9 Months Later
So I've been here for several months now, here's what has happened to me so far:
Almost killed by the ghost who used to own my locker.
Had my first date, and then almost murdered by his uncle.
Almost killed (again) by ghosts (of course).
Found the remains of some dead guy.
Almost killed by some crazy woman.
Met Paul Slater.
Yep. That's quite a lot for nine months. But that's ghost busting for you, it never ends. Then again, the last one wasn't about a ghost. I met Paul Slater when I was working at Pebble Beach. It didn't help that he kept bugging me for a date. I kept saying no, to my mum's disappointment. And now he goes to my school, great.
I was sitting at my usual seat when my nicest stepbrother came in. Doc was really fascinated by the bones we dug up in the back yard. He was researching who they were.
"Suze, Suze, I think I've found him."
"Found who?"
"The guy who was buried in the back yard, his name was Diego. He was a slave runner."
"Wow, Doc, that's interesting, really, but I got some homework to do." Doc kept on going as if he hadn't heard me.
"That's not all though. He died in a fire trying to kill his lover's fiancée. They were descended from the Spanish royal family. Look."
Doc shoved a heavy book into my hands. It showed a picture of a girl about my age. She looked good for a girl from the nineteenth century. She had a hoopskirt and looked very familiar.
"And this was her fiancé, he was her cousin." I looked at the next picture. He seemed achingly familiar.
"Jesse." My mouth said the words before I had time to register them. Doc looked at me in shock.
"How did you know? It says his name was Hector 'Jesse' De Silva."
"I just know, that's all. Why don't go and do something useful instead of wasting your time on these dead people." I grabbed the book from his hand and shoved him out the door. It was mean, I know, but I just needed to be alone. With the book.
"What shall I do?" Doc's muffled voice rang from the other side of the door.
"I don't know, go build a time machine or something." I suggested.
"Fine." I heard him stomp away and made a mental note to apologize to him later.
I looked at the picture of Jesse De Silva. I know I've seen him before. But where? Suddenly it clicked, I knew. I went over to my bed and grabbed from under my pillow. It had appeared recently. I had no idea how it got there but now I'm glad I didn't chuck it away. I was never able to.
I looked at the miniature. It was the same. This man, whoever he was, was important to me. I had to find out what he was to me and why I knew him.
Was he the thing I was missing?