. Hey to you too, little bud,' I replied giving him a short wave. I didn't move from my spot though. I was just a bit overwhelmed by the enormity of the dining hall. Every word - every movement - echoed loudly. It was a wonder, really, how engulfing it was. It seemed near impossible to be able to fill the room up, even if there were thousands of people in it. Which was just what the room was built for. To fit two thousand loud, obnoxious boys all from the ages of fourteen to eighteen, all of them whiny little rich snobs. Paul would've fit in just nicely here.
'Nice of you to join us,' Dani joked as she patted the empty chair between her and Jack. 'CeeCee has really outdone herself with the filet mignon. It's delicious.'
As I went to go sit next to her reluctantly, Paul breezed right on past me, knocking my shoulder a bit as his passed, and took the seat. I realized that Dani had been joking to him and not to me. It was Paul who she had wanted to sit next to her. She wasn't even acknowledging my presence.
Oh well, all the more reason to hate her guts.
Jack pouted. 'Pa-aul, Suze was going to sit there. Go sit next to Father Dom or something.'
'Sorry, little guy,' Paul said to Jack as he made a big production of kissing Dani on the cheek.
'Thanks, Jack, but I'm good,' I said as I half-smiled at Jack. Then I turned my evil death glare at Paul while I took a seat in between Father Dominic and CeeCee.
Seriously . . . what was Paul's damage? He's moved on. I don't see why he has to start acting all hostile and bitter towards me. He's no longer trapped in memory lane as I am. So why was he torturing me? Dangling what I missed out on right in front of my face, pulling it away as I finally reach for it. Again and again.
Um . . .
I changed the subject by looking at the giant plate of food that Adam set in front of me. 'Mmm,' I said in delight, 'it sure smells nice.'
I tried not to let my vision stray away form my food as I wondered where to start first. The steak? The baked potato? The weird pasta stuff on the side?
Just then, a slight shimmer caught my eye and I looked up to see that Jesse had materialized right behind Jack, who looked up at him with a smile. 'Hey Jesse,' Jack said cheerfully, 'Do you want some?' Jack realized what he just asked and frowned. 'Oh, yeah, sorry Jesse . . . ' he trailed off sadly.
I looked at Jesse uncomfortably. Paul grinned and said with a disgusting amount of fake sympathy, 'Yeah. It's too bad you can't enjoy this with us, JESSE.'
Jack and Jesse both shot Paul dirty looks. Jesse was Jack's best friend . . . no way he'd let Paul say stuff like that. And as for Jesse . . . it was bad enough that he was stuck in this Limbo between Earth and the heavens, but to constantly have to be reminded of it in a not so polite way? Well, you can imagine that would make him pissed.
And me too. Not because it was Jesse or anything. God, no. It's just . . . well, there is a fine line between a little humor and plain old rudeness. And Paul saw the line, deliberately jumping over it as if someone dared him to.
'Paul,' I said his name warningly, 'Shut up, okay?'
Father Dom, noticing the tension at the dinner table, swiftly changed the subject. 'Well, how is your ankle, Susannah? Is it doing better?'
'Um, better?' I asked uncertainly, a little embarrassed to be put on the spotlight. 'Yeah, yeah, I'm much better.'
'Though she does a bit of hobbling, she gets around just fine,' Paul remarked, looking at me with a dead-on look. It was almost as if to say, "I've got you now", only a little less creepy. But not by much.
I felt the gaze of everyone on me. Jesse's seemed especially heavy, weighted with concern. It probably wasn't for me, though. He was probably worried that I might cause some huge riot. Hell knows I can't do anything without causing some sort of trouble.
So, in order to save myself from doing something stupid, I had to deflect everyone's burning glares. So I cut a huge piece of steak and shoved it into my mouth.
'Mmm,' I said, my mouth full of partly chewed steak, 'This is GREAT. Um, what is it again?'
Adam's jaw dropped, and he provided us with a lovely view of the inside of his mouth. Which was, specifically, masticated cow.
'What?' I asked as I managed to smile. It was really hard to do with all that steak in my mouth. 'Can't a girl eat in peace around here? I'm starving.'
'Well, THAT'S apparent,' Dani scoffed, turning her nose up snobbishly.
'It's filet mignon, Suze,' CeeCee replied with a grin. 'You know, a type of steak?'
'Duh,' I said. Oh great. She thought I didn't know what it actually was. I wasn't THAT blond. I mean, just because Dani was dumb, CeeCee shouldn't be stereotyping, you know? But what about this weird pasta stuff on the side? What's that? It's good.'
'I cooked that,' Adam pronounced proudly. 'It's angel-hair pasta with a touch of Alfredo. My specialty.'
Paul twirled some of the pasta onto his fork, raising it to his lips and taking a slow, drawn out bite. He glanced sideways at Jesse, trying everything in his power not to laugh as he took more pronounced bites of his food. Then, as Jesse glared at him, he asked quite snappily, 'Do you mind, Jesse? I'm trying to eat here.'
'By all means, please continue,' Jesse growled, gripping Jack's chair tightly until his fingertips turned white. The same shade of white, I noticed, as the scar on his eyebrow.
'So,' CeeCee said conversationally, 'how are we going to deal with this ghost?'
'Oh! Can we do some ghost hunting tonight?' Adam asked with a glint in his eye.
'I don't know,' I replied, looking at my fellow housemates cautiously. 'He might try to hurt us.'
'He?' Dani queried cynically. 'So you're aquainted with this ghost already?'
I froze. I wasn't supposed to let that slip. I was the only one, besides Jack who heard the laughs too, to know that. And now that it was out, Paul had a good chance of finding the ghost . . . BEFORE I did.
