Calliope Chained

Chapter 4: Ghosts Can't Sleep

Beaver wasted day after day staring at his laptop. I assumed he played Resident Evil or some other game. Imagine my shock when I learned his purpose was far more malicious than pretend murder.

"Is that someone's Facebook account?"

"Yeah." Beaver scooted a little to the side so I could see his screen. A girl's face took up most of the screen.

I scanned her messages.

"Holy frick! Why the crap are you talking to her?"

He fluffed his hair.

"She's a predator."

"I got that from the DMS." I rolled my eyes, and my stomach lurched. "Why would she send that to a kid? What the hell?"

Beaver smiled. He clicked into a second tab.

"Poker?" I squinted, "You're playing her in poker?"

He rubbed his palms together.

"We've been in a game all day." He pointed to the bottom of the screen.

"Ten thousand dollars?" I whistled. "Where did you get that kind of money to bet?"

Beaver leaned back in his chair. For the first time, he threw me an easy smile, "My mom gave me five hundred dollars for school shopping last year. What can I say? I'm good at poker. But don't worry, I only take big money from people who deserve it."

If I could have, I would have ruffled his hair.

"So, Beavers not so butts boring after all. How did you find her?" I nodded to the screen."Chat room on the poker sight. I message people for a bit until I find someone who seems sus. Then I log into their Facebook to see if--"

"How do you log into their Facebook?" I waggled my eyebrows.

Beaver blushed.

"It's actually not that hard." He said. "What are they going to do? Call cyber security to check up on their creepy accounts."

I floated a little closer.

"Could you get into Todd Batskins account?""Who's that?"

"No one."

He didn't look him up, which was fine. I didn't really want to see my ex. Sometimes I'm relieved that ghosts can't blush. 

...

Beaver looked funny when he slept. His face went flat as a tub of margarine. His skin paled to a grey tone. He snored. I might not have minded the snoring if I wasn't trying to focus.

It had felt so good, great even to haunt Ofa. To step inside her skin and feel alive again.

Snore.

I stared at Beaver's pencil.

"C'mon. Glow." I whispered. "Glow, glow, glow."

Snore.

Nothing.

"Please?"

I raised my hands and tried to force it like a Jedi.

Snore.

I got all up in its face and yelled, "I'll sharpen you, you idiot."

I turned away and then back real quick to see if it was being sneaky.

It wasn't.

It was just trying to be a pencil. I'm sure if it was sentient, it would have told me to leave it alone. To let it do what it was supposed to do.

But the washing machine had dyed the laundry red, and there's no way it typically did that.

Ofa had had unfinished business. Was that really all there was to it? Had I accidentally stumbled upon an object that just happened to be connected to her unfulfilled wish?

For the rest of Beavers's life, was I only going to be able to touch specific, random things? And how many people had these glowing objects; was Ofa my only chance to live again?

I felt a sting in my throat that told me I would have been crying if I could have.

I wanted control. I wanted to feel alive. I wanted to touch a stupid pencil!

"Look, I'm sorry I tried to make you glow. But you have to work with me, OK? Ofa's necklace did."

The pencil said nothing, probably because it was a pencil.

"Ugh."

"Are you talking to my desk?"

"You snore."

He went back to sleep.