Chapter Sixteen
You're So Pale, You Put Ghosts To Shame
(Harlow)
"It's been coming, Harlow, I've felt it coming for weeks now, it's building up and I - "
"Chick. Shut up. Please. Please. Just shut, up."
Scowling, she hovered back and forth less frantically, but kept shooting looks of the utmost contempt over at me with every lap of the room she made. With a great, snotty, phlegmy cough, I flopped back onto my mound of fluffy pillows, brain banging painfully against my skull.
"I feel like Hell."
"It'll get worse," Chick muttered solemnly.
"Didn't I already tell you?" I snapped, reaching blindly for a clean tissue in my pile of wadded snotty ones. "Shut up with all that nonsense. I said you could come in and keep me company as long as you just stopped blabbing on and on and on about those stupid feelings."
"They're not stupid," she said indignantly, freezing in place and glaring at me.
"My sincerest apologies."
"I hope you overdose on Vapor rub."
Lovely, isn't she?
I'd been cooped up in bed nearly half the week - it was Friday, three days since I'd gotten home from my absolutely wonderful, fan-tab-ulistic little vacation from New York. I had been fine the entire trip, not so much as a sniffle. So you can imagine my surprise when I woke up on Tuesday morning, feeling an awful lot like I'd been hit head on by a semi truck. In the three days since, I had lived in my bed. Had sweated, drooled and mucused all over my sheets and pillows. Had created a small scale model of Mount Kilimanjaro out of used Kleenex. Had taken on the distinct look of a hardcore cocaine addict who was so high she had forgotten how to use a shower. Frankly, I was a mess. A hot, sneezy, coughy, fevery mess.
Like ... who wouldn't do me?
Not only had I dealt with a cold for three days, but I'd also found myself dealing with an irritable - well ... even more so than usual - Chick. Usually, she'd do her best to stay far the Hell away from me - it had been how we'd lived for years now. I'd come home, say hello. She'd make some rude crack or remark about me being a nerd, and then we'd just go about our business. I'd do homework, she'd wander through walls. I'd make a TV dinner, she'd wander through walls. I'd watch television, she'd wander through walls. I'd go to bed, she'd forgotten how to. It was our routine. One we'd felt comfortable in for nearly four years.
But for the past few weeks, she'd been stalking me. Legit stalking me. I'd wake up in the morning, she'd be on the end of my bed. I'd take a shower, she'd perch herself on the toilet. I'd make toast, she'd have her chin resting on the margarine container. Everywhere I went in this place, everything I did, Chick would follow me. Chick would watch me. Chick would stalk me.
Like, I know she's already dead. But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't spent the last week plotting ways to re-kill her.
For someone who didn't sleep - wasn't able to, was more accurate - Chick had been talking about dreams an awful lot lately. Visions, she said. Feelings. Premonitions. Whatever. But the more I tried to make her elaborate on said dreams, the more questions I asked about her so-called premonitions - the more vague she became. She'd stalk me all through my apartment, wailing and whining about the bad aura and the impending feeling of doom she had about me. And then the moment I tried to talk to her about it, she'd disappear.
Literally.
You see, for days now, Chick had kept a safe distance from me. Initially I'd figured it was because I was a walking, talking, hacking greaseball. But I'd realized as of late, it was more than just my disgusting outward appearance. Everytime I moved toward her, came a little too close, stepped a little too near, she'd move away. Flee from the room. Simply disappear through a wall or door. Whether she was doing it intentionally or not, I was still trying to figure that out.
She'd follow me like a heat-seeking missile, but the second I turned around or came too close, she'd freak out and disappear as far away from me as she possibly could.
Whatta weirdo.
"I don't know why you're freaking out," I sighed, dabbing at my leaking nose once more. "Chick, you're dead. You don't have any senses, nevermind a sixth one."
"It's not a sense," she said in exasperation. "It's a feeling, Harlow."
"Sense, feeling - whatever."
"Not whatever," she argued, her pacing becoming quicker and more agitated. "Everytime I come near you, I get this feeling like ... like the world's going to end. I feel depressed and upset."
"You and every man I've ever dated," I said, rolling my eyes.
She shot me a dirty look. "No ... not like that. It's not the 'oh God she can eat eight steaks and fart half the alphabet' kind of creeped out. It's .. it's different."
"I will take the high road and ignore that last insulting statement," I sniffed, wrapping myself into a warm cocoon under the fluffy duvet. "How do you mean, different?"
She looked at me curiously, but this time didn't flee in a state of panic - she looked more as if she was pondering her response. Hm. Maybe I'd finally get an answer out of her? I guess lying half-dead and greasy under a big, poofy feather filled blanket lessened my intimidation factor. At least a little.
"It's like .. I feel dark," she said.
"Dark? Oh please. You're so pale you put ghosts to shame."
She ignored me. "I can sit in this apartment all day, and feel nothing. The second you come home - the second you come into a room with me, come anywhere near me - I feel this sense of dread. Of darkness. I feel scared, and sad and ... and hopeless."
"Maybe you're just getting sick of me?"
She ignored me again. "Every person in the living world, in your world - they have an Aura. Priests and Nuns, they have this bright and happy one. Robbers and murderers and rapists - they have a dark one, a sad and angry one. From the time I met you, you always had this golden light around you. This happy, peaceful aura. But now - "
"I'm a rapist."