Well, not just Paul. Other people could find it too, he was just the one that-
Oh, why do I bother?
'Does he inhabit your room by any chance?' Paul asked, glancing pointedly at Jesse.
Ergo my continued glaring. Paul was really, really pushing it . . . why the HELL was he being such an anus, anyway? I mean, he was really enjoying this. Then again, he always enjoyed rubbing it in Jesse's face that he, Paul Slater, had a pulse and a place to live.
'No, he doesn't live in my room,' I sneered at Paul. Then I glared back at Dani, saying cooly, 'I haven't even seen him yet. But earlier Jack and I heard him laughing. You know, when the ghost tried to kill Jack. No, wait. You WOULDN'T know. You were too busy sucking face with Paulie to know.'
Dani scowled at me unattractively. I turned to CeeCee and Adam and apologized sarcastically, 'Gee CeeCee, Adam. I'm so sorry for ruining your dinner. I guess it's not such a pleasant visual after all.'
Paul ignored me. Instead, his eyebrows were hiked in concern as he glanced at Jack, who was stabbing at his food with his fork. Jesse's face softened as he too looked at Jack protectively.
Jack really lucked out. This whole mediator thing got him two brothers. All it ever gave me was two jealous lovers, and a whole mess of trouble.
'The ghost tried to kill Jack?' Paul wanted to know.
'It was nothing really,' Jack replied, as a small grin crept on his face; proud that his older brother was finally interested in something HE had to say. 'I was just checking out the dumbwaiter. It was looking pretty suspicious,' Jack continued his story - purposefully leaving the part where I told him NOT to go in there in the first place - with coolness. 'And then the door slammed on me. It was pretty dark in there, but I thought everything was going to be okay. But then the ghost snipped the cord. Luckily, Suze here-' he paused for a moment, beaming at me, 'caught it and pulled me up to safety. She's really strong.'
'You're okay, then?' Paul asked. He gripped his younger brother's shoulder with his hand firmly, almost as if to make sure Jack was still in one piece, and that it wasn't an illusion or something.
'I'm good,' Jack said, smiling at Paul fondly, 'but Suze pulled a muscle in her-'
'Jack, as fascinating as that is, you need to eat something. Wouldn't want you to whither away or anything. So eat.'
'-shoulder.'
I slumped in my chair a bit. I've said it before but this completely sucked. I mean, when I'm not facing complete embarrassment, I'm nearly killing innocent thirteen year olds and getting my heart ripped to shreds all over again. This wasn't the life I was expecting when I was seventeen, let me tell ya that.
"Why are you so grumpy?" Jack asked me, leaning forward in his chair a bit, confusion evident on his features. Adam snorted while he shook his head. "You'll learn to get used to it, Jack. After a few years."
I laughed uncomfortably with everyone else until the laughter died. I shifted about in my seat, looking around the table for something, anything, to possibly change the subject.
CeeCee was giggling at something Adam had whispered in her ear, while Father Dominic looked on at them warningly. Jesse continued to watch Jack eat, just as he was doing before. I didn't really want to look at Paul . . .
When I caught a glimpse at Danielle, the perfect subject came to mind . . .
'What about the bathrooms?' I asked, a small grin creeping on my face. 'Has anyone checked them out yet?'
Dani gave me a snobby look. 'Yes, they are satisfactory - '
Adam grinned teasingly at here. 'She means, yes, they flush, no, they are not outside, and yes, the water is hot.'
CeeCee looked at him sideways as she curled some angel hair pasta around a fork, before carefully sliding it off the fork with her teeth. Dani forced out a hyena-wannabe laugh to Adam, but didn't say anything else.
Well, that was a relief. I mean, if I had to take a cold shower in a dirty bathroom, I would have an anaphylaxis. It seemed that Dani felt the same was as I did. Which was fair enough. I mean, it would totally suck to stand under dusty, chilled water. Suck in a major way.
I hadn't given this house enough credit. I would have thought that it had no electricity or anything. But nup, it was all cool. I mean, 1969 wasn't that long ago, huh?
Father Dom cleared his throat and regarded Paul. 'So, our friend Mr Head had no trouble signing?'
Paul grumbled.
'Huh?'
Father Dom turned his head. His snowy hair reflected whitely in the dim light. 'Well, you see-'
But before Father Dominic could say anything, Paul interjected. 'Father Dominic and I drafted a strict contract of confidentiality for Mr. Head to sign.'
Adam stared at Paul dumbly and said, 'In English, please?'
Paul glanced at Adam for a moment and then refocused his gaze on me. 'Basically, we typed up a contract that said we would work for Mr. Head if he agreed to not tell anyone about us. The SIA.'
I looked at Father Dominic unsuredly. I mean, sure people could know about the SIA. How else would we make money? I just really didn't want them to know that I was a part of it yet. The world is a harsh place . . . who knows what people would think of a few youngsters and an old priest who claimed that they saw dead people?
They'd send us to the loony bin faster than you can say "Sixth-Sense".
'Did he sign it, then?' I asked. 'I mean, of course he had to sign it, or we wouldn't still be here, right?'
Father Dominic said, 'That is what I'd like to know. He seemed a little hesitant.'
'Everything is settled. We have nothing to worry about,' Paul assured us with a confident air. 'It may have taken a little . . . persuasion, but he finally signed it.'
'Persuasion?' I asked with an arched eyebrow. Jesse looked at him suspiciously also. Obviously, he was intrigued with Paul's definition of "persuasion." Weren't we all?
Paul gave me a very faint grin, but didn't answer. I felt a very small chill, like many soft fingers brushing over my bare skin. I didn't ask again, but returned to my steak.
'So, um . . . did anytihng else happen while I was napping?' I asked after a slight pause in the conversation.
