Chapter Seven

King Of Crazies And Deep Discontent For Koalas

(Ryan)

"I'm an idiot. An absolute idiot. A completely, pitifully, stupid, awful freakin' - "

"No, Chip. You're not."

Chip shook his head, lips pressed together so tightly they were starting to turn white. He had a death grip on his coffee cup, and a blankness in his eyes. The animated, cheerful and slightly in-your-face Chip-meister was gone, and replaced with a miserable, self-loathing replica I was extremely relieved that I had only met this one time. I preferred the high-rev Coffey, not the decaf that I was seated with now.

"You made a mistake," I said again, stirring my own cup of coffee absentmindedly. "It happens to the best of us, Chip. It was an accident."

"Thirty years in this profession," he said dejectedly, ignoring my comments. "Not once did I ever let anything slip. And now .. this. What a fool I've been."

I shook my head, too tired to try and argue anymore.

Chip and I sat in Brixton's Coffee Shop, about a five minute walk from the Penn State campus. I had always loved this spot, but no one else at PSU seemed to. I couldn't figure it out. There was never anyone else around - literally every time I'd come in, there were maybe three other people in the entire building. A couple of library nerds huddled in the corners with their five foot stacks of books. Sometimes there were balding, thirty something year old 'future screenwriters' tapping away annoyingly on their laptops across the room. All dull, lifeless shells of human beings - how fascinating. Welcome to Brixton's, home of the Nobodies. Would you like a side of Apathy with your Vanilla Bean Latte?

Ah, but I'm being mean. I guess it's not fair to me to take digs at them, though, is it? No, I wasn't a pot-bellied wannabe L.A. movie director, and no I wasn't a library nerd with no friends but a plethora of pimples. But I did hunt ghosts for a livin' and I had just been completely blown off by a girl I had creepily stared at/daydreamed about for four years. Ahhhh. Right at home - maybe this is where I belonged afterall. I felt like I should go sit with the pimply girls, chat about how freakin' awesome retainers were and how ProActive Skincare Line was a load of bullshit. Maybe I could go chill with the bald man, talk about how awesome his protagonist's devil-may-care attitude was and let him tell me all about how close he was to gettin' a movie deal with Spielberg (Oh I can hear him now - "Yeah! Almost got a movie contract with DONNY SPEILBERG. Whaddaya MEAN you don't know who that is?! That's Steven's cousin, didn't you know that? I bet you didn't know that. YOU KNOW THAT NOW, LET'S BE FRIENDS'). I could order a round of espresso shots, get completely trashed with my new buddies. Wake up two hundred miles away in a dungeon-esque free Wifi cafe the next morning, with Pimple Girl one in a Spyro the Dragon costume on my left, Pimple Girl 2 in full on Inuyasha garb to my right.

... Yep. I think I'm just gonna stick with my mopey, miserable, horrifically depressed but good ol' pal Chippy.

Chip, who had come down to Penn State specifically to do two 90 minute lectures for our class, was completely beside himself with guilt. After Heather had gently (well .. Heather gently, anyways) explained to him the seemingly severity of the secret he'd just let slip, he'd been riding high along this deep depression for a full day now.

Not only a shit day for him, but absolutely, indefinitely, it had to be the longest day of my life as well.

It had been a full twenty four hours since I'd last seen or heard from Harlow - since anyone I know had, as a matter of fact. Heather had walked by her Psychology class today at dismissal, and she'd reported no sign of her. I didn't see her anywhere on campus - and trust me on this one, I looked every where. I sent Katrina to the on site gym, but she didn't see her either. Eilfie couldn't spot her in the libraries, and Serge hadn't even caught a glimpse of her in the lab. Josh didn't see her car in the faculty parking lot, not even once of the five times I begged him go out and check for me. Literally, it seemed like she had simply vanished off of Campus: not one person I had spoken to knew of her whereabouts. Even Sophie, the girl Lo was practically attached at the hip to, wandered around the grounds alone - Heather and Serge had both seen her, as Harlow-less as I was. And as different as Sophie and I were, let me tell you - we seemed to be able to agree on one thing: the world was one terrible, gloomy and miserable place when there was no Harlow in your life.

I had literally been contemplating and fighting with myself all day and night over whether or not to go and try and talk to her. I knew if I sweet talked ol' Gladys at the Faculty Office, she'd give me an address, or a contact number, or something. In literally no effort at all, I could've found someway to get hold of Harlow. I probably could've even approached Sophie and asked if she'd heard from her - of course that would probably have ended with my balls being ripped off and shoved down my throat (See, I got this weird vibe from Sophie that she just, well .. didn't like me - well, and y'know, the glares and snorts and 'you are standing right in front of me but I'm going to pretend not to see you' attitude I was on the receiving end of so very often were pretty good at supporting my beliefs as well).

But, as much as I wanted to, and as much as it broke my heart not to, in the end I decided against trying to contact her. She was the one who walked out on me. She probably hated me. I don't know why she would. But she probably did. Or maybe she didn't hate me - maybe she just really, legitimately meant she didn't want anything to do with me anymore. For all I knew, she could be halfway across the country right now. She'd seemed hellbent on getting out of this place after Chip's slip-up. Regardless of her feelings towards me right now, all that mattered in the long run was that she was happy. And if that meant never seeing me ever again and forgetting that this whole, whirlwind last week had even happened - well.

That would have to be okay too, I guess. Right?

"I should try and contact her," Chip muttered, my attention snapping back to our little conversation. "She probably hates me, I don't doubt that, I wouldn't blame her .. but I can't leave Pennsylvania on these grounds. I can't. I have to apologize."

Christ, that makes two of us, Chippers.