She stopped her pacing, turned to me, and stared with those blank, deadened eyes. "It's not a joke, Harlow."
I sighed heavily, and looked at her drearily. "I'm sorry. Sorry."
"I just don't know why you went from golden to black in a matter of days," she said softly.
I looked at her curiously, pulling absentmindedly at my sheets. She'd never looked so sullen, and that was saying something. Her hands were folded against her pale shirt, gray eyes looking with sadness - and a little bit of terror - into my own. Her stillness and quietness scared me more than anything she'd said to me in the last week - she was still as stone, unblinking and unmoving.
"I'm sick?" I reasoned, more to myself than to her. "Of course my aura's going to be off. I don't feel golden. I feel like a pile of crap. Give it time. Once I kick this stupid cold, I'll be back to my glimmering, happy self again."
She clicked her tongue irritably, and began her pacing once more.
"You just don't get it," she said furiously, padding noiselessly back and forth. "There's something wrong."
"Nothing's wrong," I snapped, throwing the blanket off my body - GAHHHH, COLD COLD COLD.
"Where are you going?" she asked, her pacing subsiding once again.
"Volleyball practice," I responded, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "I've already missed one practice, Sophie'll kill me if I miss another."
"Oh no you're not," she said, her brisk, snappish tone almost back to normal. She made a move to try and block me, but seemed to think better of it a second later - she remained her newly instated ten foot distance away from me.
"Oh yes I am," I said, glancing curiously over at her rigid body - it was like her brain was fighting with the rest of her to move. How strange.
"Harlow, you're sick," she said, giving up the battle and perching herself atop my dresser instead.
"I'm getting better," I argued, although this wasn't exactly true.
"You're not," she sighed. "It's chilly out, you'll just make this thing worse."
"I won't," I said, and fought the childish urge to stick my tongue out at her. "A little exercise and fresh air will do me good. I've been cooped up in this bed for days."
"Cry me a river," she muttered, eyeing me curiously as I pulled a pair of grimy socks on.
"I won't be out long," I said, raking a hand through my tangled mess of hair. "No later then ten. And then I'll be home and go right to bed, like a good little girl."
Chick shot me a severely disapproving look, but bounded off the dresser as I made my way towards it. She looked rather guiltily at me as she glided away and onto the bed.
"I know I look like shit, but Jesus, woman," I said irritably. "You don't need to run away everytime I come near you."
A silence followed, an awkward one that filled the air around us. I peered back at Chick, sitting cross-legged and rigid as a board on the side of my bed. She looked at me, eyes wide and fearful.
"I .. I can't help it," she said softly.
I stopped rooting for my sweater, puzzled at the sight of terror in her normally benign, bored face.
"Can't help what?" I asked quietly.
"Moving away from you," she replied, blank eyes still looking at me curiously.
"Why can't you help it?" I asked, leaning in a would-be casual way against the dresser - my heart was thumping rather violently against my chest.
"Everytime you come near me, whether I know it or not, my legs start moving and .. and I just run away."
I frowned, looking at the plain young girl in front of me. It was true, of course .. I just hadn't realized it. For almost three weeks now, Chick had kept a minimum ten foot distance between us. I had assumed she was just being her normal, anti-social self - but it appeared she'd been unable to even help it. I knew she'd tried to keep a distance from me, that was obvious. But I didn't realize it was beyond her control.
"What happens when you try and come close?" I asked.
She shook her head, and looked ashamed down at her feet. "I just can't."
"But why can't you?"
"I don't know!"
She looked tearfully up at me, hands moving convulsively in her lap. Chick had never raised her voice before, never had anything besides a bland, slightly bored tone. This was the first time in nearly four years I'd heard anything except her usual drawl.
"I try to," she said quietly. "Sometimes at night, when you're sleeping. I try to come and sit next to you on the bed, but I .. I just can't."
Our eyes were locked, and I couldn't help the uncomfortable squirm in my stomach. She wasn't lying, I could tell that much. But why .. why, all of a sudden, could she not even come within ten feet of me? What had changed?
"It'll be alright," I said calmly, casually. "I'm sure it happens a lot. It's probably just a phase, just a weird connection thing."
"Maybe," she whispered. "Maybe you're losing touch with us .. with my world ... with me."
"Hey now," I said, moving towards her thoughtlessly - she sprang back, and I stopped. A wave of something between nausea and heartache twisted uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. "Sorry - sorry. Listen, Chick. I've ... look, as much as I complain about this whole Psychic thing ... it's not that bad. It's alright. I'm not losing it. I still see everything like I always did."
"But I don't see you like I always did," she said, voice quavering.
"You're not losing me," I said forcefully. "I'm here. I'll always be here."
"Always?" she said quietly.
"Always," I repeated. "Till death do us - er, well me, part."
She nodded, but my little joke didn't even make her crack a smile. She simply stared at me, confused, upset ... fearful.
"I have to go," I said quietly, pulling my hoodie on. "I'll be home soon, alright? Don't make a mess."
I turned to the door and began to pad out, brain buzzing from the strange air in the room.
"Harlow?"
I stopped, peered over my shoulder - Chick was still perched on the side of the bed, looking at me through her curtain of straw colored hair.