'Well,' Jack piped up, 'we unpacked our stuff, Paul went off to talk to Mr.Head, CeeCee and Adam started dinner, and I played cards with Dani and Jesse. Jesse's really good at Poker.'
Jesse smiled at Jack softly. 'I think she meant if anything out of the ordinary happened, Jack. Nothing else, in that respect, happened.'
'Oh,' I said. 'So . . . um, no . . . '
'No what, Susannah?' asked Jesse wryly.
I didn't want to answer. "Disembodied laughing" sounded too weird.
I shrugged. 'Yeah, you know . . . ghost stuff.'
Paul gave me a cool look. 'Well, apart from Jesse here, nothing much.'
Jack glared.
Father Dom cleared his throat. 'I'd like to speak of some rules, if you wouldn't mind.' Jesse stopped giving Paul the I-hope-you-choke look. Which was just as well, because I strangely enough, I wasn't in the mood for carnage. Even if it was of the kicking-Paul's-ass variety. But whatever.
I looked over to the old priest as well. He was looking at me particular, which I found kind of insulting.
'Firstly, I wish to specifically say that no exorcisms will be tolerated,' he said sharply to me. I cold almost feel Paul's complacent smirk, and suddenly I wasn't so against the whole ass-kicking thing. 'Exorcism should always be treated as a last resort. Nothing more. It is simply there if nothing else works.'
I blinked innocently at him, but he wasn't buying it.
'Susannah,' he said to me, 'I know that in the past, you have been inclined to use this when ghosts, er . . . vex you.' Something almost like humor flickered though his eyes so fast, I wasn't sure if it was there. Probably not. 'But this is not acceptable here. These ghosts deserve every, and if the SIA is to build up a good reputation - '
'Father Dominic,' I said in pretend shock, 'I'm appalled that you'd think I would be so flippant with - '
'Don't give me that,' he said tiredly. 'I am perfectly serious.'
Obviously. I don't think that wrinkles can look more intimidating, pops.
'Fine,' I scoffed as I folded my arms, 'no exorcisms. What else?'
'Secondly, we must address how we are to explore this house. I have already stressed the importance of staying together. No one - and I really mean no one - will ever explore this place on their own. You must be accompanied by at least one other person-'
'Living or dead?' Paul asked, throwing an amused look at me.
'Shut up and let the man continue.'
'Yes, if you wish to take Jesse along with you, you may,' Father Dominic replied as he looked at me. HELLO! I never asked if I could raom about with Jesse. Why was everyone looking at me? I shot the old man a dirty look.
'Anyway,' Father Dominic continued, 'we've already established one meeting place. If you, for any reason, get separated from your partner, you must report to the main entranceway immediately.'
Okay, this was easy enough. Sure, the whole buddy thing was a pain in the butt, but no one HAD to know I was exploring. I could say I was looking for a bathroom. Or maybe I could explore at night, when no one else is awake. I could easily bend Father Dominic's rules.
I mean, rules were made to be broken, right?
Father Dominic gathered his thoughts a bit and then proceeded, 'If, by chance, you happen to see, hear, or sense something out of the ordinary, you MUST come to me right away.'
Right away? Psssh, fat chance THAT was happening. I don't care if the SIA is a group that works together to smite evil ghosts. I'm still Susannah Simon. I can do all of this on my own.
I just wouldn't get paid for it. That's a real ego-deflator.
'What if that paranormal-whatever could be taken care of "right away"?' I asked defiantly. 'Do we need to bother telling you?'
'You must still come to me,' Father Dominic replied in his calm yet commanding voice. 'After all, sometimes our judgement can be impaired when faced with certain situations.'
No kidding. You don't have to tell me twice. As much as I hated to admit it, Father Dominic was right about something. But the things that had impaired my judgement in the past - lust, love, and broken heartedness - were totally over, right?
No comment.
'That's it?' CeeCee asked, confused. 'That's all of the rules? I mean, not that I want any more.'
Father Dominic smiled at CeeCee with the same smile he uses on first graders. 'Yes, CeeCee, those are all of the rules.'
'But sir, that doesn't reach the quota for tedious and unnecessary rules,' Adam joked. 'Looks like CeeCee and I get out easily. I mean, we can't do exorcisms anyway, we don't mind the whole buddy-system much, and we don't have the ability to sense paranormal activity. I like this gig.'
I smiled at him fondly. Adam was such a sweetie. He always had been and always would be. I saw the way that CeeCee looked at him. I'd seen that look before. It had possessed her eyes every minute of everyday. But now it was stronger. Her love for Adam was out in the open. She was so in love with him, you could sense it like you could sense no ghost. In your heart . . . like, hope. Hope for love.
Both of them looked good together. Like a two piece jigsaw puzzle. They fitted together perfectly, and couldn't be separated. Their happiness was kind of infectious, too. Adam's jokey nature and CeeCee's suppressed joy radiated gently around the room that they occupied. It would be felt, and it could ebb away at sadness.
And I needed all the ebbing I could get.
Jack frowned down at his salad. 'This tastes funny,' he said, poking it hesitantly with his fork. I looked up in mild outrage, but CeeCee asked him, 'What's wrong with it?'
Jack shrugged. 'I dunno. Just don't want it. Do I have to eat it?'
'Yes,' I sniffed shortly. 'Vegetables are good for you. I had to eat them when I was your age so you do too. Childhood sucks. So eat.'
Paul flashed me a cool look, and leant over to Jack. 'You don't have to eat it,' he whispered loudly. He meant for me to hear that. I knew that he did. He wanted me to know that he was defying my advice . . . he wanted to win.
I felt my face heat up.
