This is like double my other chapters, but if I didn't put it all in one I would really have stopped at an appropriate place. Right? Okay then. This is a happier chapter as well. I don't think I make anyone cry here. Claps! And because I'm updating sooner than Thursday, I might not have a Thursday update ready.

Thanks for the great reviews, keep them up and I'll just have to keep writing. Now, what are you still doing reading this boring thing. Get on with the chapter.

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Jesse was, once again right.

He was always right. I don't think I can think of a time when Jesse wasn't right. I mean, maybe he was wrong on something simple, but something as big as what happened. No way, he was always right. I'm talking about how he said everything would be fine, this morning in the hospital.

I guess he's just naturally smart, or something. Like a woman's intuition, except a Jesse intuition. Sorry, babbling, rewind…

I finally went home. The morning my mom woke up, I talked to her as long as they would let me. Told her everything that she missed, and things she didn't. I told her repeatedly that I love her. And whether or not this is fortunate, the conversation about Shadowland never came up.

I think she thought she dreamed up the entire thing.

When the nurse told me it was time for her to rest—which I thought was really weird, I mean she's been resting for the past week or so, how much more sleep does she need—Mom insisted that I go home.

So I did. I ran past the mirrors in the house, not glancing once. For the fear of…well, the obvious; me flipping out because I look disgusting.

I mean, I could look okay, but I didn't want to chance my panic attack. After having a long shower, drying and straightening my hair, applying some make-up and changing into some normal clothes—low rise jeans, and a long sleeve tee—I had linner or dunch with David and Andy. Linner, Dunch…cross between Lunch and Dinner. Ha-ha! I know!

And yet my English teacher in New York seemed so insistent upon failing me. Can't seem to remember why…

Its life's mystery, today, where Jake and Brad disappeared to…NOT!

We were eating some fancy sandwich that Andy had made. Let me tell you that after you've been eating hospital food, or no food at all for the past week, having any of Andy's fresh cooking is like winning the lottery.

Maybe that wasn't the best term, since I haven't won the lottery…ever. But it was definitely spectacular. I don't think I've ever eaten so fast, and they were just sandwiches.

I had just taken the last my bite when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Glancing at the caller ID I saw that it was CeeCee calling me.

I said a quick thanks to Andy, before exiting the room. "Hey Cee," I said brightly into the phone. It's the happiest that I've been in the past week.

For obvious reasons.

"OMG, Suze!" CeeCee squealed into the phone. I had to pull it away for a brief second, you know, so I wouldn't go deaf or have my ears fall off. "You're happy; your mom's awake?"

"Yeah, this morning," I said. I was pacing slowly around the living room. Touching random objects as I went, laughing slightly at Cee's hilarity.

"Adam, Suze's mom woke up this morning," I heard CeeCee's muffled shout through the phone and it made me laugh again. Figures, Cee and Adam are always together.

"Yeah, my Mom's awake, Cee. So are you gonna tell me the gossip I missed at school or am I gonna have to call my other best friend, Kelly," I said sarcastically into the phone.

I heard CeeCee snort, "Yeah right, like she could get better gossip than me…Now where do I begin," CeeCee mumbled into the phone.

Always count on Cee for the good stuff.

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2 Weeks Later;

Mom came home from the hospital about a week after the Saturday she woke up. By the next Monday morning, I was in the Rambler, listening to Brad's crappy singing to his annoying hip-hop songs, on my way to the Mission.

For school, of course.

I didn't miss homework. CeeCee and Adam were frequently dropping by to see me and my mother and how we were doing. And when they came, they always had another pile of homework for me.

This I'm not sure whether it's a good thing or not.

I was in our rows, on time, for the morning announcements. When as dreadful as it always comes to me, they called my name to go to the principal's office.

I waited until they finished before making my way to see Father Dominic. I came to his big wooden door, shut by the way, and knocked gently.

Didn't want to give the old guy a heart attack, you know, if I startled him, by bursting in.

