Pretty / CASPER THE FRIENDLY GHOST!X Reader!

Chapter Three: Road Trip

Y/N absolutely dreaded road trips. It took way too long, just to sit in the car and do nothing, just listen to your mother's horrible 60s music, and to look out the boring windows. "Ma, when are we there?" B/N asked, tiredly, as he had just woken from a nap, in the front seat.
"Only another hour, Sweetheart." M/N replied, gripping the steering wheel with ease, sharply turning to the right.
Y/N sighed, laying back. A smile spread on her face. It was a 28 hour drive from Nebraska to Maine. They had been driving for over a day, stopping every once and a while to sleep at a motel, and to stop for gas, of course.
"Y/N, how are you feeling?" M/N asked, not bothering to look at her. Y/N raised her head a little, sitting up straight.
"A little dizzy, Ma. A headache, too." M/N sighed, rubbing her wrinkled forehead with one hand, the other steadily driving on the right lane. Y/N seemed to be getting worse. They had been to the doctor twenty times in one year; trying to figure out what was wrong with her. "Too much Cannabis?" B/N joked, nudging her leg with his hand. Y/N laughed profusely, smacking his arm. "You better not be, young lady." M/N warned sternly, taking a glance at Y/N. "Don't worry, Ma. I would never." Y/N assured her, between fits of laughter.
Y/N put her hand on the armrest, thinking about what her new house would be like. Was it big? Small? Was it in a neighbourhood, or on the side of the road? Maybe in the middle of nowhere? Were the schools good? Are the kids nice? So many questions lingered in her head, but she reminded herself all would be answered once she got there, and settled down.
"Ma, have you ever been to Maine?" Y/N asked, leaning forwards, putting her hands on either sides of B/N's seat, studying her Mom's expression. "No, dear. But, the house we bought was at a reasonable price. We will do fine, I promise you both." Y/N smiled sadly, trying to convince her she'd be fine.
"Are you excited?" B/N turned to Y/N, smiling his goofy smile.
Y/N giggled, "Yes, but also a little nervous. I can't wait to meet new people! A change of scenery! Can you believe it, B/N?!" Both Y/N's mother and brother laughed at her overwhelming excitement. She was so cute when she was like that.
Y/N, was an overall happy child, happy for a thirteen year old. She wasn't like most teenagers, who were snarky and moody all the time. Y/N still acted like she was ten, sometimes. An innocent, happy child who appreciated everything in life. And M/N was thankful for that.
"Maybe we could invite Zinnia and Lewis over sometime." M/N piped up. B/N scoffed playfully, nudging his mother's arm. All he earned from her was a chuckle back, "Yes! They would probably like it, no?" Y/N looked at B/N, expectantly. Confused, B/N nodded. "Sure, Y/N. Sure."
She sat back, looking back out the window. Y/N was definitely more excited, than nervous. She was ready, ready for a change of scenery. After all, all she really had back in Scottsbluff, was Lewis. Well, besides her family and house, of course. In a new state, she could accomplish much more. Many people would want to be her friend, right? And, once she wasn't sick anymore, she could resume her swimming lessons. It would be quite the experience.
"Only an hour..." Y/N whispered.

Two Days Ago, Friendship, Maine

Sitting at the desk, her black sunglasses on, a fashionable black hat sat neatly atop of her head full of blonde hair, smoking a cigarette, was Carrigan Crittenden. An attractive woman to most, but had a distinctly rotten personality that came with her appealing appearance. Sitting at the desk with her, was her faithful companion, Paul Plutzker, better known as Dibs, an older man with curly brown hair, and shining blue eyes.
At the foot of the desk, however, was Mr. Rugg, Carrigan's lawyer, who was discussing her father's will.
"To the Save The Pumas Foundation: 1.2 million, to the Pantagonian Wasp Salvation Fund: 1.4 million, to the Dyslexic Dalmatians Foundation: 4..." Mr. Rugg listed, until Carrigan abruptly stopped him, "To hell with the livestock!" She exclaimed rudely, "What did the old stiff leave me?"
Of course, she was referring to the money. Carrigan's father was extremely wealthy, after all, he had owned an exceptionally large Manor. "Um, I believe that what the bereaved..." Mr. Rugg trailed off, before continuing, "Is trying to express is that the sudden death...of her only father had left a great gaping void...in her bank-" Mr, Rugg cleared his throat, quickly correcting himself, "-In her life."
Dibs, who had not yet spoken, glanced at Carrigan, and in turn, she did to him. Catching on to her expectancy, Dibs clarified politely, "Carrigan wonders what he has left her to fill it up with." Mr. Rugg eyed Dibs intently. "Hmm, let's see.." He rummaged through the papers, making a shuffling noise. Carrigan huffed a cloud of smoke, obnoxiously.
"Bobcats, Owls, Snakes..." Mr. Rugg went on, "To Carrigan. Whipstaff Manor in Maine." Carrigan stopped, holding her smoke in her hand. "And?" She had been expecting more, it seemed, judging by her surprised tone.
"And I'm late for lunch, so if you'll excuse me." Mr. Rugg replied smartly but plainly, getting up, folding the papers neatly on the table.
"Are you trying to tell me that I just spent the last two days holding his clammy hand, waiting for him to kick, and all I get in return is one lousy piece of property?!" Carrigan all but ranted, standing up straight, pointing at Mr. Rugg.
Carrigan, was not a grateful person. Especially, since her and her father hadn't had the best relationship. It would make sense why he donated almost all of his will to charity.
"No, it was lousy fifty years ago, now it's condemned. Enjoy." Mr. Rugg said bluntly, opening the door, ready to exit out of his office.
"Wait a minute!" Carrigan stopped him, "This is not fair! I'll contest it, then I'm gonna drag you and every one of those damn Dolphins into court!" She exclaimed quietly, still holding her pointer finger up, glaring at him.
"Knock yourself out." Mr. Rugg replied, and with that, he slammed the door in Carrigan's face.
Carrigan turned to Dibs, "Dibs! This is all your fault, as usual. If you would have just forged the damn will!"
She acted as if Dibs was the appropriate person to blame, but in fact, Dibs actually had nothing to do with it. The will was entirely up to Carrigan's father; and he chose charity. Forging a will is actually illegal, therefore it shouldn't be done. If Carrigan had maybe been a better person, she would've earned the money, plus Whipstaff, plus the pets.
"Carrigan, this is condemned seafront property!" Dons defended his reasoning, though he looked merely frightened at Carrigan's outburst.
"Oh, Dibs! Don't you get it? Flipper got more money than me." Carrigan threw the will into the fireplace, burning it ferociously.
"Carrigan, the deed's in there!" Dibs rushed to the fireplace, kneeling down.
He desperately tried to get it out, but kept slightly burning his hand every time he tried, "Ow! Ouch! Ouch!"
Dibs turned his head to the right, as the paper burned slowly to a crisp. There, in beautiful cursive writing, the paper read, "Buccaneers and buried gold. Whipstaff doth a treasure hold."
It seemed surprising, almost too good to be true. Carrigan's father had already donated all of his will, right? Carrigan pondered maliciously at the possibility he might've missed something.
"Dibs, you idiot! Get it out!" They both kept blowing on the fire, trying to calm it down, but the paper was soon burnt fully, to no avail.
Carrigan stood up. "I knew that place was worth something," She said confidently, "There's treasure in that house. And finally, I'm gonna get what I deserve."
What was in that Manor, was nothing Carrigan deserved. Whether it was money, or not. She was a callous woman, someone who should be disciplined, not privileged.
But, what Carrigan saw in that missing treasure chest, was much less than she bargained for.