And Jack, of course, liked his brother's offer better than my own. So he completely shoved his plate of salad over along with his veggies, and went straight for the steak.
Paul rewarded his little brother by ruffling his hair playfully. I glared at Paul. He SO does not know how to raise a kid. You don't REWARD them for defying authority.
I could just see little mini-Pauls running all over the place, wrecking buildings, lighting fires, and harassing innocent little girls. And their dear-ol-dad Paul will be looking down on them with pride and ruffling their hair.
Someone, quick! We have to stop Paul from reproducing before he and his offspring take over the world.
I did NOT just go there.
Ha . . . maybe we can just kill Dani before it's too late, and we have mini-Pauls?
Okay, so I DID go there.
And hey . . . even if Paul does not reproduce with Dani . . . it'll be fun anyway, right?
Death to Danielle . . . who cares if she is apparently an internationally famous supermodel with a smile that could crack an ice sculpture and a face so perfectly designed it cannot be paid for.
Okay, obviously a lot of people would care. I mean, the sudden homicide someone as rich and well known as her would cause a lot of noise. Models don't get offed one day, and NOT get to be in the paper the next. I mean, even I knew about Danielle Moore. How once, she was rumoured to have had a thing with Prince William, in some magazine. I doubt it's true . . . hang on, I don't actually.
I don't know anymore . . .
Adam looked up again. 'Nice, Suze?' he wanted to know.
'Hmm?'
'The food,' CeeCee said flatly.
'Oh,' I smiled, 'Uh, yeah. It's really good. When did you have time to buy all the . . . you know, ingredients and stuff?'
Dani tossed her sporty red hair. 'When you were busy snoring,' she said slyly. Paul gave her a look. I don't know what type of look.
I really don't. It was unreadable. But he gave her a look all the same. Knowing my luck, though, probably one that meant, "You GO, girl!"
How weird . . .
I couldn't take it anymore. I felt like a rubber band that had been stretched way to far. I snapped.
'That's it,' I said, hopping out of my chair, 'I'm out of here. If you need me, you'll just have to find me.'
I regretted the whole hopping up part because my leg throbbed in protest. So what if I stumbled a little bit. I didn't care.
I hobbled over to the elegant French-style doors and had my hand on the knob. To add to the drama of my exit, I turned fiercely around and shot a look at Dani, thoughts of pure hatred floating freely in my mind.
But the only thing that came out was, 'And I so do NOT snore!'
I stomped into the main entranceway in fury. Well, stomp may be a little too optimistic for what I was doing, but that was the only other way to describe it. Anyway . . .
I was so angry with everyone and everything. I was mad at Dani for obvious reasons. I mean, she had no right to say things about me that weren't true. Like, that I snored. Because I so don't. I sleep as quiet as a Church mouse, thank-you-very-much.
And then I was infuriated with Paul for giving Jack permission not to listen to me. And I was equally mad at Jack for not ignoring his brother's words. Heck, I was even mad at CeeCee, Adam, and Father Dominic.
I'm not really sure why, but I was MAD. So leave me alone, okay?
But anyway, I really had no idea where I was going. All I knew was that I just wanted to go somewhere and be alone. I wanted to escape to the into he dark cavern that was my mind. It's funny how I really never wanted to be alone in the first place. I just end up that way.
And the only reason it comforts me is because I'm just used to it.
I began to ascend the long staircase, refusing to acknowledge the small shots of pain that were shooting from my leg with each step. And then, all of a sudden I ran into something hard, causing me to fall back a bit.
Um, ow.
It turned out to be Jesse. Well, actually Jesse's chest to be more exact. Damn him and his rock-hard chest. It almost made me want to shove mouthfuls of ice cream down his perfect face to fatten him up or something. He's hazardous.
It's okay, ladies. I said ALMOST.
'What do you want?' I asked him as I crossed my arms coolly. Well, as cool as I could after just plowing into him. That kinda thing is hard to ignore. But Jesse didn't seem too concerned about it. He seemed more concerned about . . . well, me.
'Susannah, what is the matter? You seem angered for some reason,' Jesse said. He was kind of talking down to me, but not on purpose. He was, after all, on the next step up. So add that little fact and his undeniable tallness, and you have him talking down to me.
Duh, I wanted to tell him. Of course I was mad. But at the same time, I really didn't want him to see me angry, because then he'd probably start to get all guidance counselor on me and try to find out what was wrong with me. And I really, REALLY, didn't want to talk about it right then.
'Nothing,' I told him as I tried to dodge him by stepping past him, 'So scoot.'
Well, needless to say, that wasn't very convincing. 'Tell me what troubles you, Susannah,' Jesse replied as he stepped in front of me again. I tell you, there is no getting past this guy. He's, like, a brick wall or something. Stonewall Jesse . . .
'Don't you have better things to do' I asked him venomously, 'like, I dunno, watching Jack eat or something? He might need help with that too.'
Jesse frowned. 'Jack is fully capable of eating on his own. It is you I'm not so sure about, Susannah.'
'What are you talking about?' I wanted to know. 'I cleared my plate back there. Do you think I'm Bulimic or something?'
'I wasn't talking about the food,' Jesse said, obviously beginning to get annoyed with me. I've had to face Jesse being annoyed with me before. It was nothing new really. It just always made me feel bad for some reason.
But now I was confused. If he wasn't talking about the food, then what WAS he talking about?
Jesse's face lightened up a bit as he said, 'I'm worried about you, Susannah. You can't even walk properly, and you think that you can go parading around this place and not face injury?'
Oh. That.
Well, I was perfectly fine. My foot was only . . . um . . . mildly throbbing. But that was only because I was annoyed. Yeah, my annoyance was being channeled into my foot.
No big.