"Come in," he said without hesitation.

I opened the door, sticking my head in first, before opening the it wider and walking in. "Hey Father D," I said casually.

I walked over to his desk and dug out one of his many confiscated toys. Today I grabbed a slinky. It was that or some silly putty, which makes your fingers smell. Who knows where the game boy went.

Maybe Father D.…nah!

I sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, "So, what did you want to see me about?" I asked tossing the slinky back and forth from hand to hand.

"How's your mother doing?" he asked, folding his hands and leaning forward slightly. I think he wanted to show me that he was concerned or listening. Compared to when he fumbles with papers around his desk in a klutz-like manner.

"Really good," I said cheerfully. "She's been in for a bunch of tests but they just want to make sure she doesn't relapse and that she's healing okay, but she's home and feeling a lot better."

"I see, that's good," he said, nodding slightly. Then, as per usual, he unfolded his hands and began fumbling with papers. "How's your spiritual activity?" he asked softly.

It made me want to laugh. Extremely hard.

I'm mean, I know, I've been told plenty. Laughing at a priest should make me burn in hell, but I'm doing God's work with these ghosts, right?

I should be able to get some free 'Get out of Jail Free' or even 'Get out of Potential Burning in Hell' cards.

But just the way Father Dominic asked me about my 'spiritual activity' made me want to laugh. "Good," I said trying to suppress my giggles.

"Just good," he said pausing from his shuffling for a minute to give me a stern look.

"Yeah, well, I haven't seen a ghost since…Saturday, the day my mom woke up. But that was just her. See Paul said that my mom might be in Shadowland. Lost from her body, kind of thing, so I went up there looking for her. I found her and pushed her in her body, not literally, you know. But like Jesse. I haven't seen one since then. Which is a little weird considering I was in a hospital, but whatever. Maybe no one has died recently," I realized from the look on Father Dominic's face that I had been talking extremely fast for him.

"Uh huh," he said nodding slowly. "So not since Saturday?" he asked.

I'm assuming he was checking to make sure I wasn't hatching rash plans of ghost-ass kicking or exorcism.

And I was just about to confirm his sentence when out of the blue a ghost materialized behind Father D. "Scratch that," I said pointing to said ghost.

I watched as the father turned his swivel chair to face the ghost, whose eyes had bugged out of his head at the mention of him. But, that wasn't what was bothering me. What was bothering me was the fear that was covering his face.

"How can I help you, Sir," Father D. said calmly and politely. The guy, who Father D. was referring to, looked to be in his early twenties. He kinda looked the same age as Jesse, except not nearly as hot.

The guy was dressed in dark jeans and a black zipper sweater. He had thick black hair in a long front comb-over, with a streak of blue running through it. Right now his eyes were bugged out, which isn't all that attractive—at least not on him—and his nose, that was kind of shaped bumpy or beak-like, was bright red.

Don't know why, but it was.

The fear that was spread across his face was clearly evident in his voice. Did Father Dominic notice this, or was it just me? "Uh, Tom," he said hesitantly. "You…can see…me?" he asked looking between Father Dominic and me.

"Yeah, we can see you, Tom," I said without a care. That line gets old real fast. So does me saying that that previous line gets old. Yeah, uh-huh. It makes me itch when I hear it asked. Really, if someone can talk to you, obviously they can see you, DUH!

I know that death can be hard and all but who said anything about becoming more stupid when you die. Or were people in life already that stupid. If so then in the next decade we will either be overrun with incredibly stupid people or just all die due to them.

Did that last paragraph make me a hypocrite. I mean I know my grades aren't great but I'm not that dumb. Now where was I?

I have been improving on my mediating skills—not that I thought my method wasn't working, OH NO! It was all Jesse and Father D. they apparently didn't like it, pfft!—but I still couldn't be all that compassionate to a ghost asking such a stupid question.

