Haunted - Jay Mirano (ereader android .TXT) 📗

about it fight it. 
   "Give it time. It's not going to be an instantaneous thing."
   So I did. I sucked up all my self-doubt, reservations and just plain fear, and concentrated on making myself real again. And for the second time my fingers whispered through the leaves without making the faintest nudge, and for the third time, and the fourth. The sun was getting higher in the sky, beating down on me relentlessly, taunting me, gloating in my failures. And then, just as I was on the verge of giving up― 
   "―Was that the wind? Or was that me?!"
   I could barely contain myself. Mason unfolded his arms and stepped closer, his lips pressed into a thin line. "If it was you, do it again." 
   I looked down at my hand, no longer shimmering but fleshly and solid. I reached out a single finger and pressed against the nearest left. It quivered, only slightly, but there was no denying I had done it.
   "It worked! Mason, it worked!"
   He couldn't stop himself from grinning, either. "So? Do it again!"
   Laughter was bubbling up inside my like a pot boiling over. I ran my whole hand over the leaves, tugging at them, hitting them, punching them. I was moving them with such force that they started to rain down all around, littering the ground with their little, spear-shaped bodies. I had made the leaves fall. I had finally started to regain my grip on the world. And it was amazing.
    Desperate Times

 

 

 

Mason had insisted that I stay away from school. And by insisted, I mean he demanded I do something else with my time during the six hours he was at Jefferson. But I was a ghost, and Mason wasn't the boss of me anyway.
   Besides, I needed to make sure he kept his end of the deal, right? That's just good business. He sure wasn't happy about it, though.
   "Are you ever going to stop following me around," he huffed, pulling his bag strap tighter around his shoulder. He was talking through gritted teeth so that people wouldn't think he was talking to himself. He tugged open his locker, took out his math textbook, and slammed it shut with a bang.
   "Once I'm convinced you're looking out for Cassie, I'll buzz off. School will be private Mason time, I promise."
   "Private Mason time, eh?" He cocked an eyebrow at me.
   "Oh, you're a pig," I said, trying to punch his shoulder but going right through. As usual. I didn't seem to have issues with leaves and small scraps of paper, but anything made of flesh and bone seemed impossible to touch. Even though Mason and I had been practicing for over a week now, I still hadn't been able to make him feel me.
   "That's her," I whispered, even though Mason was the only one who could hear me. "There, with the blond hair."
   "I know," he said. "I'm not a total incompetent."
   "Says you."
   Mason made a point of ignoring me, coming to a stop next to Cassie as she fumbled around in her locker. "Hey."
   Cassie jumped. "Uh... Hey. Do I know you?"
   "No," Mason shrugged, trying to look casual. "You were friends with that Aly chick, right?"
   Cassie's eyebrows furrowed. "Oh great, not another one. Here to give me some grief, are you? Well lemme hear it. And for the record, Aly's still my friend. She always will be."
   That's my girl.
   "It's not that, it's just―"
   "Hey, you gonna mash that guy's face into the locker, too?" Mitchell Rodgers had suddenly materialized behind Cassie. He had a black eye and a split lip, and I didn't pity him at all. "You've got to be careful around that one, she's not called Crazy Cassie for nothing."
   Crazy Cassie. Original.
   Mason moved so fast, Mitchell didn't even see it coming. One second he was gloating in Cassie's face, the next Mason had him pinned up against the locker by his neck. 
   "I don't know what your problem is, dude, but how about you go pollute the air someplace else," the muscles in Mason's arm were straining as he fought to keep Mitchell in place. I'd never realized how built he was. "And just so you know, this is the 21st century, and it is okay to shower more than once a year. You smell like a sewer."
   Mason released him, and Mitchell stumbled forward, clutching his neck. The small gaggle of people that had stopped to watch the spectacle all burst out in laughter as Mitchell self-conciously sniffed at his armpits.
   "I was just joking, man," Mitchell backed away back into the hall. "No harm intended."
   "Yeah, and I won't intend no harm to come to you either, unless you try and harrass my friend again."
   Not wanting to endanger himself further, Mitchell disappeared into the crowd without another word and didn't look back.
 "Who knew you were a such a good bodyguard," I said, and Mason gave me a subtle―but acknowledging―glance.
   "Wow, thanks for that," Cassie said, pushing her locker closed with a soft click. "But you really didn't have to. I can stand up for myself."
    "I'm sure you can. But these jerkoffs have been giving you a hard time lately, and they need to know it's not okay."
   Cassie smiled. "Well, that's nice of you. I'm Cassie."
   "Mason," he extended his hand, and Cassie shook it. "We have homeroom together, don't we?"
   "I think we do," Cassie said, nestling her textbooks into the crook of her arm. "We can sit together if you like?"
   "Sure. Plus, I'd like to see the look on Mitchell's face when he sees us paired up together."
   I watched Mason and Cassie walk off together, already deep in conversation. Cassie was looking better already.