'Parade?' I demanded, 'Am I a float? Do you see any marching bands? No, I'm going upstairs quietly, for some quiet time. No parades here - '
Jesse groaned. Annoyance was the name of the game. 'Susannah,' he said, running one large, tanned hand down one hot, tanned face, 'Please. This school is dangerous. Can you not sense it? There are spirits here that have been unsettled for a long time, and, from what I can gather, they do not appreciate this intrusion.'
'Well, stuff them,' I said. Only, my profanity wasn't limited to "stuff," I'm ashamed to say.
What? I was twenty three. I had a license to swear, just like James Bond had a license to kill. Except he's 007. I'm more like . . . 000. Or 666. But God, wouldn't I like a license to kill? Yeah, kill that stupid bimbo of a -
Meh.
'Where were you planning on going, may I ask?' Jesse looked down at me curiously.
'My - um, room, because I'm tired - '
'You have been sleeping all afternoon Susannah,' he said flatly. 'Do not try to convince me that it was sleep you intended. You planned to explore on your own, didn't you?'
God, sit me in a dark room and shine a blinding torch in my face, why don't you? This was the treatment that the cops on TV gave the crims. Was I THAT low?
I raised my eyebrows. My rather nice eyebrows, if I do say so myself, not pencil thin like Dani's. Mine looked more . . . natural. So I waxed them, at least they didn't look like they'd been drawn on with a Fine Liner. But whatever. 'Of course not, Jesse,' I said with huge eyes, 'I love rules and conviction. I'd never do anything Father Dom didn't want me to.'
Jesse snorted.
'Oh, fine,' I snapped. 'Yeah, I was going to explore. And why not? While Dani's busy in the kitchen flirting with everyone with a penis, I thought I would do something productive.'
I swear to God, I so almost said "reproductive."
Ew.
Jesse looked strange. 'Danielle was flirting with Jack?'
I scowled, and pushed past him. 'Give her half the chance - who cares? Just leave me alone.' I tried to, you know, be cool and everything and run up the stairs, so I'd look all sporty and fit and preoccupied, but damn those stupid stairs . . . they were really small, you know? I slipped on one. So yeah, that's when Jesse started following me.
I turned to give him an accusing look. 'What are you doing?' I demanded.
His eyes looked back at me mysteriously. 'I am accompanying you, Susannah. You are going exploring, I know this. You are not, however, going alone. I do not care if you protest to this, I am coming with you. It is one of Padre's rules.'
I gave him a glare. A rather hateful one, too. Which was perfectly acceptable of me, I think. Due to . . . you know, things that had happened in the past.
And certain letters that were left on certain hospital beds by certain people.
No names, of course, Jesse.
What else could I do, though? There was no way I could find the ghost unless I got to go exploring. And I couldn't go exploring without Jesse shadowing me.
I swear. Dommykins probably still thinks we're in high school. Puh-lease.
Well, if he wants to treat us as such, I might as well go on defying authority as I had in high school. I'd find a way.
You see . . . this house was pretty big. Big enough that I could accidentally get separated from Jesse. And then I'd be free. Free to explore what was really behind those classroom doors.
Take that, Father D.
'Fine,' I told Jesse, 'I don't care. You can come with me if you want. Whatever.'
I, of course, crossed my fingers at my side. Jesse was none the wiser, of course. Maybe a little shocked that I gave in so easily, but he still went along with it.
God, I'm good. In a totally bad way, of course.
I continued up the stairs, with him trailing behind me like a loyal dog. It was a little annoying because every step I took that might have been just a little unstable, Jesse would stretch out an arm and catch my back. Eventually, he had to have his hand on my back the rest of the way, because I apparently can't walk.
This was no good. I couldn't stray away from Jesse when he was touching me like that. I mean, not like THAT but like . . . oh, nevermind. He was just making sure I wouldn't fall. That's ALL.
Ugh. Story of my life.
Whatever. I reached the top of the stairs on the third floor. I was going to go up to the fourth floor, but my foot had decided otherwise. Yeah, foot just had a mind of its own. Seriously. I couldn't figure out the best way to ditch Jesse, because, you know, with him being dead and all, he'd find me again and give me one of those, "I'm not angry, just disappointed" looks.
Meh. I looked down the corridor. It was eerily lit. Apparently, someone had gone down the hall turning the occasional light on. Who cared, anyway? It wasn't as if we'd have to pay for the electricity bill. Which was pretty cool. The whole free accommodation thing . . . made you wonder how organized this whole gig was, huh? I thought it was a pretty sloppy job, but the SIA had only just begun.
So yeah . . . give us some credit, right?
Dust drenched the old walls. Everything, it seemed was consumed by dust. So yeah, everything looked a lot grayer than it would have if Mr Dick Head had have called up a cleaner once a year or something. Jeez . . . way to let a place go. Thirty years?
And only NOW he wanted to turn it into a bed and breakfast?
The guy was on crack. For sure.
Either that, or he was just insane after so many years having to live with the frequent Richard Head jokes. Which was a very likely reason to go insane, right? I mean, I was almost insane, and all that had happened to me was I got viciously dumped.
YEAH JESSE.
Of course, maybe I was insane to begin with, to think that it would work out between us. That HAS to be it, right?
Anyway, the dust-ridden hallway was adorned with various pictures and some miniature statues. I'm sure they were probably of some important historical figures or something like that. Socrates, Plato . . . the philosophy types.
You know, if I owned a school, I'd definitely put statues of Homer Simpson. But that's just me.
But other than various out-dated works of art, there was nothing really wrong with it. If Jack and I hadn't experienced the little dumbwaiter escapade, I would have never guess this place was haunted. Creepy, but not haunted.
