How Curiosity Killed the Cat and the Ghost Was Brought Back

Melancholy

"Aren't you staying for practice?"

Kat blinked. "Oh. . . oh." She winced, "sorry. I thought I mentioned it last week. I have plans tonight and I already-"

"No worries," Ms. Buckley waved a hand with a dismissive motion. "We still have a month until the next tournament."

"Thanks," Kat said. "See you tomorrow."

Ms. Buckley smiled and raised her mug in the air as her own gesture of goodbye.

* * *

"Happy Birthday, Cas," Kat barely managed to get through the sentence as Casper was already tearing open the gift. In hindsight, she realized the wrapping paper was pointless since Casper obviously knew what it was.

"No way!" he exclaimed, eyes wide at the sight of an unopened box of vintage baseball cards, with yellowed packaging that reeked of aged mildew.

As the years passed, Kat had become increasingly aware of Casper's childishness- for lack of better term- especially on days such as this. While she grew older, like most people, she outgrew some things; clothes, bands, hobbies. But not Casper. Just how he was the first time they met, he was the same. Exactly the same. The same rambles about the Brooklyn Dodgers, his requesting of her to read him Treasure Island before bed, his ranting as to why Disney's adaptation of Treasure Island was dumb.

It's not that she was tired of Casper. That couldn't have been farther from the truth. With each passing day, she was reminded that her best friend was a ghost, and just under her feet was the resting place of something that had once been capable of giving him the one thing he wanted more than baseball cards. As she looked at Casper, as he excitedly flew in circles around the room, she wondered how often he thought of the same thing.

"It's not in the best condition-"

"Are you kidding me?" Casper paused mid-circle as he let out a shocked laugh. "I've never seen these before- do you have any idea how rare they are?"

"Lucky guess?" Kat shrugged as she reached for a can of soda. "They looked old so I assumed you'd recognize them."

"Ha!" came a laugh from across the room, where the ghostly trio sat in the living room with playing cards among the remains of the birthday cake they had just torn apart.

"That's the nicest way I've ever heard anyone call someone old!" laughed Fatso.

Stinkie, through his own laughter, pointed to Casper "You're a fossil!"

"I'm still twelve!" Casper shouted over the snickering. "Technically!"

"You can't get away with the 'technically' part forever," Stretch said.

"Honestly we gotta draw the line somewhere," agreed Stinkie.

Fatso, drunkenly swaying, took a swig of beer before flinging the bottle over his shoulder. "From this point forward, you're thirteen."

Kat bit back a giggle as she noticed Casper's excitement was starting to dwindle. Of course he was always annoyed by his uncle's relentless teasing and snide comments, but this time was different.

"Appetizers are ready!" called James as he entered, carrying large trays of various finger foods from the kitchen. He paused in the middle of the room, seeing that the cake was no longer anywhere in sight. Fatso, Stinkie and Stretch all flashed unashamed smiles.

"Oh, come on guys," he sighed while setting down the trays. "You could've at least waited for the candles."

"Of course!" Stretch exclaimed. "After all, the most important part of the cake is the birthday boy's spit."