𝘎𝘏𝘖𝘚𝘛𝘉𝘜𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘎𝘐𝘙𝘓 || ₚₕₒₑbₑ ₛₚₑₙgₗₑᵣ

chapter 2

My phone vibrates, jolting me awake.

dana banana🍌

(8:32 AM)

dana banana🍌: come 2 roller rink

dana banana🍌: RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!

dana banana🍌: pls

I rub my eyes, making sure I'm reading her texts right.

me: are u being fr?

dana banana🍌: YES

me: may i ask why?

dana banana🍌: NO TIME TO EXPLAIN. JUST GET. DOWN. HERE.

I groan, rolling out of bed.

"You're up early," my mom says as I trudge downstairs, "You do know you don't have work today, right?"

I let out a long sigh, slipping my phone into my pocket, "I know. But Dana wants me down there for some reason."

"Well, okay, then. Have fun." I can tell she doesn't care where the hell I'm going, just as long as I'm not there to do drugs or get pregnant.

The roller rink isn't too far away from my house, only about a ten minute drive. When I get there, Dana is waiting for me in the parking lot.

"Hey, thank god you're here," She says as I'm climbing out of the car.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Something weird just happened."

"What do you mean? Weird how?"

"Just...come on."

I follow Dana inside. The roller rink looks...normal enough. I don't see any dead bodies lying around or anything.

"Seriously, Dana, is everything okay?"

She holds out her arm, stopping me from walking. Then she points up at something on the ceiling, a huge, disgusting splotch of green slime.

"That was there when I came in this morning," She whispers, horrified.

"Um...it's probably just mold. Or something. Right?"

Dana shakes her head. "No, there was...something else, too. Some freaky-looking thing, with way too many eyes, flying all over the place. I didn't get a good look at it, but I know it disappeared...up there."

"Uh, Dana? Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh my god, Chey! You have to believe me!" She grabs my shoulders, shaking me around.

"Okay, okay! I believe you...kind of. So, what do we do about this?"

"I don't know. I don't know." Dana paces around, tapping her fist to her chin, thinking. Suddenly, she snaps her fingers.

"Oh! Cheyenne! If there's something weird, and it don't look good, who ya gonna call?"

"...the police?"

"Ugh. You are not fun. The Ghostbusters. Obviously."

"Seriously? Aren't those guys, like, ancient?"

"Oh, whatever, Cheyenne. We need help. They know what they're doing. Who cares if they're about to die?"

"Okay, okay, fine."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A few minutes after Dana gets off the phone with the Ghostbusters, a white Cadillac pulls into the parking lot, tires screeching, sirens wailing.

I have to admit, I'm a little surprised when a teenage kid walks through the door, instead of an eighty-year-old man. Not just any kid, either. Phoebe's friend, the one in the colorful jacket. Only this time, he's wearing a beige jumpsuit with a fake name tag messily drawn on it. Podcast, it says in red letters.

"Ghostbusters, in the house!" He shouts, pumping his fist in the air like an over-eager little kid at a birthday party.

"I told you to stop saying that," someone says, following him through the door. When she comes into view, I freeze up, almost forgetting how to breathe.

"It's you!" I blurt.

Phoebe's eyes widen. "Oh! Um, hello."

"Hold on," Podcast holds his finger up, "How do you two know each other again?"

"Um, Pod. This is the girl I was talking to last night," Phoebe whispers. Immediately, his eyebrows shoot up, like he's understanding something the rest of us aren't.

"Oh! That's her, huh?"

"Yes. That is her."

"Man," he chuckles, "You weren't lying, Pheebs. She's pret—"

She elbows him, hard enough to make him keel over in pain.

"Right," he grunts, clutching his stomach, "Sorry. We got a call about a ghost?"

"That was me. I-I'm the one who called," Dana says, running her fingers through her hair, "I'm the one who saw it."

"You saw it? Perfect!" Podcast pulls a tape recorder out of his bag. "Would you mind answering a few questions?"

"Not at all." She twirls her hair around her finger, smiling sweetly.

"Describe its features. Did it look angry? Revenge-seeking? Have you encountered it before?"

They walk off together, leaving the two of us alone. 

"So..." Phoebe shoves her hands into her pockets, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Cool outfit," I say, trying and failing to make the situation less awkward.

"Oh. Thanks." She spins around, showing it off. She's wearing a jumpsuit similar to Podcast's, only it's more official-looking, as well as a seriously heavy-looking backpack. She has something in her hands, a PKE meter, I think it's called. She looks legit.

"You know," I say, "Yesterday, when you said you were interested in ghosts, I thought you were just being nice."

She laughs. "Not what you were expecting?"

"No, I guess not."

We walk onto the rink together, to investigate the slime, I assume.

"So, uh...you been in the business for a long time?" I ask.

"Since I was twelve," she says proudly. Then, not so proudly, she mumbles, "Technically, I'm not even supposed to be here right now."

"Why not?"

"I've been benched."

"Meaning...?"

"Meaning...I'm not allowed to be a Ghostbuster. Not officially, anyway. Until I'm eighteen."

"Oh. That sucks. Who benched you, anyway, your parents?"

"Walter Peck," She says through gritted teeth. At the mention of that name, the image of a balding old man immediately pops into my mind.

"Ohhh, I know him! I see him on the news, like, all the time. He looks like a jackass."

She laughs. "Yeah. He is." I watch as she carefully clicks a few buttons on the PKE meter. When she points it up at the ceiling, its wings immediately flip out.

"Huh," she says, "Yeah, you've got a ghost, alright."

"Oh. That was easy," I say, setting my hands on my hips. "So, how do we, like, get rid of it?"

Phoebe sighs. "Yeah. That's the, um, not-so easy part."