***

"I should have known you'd get me into trouble," Mason mumbled, arms clamped across his chest. "You just give off that vibe."
   "Hey! I never told you to go around shoving guys up against lockers," I said. "Besides, if Mitchell narked on you, that officially makes him a wimp. Wimpy bullies don't last long around here."
   I was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the principal's office with Mason, waiting for the principal to take his sweet time doing whatever it is principals do with their time. Mitchell must have told someone what had happened, because Mason got pulled out of English with his name scrawled on a red slip―and the red slips were always the bad ones.
   "If I get expelled again, my Mom is going to kill me," he sighed. 
   "Again?!"
   "Long story, don't ask."
   "I'm asking! Who knows, you could be a serial killer or anything."
   "Very funny."
   I noticed a shadow move beneath the door and shushed Mason. Half a second later, the door opened and principal Coolridge walked through.
   "Well, well, well, I would have thought you'd have lasted a bit longer before getting into trouble like this," he said, taking a seat in his chair. It squeaked as he did so, protesting against his weight. "That Mitchell boy seems quite shook up."
   "Well, well, well, I would have thought you wouldn't advocate bullying and prejudice in your school?" Mason asked, eyebrows raised. 
   Principal Coolridge gaped his mouth open and shut like a fish out of water. "I most certainly do not advocate bullying!"
   "Really? Because what Mitchell and his friends have been saying to Cassie this past week most definitely qualifies as bullying in my book. And I'm sure the school board would agree, as well. Doesn't Jefferson have a zero tolerance policy on bullying?"
   "It does, but―"
   "Well then, that proves my point. If you and the rest of your faculty aren't going to handle the bullies, then people like me will. So either you get off your ass and do something about them, or I'm just going to keep on shoving them against lockers and rattling their teeth around in their heads."
   "Mr Greene I simply cannot condone what happened between you and Mitchell Rodgers today. You're going to have to be punished for this."
   "Am I?" Mason leaned forward in his chair, perching his elbows on his knees and lacing his hands together. "Because I'm sure the school board―and hell, maybe even the local media―would love to hear about how you're letting one of your students get mercilessly hounded and taunted about the Alyssa MacDonnell tragedy."
   Principal Coolridge paled. "Now I―I'm sure that's not necessary―" 
   "Good, then we're done here?" Mason got to his feet. "I'll see you around, principal Coolridge."
   I could barely contain myself as I followed Mason back out into the hallway. "That was amazing! I don't think I've ever seen anyone talk to him like that before."
   "Yeah, well, when you've been in as much trouble with as many schools as I have, you learn how to handle principals," he gave me a knowing look.
   We walked back out into the Admin office, and Mason screeched to a halt. "Shit."
   "What? What is it?"
   "My Mom."
   I looked up to see a slender, middle-aged woman talking to the receptionist behind the desk. She had a pen in her hand and appeared to be signing Mason out of school.
   "Of course they called my Mom. Perfect."
   At the sound of his voice, Mason's Mom looked up and smiled in our direction. I could have sworn her eyes flickered to me, too.
   "Mason, sweetie," she said, hoisting her handbag over her shoulder and rushing over. "What's all this about you getting in a fight?"
   She put her hands on either side of his face, and Mason shrugged her off. "I was just performing my civic duty as a moral and conscientious person."
   "By getting in a fight?" She gave him a disbelieving look. "Well, I best get you home! And we're going to have a long, hard talk about why fighting is bad."
   She gripped Mason by the wrist and tugged him along behind her, nodding at the receptionist as they passed. It wasn't until we were out on the sidewalk that she finally released him.
   "Oh my God, Mason, what have I told you? Low profile, keep out of trouble. That's the only way we're going to be able to stay here."
   Mason fell into step beside her. "I know, I know. I just can't handle small-minded bigots."
   She narrowed her eyes at him, the same sea-green colour as his. "Well I just can't handle having to make small talk with ditzy school receptionists! Not to mention having to act all sweet and lovey-dovey so they don't think I'm a terrible mother."
   "You are a terrible mother," Mason said, but he laughed as he did.
   "And why on earth his she―" she jerked a thumb backward in my direction. "―following you around? I thought I said we couldn't bring them home with us anymore."
   What the hell?! "You can see me, too?" I asked, but my voice was so shrill I was basically shrieking. "And just so you know, I'm not a 'them', I'm an Aly."
   Mason's Mom cast a look at me over her shoulder. "Fiesty one, ain't she? Well, Aly, I'm Avery," she turned her attention back to Mason. "She better be the only one."
   "I am Miss Avery, I swear I am! And to