Ghosts, Ghouls, and High School Fools

"Listen, guys, I know you don't want me to go, but it's not my decision. It's my parents."

To any average person, they would have believed I was talking to thin air. But, there was someone listening.

"Diego, no. Don't take it out on my parents. And definitely not on whoever buys the house. You know what?" I pause, dropping the cardboard box back to the ground, "That means all of you. House meeting, right now."

I wait, before saying, "I don't want you guys bothering or tormenting the new home owners. No touching, no moving things, no randomly walking down the hallway and around their bedrooms like you did to me. Just leave them alone. Unless, of course, they qualify as a horrible person - and under my criteria, thank you - then have it."

I sigh, sitting on one of my boxes, sniffling, "I'm going to miss you guys so much."

The air around me ripples and the temperature plummets. Slowly, like bad signal on your TV, images of people surface. Three of them, one old, one in the middle, and one in their mid-twenties.

"You can't leave me!" The youngest cries, throwing his arms around me. My skin tingles at his touch and cools.

"I promise, Diego, I promise, promise, promise that I will visit. Okay?" I hug him back.

"You be careful, y'hear?" the oldest scolds.

"Don't worry Jefferson," I wriggle from Diego's hold and primly touch my lips to his crinkly cheek. He grumbles and turns away, disappearing. He never was one for sentimental things.

"P-Pauly doesn't want you to go," the last one blubbers. Pauly's large frame engulfs me, his huge muscles squeezing me.

"Agh, Pauly...Pauly!"

He loosens, tears flowing down his dark cheeks.

"Oh, Pauly, it's going to okay. You'll see me again!" I kiss his cheek, too.

"Quinn! Let's move!" Dad yells from outside.

"Crap," I run, throwing my bag over my shoulder and grabbing my last box.

I pause before leaving. Rushing, I give them both one last hug, "I love you guys."

They hug back and disappear. I jog down the hall but am forced to stop when a hand grabs me. And I don't mean a hand attached to a body; just a hand.

It offers me a box. Curiously, I take it and, recognizing the hand to be Jefferson's, I whisper a thank you before I'm out the door of my old home.

"In the car, in the car!" Mom ushers me to the vehicle. I open the door, but stop and turn around. In the top window that used to be my room, the three faces of my best friends peer down at me sadly. I wave.

~*~

For as long as I can remember, I've always been aware of things. These things, other people never seemed to notice them, but I picked up on them so easily. Like, extreme emotion. I can tell when any argument with my parents is about to hit the fan and I can also tell when I need to get my butt out of the house because my parents want to have "alone time".

But, there are other things I know. Sometimes, I know what people think. It's only little tidbits and I can really only catch snatches of thoughts, but it's something. Once, I was even able to see the future. Sure, it was only about five seconds beforehand, but, hey, at least I was able to dodge the football.

My most impressive freaky ability is that I can connect to things. For example, the past. Sometimes when I touch something, I know where it's been, what it's done, and what it saw. Not fun at museums; those give me extreme headaches.

What I use the most, though, is connecting with people. In other words, I can communicate with the dead.

And let me tell you, they are a lot easier to understand than the living.