Michael's Ghost Girl

The Man Who Wasn't There

Summer started to slowly turn to fall. All over town leaves were turning to shades of red and gold, a few early stragglers fell. The big leaf maples were resisting, just as they'd been the last to open their leaves, theirs would be the last to fall. Soon they would turn yellow, and there would be deep piles of them, impeding Michael's progress as he tried to skate down the sidewalk.

The doctor had reluctantly cleared him to skate—as long as he wore a helmet, elbow, and knee pads. A little afraid of falling, he found himself skating somewhat awkwardly for the first few weeks until his natural rhythm returned. Dewey and Short Round coached and encouraged him; until one day he realized he had let go of his fear. Instead of skating carefully around the course, he allowed himself to fly.

It was a matter of days now until school started. The nights grew longer, and the days were growing shorter. He had grown protective of Kit, meeting her faithfully at the bus stop on the days she took her ballet class. Finding Susie McCann's skeleton had made him more aware of just how vulnerable his sister was. 

He had spent the afternoon at the skatepark, struggling to feel like his old self. As the sky began to grow dark he decided it was time to go home and caught the bus. He tilted back his head and closed his eyes until at last, the bus rolled up to his stop. He got off at the back door and stood and watched as it continued on its route. 

 He felt a familiar light touch on his shoulder, "Mariah?" he whispered.

"I'm here," she told him and he felt her arms encircle his waist.

He hopped on his skateboard and rolled down the street, knowing she would follow him. He crouched down and could feel Mariah's presence with him, protecting him. One block, two blocks, three blocks four blocks, one more block and he'd pass the monster's house and he could skid his skateboard to a stop in front of his parents' house. One more block, that was all.

"Michael, stop." Michael didn't question Mariah, but jumped off and scooped up his skateboard. His eyes were used to the dark now, and he scanned the street, the houses, the trees, trying to see what she saw. Her hand closed tightly on his and he could feel her draw close. "There, just past his driveway, there's a shadow, can you see? Oh Michael, please see." He looked obediently, wondering what she saw, while guessing who it could be.

A shadowy figure was hiding in the bushes, waiting like a patient predator to snare its prey. Michael turned his skateboard around so that the wheels faced out. His best protection would be to run if he had to, but a hard blow from a skateboard would slow a would-be pursuer. He'd grown an inch this summer, and when he was strong enough he had started working out with weights to build back his strength after his concussion.

"Let's go," he whispered to Mariah, and side by side they crossed the street and stepped onto the corner. No sooner had Michael had placed a foot in front of the house, the figure charged out of the bushes and grabbed him. Karate and his skateboard saved him. Though his attacker was bulkier than him, he remembered what his sensei had taught him. "Rule number one, if anyone ever tries to attack you, run." Running was not possible, so instinctively he utilized another rule: "Rule number two, use your attacker's weight against him."

Adrenalin pumping through his system, Michael struggled to flip the stranger that held him in his grasp. Desperate, he moved backwards to catch him off guard, then struggled to flip him over his shoulder. Surprising himself, he succeeded, though not on the first try. He stood, breathing heavily, grateful for the years of Karate, and his sensei for all he taught him. He was lucky it had worked, things could have gone so differently, but he was safe, for the moment.