"Yeah?"
"I ... nevermind," she said, with a shake of her head. "Forget it."
"No, what?"
"It's ... no. Nothing. Go, go on. Don't stay out too late."
"I won't."
I turned away again, but even the buzzing in my brain couldn't drown out the small, sad little voice from behind me;
"Be safe."
(Kimmy)
"You don't think it's true, do you?"
"It's got to be. Everyone has been talking about it ... "
"But Harlow? No, no way. She's a volleyball player, a Psychology student - "
"We all heard it, the rumors have been all over the school."
"But Harlow?"
"Maybe they just misheard?"
"They didn't - I heard that Denise and Bri were right there when she was talking about it."
"But Harlow?"
The entire volleyball team, minus Sophie and Harlow, stood huddled in the center of the auditorium. Unlike her usual self, Lindsey was quiet, withdrawn - I was standing next to her, rather speechless myself. Since early this morning, when we'd all trudged to the school after hours of exam cramming and - in Natalie's case - hard partying, we'd been hearing strange rumors float all through the school. And not the usual this-girl-slept-with-this-guy kind of thing ...
The rumors had been about Harlow.
"Well what exactly did you hear, then?" Emma asked curiously, brown eyes narrowed.
"That Harlow thinks she's a psychic, or something," Mickenzie said, snorting derisively. "Apparently she thinks she can talk to ghosts or some shit."
"But Harlow?" Meagan said softly, shaking her head. "I'm telling you, Kenzie, you probably just misheard it."
"Yeah," Jess agreed, mousey face looking between the two of them. "She's been hanging out a lot with Ryan, I think they're dating now .. someone probably just misinterpreted something."
"I heard it too," Ainslee sniffed, looking coldly at little Jess. "It's all around the school now. Harlow was at a weird ghost hunter convention when we were in New York. Apparently she was talking all about how she could see ghosts and communicate with them and stuff. Bragging about it, from what I hear."
"Harlow's not a bragger," Jenn cut in, looking angrily at Ains. "And c'mon, really? Who did you hear this from? It's probably just one of those weird little skeezes in that Buell guys class who got their panties in a bunch when they realized he was boning Lo."
Ashlee snorted, throwing her long black hair behind her back. "Stop making excuses, Jenn. People heard her talking about it. And even if she wasn't bragging about it, she was still talking about it."
"Why would she talk about something that ridiculous?" Emma snapped.
"Why would she lie about something that ridiculous?" Ainslee challenged. "It's got to be the truth. If she was going to try and make herself look better and try and be more interesting, I'm pretty sure she'd have thought of something a liiiiittle more impressive than that. Not to mention something a bit more .. normal. "
Emma eyed Ainslee furiously, but didn't respond. Jess looked between the two of them, frantic.
"You're both being ridiculous!" she stormed, and we all looked in surprise over at the tiny spiker between us - Jess never raised her voice. In fact, most times she barely spoke above a whisper.
"We're being ridiculous?" Mickenzie said, looking with blatant disgust down at Jess. "More than half this team heard the exact same thing."
"That's not what I mean!" Jess snapped, crossing her arms furiously. "Who cares if Harlow's a 'psychic' or if she's not? She's the best coach this team has ever had, and she's a friend of ours. I don't think it should matter if she talks to ghosts for a living. She's the same Harlow she's always been!"
"Well said," Lindsey nodded.
"You guys are blowing this completely out of proportion," I agreed, putting a hand on Jess' tiny shoulder. "It's a rumor. Nothing more than that."
"You were with her in New York," Ashlee pressed, looking between Linds and I, a hungry look lighting up her dark eyes. "Did she, or did she not go to some Psychic convention."
"Not when she was with us," I lied, looking angrily at Ashlee's dark face.
"And we were with her almost the entire night," Lindsey agreed, glaring at Mickenzie. "So I don't know how she could've slipped away halfway through our evening to go parading around, declaring a psychic ability to anyone and everyone who'd listen."
Mickenzie, Ashlee and Ainslee's united front slipped slightly, and they exchanged puzzled expressions.
So, maybe Linds and I weren't being completely honest ... it's true that Harlow'd been at the Paranormal State convention ... but it wasn't because she was 'psychic'. It was because she was dating Ryan, wasn't it? And wouldn't we have heard her talk about some weird ability? We'd been with her the entire time, hadn't we?
"Well where is she, then," Kenzie said, waving an arm crossly around the gym. "She missed last practice, hasn't been to school since we got home. Where's she been?"
"Well surely it has something to do with being a 'psychic'," Emma said venomously. "You know, because it's not Flu season or anything. Idiot."
"What did you call me?" Kenzie yelled, taking a step forwards.
"Ease off," Lindsey said angrily, stepping between the two girls. "Em, there's no need to call her names. Mickenzie, take a fuckin' pill. Harlow's sick, nothing else."
"Yeah, sick," Mickenzie snapped. "Sick in the head, too, if she thinks she can talk to fucking ghosts."
"What the fuck is your problem!" Meagan yelled, pointing a finger angrily at Mickenzie. "You're the biggest kiss ass when Harlow's here, and when she leaves, all you ever do is talk shit about her and crack awful jokes and turn into the mean little shit that everyone hates. You're nothing but a backstabbing, lying bi - "
"Eh, hey!"
