It was orientation week at Bird University, and I felt an odd sense of optimism bubbling in my gut—like I'd just swallowed a soda can whole.
Sure, the world was brimming with paranormal possibilities, but let's be real: my lifelong dream of discovering alien weirdness had to make way for more realistic pursuits (like getting a degree) at some point.
My parents had worn me out, Mom insisting my potential couldn't go to waste. "Dr. Lipschitz said talented children need to be pushed to greater heights."
My dad had, in the end, negotiated better terms with me. He'd help me build a paranormal entity-detecting machine (ridiculously coined the Spectro-Gizmo 3000) that I could use to explore the most haunted university in the country—Bird U.
Those were winning terms, if I do say so myself.
Rumor has it that paranormal scientists of note have been inspired after walking these halls. So here I was. Ready to unearth the hidden mysteries of the universe or at least glimpse some paranormal activity.
Now, I'll admit, my device actually works.
The first time it worked, I had accidentally broken into a murder scene - to check out the blood splatter patterns, a hobby of mine - and I had the distinct pleasure of meet the ghost of the unfortunate victim; he was angry his boss finally got him for the affair he had been having with his wife.
Anyway, it was a game changer.
I figured if I could find one ghost, I could find others. And boy, did I.
I've met about 500 to date, and I will say, ghosts are a major letdown. They were always whining about their unfinished business—"Oh, please help me find my lost dog!" ; "I've always wanted to go to Niagara Falls, donyou kind taking my ashes!" ; "Go tell my kids I love them!" or "Woe is me, my husband's mistress drove me to a watery grave!" Boooring.
I basically became a glorified Fiverr medium, passing on messages between the living and dead. Most of the deceased who haf no message, just wanted to talk about their past life and the things they never got to do. Seriously, do people realize that ghosts are just disembodied folks with unresolved issues?
The real issue? Doing their unfinished business.
It's basically a never-ending unpaid internship for those in the afterlife. I mean, I'm still waiting to see how many karma points I've amassed for helping them.
Probably none.
So, I decided to ditch the ghost-hunting and helping gig. I was not a psychologist/spiritual medium. Honestly, I'd rather binge-watch romcoms than help some poor, unfortunate soul resolve their pet problems.
All that to bring me to this moment - plopping down in the back of a dimly lit auditorium filled with fellow freshmen.
The professor droned on about lab safety, plagiarism and research ethics while I half-listened, drifting closer to sleep than to enlightenment. Just as I began to nod off, a loud crash jolted me awake.
The auditorium doors swung open like a scene from a horror flick, and in rushed this tiny blonde girl, frantically clutching a frappuccino in one hand and books and a pastry in the other.
She looked like she'd just stepped off a sunny beach, wearing white shorts and a tank top that made her resemble a Disney princess—if Disney had ever made a film about a caffeine-addicted klutz.
In her haste, she managed to spill the entire frappuccino all over herself while simultaneously knocking over a stack of orientation pamphlets and a "Welcome to Bird U" sign.
Talk about a spectacular entrance.
Everyone, including the professor, was now fully engaged—like they were watching a live-action sitcom. I cringed hard enough to feel my spine bend.
Suddenly, my Spectro-Gizmo started vibrating like it was possessed. It never vibrated. Beeps? Sure. Rings? Totally. But my dad and I had set it to vibrate only when it detected a level 10 paranormal entity. I was about to throw it out the window.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I am so. SO. Sorry!" the girl squealed, her high-pitched voice echoing off the walls like a banshee.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" she asked, pulling coffee-stained fabric away from her skin. She had rushed to grab the seat next to me, sending my bag sliding to the floor without my response.
As soon as she settled in, the Spectro-Gizmo kicked into overdrive in said bag. It started buzzing, vibrating, and making noises, trying to summon my attention.
I barely registered her question; I was too busy wrestling my bag to stop the device from sounding like an air horn at a football game. Now, everyone was staring at me with eyes that screamed "Shut up!"
I yanked the bag onto my lap and rummaged through it. When I finally silenced the device, it lit up bright red with words I'd never seen before: SUPERNATURAL ENTITY DETECTED.
I froze. How in the hell was that even possible in an auditorium filled with students, mere mortals? I couldn't see, hear, feel, or smell anything off—unless you counted the distinct aroma of regret and frappuccino.
"Is that a VR headset?" the girl asked innocently, still trying to clean coffee off her tank top, which seemed to be fighting a losing battle.
"Uh, nah," I said, stuffing it back in my bag. "I made this thing; it senses paranormal activity."
Her lips pursed with curiosity. "Like ghosts?"
A wave of frustration washed over me, not because of her but because the mention of ghosts irritated me. I was so tired of them! I would hate if one of them had followed me and needed my help - again. "Er… sure, yeah."
Zzz zzz zzz.
Shit, it was buzzing again. Flashes were flashes lighting up the section I was sitting in.
Her eyes sparkled with intrigue. "And YOU made it?!"
I nodded, glancing around to see if anyone else noticed the warning flashing on my device.
"Yeah, I'm an inventor," I said, trying to sound impressive. The fact of the matter was, not many people were impressed; they usually thought I was insane, weird or odd.
Zzz zzz zzz.
The blonde girl pulled out her pastry and began munching on it. "My dad's an inventor too! Some kind of chemist inventor or something. I don't really know."
"Really?" I turned to look at her closely. She looked like a model—blue eyes, blonde hair tied up in two messy low pigtails, and still managing to look adorable despite being a frappuccino casualty. More vibrations came from my bag.
Zzz zzz zzz.
"Yep! He dropped me off this morning."
Huh. "My dad, who also happens to be an inventor, dropped ME off this morning too."
She feigned deep thought, raising an eyebrow. "Do we have the same dad?"
I shook my head at her silly joke. More vibrations.
Zzz zzz zzz.
I tried to silence it again, but it was jammed. I was failing to get it open to remove the batteries. The device was like a stubborn toddler refusing to go to bed; it was attracting more attention than I hoped. I had to open it.
An usher was starting to make his way toward me, looking like he was about to kick me out of the auditorium.
Zzz zzz zzz.
"Here, gimme," the girl said, extending her palm.
"Lady, this thing is made of the hardest material on Earth; you can't just—"
Zzz zzz zzz.
Before I could finish my sentence, she snatched the device from my hands, opened it with effortless grace, and proceeded to crush the vibrating component into tiny shards of metal. Surprisingly, not a scratch was on her hand.
No more Zzz zzz zzz.
What the…?
"How the hell did you do that!?" I asked, dumbfounded.
She shrugged, a sweet but helpful smile plastered across her face. "I do Pilates."