Avenging a Ghost

Chapter Three: Mildly Famous... I Guess

"So, how many ghosts are in the cafeteria right now?" Casey asks on Monday.

Usually, we don't talk about ghosts, but I guess she's feeling curious today. I scan the cafeteria, looking for anybody who's not quite solid-looking.

"Eight at least," I say finally. "Maybe ten or twelve. It's kind of hard to tell in crowds."

"Any, like, old-timey ghosts? Like Victorian era?"

"The farthest it goes is the fifties, maybe forties. Nowadays, there's a lot more recently dead."

"Lauren? Lauren Maxwell?"

I look up to see a pair of girls with big eighties hair. They look like they've stepped straight out of Heathers, except I doubt that any of the Heathers would have shy expressions like theirs. Maybe Heather M.

"That's me," I say. "What's up?"

The brunette blushes. "Um, I didn't want to bother you, but could we have your autograph?"

This happens more often than you'd think. Portland ghosts love to gossip.

"Yeah, why not." I take out a notebook and scribble my name on two sheets. "What're your names?"

"I'm Jennifer, and this is Alice," the blonde introduced.

"Nice to meet you two." I write their names and tear the sheets off. "Here you ladies go. Enjoy yourselves."

"Thanks, Lauren!" Alice calls as the two of them float off.

Casey frowned. "What was that?"

"A couple of 80's girl ghosts wanted my autograph," I answer, pulling out a bag of Cheetos. "Want some?"

"Is that what the floating-sheets-of-paper were all about? Wouldn't they attract attention?"

"If they stick them in their bags, they won't. Items become ghost-like if they hold onto them for more than a day."

Casey raises an eyebrow. "Ghost-like?"

"Y'know, see-through, can't be held by most living people. I don't understand it." I take out a pair of chopsticks and open up the bag. "Seriously, Case, I'm not going to be able to finish all these."

"That right there is another reason why people think you're weird," Casey says, pulling out a handful. "Who uses chopsticks to eat Cheetos?"

"Visionaries," I counter. "Besides, I'm very proud of my weirdness. Everyone should be."

We eat in silence for a little bit. A wadded-up piece of paper bounces off our table.

"What does Aaron look like?" Casey asks, out of the blue. "You've been hanging out with him since September, and I still have no clue."

I think for a second. "Well, maybe... Hey, Ronnie? Ronnie?"

A gothic-looking girl with choppy hair and heavy mascara floats up to our table. "Yeah?"

"You know Aaron Jacobs, right?"

She frowns slightly. "Uh... is he the gay punk kid who always hangs around the side of the school?"

"Yeah, that's him. Could you draw him? Casey wants to know what he looks like."

Ronnie shrugs. "Sure, I guess. Notebook?"

I hand her my notebook and a pencil. Her hand flies across the page, almost in time-lapse. After about five minutes, she hands it back to me. "I'll be expecting a reward."

Sighing, I give her a handful of Cheetos. "This is the last time, okay?"

"Don't bring junk food to lunch and I won't ask you for any." Ronnie floats away, crunching on her food.