Chapter Six

Old And Decrepit Is SO In Right Now

(Sophie)

"How do I look?"

I peered over my shoulder, and couldn't help the smile that spread over my face - I swear, if she wasn't my best friend, I would hate that bitch. There was no such thing as an 'ugly day' when it came to Harlow.

"You look flawless, Lo. As always."

She smiled, and rubbed a hand nervously over her arm. "I feel like I still stink ... can you smell me from over there?"

"No, dumbass. Practice ended almost an hour ago. You took a twenty-five minute shower, for God's sake," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "I'm pretty sure you've overpowered every stink particle that was clingin' on - not to mention that fact that I think you single-handedly used up the entire locker room's stock of loofa's - Kimmy's gonna kill you, you know. You smell fine."

She nodded, but her brow was furrowed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

She walked over towards me and plopped down on the hard, wooden benches, legs splayed out in front of her. "This doesn't look too frumpy, does it? Be honest, Soph."

"It's beautiful," I assured her, rather testily. "Beautiful, Harlow. The dress honestly looks fantastic - "

"Well, I did steal it from you .. "

" - your hair is fuckin' perfect - "

"Really? I didn't really do anything to it, just a bit of mousse ... "

" - those shoes, adorable beyond belief - "

"You think so? They're kind of ratty, I thought .. "

" - your makeup is impeccable - "

"I just sorta threw it on - I thought it looked a bit clownish, a little sloppy ... "

" - and if you don't shut your mouth, I'm going to shut it for you," I said wearily. "You look beautiful, Harlow. You're so insecure sometimes, it's infuriating - honestly, I don't know whether I want to punch you or hug you."

"You do both, all the time," she laughed. "But thanks, Buttface. I trust your judgement. Well. No, I usually don't. But I will this time."

"You should try trustin' me more often, Ass. Is that new?" I asked, pointing to her lips. "It's a cute color .. familiar. Did you steal that from my bag, too, you thief?"

"Did not. Fire and Ice, I think it's called," she said thoughtfully. "I bought it myself - I am capable of choosing nice things on my own, you know. And they're not always out of your closet."

"I'd like to see you name one thing you haven't stolen from my place," I laughed, dodging the hard swat aimed at my head. "I kid, I kid."

"You sure I don't smell?" she asked worriedly for the millionth GOD DAMN time.

"Like coconuts, vanilla, sparkles and rainbows and happiness and sunshine," I said irritably. "Christ, shut up. You look and smell fantastic. I'm not going to tell you again."

She smiled and flung those thin, but solid little arms around my neck. "I'll stop annoying you. Thanks for the help, muffin!"

"It's no biggie," I said loftily, resting my chin lightly on her head. "Call me as soon as you get home tonight. Or tomorrow, whatever. Just call me, tell me how it went."

"I will," she agreed. "First chance I get, I'll ring you. Soph ... you're sure I don't smell?"

I swatted her hard on the forehead. "Don't you have a date to be on or somethin'? God, get out of my face. By the way, you smell and look like an ass wart. You better hope your date likes the scent of a toilet rim, you Raunch."

She laughed, and gave me a shove. "Shut up."

"You and your dirty stench get out of here," I said, with a small smile. "You go and give Ghost Boy the best night of his life."

"It's Ryan," she said softly, pushing herself up off the bench. "Not Ghost Boy, Soph. Just Ryan."

She grabbed her purse - my purse, now that I thought about it (I swear to God, she owned more of my accessories and clothing than even I actually did) - off of the floor of the locker room, and flung it over her shoulder. She reached for the fluorescent white cardigan that hung over the bench next to me, but I snatched it before she could.

Alright, look - I'm no fashionista. I don't pretend to be, either. But I am a best friend, and a damn good one at that (not to toot my own horn or whatever - but I'm pretty fuckin' decent). And best friends do not - not not not - let their own best friends go out on dates in granny clothing. That's gotta be in like .. at least the top ten rules of BFFing. Perhaps even the top five. And cardigans come RIGHT behind shoulder pads and pantyhose on the Universally Acknowledged list of things NOT to wear on a first date. Although, I do wonder if the regular rules of dating apply to the date if the other party chases ghosts for a living. Are they really going to judge a girl's shoulder pads when they chase around invisible people with tape recorders everyday? I should hope not. That would be ridiculous.

But I digress.

I shook my head, and bunched the granny sweater into my gym bag.

"It's a date, not the early bird special at Denny's. No cardigans."

Harlow sighed and gave me that stupid tilty-to-the-side-'what-are-you,-stupid?' look. "Come on, Soph. What if I get cold? This is a dress, not a sweater. I don't want to be all showy and ... and ... y'know. It's a sweater, just in case."

"No. No. This is not a sweater, Harlow. This is a Cardigan."

"They're the same thing," she said in annoyance.

"No, in fact, they are not. Did you know - interesting fact here, Lo, pay attention - Cardigan is actually french for 'Hello, I've never gotten laid in my life because I wear knit jumpers like your Grandmother'. That's a rough translation, I don't know, I'm not French. But in French and in Guy, that's what it means. Cool, huh?"

"That's not French, that's Sophie being a bitch," she countered. "Just give me the cardi- the sweater."

"You're 24, your tits have not yet sagged to your belly button and you're in better shape than everyone on campus," I reasoned. "Cardigans hide flab, sag and droop. Trust me on this one - no cardigans."

"I don't know," she said tiredly. "It's not for looks, it's to keep me from freezing my ass off."

"Fine. Fine - take the cardigan. But before you go, lemme just go grab you some horn rimmed glasses, panty-hose and a pillbox hat ... y'know, complete the ensemble. Cause we both know, old and decrepit is so in right now. Hey, you want some Ovaltine too? I got some right here in my moth-eaten handbag next to my Vitamin C supplements and my cough drops .. here, take this nickel too, you kiddies can buy yerr-selves a sew-dee pawp - remember, it's two bangs on the left and one on the right, that's how you start the Jukebox, and - "

"Fine, fine. I get it," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "No cardigan."