The entire team turned to the auditorium doors, in time to see Sophie padding into the gym. She looked furiously between the two groups of girls on either side of the group, taking in their angry, terrified faces. Her long, shimmering golden hair was tied up in a high ponytail that bobbed behind her as she stepped closer to our circle. The cold blue of her eyes swept between each of us, before resting on Mickenzie and Meagan, who were inches away from each other, faces tomato red and eyes alight with fury.
"What's going on here?" Sophie asked, coming to a stop next to the pair.
"They're fighting about Harlow," Natalie said disapprovingly, taking a step closer to Ainslee - the coward.
"Harlow?" Sophie said blankly, peering over at Natalie. "What about Harlow?"
"Everyone in the school's talking about it," Natalie whispered knowingly, eyes wide. "Harlow's a Sidekick."
"A what?"
"Psychic, you idiot," Ainslee said, looking angrily at Natalie. "A psychic. Not a sidekick."
"Harlow's a psychic?" Sophie repeated, looking in bewilderment between Natalie and Ainslee. "Our Harlow? A psychic?"
Mickenzie nodded, breaking her death gaze from Meagan. "Yeah. Everyone's talking about it. Apparently she can talk to dead people and stuff."
Sophie blinked, looking between the ashen faces of all the team members. The cold fury in her eyes fizzled, and she doubled over, laughing louder and harder than any of us had ever seen before. She threw an arm around Natalie, simply bursting with giggles.
"My God," she choked, wiping a tear from her eye. "Mhm. A psychic, how lovely. Well, now that we're all sharing our deep dark secrets, I just have to come clean - I'm a vampire. Yep. I suck blood, I sleep in a coffin - surpriiiiiiiise!"
"It's not a joke," Ainslee said furiously. "It's been going around the entire school since this morning - somebody overheard Harlow talking about her 'Psychic Abilities' to some girl."
Sophie cocked an eyebrow, that deliciously evil smirk sliding over her pale face. "Right. Well, that Harlow. She's never been good at keeping secrets - when will she learn, standing in the middle of the library screaming out supposed psychic abilities to anyone who will listen is not the way to keep a secret. Whatta girl."
"It wasn't the library," Mickenzie snapped, with a very Sophie-esque glare lighting up her orangey face. "It was in New York. Apparently she went to some ghost hunting convention thing, and a bunch of people overheard her talking about it."
The smile on Sophie's face didn't quite disappear. But the light in her eyes vanished, and the glee etched in her face began to melt off, disappearing and puddling in an invisible pool by her feet.
"What?" Sophie asked, in a would-be casual voice.
"In New York," Ashlee said, sensing Sophie's swift change in mood. "She was apparently at some Ghost convention. Some people in Ryan's ghostbuster class overheard her talking to some girl about being Psychic."
"You have to hand it to her," Mickenzie said acidly. "Whether or not she's telling the truth, pretty smart move on her part - dating a big television star. Can you imagine how much money she'd get paid if she was a 'psychic' boinking the show's biggest star?"
"Shut your mouth, Mickenzie," Emma said, and the repressed rage made her voice quaver uncontrollably.
"I'm just saying," Kenzie shrugged, eyes gleaming with malevolence.
Sophie remained silent.
"It's just a rumor," Jess said quietly. "There's no basis to it. It's just a bunch of random, probably jealous girls in Ryan's class trying to start shit."
"And Kimmy and Lindsey even said that they were with Harlow the entire night in New York," Meagan agreed, inclining her head towards Linds and I. "When could she have slipped away, found a ghost convention in New York that just happened to have a bunch of Penn Staters there, and declared her abilities to some random bunch of people?"
"Load of horse shit, I think," Emma said haughtily.
"If it's such a load of horse shit, why is everyone in the school talking about it?" snapped Mickenzie.
"Because it's a rumor, you dumb bitch," Jenn roared, shooting Kenzie a furious look. "Anytime a rumor about a well known student gets out, it circulates for a week, gets more hype than a solar eclipse and then disappears when people get tired of talking about it. What makes this any different? The fact that it's Harlow getting attention for once, and not you? Does it upset you that all Harlow had to do was hang out with a ghost hunter to get noticed, and not bang the entire Football team?"
"Burn," I heard Lindsey mutter beside me - how true it was, tssssssss.
"That's - you're not - that's none of your business!" Kenzie wailed, looking through bleary eyes at Jenn.
"You're such a cow," Ainslee hissed, wrapping an arm comfortingly around Kenzie.
"It's what everyone was thinking," Jenn said furiously. "Doesn't feel nice to be ridiculed in front of a dozen people, does it? At least you're here to defend yourself."
"Out of line, Jenn," Sophie said quietly, the gray-blue of her pupils burning with something unrecognizable - something rather terrifying, if I was to be completely honest.
There was a strange light to her eyes, one I'd never seen before. It wasn't cold, like her usual glare. It was hot. Like her eyeballs were made of laser beams or something. Her cheeks were flushed, hands clenched in fists. We all eyed her nervously, united in silence for the first time in nearly an hour. We watched Sophie, cautiously, as if she were a timebomb that could go off at any second.
But with a very obvious amount of effort, she looked calmly down at her watch and then back up to gaze at the rest of us.