"We should just leave her alone," I said quietly, tapping my coffee mug dully. "Give her time to herself. Let her cool down.

"She's had nothing but time to herself," Chip said desperately, but he shook his head furiously a moment later. "No .. no, you're right, Ryan. Just let her cool down. I guess that would work. No, you're right, you're right ... "

I wish I wasn't.

In front of me, Chip fiddled nervously with the napkin on his right. He scratched at it, tore at the corners, folded and flipped and fondled it. He tapped on his coffee mug compulsively. Squirmed and wriggled and moved around in his seat. I felt like I was having tea and biscuits with a two year old. I could literally almost feel a vein in my forehead begin to pulse in annoyance - I bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him. What the hell was the matter with me? Oh right. That.

"I feel so terrible," Chip said, for what had to be the millionth time in our thirty minute coffee date. "So awful. Ryan, I ruined your date. I just ruined it, I'm so sorry, Ryan, I'm so so so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Chip," I said in annoyance, through gritted teeth. "It's fine."

I think he could sense my irritation: he nodded solemnly and leaned back in his chair, motionless. Defeated. And if possible, I felt even worse than I had before.

I felt guilty about being so short-tempered with him - Chip was truly one of the sweetest and thoroughly one of the most good-hearted people I had ever had the pleasure of meeting. He shouldn't feel like he has to apologize about a little accident. I mean yeah, it was true, if he'd just kept quiet and thought before he spoke, things wouldn't exactly be as morose as they were right now. In fact, I might even have a girlfriend. A gorgeous girlfriend. A gorgeous girlfriend who I'd be lying in bed with right now. A gorgeous girlfriend who would be on top of me in bed right -

"Fuck!" I snapped, hot coffee slopping all over my hand - it's what I deserved for being a raunchy, delusional perv, isn't it?

Chip handed me a napkin from the dispenser beside him. "Ouch, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, sorry about the mess," I apologized, wiping my hand gingerly. "Sorry .. I'm just .. I'm totally on the edge right now ... brain isn't workin' like it's supposed to."

"I've noticed," Chip said softly, bopping his thumb slowly against the edge of his mug - I could sense his hard stare, but I tried to ignore it. "Is it the Harlow thing?"

I nodded, putting a hand over my blotchy, burnt hand and pushing down against the scald. "I guess - ow - so. I just .. feel kind of lost, I guess. It'll pass, just - ow - gotta give it some time to sink in, I think."

"How long had you two been seeing each other?" Chip asked casually.

"We hadn't, really," I said, ignoring the throbbing in my hand. "She found my pager and notebook last week, I'd left them outside. She brought them to me and things sort of took off from there .. it was nothing serious, really."

"Still. You're pretty torn up over an eight day infatuation," Chip noted - it was the psychologist in him. He'd get me to talk and talk and talk, and I wouldn't realize until after just what information I'd blabbed. He was a talented man, this Chipster.

"It was more than just eight days," I said, accepting the fact that I'd have to come clean with good ol' Chip here. "Well, for me anyways. I've liked her for years."

"I thought you guys only just met eight days ago?" he asked.

"Formally," I explained. "I'd seen her everyday since she started going here. She just never really saw me back."

Chip nodded, lips down-turned. "I see."

"And now, she'll never see me again," I said miserably.

Chip shook his head, and leaned forward on the pale, wooden table. "Ryan, you don't know that."

I looked at him incredulously. "I'm pretty certain on this one, Chip. She said she didn't want anything to do with me."

Chip raised an eyebrow. "Those were her exact words?"

I shrugged. "Along those lines."

He shook his head. "That doesn't sound like the Harlow I knew."

I snorted, and raked a hand through my hair. "No offence, Chip, but you haven't seen her in nearly twenty years or whatever. People change every day. Nevermind twenty whole years."

"When I knew her," he said, ignoring me. "She was the most forgiving and compassionate person I had ever met. She'd seen such terrible things, but the girl wasn't hostile. She was forgiving, warm-hearted. Understanding. She was young when I knew her, it's true. But traits as pure as the ones she showed don't fade over time. This whole thing will blow over, Ryan. She just .. she probably just freaked out. Overreacted."

I raised my eyebrows skeptically. "I would've flipped my shit, too. I think that was an underreaction, to be honest. She told me it was a secret she'd tried to hide for over ten years. If someone spilled a secret I'd tried to keep for over a decade of my life, I would've flipped out a lot worse than she did."

Chip frowned, and looked guiltily down at his mug that was now cradled tightly in both his hands. I wanted to punch myself in the face - I was ashamed at how I was treating Chip.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, shaking my head. "I don't know what's gotten into me .. I don't mean to snap at you, I'm sorry Chip."

He shook his head glumly. "I deserve it."

"No," I said forcefully. "You don't, you made an honest mistake. Anyone could've done that. There was no inclination that she wasn't a part of the Society. Anyone in the world would've thought the same as you. You were just excited to see her after all this time, that's all."

Chip looked at me wearily, but smiled. "You're a good guy, Ryan."

I smiled half-heartedly. "I guess."

"You are," he said. "You really, legitimately are a good person, Ryan. Harlow would be lucky to have someone like you in her life."

I poked gloomily at my now swollen, pinky-white hand. "She deserves better than me, Chip. I'm a ghost hunter. She's a Psychology major, top student of her year. Captain of the Volleyball team. I chase ghosts."

"And you help people who have lost all faith in the world," Chip said sternly. "You go and you save these people, you help them get their lives back. In a very peculiar way, that's true. But you do so much more than just chase around dead people for a living, Ryan. You restore faith, you clean up the shattered pieces of once full and wonderful lives. You fix what people think is unfixable - you do all of that, Ryan."