"Definitely no cardigan," I agreed, grinning.

She shook her head, but smiled in spite of herself. "I'm going, Soph. Wish me luck."

"Good luck ... ever getting a date again after being seen with Ghostie," I said, laughing and narrowly avoiding her lightening fast smack at my face. "Just kiddin', Lo. Good luck."

"I hate you."

"You smell like cow tits."

She cast a very weary look over at me, but disappeared out the locker room doors. The tapping of her shoes on the hardwood grew faint, until suddenly, they were gone. I ran a hand through my filthy, sweaty, greasy hair (so attractive, right?) and sighed.

"God, help her," I mumbled.

(Chip)

"I teach these kids one thing and it's something I've been criticized on the internet for doing. And I make no apologies on the internet, and by God I am not going to make any apologies to you now - and that is face your fear. What other option do you have?!"

I looked stubbornly from face to face in the nearly packed PRS classroom, and nearly fifty sets of eyes stared back intently at my own. What a fantastic feeling - the group seminars I was so blessed to be able to do were my absolute favorite things in the world. The connection you could make with your audience - Wow! The experience in itself was amazing, nevermind the people you truly were able to touch with your message, regardless of what the message may be.

"You have no other option," I continued - I was on a roll! "Chances are, these guys aren't going to stop comin' to you. They know you know about them, so you've gotta find a way to deal with it. If you're freakin' petrified and jumping out of your skin, the only way you're goin' to be able to deal with it is to face your fear, manage your ability!"

A few people in the front row nodded absentmindedly, scribbling quickly on their looseleaf. Oh, the memories came a-floodin' back to me - it had been nearly thirty years since I had sat in a University class room.

"If you don't, you better face it - the situation's not going to change," I finished - question in the front room, hello! "You in the back, in the purple top - gorgeous top, by the way, is that chiffon? What's your question, darlin'?"

"Oh thanks!" the girl blushed, standing nervously out of her seat. "Yeah, it's silk chiffon .. good eye, Mr. Coffey. Uhm, well, my question is, you clearly work a lot now with kids that have clear psychic-mediumship ability. And before this - before Psychic Kids and Paranormal State and all the publicity and everything, you were a crisis counselor to young kids. How did being a medium affect - if at all - being a crisis counselor?"

"Fantastic question, and I think it'll be the last one," I said, glancing at Ryan who had just motioned politely up to the clock above the class door. "So like you said, I did crisis counseling for youth back in my twenties and in my early to mid-thirties. Crisis counseling is basically when you help counsel individuals or families that have recently undergone a huge upheaval in their lives, or a very traumatic experience - and they need help getting through it or thinking and brainstorming of ways to improve the situation and fix it. Now, can anyone tell me, first off, how they think my Mediumship might have affected my counseling? Yes, you in the third row, white shirt."

"Yeah," the guy said, scooching around awkwardly in his chair. "If you were working with a young kid whose ... who say, his Mother died in an accident or somethin', and you came in contact with the mother. It could possibly have like .. a profound effect on that client."

"Exactly," I said, nodding. "Exactly, spot on, Pal! Luckily - or I mean, perhaps unluckily - that rarely happens. Being a medium and being a counsellor are two separate jobs for me. I don't like to mix them. Counseling is what pays the bills, it's what I looked at as my main career for the longest time. Psychic readings was more of an 'in my spare time' sort of deal. Very rarely, if not rarely than never, did I cross those two together - it can be very dangerous, and something like a .. like a conflict of interest, really. Only once did the two jobs of mine intermingle, as far as my memory permits. And the one time that it actually did occur, that was the main reason I even started considering a career in merging the two occupations. Gosh, I haven't thought of that case in so long ... strangest one I ever did. Of course, that's a story for another day - time is making fools of us again."

"Can you tell us about that particular case, please?" a girl in the front asked, grinning cheekily at Ryan. "Sorry, Chief, just this last story, I swear."

"I'll let it slide," Ryan said with a chuckle. "If Chip has time, of course."

"Sure!" I said cheerfully, content with my ridiculously (thus far, anyways!) successful lesson.

I leaned back on the desk behind me, and grinned thoughtfully. I hadn't thought of this particular case in a long time .. it had been pushed to the back of my mind, years and years ago. Gone, but not forgotten. Oh-ho, not nearly even close to being forgotten.

"It had to have been almost twenty years ago," I said reminiscently. "I was in South Carolina working at the time, I'd just moved down there from Atlanta, so it was a huge change for me. I remember I was called in to the CPS - Child Protective Services, of course - head quarters to do an evaluation on a young girl that had just been pulled from her home and put into the national foster care system. She was about .. five, six years old. Young thing."

I slid up on the desk, and looked considerately up at the ceiling. "The poor girl, her life was an absolute shambles. From the case work I was given, it outlined the documented abuse in her household. I remember reading the report and being physically sick to my stomach. She had finally been pulled from the home - and you will never, not in one million years, guess why."

The room was silent, no one dared to breathe.

"According to police reports, she had just witnessed her nine year old sister commit suicide in such a stomach-churningly, gruesome way, that I don't really care to repeat it, to be honest. Just think ... to be nine years old and that unhappy with life - can you imagine? Not only had this young girl witnessed her sister's suicide, but she'd also walked in on her mother murdering her step-father on that exact same night - it all happened within a five minute time frame. The mother shot the step-father in the head or something, out of self defence - completely slaughtered him with a shotgun. Gruesome .. truly horrific. And the girl had witnessed all of this. And even after all these warning signs and the numerous calls from the schools and concerned neighbours had come in to the police station, it took them nearly a year to take action. The state had finally decided to pull her and her eleven year old mentally disturbed brother from the home ... don't even get me started about our foster care system. But they were too late - the damage had been done. This poor thing, six years old, and she'd seen more horrific things in her life than people ten times her age."