"Practice is canceled," she said coolly. "Between half of you making terrible jokes at your teammates expense, and the other half wailing on your Captain - who may I just add, is the only reason some of you even made it on the team - I don't think it's wise to continue on for tonight."
"What .. what are we supposed to do then?" Ainslee asked blankly. "It's Friday night, we just wasted almost half an hour - "
"I don't care what you do," Sophie snapped, the cold fury back on her sharp face. "Just get out of my face. Leave. Go to a bar. Go home. Go jump off a bridge - I don't care. Just get out of here."
No one moved for a second, before we all scrambled blindly back to the bleachers to grab our bags. Beside me, Lindsey shot me a look of pure terror - Sophie'd yelled at us before. Many a time, in complete honesty. But this wasn't yelling. The sharp edge in her voice, the furious blaze in her eyes. Something was ticking inside of Sophie, something we'd never seen the likes of before.
"We should probably like ... warn Harlow, or something," Lindsey whispered to me, as we stooped to pick up the rest of our clothing.
"About what?" Meagan asked from beside me. "That the entire school thinks she's some freaky Voodoo lady, or that Sophie looks ready to take down an entire army just by screaming?"
The majority of the team filed out of the auditorium, muttering under their breath, casting dark looks back at Sophie. Soph remained quite still, looking blankly over at the wall opposite.
"Maybe both," I said quietly, slinging my bag over my arm.
"She's probably still sick," Meagan sighed, sliding an arm through her backpack strap. "Probably better that way. Let this whole thing blow over. I'll see you guys around."
Lindsey nodded, then turned a solemn face over to me. "You don't think it's true, do you?"
I frowned. "I don't know ... I really don't. Doesn't really add up, though, does it?"
"Maybe, maybe not," Lindsey said softly.
"Even if she is," Jess piped up softly from beside us. "It shouldn't matter. Everyone likes Harlow. She's the best Captain this time has ever had. She's a nice girl. She's smart."
"No, of course we wouldn't care," I assured Jess, patting her on the back. "That's not what we meant .. it wouldn't be a bad thing. It's just ... just a strange rumor, that's all."
"We should warn her, though," Jess said quietly, pulling her own backpack over her shoulders. "Sophie looks mutinous."
"She's sick, though," I said thoughtfully, peering over at Ashlee and Natalie, who were deep in quiet conversation. "I don't want to bother her at home, especially over something so stupid."
"Regardless, I think we should tell her, give her a head's up about the stuff going around .. she hasn't been at school in days, she's got no idea."
"I don't think there's time," Linds moaned, nodding her head towards the door.
Ah, shit.
(Katrina)
"I want a paper on Glossolalia by next class - that gives you all weekend, stop moaning."
Ryan laughed, shaking his head, and the class began packing away their supplies, textbooks and notebooks. Beside me, Heather smacked her head on the desk exhaustedly and groaned as loud as she could.
"I can't even spell Glassa-hoppa-labia," she whined.
"Glossolalia," I corrected. "Nevermind spell it, you should probably learn how to say it first, Tad."
"Glossy-Kleptomania? Grass-a-mania? Glue-so-nebula?"
"The dumbest broad I've ever met," I sighed, crushing my papers back into my book bag. "I'm not writing this essay for you. Not again."
"And what do you mean again?" Ryan asked, sauntering over to our table - a short, gangly girl in the front row visibly swooned. Ryan didn't seem to notice.
"She doesn't mean anything," Heather said quickly, looking shiftily between the two of us. "I always write essays myself. I'm thrilled to start this one. Glass-a ... glossy-lab ... glossomania. Fascinating. A real riveting topic."
"Glossolalia," Ryan sighed, but smiled a moment later. "Honestly Tad, I've considered writing out a pronunciation sheet just for you - I had the hardest time marking your last assignment, nearly had a breakdown."
"What was the matter with my paper on the Airplane Pretzel Worms?" she asked innocently.
"Well, if by 'Airplane Pretzel Worms' you meant Alpine Tatzelvorm from Bavaria, nothing," he said. "It took me nearly an hour to try and figure out what you were talking about."
As Heather pouted, I gave Ryan an encouraging little pat on the back.
"It was a good class today," I assured him, looking at the still nearly packed room around us. People were chattering quietly, shooting glances over their shoulder and up to Ryan. "See? People are still talking about it."
"I don't know if they're talking about the lesson," he said, frowning slightly. "You notice they've been nattering all day? Non stop. In the hallways, before and after class - I had to shush a couple of them during my lesson."
"Football game coming up?" I wondered.
Ryan shook his head. "No, can't be .. season already ended."
"Did someone die?" I asked.
"No .." Ryan looked quickly down at his pants and back up. "My fly's done up."
"There'd be a lot more squealish giggling if it wasn't," I assured him.
He rolled his eyes. "You know anything that's happening, Tad?"
But Heather didn't seem to hear him - she was staring blankly at a group of people about ten feet away from her. Her usual lanking body was pulled tight and stiff, her face oddly puzzled and contrived.
"Tad?" I said, tapping her shoulder. "Earth to Heather?"
But she didn't seem to hear me - she moved away from Ryan and I and towards the group of students nearest her. I didn't know any of their names, only recognized them from being in the same class - but they were all talking in the same hushed voices as the rest of the students milling about. Now that I looked ... it was like they were all waiting for Ryan. Each group kept peering nervously over at the two of us.
