The Ghost Girl Chronicles

The End of the Beginning

The bus was pulling up as he reached the stop. He paid his fare and got a transfer, then looked to see if he could get a seat by himself. When he found one he sat, cradling his skateboard and resting his head against the window, pondering the dream about a car roaring mysteriously past his house. The insomnia was equally puzzling. Lately, it seemed the only things normal in his life were abnormal. The mysterious attack of the trees in the middle of the night, Thea confronting him about his lack of interest in her. Why, he thought for the hundredth time, he'd never treated her as anything more than a friend.

The bus stopped in front of the little open-air mall where he had found the "Star Child". He fingered the chain of the Saint Michael medal he'd received from the medium. It hadn't been much protection, or maybe it had protected him from worse things he didn't know about. Either way, he had to find the shop and its proprietor again. He needed answers to questions that he had no answers for. If he couldn't get answers, he was afraid he would be lost.

He remembered exactly where it was, but he could find no shop with lace curtains and neon stars in the windows. Instead, where the "Star Child" had been, a coffee shop offering "the Best Lattes in Town" and "Frappucinos" stood in its place. Frantic, he made his way around the mall on his skateboard trying to find it, ignoring the dirty looks and the "No Skateboarding Allowed" sign.

He checked each shop, trying to stem a rising tide of panic. He looked for little hidden shops that could easily be missed but found nothing. He completed his circuit as he made his way back to the coffee shop. He walked in and ordered a Frappuccino, then casually asked the barista how long the shop had been there.

"We've been here for five years, you want whipped cream?" Michael nodded while thinking 'idiot', not truly knowing if he was referring to the barista or him. He paid for his drink then hurried out of the shop and sought refuge on a bench that presented a view of the shops in the mall. He set his skateboard on the ground and rolled it back and forth with his feet, only half aware of what he was doing. Inside, he was shaking and he held his cup with both hands to keep it steady.

"Do you mind?" He looked up and saw an attractive black woman carrying a briefcase in one hand and a drink from the same shop in another. He wondered why she wanted to sit at this bench, but he picked up his skateboard and balanced it carefully on its end and out of the way. "Sorry," he muttered.

She sat down, crossing good legs, swinging a spike-heeled clad foot ever so gently. For a few uncomfortable moments, they sat, while she cast an occasional glance at him. Finally, she spoke.

"Shouldn't you be in school, or are you one of those dropouts?" A critical eye looked him over. "No, even with that hair and your skateboard, you don't seem the dropout type."

"I'm not a dropout. I had a mystery to solve. I'm not in school today because I was sick this morning." That was all he cared to reveal, the truth he preferred to keep to himself.

"Well," she demanded, "did you solve your mystery?"

"No," he admitted ruefully, "If anything, things have gotten even more confusing. And I really needed some advice."

"Well," she said, "I'll give you some advice. Be careful or you'll hit your head on that thing again," she tilted her head towards his skateboard, "You got lucky once, don't count on it a second time." She drained her coffee, picked up her briefcase, "And not all mysteries can be solved." She walked away, pausing only to toss her cup in the trash can. His eyes followed her as she walked towards the middle of the mall--then vanished.

"What?" he said, conscious of the looks people were giving him. How had she known? He hadn't even hurt himself yet when he'd visited "The Star Child". Who was this woman—she didn't resemble the proprietress of the shop, he was sure he'd never seen her before in his life.