There was a slight murmuring around the room, but that just kept me going - the story was a tragic one, but the atmosphere only further intensified my tale.

"She was a tiny little thing - itty bitty, I remember that well. Underweight and undernourished, she looked like she'd never had a decent meal in her life. But there was a fire in that little girl. I remember that very clearly. For what she'd seen and had to deal with, there was an air of defiance, and ... independence about her that I just can't describe. There was this will to live, this overwhelming sense of, like, 'I will make it through this. I will carry on'. Six years old, but to this day, the bravest person I think I've ever met. She shook my hand when I saw her for the first time - I remember it was like shaking hands with a skeleton, waxy skin stretched over bone, that was all there was to her. She was polite, very polite, but guarded. Well spoken for someone so young, but very clearly damaged - her face was years older than she was, so grim and pallid and so .. sad. There was a fight and a fire in that face, but you had to look close to see it - because outwardly, all there was to look at was a horribly unattractive and emaciated little pile of bones."

To this day, the image of the young girl haunted me. It was like a real life, living, breathing zombie. It was burnt into my brain for all the rest of eternity.

"The interview I was hired to conduct was supposed to give them a picture of what her mental health was - we didn't know if she'd suffered abuse, or if there was any mental retardation or pre-existing conditions that we didn't know about - her medical records were shady, very unclear. We only knew of one family condition - her brother was only eleven at the time but he'd been admitted to a state hospital a few weeks before her removal from the family home - he had a severely progressed case of Schizophrenia. Which, anyone here studying mental illnesses or psychology, knows there are only a handful of documented cases of children with the disease. It's extremely prevalent in adults, but rarely ever shows signs of itself in youth. And, in many cases of the illness, it's hereditary."

A couple of people nodded in the classroom, and I could see Ryan listening intently. He'd heard this story a million times, but it fascinated him in a somewhat gruesome way every time I had the chance to retell it. I couldn't blame him - the story only grew more and more bizarre as it went on.

"I spoke with her for nearly two hours, and she was phenomenally well-mannered. Upfront and honest. But strange - most girls her age are playing, or fiddling around, very busy and unfocused when you're trying to have a conversation with them. She sat very still, the entire interview, answered all of my questions without even moving a muscle. It was like something out of a horror movie, y'know - this shell of a human being, just staring and listening and speaking quietly and unsettlingly eloquently. But she was nice. Not rude or nervous or angry, nothing. She was literally, nothing. So I began doing the Schizophrenia symptoms tests, asking common questions and trying to get a feel for how her ol' noggin worked. She answered everything regularly and properly - all the answers she gave me were regarded as 'normal' in all the Psychology textbooks I'd ever read. Everything was going just swimmingly, until I began asking questions about her social life. I asked her about her friends, and she told me she had none. And I remember saying to her, well that's strange. You're such a pretty girl (which, God forgive me, but she really was not, but the poor thing - I felt so badly for her) and you're so friendly too. You've got to have at least one friend. And she looked at me, very seriously and very earnestly, and she said to me - 'None that are living anymore'."

The room had fallen dead silent once again, all eyes focused up on me.

"Most counselors, bearing in mind with the truly horrific things this young girl had seen, would chalk this up to depression or post traumatic stress. But, up until that point, she had been completely sane and competent. If there was really something wrong with her, I would've been given signs beforehand. I would have sensed something, or documented something in my notes that kind of sounded an alarm, but there was nothing. Nothing except a very funny feeling right in the pit of my stomach. But you can't base the results of a mental illness test on a hunch that you yourself have, you know? So I kept questioning. I asked her, what do you mean none that are living anymore? Do you mean some people you knew that passed away? And she shook her head and said 'No, I don't know these people, but they come and they find me and talk to me, and they ask to be my friend. And I know I don't like it when no one wants to be my friend, so I always say OK, I'll be your friend too'."

There was an audible shudder that rang through the classroom.

"And then - this is the part I will always, for the rest of my years, remember - she looked at me, with that plain, pale, skeletal looking face and said 'I'm not like Kingston, Mr. Coffey, Sir. I don't imagine it. I really do see them.' Kingston was her brother, the one with severe paranoia and schizophrenia."

No one in the class moved, and I could feel the guilty sense of accomplishment - this story, regardless of who I told it to, sent shivers down everyone's spine.

"Two days after our encounter, the girl was placed into the foster care system in a home in South Carolina - the same town I was living in at that time. Luckily for me, I got to sit and chat with her weekly for the next two months before she was carted off to another state and another family. But before she left, and the more I spoke with her and learned about her, the more I realized that this girl was a girl with extreme ability, nothing like anything I'd ever seen before."

"What kind of ability?" a man in the front row asked quietly.

"She was a medium - but one with astounding abilities. She could see spirits, but not the way myself or the majority of other mediums see them," I said. "We see them as sort of .. masses, if you will and if we concentrate and if they let us, we see them as clear images, like blurry photographs in front of us. This girl, she saw them as clear as the day. Like me lookin' over at you, bud. Or you lookin' at Ryan. She could talk to them and speak with them like I'm speakin' to you right now. She could communicate with them like they were still alive, still right next to her, heart's beatin' and blood flowin'. No one else could see these people, but she saw them and she spoke with them. These were the 'people' she meant when she said her friends weren't alive anymore."

"But, that doesn't make sense," a girl in the back of the room said incredulously, flushing as the room turned to look at her. "Sorry .. I mean .. clearly if there's Schizophrenia in the family, like you said it was very prominent in her brother's case - well, then wouldn't this just be Schizo in her case as well? I mean, she was seeing people that weren't there and communicating with them .. "

"That's the thing," I explained. "There were people there. I could sense it. Now I mean, in order to believe her, you'd have to believe me. And I know that not everyone here believes in Psychics - that's perfectly okay, you're allowed to believe whatever you want. So, for those who don't have faith in Mediums or are self-proclaimed skeptics, let's just pretend like you do believe, just for the moment. Look at this story from the perspectives of real believers. I would spend time with this girl, as much as I could - she had no one anymore. I would take her out for ice cream, she always loved mint chocolate chip, those sad little eyes would just brighten right up every time she'd get a cone like that. We'd walk and talk with our cones, and I'd take her to the local playgrounds or the library - she absolutely loved to read, she was brilliant - or the mall or little dollar shops around the town. From what I could gather from the information she gave me, her mother was never really .. a hands on sort of parent. She went everywhere with me wide-eyed and excited - every experience was a new one for her."

