Aware

Melinda looked at Eli as if he'd grown another head. Certainly, he wasn't suggesting...?

"It's not stalking!" he insisted after seeing her face, waving his arms about rather ridiculously to retract his previous statement. "It's karaoke night, and everyone's invited. All of the future students and their parents will be there— I just thought we could go so that you could get a second look at your ghost." He looked down at his feet, digging his toe absently into her living room carpet. "Plus, I kind of wanted to try out the new machine..."

Melinda laughed, scooping up an armful of Aiden's toys and putting them in a neat pile that he would later be encouraged to take back up to his room. "So, this has nothing to do with a ghost! You just want to sing Born to be Wild again, and don't want to go alone," she chided, playfully pushing her friend's shoulder with an open palm.

Eli shrugged sheepishly. "Well... two birds, one stone, right?" He held his head high once more and stared Melinda down. "You know, that ghost could be potentially harmful, and if she travels with the kid, we might never see them again," he reminded her. "Wasn't that what you were worried about?"

"Alright, but if you think you're going to get me to sing, you've got another thing coming."

Eli did an exaggerated air-punch, jumping up and down like a spoiled child. "Yeah!" he said excitedly, resisting the urge to hug Melinda, who rolled her eyes and went back to her cleaning of the living room. "And I will totally have you rocking out by the end of the night. I just know it."

"If you say so," Melinda said, picking up a cushion off the floor and tossing it onto the couch. "But I don't think I'll have time when I'm dealing with the ghost. She seemed like a bit of a handful."

That was the understatement of the century.

"Dad, this is so lame. Can't we go back to the hotel now?" Kurt begged, looking around at the crowd of freshmen and future applicants who filled the packed bar (which was unfortunately not serving alcohol, due to the amount of minors).

Burt laughed and Carole shook her head in amusement, sipping her ice tea. "Go on, son, mingle with the other kids. Maybe you'll make a friend," Burt suggested, giving his son a nudge towards the swarm of people in the centre of the room. "I thought you'd love it here. Why haven't you signed up to do a song yet?"

"You think I want to sing karaoke? Are you insane? That system is not up to par; it will hardly showcase my talent." He fixed his hair delicately, checking his reflection in his handy pocket-mirror before snapping it closed and shoving it back into his pocket. "No thank you."

Burt rolled his eyes, pointing towards the makeshift stage. "Go sign up."

Kurt groaned and rolled his eyes right back, glaring his father down. He was the first to crack, however, and stood up with an undignified humph. "I dislike you very much, as of now," he said, his tone icy as he stared at his father. He turned on his heel and stalked unhappily towards the stage, grabbing the pen and neatly penning his name on the next available line along with a song choice from his repertoire that wouldn't be too mangled by the awful speaker quality.

"Happy now?" he asked his father as he returned to their table, gracefully sitting himself down in the chair he had been previously occupying and crossing one leg over the other.

"Surprisingly, yes," Burt laughed, slinging an arm around his girlfriend and smiling at his son. "Oh, brighten up. You'll be graduating in a couple months, and then you'll be free of me. Isn't that what you're always going on about?" There was a hurt quality to the way he said it, and Kurt frowned at his father.

"No, dad, that's not it at all. I can't wait to be out of Ohio— it has absolutely nothing to do with you. I love you. You're my dad. That's never going to change." Burt smiled and reached across the table to ruffle his son's hair affectionately, and Kurt let out another undignified squeak, pulling out his mirror once more to assess the damage.

"Dad!" he exclaimed, trying to comb through his hair with his fingers so that it once again would lay flat. Burt chuckled.

"Up next, folks, we have Kurt, who'll be singing Time After Time, an old favourite," the DJ announced, and Burt clapped his son on the back.

"Go on, kiddo."

Kurt, still flustered over his hair, made his way onto the stage and picked up the mic.

"So, what's this kid look like?" Eli asked, downing the better half of a root beer in one gulp. He'd already sung twice, once with Born to be Wild and again with Eye of the Tiger.

"He was short-ish, straight brown hair, dressed like he was wealthy and kind of eccentric— sort of like he'd bought that stuff people wear on the runway that you never expect people to wear in real life." Eli looked around the crowded room at the group of dancing teenagers and young adults, as well as the masses of parents that lined the walls and sat at tables.

"Well, I don't see anyone who matches that description." He took another huge gulp of his drink, emptying the glass. "Want another?" he asked, gesturing to her own nearly-empty Pepsi.

"Sure," Melinda agreed, drinking the last of her glass's contents and then pushing to towards him. Eli took her glass and his and went back to the bar for refills. She shook her head and looked up when a new singer took the mic. She frowned, instantly spotting the ghost standing just beside him, lovingly gazing at her son.

"Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick, and think of you. Caught up in circles confusion—"

Melinda's eyebrows shot up when she heard the kid sing— even with the rather tinny background music, his voice penetrated the din of the bar and hung in the air so that people turned to listen to him. He had a beautiful, high voice; his hitting of the notes a flawless recreation of the original by Cindi Lauper, with the exception of an extra run or two that showcased his incredible talent.

"Flashback— warm nights, almost left behind suitcases of memories, time after..."

Eli returned to their table, two full glasses in hand and staring at the kid on the stage. "Man, that kid can sing!" he said, enthusiastically bobbing his head to the tune. Melinda frowned and pointed to the singer.

"That's him, from the park."

Eli turned back to the stage and examined the well-dressed countertenor. "And is she here?" he asked, dropping his voice to a lower, more serious tone. Melinda nodded, her eyes focussed on the ghost's face.

"Yeah, she's here; she's beside him, watching him sing."

"Then you say, 'go slow.' I fall behind; the second hand unwinds," he sang, then he turned to his mother and began to chorus. "If you're lost, you can look and you will find me, time after time." Melinda's eyes widened, and so did Eli's. "If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting— time after time."

"She's singing with him," he said, his finely tuned ears picking up on her ghostly melody joining her son's for the well-known chorus.

"And he's singing with her," Melinda said, watching as the teenager's eyes focussed on something no one but he and Melinda could see, if he could see her at all. "He's looking at her, Eli."

"That's impossible!"

"Look at him, Eli. He knows she's there."

Eli watched at the fashionable teen looked at seemingly nothing, swaying as he sang along to the tinny-sounding track. He smiled and reached out the hand that was not holding onto the microphone, again, seemingly to nothing, as part of a stage act. The crowd ate it up, swaying with him and pairing up to dance in couples.

"He'd holding her hand," Melinda whispered, her voice revealing how stunned she was. Eli took a sharp intake of breath. That kid was singing to his dead mother, and he knew she was listening. He knew she was there.

Eli shook his head, taking a drink from his glass to quench his now dry-feeling tongue.

"If you're lost, you can look and you will find me, time after time..."