Maggie

Unrest was palpable in the air, so thick Maggie could almost taste it. She was surprised to see so many people packed into the Butcher's Block, the bar owned by one of Nick's many friends. It seemed like there wasn't a person in the city who didn't know Nick, and half of them owed him favors. He'd called in one for this meeting, needing a space big enough to hold everyone. The owner, Butch, wasn't exactly pleased with the arrangement. His bar had live music many nights of the week, so he was concerned with the possible effects of his name being associated with the boycotters. Nick had assured him that there was nothing to worry about.

There were a lot of people Maggie recognized, as she looked around from her vantage point at the bar, where she and Becca had set up camp to stay out of the way. She saw roadies, bartenders, bouncers, and various young people that were often at the same shows she went to with Nick and Becca. Seeing all these people together, it hit Maggie full force how many lives were intertwined, how many would be affected by what would happen next.

Everyone turned their attention toward the stage, where Nick was standing. "Everyone! First, I'd like to thank all y'all for coming," he said, answering cheers drowning out his voice. "Now, we all know why we are here. Things can't keep on how they are. A lot of us are low on work-"

"There'd be more work if the owners hadn't got so greedy!" a voice in the crowd cut him off, with more cheers following.

Nick waited for the crowd to quiet before continuing, "And none of them have shown that they're willing to compromise. They're nothing without us! We deserve a say in the way things are done, but do they listen?"

The crowd answered with a resounding "No," getting more riled by the minute.

"We must make them listen!" Nick punctuated his statement with a fist in the air. "Soon enough, there will be no shows, no work, and no music. What are we going to do about it?"

Word had spread, of course, of Nick's previous diatribe, so this time the crowd knew the answer and were able to take up the chant.

"Boycott!" It rattled the eaves of the bar, and Maggie imagined it reverberating down the street, echoing in between the lines of the skyscrapers, sounding deep into every dive bar and concert hall in the city.

When the crowd finally settled again, Nick picked back up, "This week, Thornton will announce his festival lineup, tickets will go on sale- but no one will buy them!" This worked the crowd into even more of a frenzy, everyone talking over each other. Nick apparently heard something in the clamor that he didn't like, since he was suddenly whistling for attention. "No! Stop that thinking right there. No violence, no weapons. How can we get respect and recognition if we act like the thugs they think we are?"

The majority of the crowd seemed to agree, though some seemed more reluctant than others. "Good," Nick was satisfied with this response. "Friday it is then. Friday, when Excelsior tickets go on sale, that's when it starts. Let's make this scene a ghost town! Let the Ghosting begin!" With that, he stepped off the stage and into the crowd waiting to congratulate him on his master plan.

Maggie and Becca looked at each other, concern mirrored in their eyes, before standing up to wade through the crowd to find Nick. Later, walking back to the sibling's house, they were all silent, lost in their own thoughts. Maggie's stomach felt twisted in knots, fearful of the unknown that hung over them. She just hoped Nick knew what he had started, because there seemed to be no going back from here.

John

It stormy all that week, the wind and rain that battered the windows matched the turmoil in John's mind. Sitting on the couch, staring into space, he thought about the rumors he'd heard over the last few days, stories coming in from every direction about what the boycotters had planned. It was a lot to take in; he was surprised at the cohesion among the group, even somewhat impressed that they were becoming so well organized. He had an idea of who was to blame for that but hadn't been able to confirm his suspicions so far.

Tired of these thoughts that were running around his brain, he turned on the TV. Before he could change the channel from the evening news to something more mind-numbing, the reporter caught his attention. "Up next, who are 'The Ghosts'? Stay tuned for an exclusive interview with the leader of this grassroots boycott movement, Nicholas Higgins, to find out who they are and what it means for you." As the TV cut to commercial, John slumped back into the couch. That at least answered that question.

Reporters had also been calling all week, but the owners had agreed to keep silent on it for now. They wanted to wait, to be sure that this so-called 'ghosting' business wasn't just the boycotters blowing smoke. John tended to agree, especially since this was one of the only things the owners could come to an agreement on. In everything else, they were at odds, each with their own opinions on how to proceed, and none of them willing to move an inch in their stance.