Some of the girls in the front couldn't help the sad little 'Awwwe's escaping from their lips, and I couldn't blame them. I'd forever remember the thrill and surprise etched into that young, but aged face every time I'd take her somewhere new - it broke my heart.

"Now, ever since I had met the girl, I had sensed this overwhelming power and aura of energy that surrounded her," I said. "So as much as these little outings and trips were done to make her happier and make her feel better, they were also for me - I wanted to test her. See, I can turn it on and off - my Mediumship, that is. I always sense when there's a presence, but unless I specifically hone in on something, I won't see it or learn anything from it. So the next time we went out, I decided to begin testing her - subtly, of course. So on one of the last times I ever saw her, I took her for a snow cone and then we went to a plain but beautiful park that used to be a couple yards away from an old army ground - the old grounds had been closed and torn down about two years after the second world war ended. I told her about my favorite spot, a shady bench underneath a giant oak tree - she wanted to go and see it. As we were walking there, I kept taking quick little glances over at her face - the closer we got to the bench (which, coincidentally was located only a couple of feet away from the old base), the more and more distressed her face became. It was like every step we took hurt her more and more - it was strange. So I asked what was wrong, and she said the 'guy in the grey shirt kept telling her she had to go', that she wasn't allowed here."

"Who was the guy in the grey shirt?" asked Heather, brow furrowed with interest. "A park guard?"

"There was no one physically in that park with us," I said. "But here's the thing: for the nearly ten times I'd visited that park alone, I had always sensed a presence. A man, I knew that, and I knew he had been in the army or was somehow connected to the old base. Every time I'd gotten close, it would block me out and run away. I could never communicate with it. That time with her, I could sense it again, tell that there was a spirit man here. But it blocked me out - I couldn't gather any information."

"But this girl could?" a guy in the front asked, perplexed. "Supposedly?"

"Not supposedly - she absolutely, one hundred percent did," I said. "I asked her a million questions. What was his name, what did he look like, was he nice, what was he wearing - she told me everything, right down to last detail. She was hesitant at first, she kept asking me "why can't you tell? Don't you see him too?". I chalked it up to old age - I told her no, sorry Dear, I'm just an old guy, my sight isn't what it used to be. That seemed to pacify her. She told me all about him, all this information just came spewing out of her - it was the first time I'd seen her act like a six year old. She talked until she had no breath. Blabbed on and on and on. He had a wife named Gretchen, she said. Two kids, but he didn't really like the younger boy very much. Alexander and Katelyn, those were his kids names, he lived in a small yellow house in the next city over. Gretchen had been working on her Petunia's but they weren't sprouting. Alexander had just learned to ride a bike - it was a neon orange one, with a bell that dinged very loudly. Katelyn had just learned how to make flower chains out of the dandelions in her mother's garden - when Al would come home every Friday, there would be nearly thirty necklaces hanging all over the fence. All of this completely random information, so specific but it came shooting out of her, lightening quick. Like a story she blurted out because she was afraid she'd forget. It was fascinating."

"I thought she had to speak directly to them?" a girl in the middle asked.

"She was. She was relaying these messages from him to me at lightening speed. She didn't always have to speak to them and make contact first - not if they chose to speak to her first," I explained. "Sometimes, spirits find it such a relief to have someone they can talk to and vent to, they'll find you and speak with you. This man must've seen something in this young girl, felt comfortable. He was so used to no one seeing him or trying to communicate with him, he must've been just overjoyed to find someone so young and so innocent that he could just spill everything to. And the girl's anxieties about the location seemed to lessen after the man's reaction to her Sight was a positive one. The moment I asked a question about the supposed man, she'd ask him, he would seemingly answer right back and she'd tell me in great detail all about him and his answer to my question. Al, she called him."

"Was there any records of a man named Al?"

"I didn't know until I went to research it," I said. "But even if there was no records, I can't say I wouldn't have believed her - what child can spin a tale that fast? I remember this - the last thing she said, before we walked away, was 'he has a big hole in this side of his neck - I can see his bones at the top, but he doesn't want to talk about it'. It creeped me out, I'm not going to lie. So, we left the area and I took her back to the office, and went on my merry way to the library where I looked up every bit of information I could on that location. All the old archived paper clippings and chapters in the town's history books. And now comes the absolutely astounding part - every single piece of information she told me about this Al character fit the description of the one - yes, only one - fatality in that area. A man named Aldous Montogmery, a twenty seven year old Army General, married with two young children (a boy and a girl), that was accidentally killed when a fellow soldier mistook him as a trespasser and shot him point blank, directly in the right side of his neck - the shot was fired point blank - the wound allegedly ran so deep there were reports that you could see the bottom of his skull from the gaping hole in his throat."

"What about the yellow house?" a girl in the back asked softly.

"I've never checked into it," I said thoughtfully. "I imagine I could've, but I had heard enough. Why check up on that as well? Freak myself out even more? No - she'd told me enough. Everything was correct."

"You don't think she could've just ... overheard someone talking about it?" a guy in the front asked, rather desperately.

I shook my head. "There was no way, absolutely no way, that a six year old girl could have faked this information. Even if she'd overheard it - who in town would've been talking about it? It's not like it was a popular urban legend or a story she'd grown up hearing - she'd only been in the town a couple of weeks. There was no doubt in my mind that I had just discovered - in my opinion, anyways - one of the most magnificently gifted children in the world."

I sighed, and hopped off the desk.