"Ryan?" Heather said quietly a moment later, looking over her shoulder - her eyes were wide with concern. "You better c'mere ... "
Exchanging puzzled glances, Ryan and I moved swiftly over to the group of students Heather'd hoarded in on. Three girls, probably no older than twenty two, and two small, awkward, pimply looking guys I didn't even recognize from the class. Tag-a-longs, maybe?
"What's up?" Ryan asked Heather, smiling awkwardly at the bright round faces in front of him - one of the girls laughed shrilly and turned a scarlet red.
"They've uh .. they've been hearing some strange rumors," Heather said, nodding toward the larger of the two small, acned boys. "Around the school. Tell 'em."
The young boy gawked at Heather, looked in terror at Ryan, then me, then back to his friends. Apparently he'd never been spoken to directly before - nevermind by a pretty girl like Tad. In fact, I had the distinct impression the only woman he'd ever had contact with was his own mother. Yikes.
"I uh .. well, we've all been hearing rumors," he stammered, looking at his small group for support - they offered him none.
The rest of the people who'd been milling about the classroom had all fallen silent, staring over at our small group in the corner of the room. No one breathed - a cell phone was beeping, but no one seemed to notice. I stared at the faces lined around the room. They were all still, silent - intrigued.
"Rumors about what?" Ryan asked, looking sternly at the boy in front of him.
"About .. a-about that girl," the boy said. "Harlow Vincent, the volleyball Captain."
Ryan's face paled, but the look of stern disapproval didn't leave his face. "What about her?"
"There's been rumors that she's ... well, that she's, y'know," he said, then raised his eyebrows and wiggled his fingers around his head.
"No, we don't know," Heather snapped, looking grumpily down the bridge of her nose at him - although taller than Tad herself, the boy cowered under her glare.
"Can't say I know what you mean," Ryan said levelly. "Please, explain."
"Well we heard, y'know," the boy stuttered, looking once more for some kind of help from his pals.
One girl seemed to feel a jolt of bravery, and stepped forward a little - the acne boy fell back, looking entirely relieved to have been freed of his awkward, unwanted spokesman position. The girl looked at Ryan, red hair tangled and flyaway, but she stood tall, speaking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear her.
"Well, we heard she was a psychic," she said, drawing herself up to her full height - which at barely over five feet, wasn't very impressive. "People have been talking. They said she was overheard at a Paranormal Activity conference in New York or something talking about how she was Psychic."
Oh shit.
"Oh really," Ryan said, his voice remarkably calm for someone who I could tell was inwardly panicking. "And who'd you hear that from?"
"Doesn't really matter," the girl said blandly. "It's a rumor. No one knows where it started."
"I guess that's true," Ryan said slowly, looking casually over at the fifty sets of eyes staring intently at him - only a couple were abashed enough to turn away.
"So, is it true?" the girl asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Is Harlow like .. a psychic?"
Ryan seemed to weigh his answer very carefully, but not without casting the darkest, most intense look of deepest loathing I'd ever seen at the small girl in front of him - the look could've rivaled one of Sophie Kapor's. The girl was taken aback, her cheeks burning a vivid red.
"To be frank, I don't know much about this Harlow girl," Ryan said easily, walking back to his desk. "This is the first I've heard of it, and I imagine if there were any so-called 'Psychics' in the school, this would be the first place they'd stop."
"You don't know her? But, like .. everyone thought you were dating her," a tall girl in the back of the room piped up, and there were a few scarce nods in agreement from around the class. "Harlow Vincent? Everyone kind of thought you were together."
Ryan sniffed haughtily, snapping his bag shut and grabbing a file of folders from his desk. "What, are we not all college students? Have we not been taught to take every piece of questionable information we receive with a grain of salt? A rumor is just that - gossip. A claim with no proven accuracy, from no known reliable source. I imagine this poor Harlow gal is just on the receiving end of a particularly jealous and equally pathetic little girl who has nothing better to do than spread lies all over campus about people she clearly doesn't even know."
It might have just been my eyes deceiving me, but I swear I saw Ryan's gaze fall on a very pink and very teary eyed Denise Howell, who stood awkwardly with a group of her little followers. Her ears were glowing, and she'd unknowingly dropped a small handful of looseleaf all over the floor.
"But, people are saying they saw Harlow - "
"That's enough," Ryan said, and his voice was filled with an anger I don't remember ever hearing before. "You were dismissed nearly five minutes ago - I'm sure you all have something better to do on a Friday night than sit around here and gossip about people you don't even know."
Ryan moved swiftly from behind the desk, and the remaining students in the class looked around awkwardly, and all ducked out of the classroom, heads bowed in guilt. Heather's face was white, eyes round with worry - I couldn't imagine the fear that was undoubtedly etched onto mine. Ryan slowed to a brief halt next to Tad and I, and looked very seriously between the two of us.
"You hear anything else about this, brush it off," he said shortly, his voice quiet but eyes alert. "I don't know how exactly this got out, but I have a pretty good theory. I'm going to get Harlow, I'll call you guys tomorrow."
Without giving us a chance to reply, Ryan tucked his file under his arm, and swept away from us, towards the large oak doors of the classroom. Before disappearing out of them, he slowed down and stared darkly at Denise and her group of girls, all of whom were still rooted to the spot.
