Ghost

0801

I decided I was going to try the bus again, since the thought of walking fifteen minutes to my house trying to come up with something to talk about seemed unbearable. At least on the bus, I could just stare out the window if the conversation was lacking.

I was worrying about the kids calling me a witch again on my way over to "the corner," where I found Randy leaning against the brick with a cigarette in his mouth. He had a foot up against the wall, scribbling something into a notebook awkwardly leaned against his stomach. His inky hair was free of gel today, and was curled up over his eyes.

I had been standing there just staring at him so long, I almost jumped when he looked up at me.

"I don't bite, you know," he said with an amused grin, and I had to look at the ground as I walked over to him. I watched his cigarette butt drop to the ground and smash beneath his boot. "Let's roll."

When I got on the bus this time, the little kids kept the teasing down to just staring, and the kids in the back didn't even notice me. I sighed in relief as a fell into a seat and dropped my bag onto the floor. Randy slid in beside me.

I watched as he pulled out a little square device, unwinding a cord to a set of headphones and plugging them in. When he saw me studying it, he handed it to me. "Cassette player," he answered before I even thought to ask. 

"Oh. Rad." I ran my fingers over the buttons, accidentally pushing one too hard. The front popped open and the cassette almost flew out. "Shit. Did I break it?"

He laughed. "No, you just opened it."

"Oh." I breathed a nervous laugh. I cringed at how tight it sounded. Like a rusted spring uncoiling.

"Dude," he said. When I looked up at him, he flashed me a smiled. "Chill."

"Sorry."

"Don't tell me all you Catholics are so uptight."

I was almost offended until I remembered his slicked-back hair and clean, grey slacks. That's when I started to laugh. A genuine, giggly laugh that kept bouncing out of me until he pushed the play button on his Walkman and leaned against me so I could hear. We sat like that the whole ride home.

When the bus pulled up to my yard, I was relieved to find our driveway undisturbed by the presence of my mother's car. When I unlocked the door and opened it a crack, I found that my luck had progressed. No sign of Audrey.

I took a step into the quiet of the house, Randy right behind me. When I glanced back at him, he was winding up his headphones and stuffing his Walkman into his jacket pocket.

It was weird, having someone in my house that was there for me. It was a nice turn of events. 

And then I realized that meant having to talk.

"Uh-so...," I stuttered, my eyes darting around as if a subject to talk about would appear in thin air. 

"I have my Bio notes if you want to start studying."

"Oh, right." I slid my cross along it's chain, filling the quiet foyer with little zipping noises. "Mine's upstairs...in my room."

"Okay," he said. I started to walk upstairs, figuring he would stay in place like an obedient dog. When he started to follow me, I swallowed.

My room was still cluttered with cardboard boxes; my clothes scattered around my clothes bin where I'd missed when throwing them in. I cringed when I saw one of my skimpy bras hanging off the side. I backed up against it, hoping he wouldn't notice. But what he did end up noticing was far worse.

He picked up the thick black book that had been lying in the middle of the floor.

"The paranormal eye-?"