"I wish I had known her longer than I did. I think with her help, the two of us could've done a lot of good for children with Psychic abilities. I never even had a chance to tell her about my own experiences. She was there and gone so quickly."

The room was quiet, but one lone hand rose somewhere in the sea of people in front of me.

"Yes, you?"

"You don't still talk to her?" a young man asked. "I mean if you do, you should really bring her here, put her on the show or somethin' with a gift like that, right?"

There was a murmur of agreement amongst the classroom's occupants, and I laughed sadly.

"She would be a fantastic addition to the PRS family, no doubt about it!" I agreed. "Unfortunately, I lost all contact with her after her second state placement. After her initial move, the records of her travels and foster family history became somewhat jumbled - it's nearly impossible to keep track of a foster child, even today. I haven't seen her in years. I pray for her, sometimes. I would love to see her, see what she's become. A fire like that, I can't see anyone or any thing putting it out. I like to imagine that she's moved on to better, greater things."

I looked over at Ryan, who was looking distractedly up at the clock. He, like I, had just seemed to notice the time. Oh, shoot!

"So that brings this lesson to an end, cause we're running about fifteen minutes over .. thank you for coming! This is an absolutely fabulous class, thank you!" I said, amongst clapping and hooting from the dozens and dozens of students. "God Bless, guys, thank you! See you Friday!"

The cheering subsided somewhat, and the majority of people made their way out of the classroom, notebooks tucked gingerly under their arms. I stood and spoke with a small, constantly rotating group of students, until slowly and one by one, the class trickled out of the room. Left surrounding me were my favorite kids in the entire world - Ryan, Heather, Katrina, Josh, Sergey and Eilfie.

"That was awesome, Chippy," Heather said cheerfully. "Like we expected any less from the Great Chipini."

"You're such a kiss ass," Katrina laughed, rolling her eyes. "But you're right even in your glorious kiss-assing-ness - that was freakin' fantastic, Chip!"

I waved a hand dismissively. "Psh-awwe, you're both too kind."

"That really was a great lecture," Ryan said happily, slipping his coat on behind his desk. "One of your best to date, I think it's safe to say."

"Nevermind me, where are you in such a hurry to go?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at the normally habitually slow, easy-going young man. "You're blitzin'!"

"Chief's got a little date," Serge whispered loudly, and I saw the rest of the PRS kids giggle helplessly.

I threw a hand against my chest, rather dramatically. "A date! With who! I must admit, I'm a bit miffed you didn't tell me about this new lady love!"

Ryan smiled shyly and shook his head. "No, I don't think it's a date, we're just .. hangin' out."

"Lies," Heather said loudly, with a bright grin. "It's a date, Ryan. You asked her, she said yes, you made a time and planned a place - that is epitome first date, Bossman!"

Ryan shook his head again, but even I couldn't help but notice the sly grin fighting to take over that handsome, young face - how adorable!

"Well," I said easily. "Who's the lucky lady then, Ryan? I have to say, I'm glad you're not with that Katie anymore - "

"Horseface," Katrina coughed loudly.

Heather neighed benignly.

"She wasn't a horse face," Ryan said defensively. "She was just .. unique lookin'."

"Unique?" Josh said, confused. "Really? If by unique you mean pony-esque .. "

"I wanted to throw a saddle on her and ride into the sunset on her back," Heather said cheerfully. "She looked like a Shetland pony."

"Poor Shetland ponies," Sergey said sadly.

"She did not look like a Shetland pony," Ryan said. "She was cute."

"If by cute you mean 'oh how adorable, I can feed her sugar cubes out of my palm!', then yes, cute would be the word."

"Anyways, Chip," Josh said softly, motioning with a subtle hand to the door. "That's new girl."

I turned with the rest of the crew towards the door, and felt the breath catch slightly in my throat - an alarmingly stunning girl, of almost freakish beauty had just entered noiselessly into the room.

"That's no Shetland pony," I said quietly, mouth agape. "That's a freakin' Goddess."

The girl was of average height, probably no taller than I was, but she had long, sleek, chestnut brown hair pinned back elegantly, with a few curled pieces hanging casually down the sides of her beautiful, sculpted face. She walked in with such tremendous elegance, I could feel my heart begin to beat at just the sight of her - how had I never seen her before? Surely, I would have remembered a person like this. She looked ahead, past me and all the others, and smiled - I saw her eyes focused soully on Ryan, and I couldn't shake off - or understand, frankly - the piercing stab of jealousy spike through my heart. I'd never even met the girl, but any attention that she aimed at a person other than me stirred up an angry beast in the pit of my stomach. You've heard people talk about maddening beauty - well, I'd just met the epitome of it. She smiled, plush lips pulled back to reveal an immaculately well kept set of teeth. As far I could tell (without looking like too much of a perv), her body was absolutely faultless. It was wrapped up tight in a snug, curve-hugging red and white summer dress. She stopped, noiselessly and with astounding grace about fifteen feet away from our small group.

"Hello," she said quietly, and I was surprised to hear a soft note of anxiety in an otherwise velvety smooth voice.

"Hi," we all responded simultaneously.

"Sorry, I'm late," she said apologetically, fiddling with her bag absentmindedly. "Practice ran a little long."

Ryan, shockingly calm and rather suave, nodded understandingly and moved slowly and with purpose towards the beautiful young lady. I'd have to congratulate this newly improved slickster Ryan - I was so used to, and I'd grown rather fond of, the normally blundering, slightly doof-like Buell.

"Our class ran late too," he shrugged. "It's no problem - you look lovely, by the way."

I saw a faint pink light up her cheeks, and felt slightly guilty at the look of obvious confusion that must've been very apparent on my face - how Ryan managed to land a girl like this was far beyond me. Don't get me wrong - you can't get a better, more decent and charming guy than the ol' Buell here. But this girl was ... angelic. Radiant to the point of it being almost inhuman - it wasn't even natural.

"You too," she said, rather timidly.

"I love your dress," Heather said brightly. "Where'd you get it?"

