Prom Ghosts (A Perry Moxley & Harry Singer Story)

Detention (Part One)

"That was an accident," I told him, inching my desk away from him.

He gave me a sideways glance. I'm pretty sure he wasn't convinced.

"Really?" he asked. "I saw you. I was looking at you. You were with your friends."

Hang on. Did he just say he was looking at me?

"I know your friends. I see them everywhere all over the campus doing crazy stuffs," he said.

"So?"

"I know you did it on purpose," he said.

"What? No, I didn't," I said. My tone was now oddly high pitched "It was an accident, get it?"

He didn't look too convinced especially that he's narrowed down his eyes at me. "And you still have the audacity to lie," he said. "Of all the people to mess with, why'd you chosen me?"

"I didn't choose you," I told him. "They did. I don't know, maybe they couldn't think of anybody else to prank."

His eyebrows rose. "Oh. So, it was a prank, then?"

"No, it wasn't a prank," I explained, my mouth suddenly running on its own. "It was a dare. I wasn't going to do it, honest. But you turned around too fast and it happened. I didn't mean to do it."

I clamped my mouth shut. I shouldn't have mentioned anything about the dare. That was plain stupid. Now, he was looking at me, his face a mixture of emotions, it was unreadable.

My confession was what inspired his devious idea. "Hmm, a dare, huh?"

His face began to darken. "Do you even know who you're messing with?" he asked, his voice suddenly sounding venomous.

But I simply gave him a flat look. "Eat your heart out, Harry Singer. You're nobody."

He frowned, obviously annoyed by my answer. I gave him a shrug. But he wasn't just going to stop there. He gave me a slow smile in return. "Alright, I think I know why you did it now, Perry Moxley," he said, stressing my name.

"Now what are you talking about this time?"

He grinned and winked at me, moving to sit up on top of his desk. "Oh, don't try to hide it. I know you fancy me," he said. "You're trying to get my attention because you want to hit on me. Nice try, cupcake, but see, you're messing with the wrong person."

I looked at him, fumbling out for words. Unbelievable. This guy is such an airhead.

"I don't like you," I lashed out. "I don't even know you."

"I'm Harry Singer. Everybody knows me, sugar," he said. "You can try to deny it but I know you're crushing on me."

"No, I'm not," I said, letting out a half-hearted laugh.

"Who're you crushing on then?"

I rolled my eyes. Why do I feel like this conversation is getting ridiculously immature?

"Tell me who is it," he grinned, facing me. "Come on, who is it?"

"Will you shut up?"

"What? Don't you want us to get to know each other?" he asked and leaned closer towards me. "Then move up to the intimidate level?"

He grinned and chuckled to himself. Another more hour with this guy, I swear I'm going mental. I never in my life dreamed to be stuck in a room with this stupid jerk.

I ducked away from him, ambling towards the window to get some fresh air in hopes of diverting my attention from this pinprick called Harry Singer.

The chilly breeze from outside nipped at my face as I stared out the window. From up here, I could see the open field where the other kids usually play all kinds of sports. I could see all the way up to the West Sides as well, just beyond the woods, the old rundown buildings jutting up between the towering treetops that swayed gently as the wind rattled its branches.

Rusty and Stiles suddenly strolled into my mind. Those idiots wander around the school every night for their 'ghost hunting expedition'. I wonder if they ever did get into the West Sides once. Probably not, cause old Mr. Graves is kind of always on the watch out for them.

Come to think of it, I started wondering if the West Sides was really haunted as they say. And if it was, are there really ghosts in there?

Something caught my eye. I perked up. There was something fluttering and floating by one of broken the windows. I know it was too far and I know sometimes I can't trust my eyes but I'm definitely sure I saw something.

To justify what I just saw, I took a second glance. It was still there.

I gasped and suddenly grabbed hold of the other person nearest to me. It was a reflex but I sure did hate myself for that.

"Did you see that?" I whispered.

"Whoa! Whoa! Hey, get your hands off of me!" Harry Singer exclaimed. "Sweetheart, if you want to molest me, you could just ask and I'll gladly give you permission."

I shot him a disgusted look and withdrew my hand away.

"First you stain my shirt then you want to rip it. Look, its missing two buttons already," he pointed out to his shirt. "What is wrong with you? Do you really want to see me shirtless that bad?"

"I'd rather see you headless,"

"Alright," he sighed, sounding defeated. "What have you seen that I haven't?"

I pointed out towards where I saw it. He pursed his lips and leaned out of the window, gazing out with squinted eyes that made his eyes even smaller than usual. "I don't see nothing," he told me.

"It's 'I don't see anything', moron," I corrected. "It's over there, right by the West Sides. Don't tell me you're blind?"

"You sure it wasn't a ghost, smarty pants?" he asked, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Are you trying to scare me?" I asked. "Because it is not working."

"Holy macaroni," Harry exclaims as he looked out the window.