Delusion

Chapter 1

The ghost was throwing a fit, and Vince was pushing his arm back into its socket.

"Where do you find these bastards?" he asked. Instead of answering, I set my box down with a harsh epithet in Vince's direction before I stood by my desk and focused my gaze on the small wooden box. Locking a ghost away for good was not easy. It never was. Vince's broken arm proved enough of that for me already. Instead of grabbing my bag like a good little girl, I shut my eyes in concentration and forced my own energy over the ghost. It stopped throwing my textbooks over the place and instead threw my clay jar into the wall(ass) and the clay jar broke into small colorful pieces of my crappy excuse of a rainbow.

It made my 'bitchy with a chance of sarcasm' change into 'pissed off tiger' mood. If I were one of those people who posted all my problems on Facebook, it would be sad. Like, no I've never gone through a breakup, work out at the gym, and walk my dog all in one day. Just how do you do it, Miss 99 problems?

I didn't talk crap about people often, only when I was in a mood. Or when Mother Nature decided to play the worst joke on me ever. (Thanks, Gaea, you're a peach).

Instead of stomping my foot like any other mad, bipolar person, I continued with my spell. This ghost was different. About time. The others this previous year were all throwing 'ooh boo I'm a ghost' attitudes at me and leaving some really nasty messes behind for me to clean. My neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, gave up on finding her act. The chubby tabby could barely run away from the ghost before it tore the wuss puss to bits.

I took the fliers down with the cat's information after I threw his remains in the trash bin and cleaned my garage with bleach. The ghost thought it would be funny watching me scrub concrete floor instead of studying my herbs and crystals. The situation was frustrating, it was like trying to pick up a turd from the clean end.

The ghost pushed me into a wall and I opened my eyes, regaining my equilibrium and holding my hands out, my palms up. Redirecting my focus, I stared hard at the box. I pointed my finger at it and kept my palm open. I looked at Vince and he slowly approached the desk and opened the box.

The ghost was even more out of control, throwing my desk chair across the room. It slammed the door shut and closed the blinds with its cold wind. My hair whipped past my face but I kept my balance, reminding myself what would happen if my strength wasn't even. I began to chant under my breath. Speaking the dead language of Sorceran was hard. It required years of practice, but I lucked out because that was my father's native tongue. He taught me the language at a very young age.

Thankfully, this spell was in Gaelic. One of my favorite languages. It didn't require much concentration because the words flowed out of my mouth like water. The ghost directed a gust of wind in my direction. I was forced against the wall, my arms pinned at my sides.

I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the crystal hanging on a chain around my neck. I found my extra strength and the wind moved around me. My arms had no trouble with the gale, so I continued with my chanting.

"Now!" I yelled at Vince. He nodded and readied himself, holding the box open the way I told him to. He braced himself. I took a step forward into the ghost's force and slammed my energy into it.

It tightened around it like a vise because I saw an image of a face twisted in rage. I pulled the ghost towards Vince. If I didn't get this right, the ghost would probably possess my best friend. I did not need that. Vince already hated me, but he kinda loved me too. I hated him, but I still kinda loved him. We were frenemies to the end.

I finished the last word of the spell and slammed the ghost into Vince. He held up the box and there was a struggle of sorts until the ghost stopped with all the wind and Vince closes the lid shut. I noticed the ghost struggle against the handle. I lunged, pulled the padlock out of my pocket, and closed it around the latch. I dropped to the floor and stayed face-down. I listened to my surroundings. Vince's heavy breathing, the blood roaring in my ears, and my pounding heart.

Books dropped onto my back and I was forced flat onto my belly. I grumbled and rubbed my spine, pushing the books away from me. It was too damn early to deal with this. I glanced at my clock on my messy nightstand.

And I was about to be too damn late for school.

"Ugh," I grumbled and grabbed my brown leather knapsack. I stood up and turned to Vince.

"I don't find them, they find me," I said and ran out the door.

"What am I supposed to do with this!?" he yelled after me.

"Not let it escape," I called back and slid down the stair banister. I scooped my keys off the key peg by the door and ran out, clicking my clicker to unlock the car door. I jumped in, started the car, and pulled out of the driveway.

It was 7:45 by the time I got to school. I had one more minute before the second bell. I ran to class and jumped into my chair just as the bell rang. My first period teacher stared down at me.

"Nearly late, Miss Crosby."

I smiled. "Nearly."