The young beauty smiled, and smoothed the soft dress down against her legs. "It's Sophie's - who needs to actually go shopping when there's a small mall in your own best friend's closet, y'know what I mean?"

"Hey, isn't that what a best friend is for, anyways?" I joked, my mouth moving before I could even stop it - God, what a pretty woman can do to mind control is staggering ...

I saw her turn her gaze to me, and her glittery, bright green eyes went oddly blank - I flushed, slightly embarrassed. I hadn't noticed them before, but she had the strangest, most unusual eyes of anyone I'd ever seen. Big and round as saucers, and a green like no other - they were piercing, it was like she could see right through you. There was a haze to them as they looked me over, a slight fog behind the brilliant emerald. They were vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place where I'd seen them before.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ryan said apologetically, clearly unaware of the harsh stare I was on the receiving end of. "Lo, this is - "

"Chip Coffey," she cut him off softly. "My God .. "

The fog lifted, and a fire erupted behind those pupils - her face lit up and mouth stretched big and wide into a brilliantly fantastic smile. The split second change caught me off guard. I laughed, a slightly strained and embarrassed chuckle.

"Seen me on television?" I asked, half joking. "It's nice to meet you - Lo, was it?"

"Harlow, actually," she corrected politely, eyes growing wider and more excitable. "You don't remember me, do you?"

I frowned, the uncommon name clicking somewhere in the deepest confines of my mind. "The name is vaguely familiar, but - "

"Harlow Vincent," she said, the corners of her mouth turning slowly up into an even bigger, happier smile. "But when I knew you, it was Harlow - "

"Mercer," I whispered, mouth agape for what had to have been the fifth time in only one minute.

My heart had stopped, I swear.

My God, how time had changed that face.

(Harlow)

That face was just the same as I remembered.

My heart was beating a mile a minute!

In front of me, in all that Atlanta goodness, was the one and only Chip freakin' Coffey! It had been years, nearly twenty, since I'd last seen that wonderful face! I wanted to run over to him and squish those cheeks, hug him until I could no longer feel my arms. I made a small move towards him, before I could even help it - my body was moving on it's own accord, I swear to God. My heart was full, threatening to pour over with happiness - I never thought I'd see him again!

"Yeah," I said, my voice bubbling with excitement. "Mercer."

"My God," he said softly, eyes rounder and bigger than tennis balls behind those glasses - same glasses as always! "Look at you now, Harlow ... "

"Grown up," I nodded, slightly pink in the cheeks.

"Beautiful!" he exclaimed, a hand thumping against his chest. "Stunning, Harlow - my good God, look at you! You're freakin' .. wow!"

The pink cheeks turned to a violent cherry red - I think I looked awfully similar to a tomato now. Damn, I'm a sexy bitch. Hey Ryan, who's your date? This is Harlow, her mother was a tomato and her father was a raspberry.

Fuck my life.

"Thanks, Chippy," I said, embarrassed. "I think."

"Good God," he said, eyes still round as the moon. "Harlow, I didn't even recognize you! You look .. you don't look the same, nowhere near the .. the .. I don't even know what to say. You look so different."

"Almost two decades will do that to a person," I nodded, grinning bashfully. "Chip, you look fantastic."

"God, look at her face," he whispered, poking Heather.

"I can see her face," Heather nodded. "It's right there, on her head."

"Where everyone's faces are," Katrina said calmly, prodding Chip gently in the side. "Stop staring, Chip."

Chip laughed gleefully, clapping his hands together merrily and ignoring the hard jab from Kat. "God, what a surprise! Harlow Mercer! Or rather, Harlow Vincent - it's been too long!"

I nodded, trying to fight the huge smile that was threatening to explode onto my now slightly less rouged face. In the middle of my inside spaz attack, I got a faint whiff of someone's Old Spice (Ryan's? God I hope so .. FUCK I LOVE OLD SPICE.) and was hit by a sudden and very obvious realization - Chip and I were surrounded on all sides by the Paranormal Research Society. God, how observant we were.

"Sorry," I said, looking with embarrassment at the small group surrounding us. "I used to know Chip .. back when I was just a little girl."

"You knew him?" Katrina asked interestedly. "How did you two even know each other, are you from Georgia too, Harlow?"

I shook my head. "No, I moved all around the States growing up. When I was young, I lived in a town called Newberry, and Chip worked as the crisis counselor at my Elementary school."

"I miss that town," Chip said wistfully. "So many great people .. and so many other great counselors too. I learned a lot from them."

"They were okay," I said, smiling. "But you were by far the best counselor in all of Newberry, if I do say so myself."

He put a hand bashfully over his heart. "You always were quite the sweet talker! God, Harlow ... it's so fantastic to see you again! How .. how have you been? Haha!

I laughed. "Oh, I've been alright. Moved to Pennsylvania four years ago from Colorado. Settled into an apartment a couple minutes off of Campus - I'm studyin' Psychology."

"She's top student in her class," I heard Ryan say beside me. I turned to look at him and he grinned sheepishly.

Have I mentioned that I would like to screw this man silly? Oh I haven't? Well let me just tell you something. I want to screw this man silly. Sexy BEAST.

I smiled, and squeezed his pinky finger lightly with my hand. I hardly thought it would be appropriate to rip off his pants in front of all his students. Well. At least not this early in the game. So a pinky squeeze would have to suffice.

"Top of your class!" Chip exclaimed, face alight with joy. "You always were a smart cookie. God, am I ever proud of you ... hey, how's your Mum?"

The cheer vanished from my heart and it felt like someone had suddenly and inexplicably dug a rusty, dirty blade across my heart. the sensation sent icy cold, sharp pains all through my chest. I ignored them, the now uncomfortably familiar aches and shrugged indifferently.

"Dead," I said blandly, ignoring the pitiful stares from the others in the room. "Six years ago, about a week after my eighteenth."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Chip said, gazing at me curiously. "Or ... am I sorry to hear that?"