Father D. didn't like my less than sympathetic response. I knew this since after I muttered the words the father's head whipped around to give me a glare. Not a horrid one that Kelly might give me if she thought I had ruined her day or something, just one stating be-nice-Susannah-he-is-after-all-dead-and-no-one-needs-your-stupid-comments. Of course, Father Dominic would never actually SAY it, let alone like that. I knew what he meant.

I sighed, "How can we help you, Tom?" I smirked at Father D. as if to say, happy? Father Dominic just ignored my smirk and turned his attention back to the ghost named Tom.

"You can't," he said shortly.

God! What is with these stupid ghosts? They really tick me off. I will admit that occasionally I will get a good ghost that will just tell me something easy and disappear, but the angry and stupid cryptic ones. GRR!!

"Fine then," I stood up from the chair, looking at Father Dominic. "We done, Father D.?" I asked and without waiting for a reply, "Good then." I turned and headed towards the door.

Hand on the door knob and everything, "Sit down, Susannah," I heard the father's voice.

I obeyed, don't know why, but I did, and sank down into the chair I had been occupying before.

"What do you want then?" I asked, ignoring Father D. and whatever looks or pained expressions he was making at my blunt rudeness.

"Well nothing really," he paused and I could feel myself fuming. Breathe, count to ten and back Suze. "But you can't help me, I guess…" he continued, "I guess I have to help you."

"Huh?" was my witty remark. Yeah, yeah, I know. But honestly that's all that was going through my mind.

"I can't say much," he said taking a step forward and lowering his voice a bit, "because I don't know much, but…" he paused again, looking around the room as if someone might me hiding. "Bad things, huge, powerful things are going to happen, and you," he murmured looking at me, "have to stop it," he stepped back and regained his less than a murmur voice. "You won't be able to, though, not by yourself, anyway."

And with a wink—yes, he winked—he dematerialized.

Without thinking, I shouted, "I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HELPING NOT LEAVING STUPID CRYPTIC MESSAGES!"

"Shh, Susannah, someone will hear you?" Father D. muttered to me.

"Sorry," I muttered back. "I gotta get to class, can we finish this some other time?" I asked.

"I suppose so," Father Dominic said turning back to shuffling his papers.

It didn't take much to get me out of his office. I don't think I've wanted to leave there more…well maybe that other time…never mind.

You'd think the ghost, Tom, would provoke more thought than, well nothing, but he didn't. Not really. I just passed it off. It kind of just felt like some stupid prank or other.

Not something completely real.

So I think the most I got out of it was how crappy it was to be me, a mediator of which I didn't ask to be, with all this 'Extra Work'.

"I have to stop it, but I won't be able to."

Uh huh!

And I'm the president of Bulgaria.

…NOT!

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I heard faint voices coming from my mother's room as I tiptoed to the kitchen for a diet coke. I didn't want her to know that I had been out past curfew. I wasn't doing anything bad. I just needed to clear my head. Its been stressful lately. And tonight wasn't turning out so good.

So I climbed out my window and wandered down to the beach. I listened to the waves and let the wind wash over my sand-covered body. And I was just returning now, only to catch my mother talking to someone in her room as I headed towards the kitchen for a diet coke.

It's not like its that unusual for my mother to be talking to someone in her room. Its just that Andy is out with the boys for Dopey's wrestling competition. They aren't supposed to be home for two days—hence why we will be living on leftovers for that time being.

So, she is alone in her room talking. So what, right? She has a phone in there. But the reason I stopped dead in the hall was because I could hear the second voice. This definitely wasn't a phone conversation.

One of the voices, I distinctly heard as my mothers, yet the other was unfamiliar, to say the least.

As quietly as I could, I crept towards her doorway. The conversation clearing and coming into focus, as I did so. My mom's voice was full of shock and puzzlement, "So you're telling me that you're a GHOST?"

Yup, that would definitely be shock and puzzlement. Her tone of voice and stubbornness to realize that yes it must be a ghost was highly amusing to me as I stood on the balls of my feet.