"You glorify it," I said stubbornly.

"I do not," he said angrily. "I'm not the only one who thinks that. Every person you work with, every person at A&E, every person in your class, every person who watches you on television - they think the same thing. And I guarantee you, Ryan, guarantee, that Harlow thinks that too."

"Thanks," I said unenthusiastically. "It's fine, Chip. Really. Everything happens for a reason, I guess."

I knew he was trying to make me feel better - and I knew I should've. I'd had support from everyone in PRS. All those guys, my good friends and the wonderful people I'd chosen to surround myself with. They all had done their best in the short hours following our fall out to lift my spirit, make me feel better. But it was really to no avail.

I had been so close, but missed out by just a hair. It had all happened so fast, but I had been so close to being with her - finally - that I could almost taste it. The ridiculousness of this was staggering - I'd only even talked to the girl for eight fuckin' days. It's not like we had been in a long term relationship, or like we'd be friends for a long time or any of that. Eight days, and I literally felt my heart was ripped in two. How had a twenty-four year old volleyball player managed to hold such a big piece of my heart in such a small amount of time? It made no sense to me.

"Why does she hide being a medium?" I blurted out angrily, before I could even help it. Chip gave me a quizzical look. "I mean .. why is she hiding it? Why is she trying to deny it?"

He looked at me thoughtfully, tapping his cup steadily.

"There could be a lot of reasons," he said lightly. "We know that somewhere around 8,000 people in the United State alone claim to have some kind of Psychic ability. We can't even begin to guess how many more are out there. Some don't know they have a gift. Some prefer to keep it to themselves. And some - this is the category I think Harlow falls into - are just terrified of it, and prefer to not deal with it or accept it at all."

I frowned. "If she's had it her entire life, why would she be? Why is it such a big deal?"

"I can't answer for her," Chip said softly. "But ... I know that Harlow is very different than other people her age. Even than other mediums. She see's the paranormal like no other person I've ever encountered. She lives with it on a day to day basis. When I knew her when she was young, she feared it and she misunderstood it. If I'd been given more time to be with her and talk to her, I would've tried to teach her to manage her abilities. The fact is, I think she's finally been given a chance at normalcy, something I know for a fact she strived for a long time to have - you wouldn't understand, it's - she's - a long story. Now, when something has threatened that easy monotony she has somehow grown accustomed to over the years, she completely and utterly panicked and abandoned the scene of the crime, you know what I mean? Get out before she was caught, wash her hands clean."

I stared at Chip intently, my heart hammering. I'd barely heard any of the last chunk of what he'd said - my mind was racing to catch up.

"Chip .. what do you mean she see's the paranormal like no other person you've ever met?"

Chip looked at me blankly, but I could almost hear the gears in his head shifting and grinding and spinning. He was coming up with a lie, with a cover up for his second slip in barely twenty four hours.

"Don't lie," I said quickly, lowering my voice. "Chip .. this is strictly confidential. Nothing said here leaves this table. But .. what do you mean?"

Chip opened and closed his mouth several times, before shaking his head slowly. "I can't .. I've already said more than I ever should have. Again. Just .. trust me on this one, Ryan. Harlow seems to have taught herself to look like the picture of perfection. But that is very far from the truth, and it is nothing you should concern yourself with."

"I know, she's a medium," I said irritably. "That's reason enough to be a little off, I understand that. But what do you mean, she see's the paranormal like - "

"No," Chip snapped. "I shouldn't have said that. All that matters, Ryan, is that you don't give up on her. If you feel so strongly for her, and you are this lost and this depressed when she's not around, go for it. She won't hold a grudge against you forever. She forgives, I know it's been almost twenty years, but I know she's still the same per - "

He kept talking, but my body was ice cold. I think if it weren't for natural habit, I would've stopped breathing. Something had just clicked in the back of my mind, something terrible.

"Chip," I said blankly, looking at him very seriously - his mouth snapped shut. "Harlow's the girl from your story, isn't she? The one who was put in Foster care when she was six. The one who saw her sister die. The one who identified the dead man in the park. She's the one, isn't she? Harlow?"

Chip stared back at me, face white as chalk. Very slowly, very painfully, he nodded.

We sat in silence, staring at one another for nearly two minutes before he spoke again.

"I can't tell you anymore," he said hoarsely.

"I know," I said, my whole body numb.

"You can't say anything," he whispered.

"I never would," I said, and again, that was the honest truth. "Never."

Chip nodded miserably, and leaned back in his chair. Steam still billowed from his mug, but he paid no attention to it.

"Don't ever think you're not good enough for her," Chip said quietly, from across the table. "Harlow has seen too much, been through too much and heard too much in her short twenty four years. If anyone is deserving of anyone in this situation, it's her that deserves you."

I still don't think I believed it, but I'd come closer to accepting it.

(Harlow)

"Tell me, Harlow! Tell me, tell me, TELL me!"

I curled even tighter into a ball under my thick blanket. "Just go, Chick. Please, just go."

"No, I will not. Get out, get out right now, right now!"

I could feel pressure move all up the right side of my blanket, but I ignored it - I furled the sheets tighter around my hand and snuggled my face into the warm fabric.

"Harlow, you honestly think I'm going to get tired of this?" I heard Chick mutter through the sheets. "It's not exactly like I have plans. Or like I feel exhaustion. Frankly, I don't feel much of anything anymore."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That worked twenty four hours ago. I let you curl into a ball for a full day and I didn't even bother you. I sat on my ass on your couch, and I watched the Program Listing channel for twenty three hours straight, just out of plain respect for you. Well, and because I can't use the fucking clicker. But! I didn't even try and spy on you or eavesdrop to see if you were crying, nothin'! I was a completely respectable dead person. Now, I want details. Why were you home so early? Why did you not come home with Ghost boy? Why have you not called him, why are you not answering calls from that bitch-face Sophie? Why! WHY WHY WHY WHY."