"Pick up your papers," he said coldly, jaw set with fury. He motioned to the pile of looseleaf scattered by her feet. "You speak enough filth as is, I don't need you leaving your dirt in my classroom as well."
And as he swept out of the room, I couldn't help the tremendous feeling of satisfaction as Denise Howell burst into tears in front of me. It almost made up for the heavy weight of fear that had embedded itself in the pit of my stomach.
"How does he know it was her?" Heather asked, looking almost tearfully over at their little group - Denise was sobbing onto a pale, blondes shoulder.
"Who else was at the Paranormal State convention on Monday?" I said angrily.
"But .. how could she do that to her," Heather said quietly, the normal bubble of joy in her voice reduced to something between a moan and a growl. "Harlow's never done anything to her, how could she ... "
"She's Denise," I said furiously, the balling of Howell easing the sick feeling only a bit. "I wouldn't put anything past her."
"Harlow's going to be beside herself," Tad said softly. "This .. this was the one thing she never wanted. This was her one secret."
"I don't know if it was her only one," I sighed. "But it was the most important one."
(Harlow)
How strange it was, to be back in these halls!
I'm aware it had only been what, like ... not even a week? But it felt like I'd been away for years. University, as much as I bitched and moaned about it, was kind of like a home to me. For years, I'd been shuttled back and forth, here and there between a million different schools. I was never around long enough to settle in. But Penn State? I'd been here going on five years now - the familiarity of the pictures on the wall. The gleaming trophies in the cabinets. The neon 'Coffee House' advertisements taped everywhere. Ahhhh, it was home.
The halls were empty as I made my way down to the auditorium. It was strange having it so quiet in here. Usually the blaring of headphones, loud chatter of little skankys, the booming voices of the football players. Today, all I could hear was the soft padding of my shoes and the almighty, disgusting sniffles coming from my head.
I jogged down the small flight of stairs, and headed to the big, beige auditorium doors. I'd forgotten to tell Sophie I was coming down for practice - surely she'd be more relieved then anything. As much as I loved the girl, my God - she was the most brutal coach when she was all by herself. Couldn't blame her though. With great power comes great responsibility - and great stress. Blah.
I bumped the door lightly with my shoulder and it flung open - but to my surprise, there was hardly anyone inside.
The nets weren't set up. There were no girls running laps around the gym. There wasn't that pleasantly familiar squeak of running shoes on the waxed hardwood. There was just silence.
In the center of the gym, school bag and volleyball in hand, stood Sophie. She peered over at the door, face blank and eyes narrowed - how lovely to see her, always just the brightest ray of sunshine.
To her right, near the bleachers, were a handful of the team. Kimmy and Lindsey, I was pleased to see. Natalie, Ashlee, not so much. Jess stood a pace or two behind the rest of them, staring at me with her big, doe-like eyes. None of them, to my surprise, were smiling.
"What, I miss one practice and the world falls apart?" I asked, sniffling.
I'm sure I looked great - greasy top knot, watery eyes, runny, beet red nose.
"Practice was .. it was canceled," Kimmy said quietly, as I made my way over to the small group.
I frowned and looked over at Sophie, who was looking at me with the most peculiar stare. It was like I was some random girl that had just stumbled upon their practice - it was a look that you'd give someone you'd never really met before.
"What, did everyone no show?" I asked, looking between her and the rest of the girls.
"Oh, we showed," Ashlee said, and I noticed for the first time the angry - and slightly fearful - look on her face. "Sophie decided it would be better to just call it a night, though."
I looked over, trying to find a reason in my best friend's face. It was still blank, still frozen. Still puzzled.
"Surely it's not because I wasn't here," I said tentatively. "I'm sorry, I was going to call but I just .. I kinda decided last minute to show up."
"It's okay, Harlow," Lindsey said quietly, and I noticed she too had a strange, almost scared expression on her normally easygoing face.
"Is everything alright?" I asked, and I could feel my heart pounding painfully against my chest - had something happened to one of the girls?
"Everything's fine," Kimmy said reassuringly, attempting a smile. "It's fine, really."
"How can you just stand there and lie to her face?" Ashlee asked, rounding on Kimmy - Ashlee'd never been a nice girl, but she'd never lowered herself to this cold, almost brutal confrontation before.
"Hey, hey," I said, raising my hands cautiously. "Take it easy, bud ... is there something you need to tell me?"
"We need to tell you?" Ashlee asked, laughing bitterly. "No. But maybe there's something you'd like to tell us."
Was I missing something?
I shook my head slowly, eyes narrowed. "Tell you guys something? What would I possibly need to tell you?"
"Oh, you know," Sophie said quietly, eyes searching my own - there was something different about her face today. Something colder. Something meaner.
"I don't," I said earnestly, shaking my head. "What .. what would I possibly need to tell you?"
Sophie laughed, but it was humorless - bitter and biting, like a cold wind.
"What would you possibly need to tell us? Oh, you know. Maybe that you're a freak."
"Sophie," Kimmy moaned, shaking her head.
"I'm a what?" I said quietly, but there was an uncomfortable knot twisting in the pit of my stomach.