Well, now that you mention it, it did look a little bit creepier since the only light that was lighting the halls besides the random lamps was the eerie blue glow of Jesse's aura. And I guess that does make it haunted too since there was a ghost there. Just not the one I was looking for.
I accidentally tripped, which was funny because I didn't remember anything in my way. It was as if I just tripped on someone's shoe or something. Or maybe Jesse and his obsessive compulsive urge to follow me had accidentally done it. All I knew was that I found myself flat on my face a few seconds later.
Luckily, I was wearing pants. Jesse would have gotten quite a show if I had pulled that in a skirt.
I tried to push myself up, groaning in frustration. I half expected for Jesse to suddenly start cracking up because of my clumsiness. And then the whole house would hear his roaring laughter and (even Adam and CeeCee who technically couldn't hear him) and see me and then start laughing with him. At me.
'You're right Jesse,' I whined as I blew some hair out of my face. 'I can't even walk without falling. You probably think I'm, like, the biggest dork or something.'
Jesse looked confused. 'Dork?'
'Nevermind. You wouldn't get it.'
'Oh,' Jesse said as he took my hand and helped me up. 'Cool.'
I was shocked. Cool? COOL?!
Okay, who died and made HIM modern?
Wait . . . that sounds stupid. Because, technically, he died. He's like, totally dead. And Jack probably made him modern. He's like, totally alive.
So meh.
Jesse said cool. I'll get over it.
We were standing up, in the middle of the hallway. I was facing him, and, happened at that moment to notice again what exceptionally fine abdominal muscles he had. You know, with the ripped shirt and all, they're hard to miss. And I'd only grown a little taller since my eighteenth birthday, which was around when I left Carmel. And him. But yeah . . . those thoughts were pushed forcefully out of my mind.
Jesse's abs were in the past.
Well . . . and right in front of me - but can we PLEASE just look ahead???
Yeah, Suze. To see Jesse's abs.
You dork . . .
Jesse, I noticed, was looking down at me curiously with dark eyes. Everything about him was dark. His skin, his hair, his white shirt, even. It looked grey, in this light. But his eyes had the most obscurity, the eternal mystery. It was like his pupils contained a universe, one that stretched on for miles, in complete and utter blackness. The reflections in his eyes were the silver stars, and the flaked chocolate of his irises were the solar systems. I felt myself getting lost in his eyes all over again -
Suze, DON'T.
God, how could I DO this to myself again?
With a cough, I jerked away, which landed me against the fall. Oh, the grace. I didn't care. As long as I wasn't looking into those eyes, I was safe. Yeah, safe. From losing all ability of thought, and sense, and confidence, and . . . remembering.
I'm sorry. I really am. You're all thinking, "Um . . . Suze? Get over it? It's been and gone. Now, MAKE OUT WITH THE HOT MAN."
But you don't get it. You really don't. You don't understand how much hurt this guy caused. How many tears were shed. Tears that weren't meant to come. I shouldn't have cried. He shouldn't have refused to come with me. If he had have come, things would have been exactly the same.
Only I'd be happy.
Ha . . . he thought he was saving me.
Er, beg to differ? Jesse had condemned me to a life of misery, where I dwelt on the past and dreamed of what could have happened. How different things had been. He did that. He thought that he was saving me from a life of . . . well, not living.
But I'm not even alive now. I'm only half the girl I could have been.
No, I'm not doing that pathetic "Jesse completes me" thing. I mean, that is SO Jerry Maguire. I'm just saying . . . I gave Jesse my heart. But he broke it. Only . . . he didn't give it back. He kept the pieces, so I couldn't heal it and give it to someone else.
He wouldn't let me. His memory wouldn't.
I'd merely look at some other dude, and I'd see Jesse, and I'd have to look away.
Five years. Five years, this ghost haunted me. Only, this time, he was no where near me . . .
Funny how that happens, huh?
'Susannah,' his low, Spanish voice interrupted my forsaken musing, 'Are you all right?'
I realized that I was gawking down the hall. My mouth was probably hanging wide open, ready to catch flies or something. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a little trail of drool or something. That would be so like me, right? Or . . . well, Jack.
I sighed, and ran my fingers through my hair again. I felt cold. I didn't know why, I should have been warm enough. But no . . . I felt like a bitter slice of winter was searing through me. Gustily blowing the fragments of my heart away from my mind, so they were now two separate voices.
I could think clearly now, without wearing my heart on my sleeve.
'Jolly,' I beamed at him. With slight sarcasm, but he didn't need to know that.
Jesse nodded uncertainly. 'I see,' he murmured. I bet you he didn't.
I continued walking down the hallway. This house, this school . . . it was strange. I felt very weird. It reeked with education, and secrets, and tragedy, and silence. I could almost smell the things that had been learnt here in the past, and I could feel the sorrowful events in the coldness of my fingertips. The secrets were spice on my tongue and the silence was so deadly it roared in my ears.
And yet, all I saw was dusty darkness, and perpetual hallways.
Oh, happy day.
Jesse's footsteps trailed consistently behind mine. The rhythm of his steps seemed to patronize me, as they slipped into the steady beat that I was traveling. How RUDE. First he stole my heart, now he stole my PACE. Humph! I quickened my feet, so as to differentiate my feet's cadence to his. Shadows played numinously on the spasmodic wall patterns, bathed in the dim afterglow of Jesse's cool blue aura.
'So,' Jesse attempted, to start conversation. His voice was sepulchral, and in a kind of growl, that was so typical of him.
'So what?'
'So,' he said again, walking just behind me, and I felt a chill drown my arms, 'This exploring isn't very . . . engaging.'
'Engaging?' I scoffed. 'You want engaging, go watch Paul and Dani play footsies. I totally don't mind your absence. Hell, I'm used to it,' I added bitterly.
