Somewhere In-Between ~ An Adventure in the Afterlife

CHAPTER 11 - CARL'S SECRET

As the bus slowed to stop, Carl shoved his recorder and headphones into his backpack. He glanced over his shoulder at Lizzie Boggs who was still looking at him. Her gaze looked almost fearful. And she should be afraid, Carl thought to himself as he put his backpack on in his seat.

The bus came to a halt and Carl made a dash for the exit. He couldn't wait to get home to the privacy of his room and review the tape again. Besides, he wanted to avoid the kids from the back of the bus who were also getting off.

Keeping his head down, Carl walked swiftly down the street. He could hear the footsteps behind him as the "back of the bus" kids caught up with him. "Hey, look, it's Creepy Carl!" They said as they caught up with him.

Normally Carl would take the teasing and shrug it off when he got home. But he was still buzzing inside with excitement from his secret discovery. "Get lost!" He shouted at him over his shoulder.

The boys weren't intimidated in the least. Carl was the smallest kid in his whole grade. Back when he was in elementary school he'd been evaluated as gifted in all academic areas and was advanced from third to fifth grade. Carl supposed it sounded like a good idea to his parents, but he hated being the youngest and smallest in his class every single year. He had been placed early into kindergarten as well, so he was almost a full two years younger than anyone else in his class. While most eighth grade boys were starting to get interested in girls, Carl was still obsessed with his hobbies, and he didn't understand any of the kids around him who were well into their adolescence. He had given up long ago trying to fit in, and was content that his only friend in the world was the family cat, Winston.

The boys caught up with Carl and one of them punched him in the shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise as they trotted by. "Watch your mouth, kid!" The boy grinned as he walked past. The group laughed as they moved farther up the street, punching fists with each other.

Carl muttered under his breath in a tone only he could hear, mocking them as he watched them move further ahead of him. "Oh, yeah, congratulations. Good job picking on the scrawny kid. Major accomplishment." He smirked.

He ducked into his house – an old colonial with a large front porch. It was one of Amherst's century homes, well kept. His parents were antique dealers. They had their own shop in Historical Downtown Amherst, and they of course brought their work home with them all the time. The house was filled with antiques. Family who visited often commented that walking into their home was like a time warp into the early 1900's. The furniture was polished old wood with dark tones. Carl actually thought their house looked more like the scene from a ghost story. But maybe that was because of his personal experiences in the house.

The more antiques his parents collected, the more Carl noticed strange happenings in the house. Objects would get lost easily and then turn up in the strangest places. Footsteps and sometimes voices could be heard at night, although Carl's parents would always tell him it was just the sound of the furnace or the house settling. One day, Carl even thought he saw a ghost in the house.

But this spooky ghost stuff didn't scare Carl in the least. Instead, he was fascinated.

Carl's secret ambition was to be a ghost hunter. He couldn't wait to get his own fancy equipment someday and be the person to finally give the world proof that ghosts really exist. For now, however, at least he had an old bulky tape recorder, found in the basement. He was on cloud nine this afternoon, realizing this old tape recorder might end up doing the job! In the past, this old recorder had caught the sounds of ghostly footsteps, creaks, odd noises at night, and strange mumblings. But today this antique tool captured the Holy Grail of ghostly sounds. It recorded a voice.

Carl's parents were still away at work, and his big brother, Dirk, wasn't home yet – thank goodness. Dirk was the stereotypical high school "jock," and picked on Carl just as much as anyone else – actually, more.

Avoiding Dirk was a frequent goal. Carl hid away in his room most of the time, reading and researching his ghostly hobby. This was where Carl was headed now, practically running up the stairs to have some long-awaited solitude to review the tape again.

When he reached his room he locked the door behind him, ensuring that his big brother wouldn't barge in. He had at least an hour until Dirk got home from after-school football practice. That was good.

Carl hopped onto his bed and pulled on his headphones, ready to review the tape in private. He remembered the moment in the classroom when he decided to press record. He had taken the cue from Lizzie Boggs.

Carl could always tell when something strange was going on. But only because he was the only person in class who noticed that Lizzie Boggs was special. He had been curiously watching "Dizzy Lizzie" since he was placed into the fifth grade with her, three years ago. He watched her the way a zoologist would observe an ape's behavior, or the way a scientist would watch a rat's progress through a maze. By the sixth grade, Carl knew that either Lizzie Boggs was a psychic medium (the power to see, hear, and speak to ghosts) or else she was totally bonkers out of her mind.

After a couple years of research and observing Lizzie's behavior at school, he definitely believed she had the "gift." He brought an EMF detector to school one day, which he kept hidden under his desk on his lap. He made a point to always sit near Lizzie so he could measure the device's readings whenever he noticed her acting strangely (talking to herself, or waving away something invisible from her face). The device measured spikes of energy in the room, and whenever Lizzie acted strangely like this, the detector's readings would skyrocket. He started bringing the tape player to school for a change, and was able to record strange vocal noises around Lizzie. This was fascinating! Carl knew he was finally getting some hardcore evidence. But until today the voices were vague -- never clear.

He decided to press the record button when he looked back and noticed Lizzie Boggs was stiff as a board with tension. He figured something was up, and took the cue. He kept the machine recording until the teacher asked everyone's attention to begin. That's when he finally pressed "stop" and tucked the machine discreetly back into his backpack. He listened to the tape so much during the bus trip, he knew exactly how far to fast-forward.

Carl leaned forward, cross-legged on his bed. The recorder on his lap, he pressed the headphones tightly with both hands against his ears.

"... Nothing..." he heard Lizzie's voice say, and then some ghostly mumbling. "... Nothing... Nothing makes me special..." Carl hated listening to this part. He realized, Lizzie was being bullied by this mumbling ghost.

The good part was coming! He leaned forward so much, he almost curved into a ball. Eyes closed, he turned the volume up as high as it would go. There was a little more mumbling, and there it was: "... I told you to leave her alone!"

Carl's eyes popped open, and grinned wide, finally free to express his true excitement. "Wow!" He sighed, loudly.