"It's a long story," was all I could manage.

"A long story? Well, shit, why didn't you say so. I'm only dead, Harlow, it's not like I have any time to listen to a long story. No, I'm very busy pacing this shit-hole apartment for all the rest of eternity. Do you know how important it is, floating down a hallway? Clearly you don't. A long story indeed."

"Go away," I croaked.

"Harlow, come on," she said again, quietly this time. "Just tell me what happened. Did he bail out or somethin'? Was he mean to you? Did he hurt you? Did he bone you without your permission? I wanna help, Lo .. I might be dead, but that just means I don't leave fingerprints ... "

I laughed humorlessly. "I appreciate the concern, Chick. I just need to be alone right now. Sleep for the next twenty years. I don't know."

"You couldn't do that," she reasoned. "You have the appetite of an elephant - I'm surprised you haven't been out of bed to go eat already."

I sighed, and tucked my head even further into my cottony ball of warmth. "I'm not hungry."

I felt a slight weight on my left side now, and realized that Chick was hanging over my blanketed torso. I had never seen her be this consoling before.

"That's so weird," I muttered. "I've never had a ghost lie on me before."

"Like a fluffy cloud, huh," she said.

"Kind of like a cold, flat, baby, actually," I mumbled.

She laughed, and a cold swept through me - it was like dunking your entire body into a vat of ice water. I shivered.

"Switching sides, sorry," she said. "C'mon Harlow. What happened?"

I sighed, and threw my blankets off my head. There really was no use in ignoring her. I touched my head gingerly, and shuddered - I could only imagine the monstrosity and complete ball of knotted chaos that was my hair right now. Chick looked at me seriously, those dull, lifeless eyes piercing my own. I took a deep breath.

"Ryan knows I'm a Medium," I said, my voice embarrassingly choked.

Chick looked at me, face blank. "I thought you weren't going to tell him."

"I didn't," I said, wrapping my blanket tight around my chest. "There was a guy there that recognized me from a long time ago, he just kind of blurted out that I was a medium."

Chick shook her head, brow furrowed. "He - why did - wait ... what?"

I sighed. "It's such a long story, Chick .. "

"Again," she muttered irritably. "Dead girl. Not exactly concerned with time or lack there of."

"Fair enough," I said. "Alright. Well. Remember I told you about that old counselor I used to have? Chip Coffey?"

"How could I forget a name like that," she said, crawling noiselessly onto the bed infront of me, her long and pale hair glittering strangely in the light.

I smiled sadly. "I know. Well, when I came into the class room today for the date, he was there. I recognized him right away, the second I saw him, but he didn't recognize me - "

"That's because you don't look like an ass wart anymore," Chick said, in the insensitively delicate way she had down pact.

"I guess not," I said drearily. "Anyways .. I don't even know how it happened, or why I didn't think to just .. say nothing. But he started talking, and I started talking, and I was just so excited to see him, that I let my guard down for just thirty seconds, I swear, that's all. And he just said .. you're a Medium."

Chick nodded, eyes solemn. "Did the whole class hear?"

I shook my head, vision hazy. "Just Ryan and the five other people from the show."

I pulled my legs up close to my chest, and hugged them tightly. I dug my nails deep into my skin, eyes still stinging - but I refused to cry.

"What did he say?" Chick asked me quietly.

"Nothing," I said. "I said I had to go, and I walked out really fast, and he came running out after me."

"Why?" Chick asked sharply.

"He just told me it was okay and he wouldn't tell anyone, and .. no one would know, and .. I don't know. He was really nice about it," I sniffed.

Chick eyed me curiously. "Maybe I'm dumb. Or maybe I'm like .. retarded or somethin'. Or maybe my mind's all jumbled from being deceased and all. But .. I don't see the problem."

I looked at her incredulously. "You don't see the problem? You don't see the problem, Chick?! The problem is, now he knows I'm a medium!"

"Yeah, and he said he wouldn't tell anyone," she said, confused.

"But now .. now he knows my secret," I said, digging deeper and harder into my leg.

"And he won't tell anyone about it," Chick said again. "Or so he says."

"Chick," I said irritably. "I didn't want anyone to know about the whole Medium thing. You're a special case, since, well - "

"I'm dead."

"Yeah. Since you're dead. But .. I didn't want anyone to know about it. Because that's when all the problems start. First it starts with the acceptance, and the people sayin' stupid shit like 'oh, that's awesome, dead people, haha' or other shit, like 'hey, Harlow, can you like .. see my Grandma or somethin'. And then it leaves acceptance and becomes skepticism. People doubting me and questioning me, and thinking there's something wrong with me or like .. I'm a freak."

"Well," Chick said fairly. "You are a freak. But like .. a good freak. Not a bearded lady type freak. Just a talented, gifted freak."

I shook my head. "Says you. No one else thinks a girl who claims to be able to contact the dead is 'gifted'. They think she's a whackjob. They want them admitted or thrown into a group home .. or, or whatever. And after that, that's when they make fun of you and hurt you and call you horrible names. That's when life gets really unbearable."

Chick rested a cheek against my hand, and a chill ran up my arm.

"Harlow .. don't you think you're taking this a bit too seriously?" Chick asked.

"No, no I don't think so," I said angrily. "Chick .. I'm gonna have to move. I'm going to have to leave. I need to be somewhere where no one - and I mean no one - knows about me. I just want to be a wallflower, that's all. I just want to be a nobody - it's so much simpler."