I smiled bitterly. "I think we both know the answer to that."

Chip nodded rather solemnly, but clapped a hand on my arm enthusiastically. "But look! You sure have found your calling, haven't you!"

I smiled - God knows the one person that would be more excited about my future career than me would be dear ol' Chip Coffey. "Psychology's a fascinating field - what can I say, deeply disturbed and unstable minds are my life calling, I guess."

That got a laugh from Ryan and the rest of the room, and I felt my heart beat a little faster as I sensed Ryan's warm body move closer to my own. Oh god, this man was a sizzlin' pile of beefcake. Mm mm.

God, I'm such a freak.

"No, no, not psychology," Chip said after the other finished laughing, grinning jovially at me. "I mean the Penn State Paranormal Research Society! You made one hell of a find with this one, Ryan!"

Ryan smiled, brow furrowed slightly in confusion - I was barely listening, all I could do was try my subtle best to sniff that old spicey goodness. "Yeah, she's absolutely great, most definitely. We were about to go and grab a coffee or somethin', actually - "

"Not girlfriend-wise," Chip said, with a wave of his hand, and judging by Ryan's sudden and slight stiffness (God, no you sick bastards, not that kind of stiffness ... jeeze) I think I wasn't alone this time as I flushed with embarrassment. "Course you got one hell of a girl too, didn'tcha! I mean, you've literally found the best medium in all of the country. Your luck astounds me, Buell, it really does."

Ryan frowned. "Medium?"

The old spice smell and warmness of his body didn't really seem all that important anymore - on account'a the fact that I think my heart had just stopped.

I could've stopped it, but my mouth wasn't working. I'd realized all too late what was about to happen, and I couldn't prevent it, couldn't stop it - couldn't do anything. I was trapped. I should've seen this coming, should've sensed the shit I was about to get myself into. Why hadn't I just kept my stupid mouth shut? Chip wouldn't have recognized me in a million years if I had just shut my stupid mouth.

"Harlow," Chip said, pointing at me - my mouth was open stupidly, but my brain couldn't do anything to fix what had just happened. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck! "Best Medium I think I've ever come across! You got yourself one hell of a catch with this one, Ry."

Chip rubbed my arm cheerfully, but I couldn't feel it - all I could feel was my stomach shrivel up into a prune. My face must've been white as a ghost. Ten years of hiding, lying and relocating, and it only took fifteen seconds to spill a life's worth of trouble.

"Harlow, you're a medium?"

(Ryan)

I would've laughed the whole thing off, but the look on Harlow's face told a very different story.

The tanned skin was snow white, the mouth agape and the eyes wide and terror-stricken. She looked at Chip, dumfounded, while he looked on, laughing gleefully. Even through the laughter, I could tell that this was no joke.

"You're a medium?" Heather asked, frowning slightly from her perch beside Chip.

"Slow on the uptake much?" Chip joked, throwing an arm around Heather's shoulder. "Just kidding, Heather! Why haven't you brought her along on an investigation yet, Ry! God, we could've had our little reunion years ago!"

"I .. I didn't know," I said blankly, looking in complete shock at the beautiful girl right next to me. "You're a medium, Lo?"

"What, you didn't tell any of 'em?" Chip asked incredulously. "How can you be in the class but not have told any of them?"

"I didn't tell anyone," Harlow said softly, her face pained and grip on my hand now loose and ice cold. "I'm not actually in the Paranormal Research Society, Chip. I was just here for a date with Ryan."

I know this is irrelevant. But she had just confirmed this as a date. HUZZ-FUCKIN'-AWE.

And I mean, had I not just learned that the girl of my dreams could see dead people, I think my wiener would've exploded in excitement. But all lusty penis pangs were not exactly relevant at the moment - I couldn't feel anything but shock. Why hadn't she told me? Was she going to tonight?

"That's nuts," Chip said again, clearly not realizing he'd spilt one hell of a fuckin' secret on her. "I figured this would be the first kind of club you'd join, Harlow! With a gift like yours - jeeze!"

"Yeah, well," she said miserably, regaining her composure slightly but the chalk white of her skin still harsh against the dark, suddenly lank appearance of her hair. "It hasn't exactly done me any favors .. listen, I should be going."

And with disgustingly fast, almost inhuman speed, she flung her purse over her shoulder and was already halfway to the doors before I'd realized what happened. My heart clogged right up in my throat, I turned and followed after her quickly, my stomach sick with worry.

"Harlow," I called, the second I'd made it out of the classroom - she was already nearly twenty feet away from me, head down and feet almost a blur. "Harlow, wait."

She turned, her face returned to the smooth, tan complexion I remembered, but there was a serious sharpness and hardening to it now - a fury that was no longer just in those eyes, but written all over her face. Etched into every line. It was a look that dared to be fucked with - a practiced look, something that seemed like it had been used all too many times.

"Listen, Ryan," she said quickly, her voice again making a liar of that face - soft and anxious, she trembled slightly over her words. "I don't think this was such a great idea."

"I - no, I mean, listen ... I don't have a problem with it," I said dumbly, praying to God she wouldn't just leave. "Harlow, it's .. it's not a big deal. I'm sorry he told, he doesn't always think .. really, Lo, it's not a big deal - "

"It is, though," she said softly, and I could see her hands shaking slightly. "This is something I've tried to hide for over ten years now - it's not something I really want to discuss, or get out, or .. or whatever. I just .. I can't talk about this, I don't have time, I don't have the energy to, I just .. I don't want this passed around campus. I .. I love Penn State."

"I won't tell anyone," I said, firmly. "Neither will any of the guys in the class - it's .. your secret, it's safe, Harlow. I would never tell anyone - honest. But just .. don't freak out, it was just a slip up. You don't have to leave campus or any of that, it's just a little secret that no one will ever know. I promise you, it will never leave these walls."