When did this corridor END?
His hand came to my arm. 'Susannah, please,' he sighed tiredly, 'This is so immature of you.'
Immature. I'm immature. He destroys my ability to love, and he calls me immature.
My God.
I must have been glaring pretty hard, because I felt the undeniable strain in my forehead. And suddenly, it hurt to glare, so I just yanked my arm away from him, and marched down the hallway, my eyes keen for any sign of suspicious activity.
Like, if Paul suddenly burst out of a room and smiled kindly at me, I would deem that as suspicious.
And then I'd kill him on account of my suspicions.
And I'd enjoy every minute of it.
And if I got caught . . . I'd say he looked kinda shifty.
Meh.
I killed a lawyer. The world is a better place.
Stupid . . . Slater . . . Barbie . . . implants . . . shesabitchandahalfandsheisaloserandtheyaresooooofakeyoucantotallytellyouloser . . .
No comment.
Honest.
'Susannah,' Jesse groaned, his voice running over my name like an over-used swearword that he was cursing out. It kind of hurt, the tone that he was using with me. Like I was a chore. God . . . thanks, honey. Really. For someone who's got low self-esteem, you're a real savior.
Um, not???
I kept going, but it was then that I heard something.
That laugh . . . that chilling, deep, soft chuckle, coming from what it seemed to be, within the very walls. As if the voice had been buried within the concrete of this school. Embedded.
I stopped. So did Jesse. I knew, because he ran into me, before grabbing my shoulders to steady me from falling from the impact of his sudden lack of grace. I couldn't hear what direction the laugh came from. It was like it was surround-sound or something. It chilled my blood. Ugh.
I turned to face him. Jesse, I mean. Not the phantom chuckler. 'You go that way,' I said, pointing in the direction we'd come from, 'And I'll go that.'
'Susannah, we should not split up - '
'Go,' I muttered dangerously, and stalked off in my assigned direction. He wasn't following, so that was a good sign. I waited with bated breath for another little laugh to daunt my senses, but it didn't come, failing to award my anticipation.
The dark, brownish walls seemed to close in on me now that I knew there was an unwanted presence. Mind, to this ghost, I was probably the unwanted one. But this ghost had endangered a life, so it had to be kicked out.
Er, I mean, mediated nicely.
Rousing me from my thoughts came the revenge of the roaring laughter. Only this time, instead of the whole surround-sound effect, it sounded as if the ghost was right behind me. Like how Jesse was following me earlier, except this ghost, whoever he/she/it was, was probably not looking to protect me.
I whipped around as fast as possible to check what was behind me. But the hallways were as empty as the bank account of a homeless person. No sign of anyone hanging around, human or ghost . . . not even Jesse.
And that's what kind of scared me. Jesse wasn't there anymore. Even if I was the one who told him to scram anyway, I just couldn't help but feel safer when he was in the same hallway as me.
I need a new mantra. I don't need him. I don't need him, I don't need him, Idon'tneedhimIdon'tneedhimIdon't-
Okay, maybe I do. But I so am NOT gonna let him catch on to that. That would just be embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing than what I did next.
I ran.
I just took off and ran down the dark, musty hallway. It seemed to just go on forever and ever. Kinda like the Shadowland, now that I really think about it. Except minus the unfamiliar constellations, the excessive fog, and the bright light that you're not supposed to go into. But, this hallway DID have a long stream of doors that had God knows what hidden behind them.
Well, there was only one way to find out . . .
I kind of stopped myself, causing me to slide a few feet due to our friend inertia, and pushed the door open to one of the rooms that just so happened to be closest. I slammed the door shut behind me and leaned against the door, panting.
I never considered that the room might be just a little dark. And maybe a little haunted, too.
I looked around, a little freaked out. Something was out there, playing with my head. Like, I dunno, Paul Slater used to. Only, when Paul did it, it only affected my love life for five years. Correction: lack of love-life. But it wasn't really anything that would threaten my life. Much, anyway.
I tried to convince myself that whoever was doing this was just trying doing some friendly initiation. I mean, the guy (or girl or whatever) hadn't been in contact with people in over thirty years. Moreover, we were people actually looking for him. We could actually talk to him.
Or, er, her.
Then again, I remind myself that this was probably the same ghost that trapped poor Mrs. Head. It's bad enough the poor lady has an unfortunate last name, but she has to deal with the Dickhead himself every night. And then her husband's silly dream leaves her trapped in houses by a merciless ghost?
It almost made me thankful. It could be a whole lot worse. I could have been Mrs. Head.
Holy crap, it was dark in there. There was absolutely no light coming in. And certainly no Jesse in there. Not that I WANTED him to be in there or anything. I could so handle this on my own.
Stop laughing. NOW.
Speaking of independence, the light switched on all on its own just then, sort of causing me to jump. In an instant, I could see that this room was some sort of music room. There was a piano in the corner of the room and some HUGE portraits of major composers like Bach and Beethoven, and yeah, a portrait of the Beatles.
Now, when I said the light switched on, I only meant a lamp. It was an antique looking floor lamp that was by the piano. It had a dark lampshade, so it cast this really eerie glow about the room. Everything, including the old baby grand piano, was covered in dust and there were cobwebs everywhere. The walls were painted this deep red colour. You know, the same color as fresh blood.
No, I'm not a Goth, I'm being perfectly serious. The walls were shaded in a red that could only provoke the suspicion of blood. But it was paint, people.
Well, I freaking HOPED it was.
Ringo, Paul, George and John leered down at me eloquently from their pride of place on the wall, with their long hair and their grayscale faces.