"You're gonna up and relocate just because Ghost Boy knows a secret about you," Chick said, shaking her head and pulling away from my hand. "Do you hear yourself talk or is it just a big loud roaring in your ears?"

I yanked my hand away from her and hopped off my bed angrily. My ankles gave a slight quiver - I forgot about that fact that I had eaten in nearly a day. My whole body was a little woozy.

"I'm not overreacting," I said defensively, my face reddening. "Chick .. you don't know what it's like. You haven't .. you haven't dealt with the things I've had to deal with. I can't do this again. I can't have this out. I just need .. a fresh start."

She glared at me from the bed, arms folded tightly against her chest. "You had a fresh start every 4 months for 14 years. How long have you been in Pennsylvania, Lo?"

"Four years and six months," I said quietly.

"And you could leave it all behind?" Chick asked me. "Up and leave the education you've gotten, the friends you've made, the apartment you rent all by yourself. All because one loser ghost chaser knows a secret about you, but refuses to tell because the doofus is obviously a fairly respectable whackjob who accepts the fact that you want your privacy."

My arms were crossed, but my foundation was breaking.

"You and I both know, Harlow, you can't just leave. You have so much going for you here. You have a life. A career path planned out. A bitch who you seem to love a pretty decent amount. A possible boyfriend that swore he'd keep your deepest, darkest secret forever. You have a sports team that looks up to you like a fucking God. You've been here, in Pennsylvania, longer than you've been anywhere ever in your life. You finally have a home, a place where you belong. You have all of this, and yet you're willing to just walk away from it because of one slip up from a guy who's named after salty potato thins and steamy caffeine beverages? Really?"

I looked at her seriously, but I could feel the tears spilling down my cheeks, hot and embarrassing.

"I just don't want him to think I'm a freak," I choked, arms falling down to my side.

Chick looked at me sadly, and hovered at lightening quick speed over towards me. I shook, my entire body, sobbing and sobbing. I could feel the cold ice of her arms around my back, but I couldn't do anything. I couldn't hug her back. I couldn't hug myself. I could just cry.

"He won't think you're a freak," she assured me quietly.

"W-what if he-e does?" I sobbed. "I really like h-him, Chick .. I d-don't want him t-to think I'm w-weird or s-somethin'!"

"Harlow, he sits in dark basements with thermal cameras for a living, he's in no position to call you a Nutjob," she said, with that horrifically insensitive but unusually calming honesty.

"I r-really l-like him," I snuffled.

"And I'm sure if he's willing to keep a secret as big as yours, he likes you just as much as you like him," Chick said reassuringly, tapping me lightly on the back.

"No, he p-probably thinks I'm c-crazy, now."

"Again. He's the one who wanders down dark hallways with tape recorders, not you."

"Not h-helping, Chick."

"Sorry," she muttered. "Harlow, listen .. you freaked out, but for good reason. I think this ghost doof really likes you. And .. maybe you should go and apologize for freakin' out. I've never met him, but he seems sincere enough. I don't think he's going to hurt you, or judge you, or ... or whatever."

"I just wanted him to like me for me," I said softly.

Chick pulled away and smiled benignly at me. "He does! He wanted to go out with you before the secret came out. And then AFTER he found out, he still wanted to. And you gotta face it, Lo - this IS you. You see us. We see you. There is no changing that. And I think you've found a guy that can respect and appreciate that."

I nodded, still snuffling quietly. "I guess so."

"Harlow, look. He likes you, sixth sense and all. There's not a lot of guys that are still gonna want to hard bone you once they find out you chat about the best laundry detergents on the market with dead folk in your apartment. As much as this pains me to say it - and you know, it kills (no, no pun intended, bitch) me to say it! - I think Ghost Hunter boy maybe isn't such a bad choice."

I snuffled again, and looked at Chick seriously. My heart already felt a little lighter.

"He's a paranormal investigator," I corrected quietly.

"Don't push it," Chick said. "He's a hermit with a video camera, a recluse with a director's log."

"A paranormal investigator," I said again. "One that I really, really like."

She nodded. "Yeah, yeah .. go and patch your shit up with Ghostie, Lo. But maybe go and take a shower, first ... you smell like a crusty asshole."

(Ryan)

The sudden movement of objects without deliberate intention in the presence or vicinity -

The sudden movement of objects without deliberate intention in the presence or vicinity -

The sudden movement of objects without deliberate intention in the presence or vicinity -

"Fuck!"

I slapped my hands over my face in frustration - that was the seventh God damn time in twenty minutes that I'd reread a line over more than once. I was going to go ape shit, I swear to God.

"Okay, okay, focus Ryan," I mumbled. "The sudden movement of objects without deliberate intention in the presence or vicinity the sudden - GAHHHH."

MY GOD, MARKING PAPERS WOULD BE THE DEATH OF ME.

I threw my pen in a fury across the room, hearing it clank against the stone wall and bounce once, twice and a third time against the hardwood floors. I had literally three days until the next PRS class, and out of nearly forty essays that came in, I had marked about three of them.

I was really bad at this whole "keeping on top of things" thing.

"Why," I muttered. "Why do I give them homework? Stupid, stupid, stupid."

My mind, as I'm sure you know, has been a little frazzled as of late.

I'd said my goodbye's to Chip earlier in the day, and now I sat rather uselessly in my office as the sun crept slowly below the horizon and the light blue sky turned to an astral purple all around me. I couldn't even enjoy the beautiful night sky. Between these essays, the next lesson and the lack of Harlow in my life, nothing seemed so bright and wonderful anymore.