"I don't doubt that and I really do appreciate it, I know I can trust you and everyone back in that room," she said, looking very sadly up at me. Her face was still plastered with the practiced harshness and anger, but her eyes were hollow. "But I should have really known better than .. than to get involved - "

"With a ghost hunter," I said, no longer attempting to hide the discouragement from my voice. "I know."

"Paranormal investigator," she said quietly, more to herself than me I think. "That's not it, Ryan - you're a great guy, really - one of the best I think I've met in a very long time. Maybe ever? I never had a chance to find out - "

"You still do," I said, my voice thick with desperation. "Don't do this, Harlow - "

" - I deal with enough of the paranormal on a daily basis. I don't think .. I just don't think this is a good idea," she said, her voice choked. "Don't hate me, please Ryan, don't. I'm so sorry."

I nodded, looking very seriously at the girl in front of me. There was not embarrassment on that face, like I was so sure there would be. There was great sadness, great pain, and deeply set regret carved deep into the fault free surface of that beautiful face.

"I could never hate you," I said, and that was the honest truth.

"I'm so sorry, Ryan," she said morosely, and I could almost feel my heart shatter at the sight of small, glistening tears well up in her eyes. "Truly. You're such a great guy, but I really really really have to go - this was a mistake."

I didn't stop her this time. I just watched her turn, walk quickly away and down the flight of stairs ahead of me. There was so much to do. So many cases I had to deal with, so many assignments to mark, so many insignificant production details to work through, so many people to talk to and things to discuss and assignments due - but they could all wait.

I was no expert in the area of love and loss - this was a fact. But I could say with quite confidence and certainty in the matter, that this horrible, lost and lonesome feeling that was set uncomfortably and seemingly permanently in my chest was the thing that everyone in this world feared the most:

this was heartbreak.

AUTHORS NOTE: MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HANNUKAH, SEASONS GREETINGS, CONGRATS ON KWANZA - whatever you celebrate, i hope you're all super well! i'm so sorry about the twenty five days it took me to update - the fact is, i was busy bakin' christmas cookies and plowing my way through the malls and watchin' "it's a wonderful life". enjoyin' the holiday season, as i hope all of you fabulous, AMAZING reviewers were doing as well :)

i got some fab gifts, y'know. like a new bed set, so fab! a juicy couture purse, oh HELLZ yeah. the perfume i've been eyeing for months now! oh, and y'know ... THE COMPLETE FIRST 3 SEASONS OF PARANORMAL STATE ON DVD. *dies* SO HAPPY. how was/is everyone's holidays? did you guys get good stuff? tell me tell me! i'll tell you my favorite part of the holiday season this year ...

THE TEN REVIEWS I GOT FOR LAST CHAPTER.

holy. fucking. MOLY, you guys!! TEN REVIEWS. i'm at seven chapters or somethin', and i've got 30 reviews. that is unheard of! do you even have any idea of how amazing each and every one of you are? i would like to personally come to your homes, give you tins of cookies and baked goods, a big ol' sloppy kiss on the cheek and maybe a super sexy dance party as well. in fact, i just might. so who do i have to thank for these wonderful reviews? WELL, SANTA, YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN MAKES LISTS:

SurriB: i never write disclaimers, but perhaps i should start? DISCLAIMER: this story has the potential of making your neighbors think you're mentally disturbed and completely plastered. i'm so glad you liked it! whenever i get an alert that you've reviewed, i pee myself a little (TMI? too bad!). that's how excited you make me!

kcollins: hells YES you are a sexy beast! you are one hell of a loyal reviewer and i would like to go out on a date with you or somethin'. or y'know. at least just give you this: ":D" love it and you!

voll3yg1rl: because of your fab "get well soons", i am now 100740326 percent better! you are a miracle reviewer, i am impressed. you are an online healer, a cough drop in reviewer form, a tablespoon of buckleys on the fanfiction website. hearts to you (L)

futureauthor: gah, at least someone else understands! the frustration when you know EXACTLY what you want to write but can't do it is even worse than the feeling when you can't think of anything to write at all. effff. i loved your reviews! don't hate on sophie too hard, you'll like her soon enough, i promise ;)

ashleymaria: i hope your treatments are going better! stay safe and take care of yourself, bud :( nothing bad can happen ever, you're too adorable! thank you for the review, lovely girl! keep me updated on your condish if you don't mind!

pureangeleyes: you just found my story and love it? i just found your review and love YOU. we're twins!

lindzxhatter: YOUR REVIEW MADE ME POO EVERYWHERE, i was so excited! longest review EVER? i think it might just hold that record. and it made me lol. you remind me of me, except probably not as creepy. welcome to my story, please buckle up, keep your arms in at all times and have it's babies as soon as possible. thank youuuu! (oh and by the way, i was also stoked beyond belief when i found this board - who'dda thought they'd have a PSFF community, haha)

Aria DeLoncray: i'm so glad you like it! i've never actually seen two and a half men (i think it stems from my deep hate of charlie sheen), but i'm glad you like Nat! she's actually based off a girl i used to know ... unfortunately. that one slinky quote summed her up nicely .. something like "some people are like slinkies, they aren't really good for anything but you can't help but smile when you push them down the stairs". i love that one, haha. thank you for the review!

sarah lalanne: i gotta just gotta update, huh? merry christmas, newest reviewer! an update you want, an update you got. thanks for the review!

TJToxic: haha i'm glad someone else saw ryan a bumbling doof like i did! i see him as kinda like ... strong and masculine, but a complete dork around chicks he likes, you know? thank you for the review, i love you and your face and stuff. (L)

with all you new reviewers, i swear it's going to take me longer to write the actual authors note than the chapter. i love it!

i know there's a lot of loose ends in this chapter, all of the harlow & ryan stuff, the strange girl from chip's past, the horse faced shetland pony ex-girlfriend of ryan's, all of that! but don't worry - i will tie those ends together within the next four chapters, and we'll be rollin' along.

thank you, you darling darling readers. i adore you and appreciate you more than you will ever ever know. LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU,

happy hoildays !!

love; ellah!