He turned off the TV as his mom came in the room. "I guess you've heard the news, then," she said, noting his dejected disposition. "They're saying it will start Friday."

"It's no more or less than we expected," he sighed. "But don't worry too much mom, I've got a plan in the works. Let's see how bad it really is before getting all worked up."

She seemed surprised at the mention of a plan but should have known that her strong son wouldn't go down willingly. "What plan is this, then? You haven't mentioned it before."

John shook his head, not wanting to give away the details just yet. "I haven't gotten it fully worked out, but it won't be easy, or cheap, for that matter." He smiled at her, patting her hand reassuringly.

Still unconvinced, she decided not to pursue further questioning. "Well, I only wish we weren't having the party after all, not if this plan of yours is going to cause extra expense."

"It will be okay, mom. We will keep on as we always have. We Thorntons are fighters, you know," he said with another sad smile.

She did know. But after years of fighting, she just wanted her son to be able to sit back and let his guard down. Now wasn't the time to tell him that, so she just nodded. Satisfied, he got up and headed towards the music room, where she knew she would find him later, curled up like the little boy he used to be, one who needed her protection.

Maggie

It seemed odd to Maggie to be picking out a fancy dress for a party while the rest of the city seemed in turmoil. The Ghosts had been on the news all week at this point, starting to gain more widespread public support. Even those who formerly had no opinion on such matters were taking sides. Local musicians and businesses alike were coming out of the woodwork, whether for or against the Ghosting. Several high-profile rappers had made statements against the owners, and a few bands that had got their start in the city voiced their disappointment in their fans. So far, there was radio silence from the owners. Maggie wondered what the reasoning behind that could possibly be, hoping John knew what he was doing.

But her father was determined for them to go to the Thorntons', and her mother insisted on her looking appropriately dignified. Mrs. Hale was currently attempting to convince Maggie that she should go shopping for a new dress, since she was sure all her old ones were woefully out of style. Dixie rolled her eyes dramatically at the sentiment, backing up Maggie's protests that she had several timelessly classic items that she thought would work.

So, she carried down a few of her nicest dresses, ones she hadn't needed since leaving Boston, to show her mother and decide what to wear. She rounded the corner, her hands full of the potential outfits, calling to her mother, "I'm sure at least one of these will be perfectly fine for…" She trailed off as she entered the room, seeing that in her absence another person had appeared in the front room. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize we had company."

The stranger gave her a teasing smile. "Oh, Maggie, the last time I saw you, you were just knee-high to a grasshopper, running around and getting into mischief with your brother," he said, standing up and opening his arms for a hug.

"Mr. Bell! I hadn't heard you were back in town." She gave the older man a small hug before stepping back. It had been years since she'd seen her father's old friend. He lived a rather hectic life, always on the go somewhere; according to her father, he had been abroad for the last few months.

Returning to his seat, Mr. Bell gave Maggie a long, appraising look before saying, "Well, Hale, we always knew she'd be pretty enough, but I'd say she exceeded our expectations!" Maggie felt her cheeks heating in embarrassment at this strange compliment.

Noting his daughter's discomfort, Mr. Hale stepped in. "Alright, Bell, don't tease Maggie like that. She's not used to it."

With a laugh, Mr. Bell directed his attention back to Maggie. "I'm sorry, love, no offense intended."

"Of course," she replied, hoping to push off the awkwardness of the conversation. "We're glad you've finally come to visit."

A somber look came over Mr. Bell's face. "Indeed, I cut my travels short when the news of all this business reached me. I thought I ought to come to check on my investments before things get too out of hand, to see if I need to make some changes."

The thought that the owners could lose investors hadn't occurred to Maggie. "I'm sure everything will be all right, won't it? We don't even know how successful the boycott will even be."

Mr. Hale shook his head sadly, "I'm afraid their cause is gaining support by the minute, it seems. I've had the chance to talk to many people about it- you know, everyone is so friendly down here, willing to tell you their whole life story while standing in line at the supermarket. Their complaints seem valid, especially from the standpoint of those like Maggie's friends, the ones whose livelihood depends on the industry, and that is just the tip of the iceberg. But when John is here, his counterpoints seem just as valid. It's not as black and white as either side wants it to seem."