Tonight, I had blown off dinner with Serge and Josh at their favorite Pub off of state campus. Tomorrow, I had cancelled plans to go and see the 'Pennsylvania Street Concert Series' with Heather, and had bumped my dinner with Eilfie to next week sometime. I didn't want to be with people. I wanted to be curled in a ball in the corner of a room with my blanket over my head. I wanted to be sitting at Mom's house in a fleece onesie with an apple juicebox and carrot sticks. I wanted to be hiding out in a cardboard box fort with a little tear out of the corner that I used for my peephole. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to be cared for. I wanted to forget this God awful week.

They say misery loves company, but that was entirely false in my case. Why would I want to drag anyone else down into this pit of mope? I was a useless pile of pity, at the moment. If it weren't for the rest of PRS, nothing would be getting done. If I pulled my entire team down into my horrific bout of self loathing, then we'd never get anything accomplished. It'd be a bit counterproductive, y'know? Thank God for Eilfie's slightly disturbing work ethic and Serge's fast-as-lightening computer skills. They were keeping this whole organization together in my time of mope.

So instead of bringin' everyone else down, I'd decided it might just be my best plan to sit in my abandoned class room, in front of a pile of terribly dull and (in the majority of cases) disgustingly un-edited Parapsychology reports.

Oh God. Kill me now.

"The sudden movement of objects without deliberate intention in the presence or vicinity the sudden movement - NOPE. DONE. I AM DONE."

I yanked open my desk drawer, and threw the pile of reports into it, bumping it shut with my hip. If I hadn't been in such a rage over my constant re-reading of 'The sudden movement of objects without deliberate intention in the presence or vicinity' (God SMITE that terrible sentence! Gah!), I probably would've heard the soft clanking of her heels against the hallway's bisque colored tiling.

If I hadn't been so enraged with my classes lack of essay writing skills, I might've smelt the coconutty goodness before it was right in front of my face.

If I hadn't been so busy fumbling with my piece of shit bag (Bless Serge's foreign heart, but those Russians just can't make a decent fuckin' briefcase to save their lives), I might've heard her soft, sharp knock on the large wooden doors.

Instead, I'm pretty sure she walked into the class room with the awesome view of my ass in the air, as I was doubled over doin' up my briefcase and swearing like a sailor. Hey, I'll be the first to admit to ya'll, it's not my most flattering angle.

"Uhm .. Ryan?"

CRACK!

"Shit!"

So, my ass was in her direct line of vision (I'm sure she appreciated the view). My face was probably red as a tomato (and I probably had about twelve chins in this position too, so freakin' sexy). I was swearing so profusely, I don't think I was even making proper swear words (because what in God's name is a 'Funkinshart'? A mix of Fuckin Shat, Funky Shart? Fuck, I don't even know). And I had just hard smoked my forehead on the edge of my desk. AWESOME.

No wonder she bailed out. It wasn't that she was a medium, it was that I was just a large, horrendously unappealing ball of 'UGHHHH'.

"Oh, no," she said, and I heard her heels click quickly towards me. "Are you okay?"

I stood up, knees a bit shaky but horrific embarrassment more than enough to keep me upright. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm alright. Bit dopey, but what's new, really?"

I got a good glimpse of her (because upside down underneath my legs hadn't really sufficed), and the tomato red of my face turned lava crimson. I'm sure I was the height of attractive - red face, goose egged and apparently struck dumb. Awe-SOME. Her, on the other hand? How is it, that no matter the place or the situation or the occasion, she looks like she just stepped out of a magazine? And not like .. 'Parents' magazine or 'Women's Weekly', I mean like one of those hot ones that guys purchase purely for the sake of putting in the bathroom for those lonely Tuesday evenings.

She slowed her pace, dark brown hair flowing behind her and boobs jiggling awesomely as usual. I meant .. eyes round with worry. Yeah. That's what I meant.

"You're not dopey," she said softly, hands fidgeting nervously along the dark denim of her jeans. "Looks like you got quite a bump, though."

I ran a hand over my forehead, and already felt a hard lump protruding out of my face. Shit, I did not think it was humanly possibly to look better than I did post Deskgate. But here I am. Lumpy too. Jesus.

"Oh, it's fine," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "Hey, if anyone asks, I didn't get it from smacking my head on a desk. I was .. thrown off of a motorcycle in a high speed police chase or somethin'."

She laughed, and reached a hand out to touch the bump on my forehead - her touch still made me pee my pants a little, I'm gonna be honest with ya'll. "Okay .. that's extremely plausible. Because you're regularly involved in high speed pursuits. And you drive a motorcycle. And if you were thrown off a motorcycle in a high speed car chase, the worst possible thing that would happen would be a goose egg on your forehead. Totally believable."

I flushed, but laughed it off. "Yeah .. you're right. Smacked my head on a desk it is."

She pulled her hand away slowly, and looked at me with a small, but very subtly sad smile on that beautiful face. I'd just noticed, but her eyes were a bit puffy, nose a little pink and voice a little wavery. The thought of her upset broke whatever was left of my heart, but ..

the possibility that she had actually been upset over me sort of eased the shattered pieces of this ol' ticker.

"You're gonna be okay, though?" she asked, still eyeing the bump with concern.

"I'm fine," I assured her, leaning back lightly against this death trap AKA desk. "I'm always fine. How about you, Harlow? Are you, uh .. are you okay?"

She looked at me intently, and to my surprise, shook her head. "No. I'm really not."

"What's wrong?" I asked, making a sudden movement towards her without thinking - my brain finally caught up with my body and I stopped mid-move, awkwardly and with my arm half out, half close to my side. It looked like I was engaging in a really fucked up version of the hokey pokey.

"I'm just ... " she started, pretending (God bless her) to not notice my retarded, half-completed hand gestures. "I'm just really, really sorry, Ryan."

