Out of Sight

Midterms. Yay.

"Reporting for duty, sir!" I did my most rigid salute.

I got the expected droll stare. "How many times have I asked you to not...whatever. Here."

A manila folder flopped on the blackety black desk between us. He turned back to his computer as though to resume an interesting episode of a TV show that could never exist because I swear my professor has a phobia of cable, dish, and videogames.

"Whatcha watching?" I asked.

"I'm reading," he said tersely. "As should you." He gestured his chin to the folder, his eyes not once leaving the screen.

Wondering if I could pull off an embarrassing joke based on his answer, I took the folder and opened it. A stack of papers was clipped inside, or whatever the hell those bendy metal arms that go through holes in the top are called. Hey, my word calendar didn't include office supplies.

The first thing I saw was the school's logo.

"I'm getting kicked out!" I screeched, mostly just to screw with him.

"For the love of—" he scratched the back of his head hard, something he did sometimes when frustrated. "I said read! It's from the president of the school. He wants me to look into a case I'm about sure is just a building facing age and structural failure."

I at least read the first paragraph before asking, "And you won't just do the tests to prove it to him why?"

"Because I have better things to do than calm the delirious fantasies of idiots."

"Uh, dude, that idiot is your boss."

"Rank doesn't change intelligence."

I shrugged. "Just saying." I looked back down on the folder. Since Professor Davis didn't seem ready to kick me out yet, I took a seat in a blackety black reading chair, propped my legs up on one of the armrests, and got to reading.

A cursory glance at the symptoms the president and the teachers of the old science building were complaining of seemed to suggest a poltergeist—and that was all. And, having been in the building myself on multiple occasions to attend my physics class, I too had my doubts. The building was so old it still had that brown industrial carpet from the age when poop-colored carpet was a good idea. In various rooms, there were stains on the ceiling, and in the maintenance room, which I went into a grand total of once on a tour, by yours truly Jeff, I thought I could make out the old outline of a coal boiler.

"And you're certain it's structural without doing the tests why?" I asked.

"Because all of the incidents have a legitimate explanation that connects to a building that is simply old and possibly settling to one side," he said. "Also, I don't have the time. It's midterms."

I gave him my own droll stare. I'd been practicing off of him. "And I don't?"

"This is your midterm test. You get to do all the tests proving me right."

"And if you're wrong?"

Another 'you're stupid' look.

"I've already walked through the building and read its history," he looked back to whatever enthralling thing he was reading. "There is no reason for it to be haunted. Besides, it's an excellent opportunity to test you in a safe environment. You did get my recommendation for medium training, yes?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Yes."

"Have you two set up a time to practice?"

I wrinkled my nose further. "No."

He looked at me again, this time his cheek against his hand.

"Masako Hara is perfectly capable—"