But I guess it wasn't her tone that flabbergasted me but that fact that she was indeed asking if she could see a ghost.

You see, I've wanted to tell my mother all my life that the reason why I am—or at least was, until improvement to my lying, and acting skills earned me some normality in my life at No Cal—was not because I was a delinquent or because I was part of a gang but rather because I had a really weird gift.

One that at any time, before California, I would have definitely called a curse. That was until my so-called curse brought me Jesse. But that is a different matter. The thing is, is that my mother is an amazing mother. I love her to pieces, and for everything that she has ever done for me, I'm grateful for. God forbid, she ended up with me as her daughter. Which, honestly isn't fair at all.

But the longing to tell my mother that the reason I have broken 'n' entered, snuck out of the house, or been brought home by the big guys in uniforms was not because she was a bad mother who didn't raise me well, but because I was doing it to assist a ghost into their after life.

But nonetheless the longing has never left, and never will until the day I utter the words, 'I see ghosts, mom. Do you still love me?' Hoping all the same that she does not lock me up on the ninth floor in Bellevue—the place for the crazies in New York—in one of those rooms with the white padded walls where all the attendants wear those unflattering white straightjackets. The longing still sits on my shoulders, forever—or so I thought.

And I know I made the promise to tell my mother about my gift that night in the hospital. But when the conversation about Shadowland never came up—I think she passed it off as a dream or something—I kind of let it slide away unsaid.

Every time I come close to telling her something happens. Whether someone else walks in, the phone rings, she gets preoccupied, or she just looks at me with those motherly worn eyes and I can't do it. I can't tell her that I see them. I'm terribly afraid that she'll think I'm crazy.

Its sad that I can't tell her. She's my mother I should know that she will still love me. But the thought of her not trusting me or believing is frightening.

But the fact that at this very moment I'm pondering all this, my mother seems to be seeing, talking and looking shocked at a ghost. Surprising questions pop into my head, surprising questions like; Why hasn't she told me she could talk to ghost? Or is this her first ghost visit?

But those questions were simply squished with the mythical fist of joy brought on by the fact that I can finally tell my mother that I am a mediator.

Be brave, Suze.

I pushed on the door with my index finger, letting it swing open to show my mother sitting on her bed looking exhausted and confused, while a ghost stood across her room looking mystified why someone could see him but didn't know what he was or what to do with him.

Mom shook her head before turning to me, standing in the doorway with a half grin, half smirk on my face. A twinkle of joy glowing in my less than gorgeous—at least by me—eyes. And the fact that my brain was going so fast that thoughts could not be captured and think through, because when I grabbed a hold of them in my firm mystical fist, they simply squirmed and wiggled and ran away.

Mom jumped off her bed, straightening herself, trying to show that if you heard anything that happened a few seconds ago than the answer to the question running through your thick skull is no I'm not crazy…I don't think so at least.

"Hey Mom, everything okay?" I asked trying to hide all the amusement in my tone of voice. Trying but hardly succeeding.

This seemed to pass my mom unfazed, "Yes, fine, perfect, why do you ask?"

"Oh, I just thought I heard you say something about ghosts," I said as nonchalantly as I could.

This was the moment. I knew it. I just had to remain composed.

"Oh no, Susie, of course not. We both know that there is no such thing as ghosts," she answered but she wasn't looking at me but rather at my feet. Trying to avert her gaze I see.

The ghost standing next to her was looking back and forth, from me to my mother, trying to keep up with what the heck was going on. His fists were clutched by his stomach, not in an aggressive way, but rather confusion or maybe nervousness.

"Oh, so you weren't talking to the ghost of a man with gray hair, looking to be in his 50's wearing beige slacks and a burgundy sweater?" I swear I tried my hardest to suppress the sarcasm but I let it slip just a tad when I saw my mothers eyes bug insanely.

