Courtney had a habit of doing double takes. She would be in her room, texting with friends or trying to read and something would move. A blurred mass of something that she could only ever catch out of the corner of her eye. She'd asked to get her vision checked a few years ago. It turned out her vision wasn't the best and she'd decided on wearing contacts. Glasses would do nothing but add serious nerd points to her record and that was absolutely out of the question.
That year, she had discovered that teachers actually wrote words on the board and that trees had so many leaves. She had also discovered that those pesky black masses weren't going away. She tried out any vision trick she could to see if she could replicate those experiences. She spent more time staring into lightbulbs and making notes on the resulting black and purple splotches in her vision than she was willing to admit.
That was also the year Norman started to get weird. Well, weirder. Grandma had died before school began. She'd died on the couch, having fallen asleep on it after a wild night knitting and marathoning true crime dramas with Norman.
It had all seemed a little unreal to Courtney. She had been up since four finishing a book for English class. She'd stared at the last page for a several minutes, absorbing and reabsorbing and dissecting the last paragraph. She was pulled out of the world of fantasy when she realized that she was insanely hungry. She dragged herself downstairs for a granola bar or something.
"Grandma's asleep on the couch again," she huffed under her breath, peeking into the living room. They hadn't gotten her a nice new bed so she could keep wrecking her back on that total monster. A shadow was moving wildly in front of her eyes.
"What the hell?" Courtney blinked several times and pressed a hand over her face. She turned heel and marched into the kitchen, determined to ignore and subsequently forget whatever had just happened.
Norman had started shouting about exactly when she had made it back into the safety of her room with the entire box of bars tucked under her arm and a cup of coffee in her hand. Something about two seeing two Grandmas. Courtney tutted and dumped her breakfast on her desk.
"Norman, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's six am," she yelled from the doorway. Norman was a few feet away from her door and turned toward the sound of her voice. His eyes were wide and he was pulling anxiously at the sleeve of his nightshirt.
"I think Grandma's dead," he replied, looking one-hundred percent serious. She bit her lip and followed him downstairs. Their parents were in the living room now, somber and exhausted faces turning toward them as they entered.
Courtney stood, blinking rapidly in the doorway. Norman walked up to an empty corner of the room and started chatting up thin air. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but she knew the only person who could get him to talk that much was Grandma. She needed to get away. Stat.
She left the house to the fanfare of ambulance sirens, ignoring her mother's suggestion that she take the day off "for the family." She didn't check to see if Norman was behind her. She just kept moving until she made it to the school.
She'd spent a lot of time after that getting angry at her creepy little brother. She was mad at herself, now that she had a better understanding of his side of things.
Courtney stood in front of Norman's door, fist hovering centimeters from the wooden surface. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, making a mental note to put on some lip gloss when she got back to her room.
"Hey," the door creaked open and Norman's head popped out. "Grandma told me you were out here."
"Oh, uh, cool. Tell her hi for me."
"What's up? You kinda look like you want something," Norman opened up the door all the way and waved for her to enter his room. She sat cross-legged on the floor, staring around at all the movie posters on the walls. Norman's head snapped up, as if he just realized something. "Oh. And Courtney says hey. I mean she really said hi but you probably heard it anyway."
"So, there's not really a good way to start this, but I think I can see stuff?" the words rushed out and she couldn't do anything about them any more.
"Well, that's good. You probably won't need a new prescription for a while, then." Norman perched on the edge of his bed.
"Norman, you know what I'm talking about," she combined the scathing comment with a fierce glare. Super effective! Norman grinned sheepishly, rubbing his hand together furiously.
"Like... ghosts?"
"I think? But before you start on that 'but why did you never believe me' stuff, it's not like full-on corporeal stuff. Just like weird shadows that I've never been able to figure out." Courtney rocked slightly, wondering how much she'd have to explain.
"You sure it's not just bad vision?" he asked, treading carefully.
"One hundred percent." She'd been testing this hypothesis for years and no other explanation seemed to work.
"What do they do?"
"Just float by. I've been trying to ignore them for a long time. I saw a really big one the day Grandma died." She swallowed a wad of spit and nervousness. There it was, something she'd wanted to say for years, just right there out in the open. Norman nodded, understanding not to press on the topic any further. Grandma had been dead to everyone but him for these years. In a way, that must have been easier for him.
"So, how long have you been seeing this stuff?"
"Like, my whole life, basically."
"Oh. So, is there anything you want to say about it?" he glanced down at her, clearly unsure of where she wanted this conversation to go.
"I guess not. I just wanted to tell you because I've been thinking about it a lot. It's weird but there's nothing bad about it. Though I can't really do anything with it, like you can. It must be kinda cool to get to, like, talk to them and stuff."
"You probably could do that, if you tried. But I- I don't really know," Norman admitted, squishing his severed zombie head pillow against his chest. "Like seances or something. Not really sure if those work."
"Guess I'll have to try it sometime," she said thoughtfully, tossing him a small uncertain smile.
"Sure," Norman smiled back, "Just bring me. I don't know how safe all that stuff is so you're gonna need an expert."
"You must have at least a level 13 ghost dweeb on hand to ride, is this what I'm hearing? Because I'm pretty sure that's what I'm hearing."
"What can I say? I have experience."
"Well, it sounds pretty good. We should start now."
"What, really?"
"Nah, we can wait 'til the weekend."
Writer's woes: I've been doing a write everyday challenge with myself and this is one of the things that came out. Might not be canon complaint because I haven't seen Paranorman in forever. Rewatch sounds good right now though. The title is shamelessly stolen from a mother mother song (fun fact: I've been on this site for like seven years and I've never used a song title until now? whoa). I might come back and edit this one up because I'm not entirely happy with it. I like the spirit though. :D
Stay strange!