She looked up at me, those brilliantly green eyes looking intently into my own.

"Don't be," I said quickly, without hesitation. "You don't have a reason to be, Harlow. Not one."

She shook her head, running her hands compulsively against the side of her denim clad legs. "I do, though. I completely, ridiculously, overreacted, and I shouldn't have."

I shook my head. "No, you didn't. You .. you acted like anyone else would've in a situation like that. Don't be sorry, Lo. It's .. it's - shit happens, you know? Really. I'm sorry it happened to you."

She smiled sadly, shaking her head. "It was bound to eventually, bud. I'm just .. I'm glad it happened in front of you of all people."

I smiled. "I try to be as non-judgmental as possible .. kinda comes with the territory of ghost huntin'."

"Paranormal investigating," she corrected softly. "I just wanted to come and say .. well, say sorry. Sorry for being a total spazz, and for totally blowing you off, and being a freak of nature and all that fun stuff."

(I'm not gonna lie, I shit my pants a little when she said blowing me off - I was in half the mind to say 'No really, Harlow, it's cool if you blow me off - oh that kind of blowing off, well no, don't do that'.)

"Well first off, you're absolutely possi-tutely not a spazz," I laughed, but laughed more at the fact that I'm an imbecile and used the word 'positutely' - FUCK. "Second, you didn't blow me off (/hyperventilates secretly), in my opinion you had a pretty damn good reason for leaving. And third, you're definitely not a freak of nature. You're just a pretty cool chick who just happens to see dead people. Nothin' wrong with that."

She looked at me thoughtfully. "Really? You don't think I'm a complete nutjob?"

I shook my head and laughed. "Nowhere near. Have you not met the people I hang out with? Pagans, Immigrants, Psychic Vampires. I'm pretty sure you're the most normal of the bunch."

She cocked an eyebrow. "I see dead people, and I'm the normal one? Never thought I would see the day."

"It's shocking, isn't it?"

She laughed, and looked happily up at me. I tried to gaze cheerfully back down at her and those stupendous jublees of hers, but I think it came off as more of a "FISHEYE,OHANDNICEBOOBS" kind of look. I hope she didn't notice.

"Well, besides apologizing and securing my self-proclaimed spot as top freak in your group of friends," she said, and I couldn't help but laugh. "I actually just wanted to come and see if .. if you still want to go out with me sometime?"

Uh oh! I think I pooped.

"Yeah," I said/shouted/cried. "I'd love to, Harlow. I would absolutely love to."

She beamed at me. "You tell me when and where, and I swear I won't bail out this time."

"Are you busy tonight?" I asked, making a mental note to stop at home and change my more than likely soiled pair of pants. "Because I've actually given up marking these stupid essays. I can't get past the second sentence on most of them."

She looked a tad surprised at first, but nodded excitedly only a moment later. "Yeah, sure!"

"You're not busy?" I asked. "No volleyball or homework or Sophie?"

"Volleyball's tomorrow, I got loads of homework but I'm a bit of a procrastinator, and Soph is .. well, it doesn't matter. I'm not doin' anything ," she replied, hands clasped in front of her. "Well I mean, I was going to go back home, eat a Cup-of-Soup and watch Seinfeld. But this sounds a lot better, actually."

I couldn't help laughing at her honesty. Her beautiful, wonderfully round assed honesty. "That sounds like a pretty stellar evening, though. You sure you can break those plans to hang out with me?"

"Absolutely," she said, with a smile. "Unless it's the Soup Nazi episode. If that's the case, tough luck, Bucko."

"I understand completely," I said, reaching over the desk to grab my coat.

"Where do you wanna go?" she asked me, and if I wasn't hallucinating, I swear I saw her check out my bum. Rawr.

"Anywhere you want to," I replied, slipping my arms through the coat. "It's your choice."

"I don't care," she said simply, a small smile playing on those beautiful lips. "As long as I'm with you, I think I'll be fine."

I grinned, but for once in my miserable existance, didn't blush (WHAT, I KNOW RIGHT! HUZZAH.) "Chip's right, you know. You are quite the sweet talker."

She shrugged, but smiled nonetheless. "I'm not sweet talking. I'm just being honest."

I could've died right here, right now, a happy happy man. I literally had to fight back the urge to squeal like a six year old girl at a Jonas brother's concert - THAT'S how excited I was.

"Well, I know a really nice bakery that's open twenty four hours, right down Landon," I said with feigned thoughtfulness. "It's called Stella's. We can grab some food and a drink there, if you'd like?"

"I think that sounds amazing," she said cheerfully. "You go there often?"

"Not as often as I'd like," I said honestly. "It's pretty chill, none of my other friends really like it."

"Not the Pagan, Foreigner, Psychic Vampire scene, I guess," she said.

"It's a bit too bright, happy and American," I agreed with a laugh. "I hope you like it, though."

"I like everything," she said happily, but then furrowed her brow. "Except Koala bears. I do not like Koala bears."

I stopped and turned to her, a cheeky grin lighting up her face. "You like sloths, but you don't like koala bears?"

"Nope. Hate 'em."

"Alright. Now you're a freak."

"Because of my discontent for fluffy bears that live in trees?" she asked.

"Yep."

"Not because I'm able to talk about the weather with centuries old dead people."

"Nope."

"And you still like nittany lions more than sloths?"

"Yes."

She looked at me, and sniffed haughtily. "Well, I think we've established who the true freak is here."

"And it's not anti-Koala ghost girl Harlow, is it?" I asked, grinning.

"Nope," she said, smiling back. "It's Sloth-hating, loser lion, koala lovin', strange-choice-in-friends Buell that takes 'King of the Crazies' crown."