Eyes bulging from her head I could have sworn they were going to fall out. I smirked a little more, while my mom tried to spit out words, "You…you can see him?"

I entered her room completely, shutting the door behind me. "That I can," I answered in quite an amused tone. I walked closer to the ghost, so that we were hardly five feet away, "So, I'm Suze, mediator. I assist ghosts to their after life. Before you even bother asking, yes I can see, speak, touch, and hear the dead. But I advise you, that if you know what's good for you, you won't touch me, at all. Now, if you want my help to move on I'll need to know your name and untidy business. If your business is something your unsure of, start off with how you died," the man unclenched his fists looking less nervous and slightly calmer.

He looked just as impress as I felt. I've gotten good at this. Okay, fine, props to Father D. and Jesse. If only they were here to see this impressive moment.

I didn't risk a glance over at my mom to see how she was taking it. I didn't need to. I knew just how big her eyes were, and how far down her jaw hung. I knew my mother; after all I am her daughter.

"Uh…George, George Brown," he said hesitantly. Should have known he'd be a George. And don't go into that judging a book by its cover. Trust me often times judging a book by its cover isn't so bad, or ghost in this place. Sure, there are exceptions—Jesse—but stereotypically speaking, it's mostly obvious.

I mean, if you were walking down the street and you had to choose which alleyway to take. Would you walk down the dark and dreary one with the ghost of a 400 pound sumo wrestlers looking angry enough that with a blink of an eye he could make a grown man cry.

Or would you walk down the alley with the sun shining and flowers growing, with a cute little ghost of a six year old girl holding flowers she wants to give you.

Yeah. That's what I thought.

"I'd like you to tell my wife, Diane, that I love her, and" he paused, looking around the room with very shifty eyes, "and that there is a key at the bottom of my sock drawer. The key is to a locked box under the bed. Inside is everything special to me. Everything I hold dear to me about her and I just want her to have it." Aww how sweet. So loving.

"Speak English?" I asked, my tone a little softer and touched my the tenderness of his love.

"Yes."

"Alrighty then, no problem."

I walked over to the phone, picking it up, I heard the dial tone. I called the operator and asked for a Diane & George Brown. It rang twice before a woman answered. Her voice was clogged as if she had a running nose. Must be from tears and sorrow over her husband's death.

"Hi there, I'm looking for a Diane Brown?" I asked, politely.

"This is her," muttered the voice softly.

"I have a message that is quite important that I have pass onto you. Your husband loves you," I paused as I heard a sniffle, "And that at the bottom of his sock drawer is a key. This key is for a locked box under the bed. Inside the lock box, he says, are some very important things to him, things about you that he holds dear to him," I glanced at George to make sure I was getting this right.

He nodded his head, "I'm very sorry for your loss Mrs. Brown. Goodnight," I finished and hung up.

I watched slowly as George faded away, saying thanks to me. Thanks to him for not being a ravaging mad man who wanted to beat me to a bloody pulp. I'd just gotten over some of my other bruises from this last guy.

Which takes me back to judging a ghost by his looks. This last guy—before George—looked tough and bad. And guess what he was? Tough and bad. Punches sucked too. Don't know if I would have made out of that one so well if it weren't for Jesse.

"Susie, how did you…oh…uh…how…what…" my mother interrupted my blind staring at the phone and bouncing thoughts. Although she interrupted with a less than perfect sentence.

Can't blame her though, this was really weird. "Mom? Exactly how long have you been seeing ghosts?" I asked confused. I mean, was this really her first ghost?

"Well, I guess…" she looked down at her feet again, "I guess since the crash."

Oh well that makes much more sense. I think. Maybe it just brings more unanswered questions. Oh boy! Long night. Luckily the guys were away for the wrestling match in a town outside of Carmel.

I wrapped my arm around her petit shoulder and guided her to sit down on the bed. "We've got a lot to talk about then."

I smiled, maybe tonight is a good night.

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