.:Ghostly Whispers:.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

I walk down the stairs the same as I do every morning. But it isn't quite the same. I can feel a sense of dread and fear as prominent and common as the dust that glazes our floors and shelves. I see my dad whistling as he grabs milk from the fridge, pouring it into a bowl of Cheerios merrily. I will not lie, it stuns me to see something so mundanely cheerful. I try imitate his light and breezy manner.

"Hi, Jelly bean." He says and smiles at me. He doesn't seem to notice my unease. I briefly wonder if it is due to my usually ineffective acting or his oblivious nature. I decide on the latter.

"Hi Dad, so," I say a bit awkwardly, not knowing how to continue this conversation.

"Uhm...have any good dreams last night?" I decide promptly. It's not that strange of a question, is it? It seems normal to me. That isn't suspicious, right? I'm probably just overthinking.

"Hmm. Not really. I've been having some pretty freaky nightmares since we moved here, actually. Nothing deep, just ghosts and blood and such. A short scare."

At this I pause. It hadn't occurred to me yet that my dad, being part of this family as well, shared this burden of an ability. I feel a bit wrong about that now, doesn't that just seem self absorbed? I choose to pry further.

"What type of ghosts?" I ask. He answers without hesitation. He has nothing to hide, and for that I envy him.

"Y'know. It's hard to explain. Sorta wispy, possessive ones. Not so generic. Not very important, either. What about you, any interesting dreams?"

"Not really, either." I lie. I should have assumed he would ask me back. I need to start thinking farther into the future. He nods and takes a bite of his breakfast.

"Hm." He wipes a drip of milk off his chin before continuing. "Were you calling Char or Becky this morning?"

I am a bit startled by his random question, why would he ask that?
"No. I haven't talked to them much since we moved, besides it's way to early to call anyone."

"Oh weird, I'm pretty sure I heard talking coming from your room earlier."

I realize my mistake—I was talking to someone this morning. Jasper. I try to not curse under my breath at my stupidity. I am like a rat that walks straight into a trap, completely dumbfoundedly trapped now, due to myself and my lack of thought.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that, I was calling..." Who am I kidding? My dad knows I don't have any other friends!

"The school." I suddenly blurt. "They called me asking about some stuff, a school program the other kids chose last year. It was brief. They just asked me basic stuff about being a new kid and some arrangements so I would be, uh, ready for next year."

"Hmm. Why were you calling on speaker phone? And why did the teacher sound so... young? They sounded more like a teenage boy if I'm not wrong." His eyes me skeptically through his glasses lenses. I gulp.

"I don't know. Maybe like a student president or something? I didn't ask too many questions about his personal life." I hate myself just a little more every time I make up another excuse. It's like a single lie, a hurricane turning into a full fledged tornado of lies. All swirling around me threateningly crashing into t buildings and leaving a path of confusion. My father doesn't deserve this. But there's nothing I can do. If I told him the truth he would call me a liar and I would get sent to a mental institution or just get hated for the rest of my days like my grandmother, who told others she saw ghosts. I feel a little sympathy for her now.

He pulls off his glasses and cleans them with the bottom of his shirt while sighing.

"Whatever you say, Arlene. Just remember, if when you barely turn on your bed I am plummeted with half the ceiling, I can definitely hear you talking." I blush a bit. It's not what he thinks! I desperately want to correct him, but I keep my mouth shut.

"Ok, see you later, then." I kiss him on the cheek and walk back to my room.

When I get to my room, I first scan the room for Jasper. When I see he isn't there, I let down my guarded expression and sit in the corner as I open my phone. I am still a bit tired out from lying to my father so much. I don't like lying much in general but it's worse when it's my father. I am slightly sad that I have no new texts from Becky and Charlotte. It's been a couple days and usually they text more often. I can already feel myself drifting away like a single person escape boat leaving a cruise ship.

Even though I was sleeping less than two hours ago, I already feel drained and ready to fall asleep again. I move to my bed and lay my head down on the pillow, careful to not disturb my father downstairs. I have already done enough to him today. I hear birds chirping pleasantly outside my window, but all they bring up in my mind is the magpie Jasper had killed to alert me of his presence.

I have too many problems right now. My father, Jasper, my mother, my friends and an ancestral gift that is causing ghosts to haunt my every moment. When I think about it, my father is right in some ways. I am having boy problems as he likely assumes. Just a ghost boy in his nineties, set on the goal of being my protector and has nothing to do with being romantically involved with me. I don't need him interfering with my other problems. I just wish he would cease being one of them. From now on I need to be more cautious about making sure my father's suspicions do not grow.

I sigh and look up at my ceiling. I see the cracks and splinters of it that I have seen everyday since moving here. Then a big droplet of sticky, red blood drops down onto my face and into my eyes.

And I hold back the scream begging to escape my throat.

* * *