"I'm sure Mr. Thornton does makes his side seem very reasonable," Maggie said with some disdain in her voice. She didn't like the thought of John discussing this with her father, poisoning his mind against her friends.

Her father ignored her tone, continuing, "I am a bit surprised that the Thorntons are continuing with their party, in the wake of so much unrest."

This made Mr. Bell smile. He obviously enjoyed making jokes at other peoples' expense, and Mrs. Thornton was a prime candidate for that. "The Thorntons have been hosting this annual party for years. Mrs. Thornton would never let something as inconsequential as a social uprising alert her plans. She's a force to be reckoned with."

"Now that we can agree on," Maggie said, glad when the conversation turned to more mundane topics. Her mind wandered as her father and his friend chatted. The designated day for the boycott was just on the horizon, and she wondered how any of them were going to make it out unscathed.

John

After tossing and turning all night, John finally got up before the sun rose on Friday morning. There was no use staying in bed when it was obvious sleep wasn't going to come. It was almost the moment of truth- today the festival lineup would be released across the city. Tickets would go on sale at 10:00 am. The question was, would anyone buy them? He had a bad feeling that things were not going to go in his favor, not today at least. So, he steeled himself, preparing for disappointment.

His mother came into the kitchen not long after, finding him sitting on a barstool and staring into his coffee. They didn't speak to each other, just wordlessly got ready for the day ahead. John was grateful that his mother would be at the Mill with him to help out, as she was every year. Usually, she was needed to help direct the crowds and workers, answering phone calls when needed and keeping track of sales. He didn't think those particular skills would be needed today but was glad for her support nonetheless.

At 9:30 they left for the Mill, to open the box office and make sure everything was in order. He was surprised to see Nick and Becca were already there, waiting for him. He honestly hadn't expected them to come, though they hadn't spoken about it. Really, they hadn't spoken much at all recently; John had assumed they both wanted to avoid a confrontation, though one seemed likely now. Nick's face had a hard set to it, like he was preparing for battle.

In contrast, Becca smiled sadly at her boss, saying quietly, "Good morning, John, Mrs. Thornton." The older lady gave only a curt nod in response.

"I didn't think y'all would be here," he said to the siblings, as he unlocked the box office door. Looking around, he began to understand why, exactly, they were there. A few news vans had arrived and were setting up. Of course, he thought bitterly, let's make it as big a spectacle as possible. He wondered what Nick had up his sleeve to make a bigger scene. Neither of the siblings thought it necessary to answer his question since it seemed he had come to his own conclusions.

With a sigh, John shook his head. "Well, let's get on with it, then," he said before walking into the Mill. Let them have their spectacle. There was no use fighting about it now.

Finally, the clock struck 10. It seemed like everyone was holding their breath to see what would happen. Of course, nothing really happened. That was the problem. No one approached the box office, no one called. There were a few online sales, but nothing compared to the usual volume. At one point, someone on the sidewalk seemed to want to come up the driveway but changed their mind when they saw the news vans.

This went on for a while until Nick broke the silence they'd all been preserving. "Well, I think me and Becks will be heading on then." He at least had the decency to seem a little bit sorry. Just not sorry enough to make a different decision.

John gave them both a long look before replying. "You know what it means if you leave now, don't you?" He thought about the years they'd worked together but wondered how much he actually knew about either of them. It was amazing, you could see someone almost every day, and not really know who they are, what sort of things they cared about.

"Yes, sir, we do." Nick's face said far more than his words. It's nothing personal, his eyes said, I wish it didn't have to be like this. John understood, in some way, that this had grown far out of Nick's control, even though he was the match that lit the fire. He knew it wasn't Nick's fault. If it hadn't been him, it would be someone else. But that didn't take the sting out of his actions.

Before they left, Becca turned to her boss with tear-rimmed eyes. "I'm really sorry, John." Then they were gone, exciting the news crews with their exit. John wasn't surprised to see his own face on the news that night, the bold letters of the headline proclaiming ominously: The ghosting has begun.