"A freak," she repeated, stepping a little bit closer yet. "Oh, wait - my apologies. Not a freak. A psychic. That's what you call yourself, right?"
Author's Note:
Awwe, and the shit hits the fan for our poor Harlow-Bear. :( Poor gal!
But in happier news, did you see how quickly I updated? APPLUAD ME, I WORKED HARD! Well .. sort of :D I've taken to bringing my laptop to work with me, so when it's dead I can just type away on the story, hopefully get chapters all out before I get a barrage of hate PM's from my faithful, albeit sort of terrifying reviewers and readers :D NOW, to you lovely reviewers - I've never seen a collection of so many long-ass reviews before! I am shocked, thrilled and absolutely flattered! Now, onto my thank yous!
xoxoMyRealityIsFiction: Oh MAN, can we BOTH shank Denise? She's MY character and I HAAAAAATE her. Hate isn't even the word. Like, I'm considering finding a way to kill her off in a truly horrific way, but that really wouldn't do anything for the plot. It would just make us feel better, sadly. You lova burger me? I LOVA BURGER YEWWWW MORE, although I'm frankly unsure of what that means. It sounds lovely and tasty and beefy, though, so I'll take it as a compliment and hold you dear in my heart for the rest of time!
xSyndarinx: EEEEEEEEEEEE your review made me blush so furiously I looked like a tomato for the better part of the evening! For you, I will write for the rest of my life. Everyday. And they will be stories about you and I being soulmates. THey'll be romantic dramadys, I think. And I'll have them published as "The Chronicles of Syndarin and Ella - a Match Made In Fandom". Beautiful, is it not? Thank you for the review, you wonderful wonderful person! (L) xoxoxo
: The fact that you said 'sweet balls of thunder' makes me so, unfathomably, hysterically happy, you actually don't even know. Your review brought on a typhoon of emotions - I laughed, I squealed, I wept. You're so wonderful. Let's hold hands and be friends forever and ever and ever. Yes? Yes. Thank you for the review!
RoselynnNoelle: A PROTRUDING DISK IN YOUR BACK? Why do I have this terrible mental image of a Quasimodo-esque figure hunching over a laptop in a flowery canopy bed? What happened, are you alright! My sweet sweet soul sister, you take it easy! Drink a lot of tea, dream a lot of dreams, and pop even more Valium and Oxy. This is the recipe for healing (or disaster, I don't know, I write stories, I'm not a doctor :( ). Your lovely, wonderful, heart-warming review made my week bright as a sun, and even sparklier than a douchebag vampire! Feel better, stay safe, be with my always. (L)
akahitoha: Denise also scares the shit out of me. Boogeymen? Bring it on. Werewolves? Let's do it, suckas. Denise Howell? BAHHHHHHHHHHH. We are united in our terror and wishings of pigeon shat on her head. Thank YOU for thanking ME for being a lovely joyful person! The fact is, I'm only a lovely joyful person because beautiful wonderful fantastic people like you make me feel that way! You're most welcome for writing this story, but thank YOU even more for reading it! If I could send you a million bricks of gold and silver, I would. But I don't know where to find them. So for now, take this virtual cookies - it was made with love, chocolate chips and tears of joy. THANK YOU!
silentC: I also hope Sophie warms up to Ryan, although since I wrote the thing, I know exactly how this thing is gonna pan out. BUT YESSSSS, love the idea of whack-a-Denise. You're brilliant. Let's co-write a story called 'Whack-A-Denise' and it'll just be about us hitting this fictional character on the head with a mallet. INSTANT smash (literally :D). I will absolutely send you the plotting device I use for chapters! It's all in my head right now but I think writing it out would be handy for both you and I, so expect a message in the next few days! Thank you for all you rlovely FF support, you truly brightened up my week with your 800 page review (like, maybe it wasn't that long, but ... it was AMAZING). I adore you, please be my one true love from now until the end of time, yes? xo
ferret assassin nin: OH, HELLO MY LOVELY! ooooh you're a sergey fan, are you! sergey won't ve getting any love in this fic for quite a while, so i cordially invite you into my story to make sergey feel loved and wanted for all the rest of eternity! y'know - just like you make MEEEE feel loved to bits and pieces with every review you leave me! you are an amazing, wonderful, unforgettable person and i simply adore you for being one of the funniest reviewers i've ever had for any story EVER. i got your PM, and i shall start reading your story asap!
heyymelx3: DUUUUUUUDE, i would love love love to go to penn state but that's so ridiculously far from where i live :/ i think i'm just going to the local uni, which is kinda depressing since it means i'm gonna be stuck in this town for a minimum of five more years. blhahfhsfasfs. so while i sit and fume in my hometown, i expect constant updates on the buell watch! i feel like we should start a 'Buell Blog' or something. keep the other obsessive nutjobs out there updated on the whereabouts of the fiiiiiiine mr. buell. agreed? NOW, what's this about coworker frustrations? whose ass am i kicking for you? gimme a name, i'll be down there with a mallet asap!
NOW, my beautiful, lovely, adorable reviewers! I must scamper off, I have a mickey of vodka to down and some crazy sick disco music to rock out to. You understand, I'm sure. I WILL UPDATE AGAIN AS SOON AS I POSSIBLY CAN. I love you all, take care of yourselves and have a wonderful rest of the week!
love, ellah!