It was an ordinary Tuesday morning at Columbus North High School, or at least it was supposed to be.

The faculty lounge still smelled like burnt coffee, someone's forgotten microwave burrito, and vague disappointment. Teachers were bustling through the hallways with coffee in one hand, student behavior reports in the other, and Andrew Clarke—resident guidance counselor, former ghost-town survivor, and reluctant glitter poster enthusiast—was tucked away in his office, quietly chipping away at a new student enrollment packet.

"Transferred from St. Augustine's Academy," he mumbled, reading aloud to himself. "Private all-boys' school, straight-A student, advanced placement... allergic to gluten and school dances. Bold."

Andrew chuckled to himself and continued typing. The office was quiet—save for the soft hum of his air purifier and the lo-fi Taylor Swift instrumental playlist running in the background. Just as he leaned over to grab a folder from his filing cabinet, something caught the corner of his eye.

A flicker.

Movement outside his office window.

He turned his head just in time to see...
A little girl.
Peeking.

Her silhouette was unmistakable. Short hair. A pale dress. The soft, innocent curve of a child's face.
Megan.

Andrew's breath hitched.

He stood slowly. "Megan...?"

But when he opened the office door and stepped into the hallway—
Nothing.
No child.
No sound.

Just fluorescent lights and the distant slap-slap of sneakers on tile.

He pressed a hand to the wall to steady himself.

"Not again," he whispered.

Meanwhile, over at the Guys' Locker Room, Daniel Fields—football coach, proud husband, and unapologetic Swiftie—was trying to herd a group of hormonal freshmen into a functioning line for warm-up drills.

He turned toward the showers, eyebrow already raised as he picked up the faint whiff of something...

"Okay," Daniel said, voice calm but lethal, "unless someone is using cherry wood cologne called 'Cigarettes and Detention,' I'm gonna need the mystery smoker to come clean."

A head popped out behind one of the lockers. It was Kyle, a wiry freshman with a mop of curly hair, holding a lit vape pen with all the confidence of someone who didn't understand how rules worked.

"Kyle," Daniel said, arms crossed. "We've talked about this. School property. No smoking. Not even pretend 'cool kid fog.' Out. Now."

Kyle blinked. "It's not even real nicotine—"

"Doesn't matter," Daniel interrupted. "You can vape all you want in Mario Kart, not my locker room. One more puff and I'm personally walking you to the Dean's office, and we both know she listens to crime podcasts and loves assigning detention."

Kyle sighed, snuffed out the vape, and slinked away with the shame of a boy caught by his own future.

Back in the faculty lounge, Andrew stood quietly by the water cooler, the events of earlier replaying like a scratchy VHS tape in his mind. He wasn't usually one for oversharing at work, but the image of Megan—his sister, the face that haunted him through Little Hope—refusing to fade, was clawing at his chest.

Ms. Grayson, the AP History teacher and certified iced-coffee addict, looked up from grading.

"You okay, Clarke? You look like you saw a ghost."

He blinked. "Funny you say that."

She arched an eyebrow.

He exhaled. "I think I just saw... someone from my past. A girl. Megan. My sister."

Another teacher, Mr. Ramirez, leaned in. "Didn't you mention something once? About that town? What was it called—"

"Little Hope," Andrew nodded. "Yeah. I survived something there. Something no one really believes unless they lived it."

Grayson, softly now, "You still see things?"

Andrew nodded again, eyes distant. "Not often. But today… she was right outside my office. Peeking in. Just like she used to when she was trying to scare me before bedtime."

The teachers exchanged a quiet look of sympathy. Grayson put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If you ever want to talk... really talk… I'm here."

Andrew gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks. Might take you up on that."

Across campus, Coach Fields was running laps with his varsity team around the track field. His whistle was bouncing against his chest, and his clipboard had already flown into the grass twice because of a rogue wind gust.

As the team jogged past the bleachers, he spotted—again—Kyle.

This time, not hiding. Bold as brass.
Smoking.
On the track.

Daniel didn't even say anything for a full five seconds. He just stared. Kyle turned, mid-puff, and immediately looked like he regretted every decision that led him here.

Daniel approached slowly, like a boss-level video game character.

"Tell me," he said flatly. "Is this your new workout plan? Cardio and carcinogens?"

Kyle winced. "Coach, I—"

"Nope. You're done." Daniel pointed toward the school building. "March to the Dean's office. Do not pass Go. Do not vape in public school zones. And if I catch you again, I'm assigning you three weeks of helping clean the football locker room after games. With gloves made of emotional guilt."

Kyle slumped away, the picture of teenaged defeat.

Daniel blew his whistle once and muttered, "God, I've become my own high school gym teacher."

Later that evening, after work and dinner and a rousing round of Kaden tries to put a sock on the cat, Andrew and Daniel sat side-by-side on the couch.

Kaden was asleep, clinging to a stuffed dinosaur with one arm and the corner of Andrew's flannel shirt with the other. The TV played Bluey reruns softly in the background.

Andrew was staring into his tea, distant again.

Daniel nudged him. "You okay?"

Andrew nodded, then shook his head. "I saw Megan today."

Daniel immediately paused the TV and turned fully toward him.

"In the hallway. Outside my office. Just... watching. Like she used to. It wasn't real. But it felt real."

Daniel didn't flinch. He didn't question. He just took Andrew's hand.

"You're not crazy," he said softly. "You're healing. It doesn't happen in a straight line."

Andrew squeezed his hand. "I know. It's just... sometimes I feel like she's not haunting me. She's reminding me."

"Of what?"

Andrew looked over. "Of how far we've come."

Daniel leaned in and kissed his temple. "You're here. I'm here. We made it out. And now, we keep going."

Andrew smiled. "Even if Kyle keeps vaping behind the bleachers?"

Daniel groaned. "If that kid lights up one more time, I'm renaming the locker room 'The Lung Zone.'"

They both laughed, soft and real, and the room grew still again.

Haunted or not, they were safe. They were together.

And even if the past peeked in now and then…
It couldn't break them.

Not anymore.