"Well, you'd have to be my Queen, then," I said with a smirk, and with the amount of courage a man with quadruple the size of my balls has, I took her small hand loosely and questioningly in my own.

"Naturally," she said easily, giving my fingers a quick squeeze of reassurance with her own soft ones. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Neither would I," I agreed.

Hand-in-hand, with Harlow as beautiful as she'd ever been and me in as deep of a pile of my own shit as I'd ever been, we left my classroom and moved on to bigger, better things. Cinnamon buns and hot chocolate at Stella's.

This day had gone from shit to Spec-fuckin'-tacular in ten minutes flat!

Authors Note:

*PRANCES ABOUT PRANCE PRANCE PRANCE* AHHHHHH, OOOOOHHH, MYYYYY, GODDDDDD. SPAZZSPAZZSPAZZ.

You guys, oh my sweet lordy lordy. You are the most amazing bunch of people I have ever met in my entire life. ENTIRE LIFE. EVER. ENTIRE. EVERTIRE. WHATEVER. 17 reviews since December 25th. That's like .. 20 days or somethin', maybe a little more. And I have received 17 of the most awesome, stupendous, sexy, crazy, long ass, pant's peein' awesome reviews in the history of the worlddddd! YOU LOVE MUFFINS, oh my goodness. I want to take all of you to Disneyland! I hope the 5.42 in my bank account will cover it. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you tooooo:

lindzxhatter: your crazy/teeny fangirl moment had me teeny fangirlin' it out too! oi vey, look at you, you guessed correctly! harlow = chip's story girl. why are you so brilliant, so awesome, long-assed reiewful? have you had out child yet? i would like to call it lindzxhatter and make it paranormal state onesies. YOU ARE WONDERFUL.
SurriB: oh my original, one true love! those directions to your parents house made me pee my pants aunt lives out on the prarie, and whenever we go to visit her, her directions are like "okah, so wen youz pass them brown cows, you gunn see sum barbie wired fenced. you gutta do righ' on pass, keep un drivin and then yew gun see this oak tree, itz gunn bee rull big." and so on, lolololol. i love farm folk! but i love you much much more, ahah!
Aria DeLoncray: your name makes me jealous, i think i'm gonna change my pen name to "Aria is Better Than Ella", got a nice ring to it, i think. thank you for the review, bud!
PureAngelEyes: aka, my twin! your review warmed my heart, in a nice way, not like a "oh god i'm having a heart attack call 911" way. thank youuuu! you rock my fanficcy world!
futureauthor62: YOUR REVIEWS FREQUENTLY MAKE ME SQUEAL, you've been like ... totally dead on about this story. you talented, sexy piece of author! i adore you! you are the second person to correctly guess harlow's 'true' identity. love it, and love you! thank you thank you!
TJToxic614: dude, heather is gonna have to be BOTH our life partners. i adore the taddster! you asked for buell charm, AND BUELL CHARM YOU SHALL RECEIVE. your review made me squeal and roll around in a ball with excitement - can we be BFFz 4evrrr?
Sarah's Boo: YOUR FRANTIC REVIEW MADE ME FRANTICALLY GIGGLY - i love you, new reviewer! please stay with me forever!
ashleymaria: you just might be on to something! ;) i hope you're feelin' better! and no no, i'm not the best, YOU'RE the best!
kcollins: YOU HAVE LIKE ESP, i am so proud you knew it was her! you are wonderful with your constant reviews - i would like to personally bear hug you and make you some maccaroni for all your loyal reviewing. thank you!!
microcheese: AKA luna! love your name, please switch with me? and you're right! thank you for reviewing, i do love me some fantastic, luna-rific new reviewers!
aangs fangirl1214: I AM OFFICIALLY AN 'AANGS FANGIRL 1214 FANGIRL'. you're a new reviewer AND your review was ass long and i loved loved LOVED it! thank you so much, you're so fabulous!
Purple With A Purpose: you should change your pen name to AWESOME with a purpose, thank you for the new review! and i agreed, ryan trumps all other paranormal investigators. let's make "WE (L) BUELL" shirts and follow him around the country. i'm downsies if you are!
annieDUHH: thank you thank you thank you! i absolutely love you and your review!
ferret assassin nin: your review made me laugh SO hard, bahaha! it reminded me of one of those cheesy soap opera drama commercials, i loved it! and i loveeeee you! thank you muchly for the new review, it's muchly appreciated :)
Its..: i'm so glad you like it! i'm going to try and update more often, just for you lovely readers. thanks for reviewin', you rock my socks!
LilGirl23: an update you wanted, an update you got! thanks so much for the review!
Ceceila: the fact that you spelt sniffles like "shnyffles" instantly puts you in my 'love forever' books. here is an update, simply cause you incorporated shnyffles, your crack addicted auntie and "*"s in your review - you make my heart blush, if that's even possible. THANK YOU!

i swear to god, you guys, the author's notes are taking me almost as long as the actual chapters, lololol. i love it! i could never in a million years thank you enough for giving me such excellent feedback, i really, really, really truly appreciate it, you are the most fabulous bunch of people in the world!

now, i'm going to try and update a lot quicker this time around - i feel like i have a pretty steller outline for the next chapter so i'm stoked! oh, and i was just wonderin', but how do you guys feel about chad? i was thinkin' about how i was going to add him into the story, but yeah .. i've kind of found a new fondness for him, but i know a lot of people aren't too stoked with him. lemme know whatcha think! now, i'm going to go and eat an entire bowl of popcorn and have a one man paranormal state marathon. i love sundays :D

THANKS AGAIN TO YOU LOVELY REVIEWERS. you make my world turn round. have a fab week you guys!

love;ellah!