I stood against the door, not moving. I mean, nothing else was, so that was okay. This was all apart of exploring, nothing to –
Suddenly, along the piano, sheets of music materialized. Hundreds of sheets, all neatly aligned on the built in stand of the grand piano. I stared in surprise, and one of the titles of the songs on the symphonies caught my eye.
"Let it Be."
Beatles songs. Meh, I could deal.
Well, I thought I could.
It was about then, that invisible hands started thumping on the keys, to Beatles number. "Help!" I jumped in alarm, and looked around wildly, creeping along the wall closer to the raucous piano. The lamp seemed to be dimming again. With a slightly pounding heart, I got closer to the haunted instrument, when more invisible hands pounded on the ivories and ebonies. I almost shat myself, I'm ashamed to say. Seriously. I don't scare easily, with the ghosts. But when I can't SEE them - something I sure as hell am not used to - well, that's a different story. I knew why I couldn't see them - they weren't there. They had possession of this whole school, and could literally control illusions, without appearing. Oh, they were here all right. They were probably all pointing and laughing at me, all scared shitless against the wall.
'Ha freaking ha. Great joke, now kindly get a life?' I snapped, sounding a lot braver than my oscillating heart was willing to testify for. Get a life . . . right.
Just not mine.
"Help!" ended, and began an eerie rendition of "Misery" began. Who was playing it? The chilling, perfect chords seemed to immobilize me. I felt a coldness penetrate my skin, and sink right into my bones. I really didn't know what to do, now that there was no ass to kick.
However, halfway through misery, "I'll Get You" intruded rudely, making my heart feel like someone was squeezing it. The threat of this song seemed nothing like how the old Beatles used to play it. This one was dark, and fatal sounding.
But I was pissed at myself for being a wuss.
So I turned angrily and marched toward the ajar door.
Only, damn it, it slammed shut with an echoing THUD.
I swore angrily, when a spilt second before it happened, I heard a tiny creek, only to look up and see one of the massive Bach portraits falling, destined to come crashing on ME.
With a mortifying squeak, I dived to the left, and winced at the thunderous collision of the canvas on the wooden floor. The frame easily broke, but also made fairly considerable dents in the planks on the ground. Damn . . . I hope Mr Head paid us before he noticed this little bit of damage, that wasn't so little when you thought about it.
'I get it! I have no appreciation for classical! But seriously, dude, have you not heard of hip hop?' I reasoned, scrambling away shakily. The portrait flew vertical, so the piercing eyes of the guy in the painting seemed to be glowing at me, ripping my soul. Not so hot.
And "I'll Get You" was still playing. No, not playing, attacking. I felt like something very menacing was advancing on me, and when it reached me, the outcome wouldn't be that pretty.
That's juuuuuust great, huh?
With short breaths that hurt my throat, I launched myself at the doorknob, and turned it. Well, my hand turned, but the knob didn't, unfortunately.
The door was locked.
Fricken TYPICAL, right?
The piano's volume increased, rising into a climactic crescendo, and making my head roar in complaint. It was too loud - I couldn't think.
'Get lost,' I growled at the piano angrily, but in response, all the sheets of music rose abruptly, and soared at me, swirling around in a crackly mess like winged monkeys. I gasped and swatted madly, as muted shades of grey blocked my vision, and blurred staves and lyrics and notes and treble clefs danced before my eyes furiously, and refusing to cease.
'This is REALLY pathetic,' I sniped, trying to cover up my fear with a confident tone. Don't think it worked. Wind was blowing at me, and paper slashed across my body, as if to assault me.
The titles of the music demanded attention as they seemed to slice my skin. I yelled in fury, breathing faster and faster, and the piano got even louder, and far away, I could hear someone laughing. A guy. A guy was doing this, and he was laughing and he was scaring me and I was trapped in a swarm of possessed paper.
It really wasn't as amusing as it sounds, I swear to God. I COULDN'T SEE OR GET OUT AND I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS HAPPENING OR WHERE THIS STUPID GHOST WAS AND I HAD NO CLUE WHAT TO DO -
'SHUT UP!' I yelled piercingly, kicking the door with my throbbing ankle . . .
The piano stopped, the lamp went out, and the paper collapsed in a horrible white mess around me. Sheets were still floating freakishly down for several seconds, before everything was still and there was no more rustling of paper.
Breathing very, VERY hard, I glared around in delirious accusation, as my head seemed to pound faster than the vivace tempo of my own heart.
Someone was messing with me . . .
Someone was trying to scare me . . .
Someone was right here, in this room . . .
Watching.
From the darkness . . .
That was when hands seized my shoulders and flung me forward, across the ground. I grunted as I fell flat on my stomach, and got, you know, up close and personal with the splintered floor and everything. Everything was determinedly dark, now, and I couldn't see a thing.
All I could hear was chuckling. Someone thought this was hilarious. Slapstick, at my expense. I felt like a puppet, being pulled on black strings for someone's entertainment.
A marionette, at the complete and utter disposal of a cruel puppeteer.
And there wasn't a thing I could do.
The sniggering of this stupid ghost was screwing with my mind. I felt really dizzy, because it almost sounded like there was . . . there was more than one person laughing . . .
Oh, shit.
MUAHAHAHA. REVIEW! We'LL GET CHAPTER EIGHT UP ASAP IF YOU JUST REVIEW!
Fifteen reviews, because we're greedy little girls who love reviews to make us feel better about our sucky lives!
Well . . . that's Lolly's case anyway. I can't speak for Hayley, so much.
REVIEW OR . . . or we'll make it so there ISN'T a Jesse/Suze kiss later on! Ha! How do you like THAT? HUH, PUNK? HUH?!?!?!
I need a life.
Now review.
Love Lolly.