Frank Iero's Paranormal Investigation Agency ( #48 in MCR, #1 in Vampiregerard )

Chapter Twenty

My focus back on the task at hand, I took one silent step towards her.

Suddenly, she stiffened, and in a split second, Lindsey's back was bent to a seemingly impossible angle, her upside down eyes staring up at me with a look strangely devoid of surprise. She hadn't even stopped playing, her fingers still moving perfectly in rhythm as she blinked at me.

Oh shit. Oh no. "I-uh... H-hi Lindsey! I stuttered out, shock still surely evident on my face. "I can... uh... explain? You see, I um, needed some help with m-my homework for... chemistry! And I didn't have your phone number and I saw the window and... and I..." I trailed off. I was so fucked. She was going to call the cops and that was going to be it for me.

I waited with bated breath for her to start screaming or cursing or possibly assaulting me with her bass. Instead, she finished whatever song she was playing, and stood back up to face me.

I was positive I looked like a deer in headlights as she calmly laid her bass on its stand, put her hands on her hips, and searched my face intently. Finally, she spoke.

"You could have just knocked, you know."

I felt my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Well, I'm, I would have, it's just that-" she laughed, a warm and friendly sound, and waved her hand in dismissal. "It's alright. You kind of have a reputation for doing your own thing. No harm done." She said, as she moved to sit on a fluffy black chair beside her desk. "I don't, however, appreciate being lied to." She remarked. My eyes grew wide again, this time in confusion. "What do you mean?" I questioned.

She simply shrugged and pulled the two elastic bands out of her hair, shaking her head like a wet dog until the black strands fell in disarray around her face and shoulders. She then swept it all to the side, put it in a messy braid, and used one of the hair ties to keep it in place.

I stared on, totally mystified.

She finished, and looked at me expectantly. "What?" She asked indignantly, after a several seconds of awkward silence. "I don't want to get blood in my hair--it's hard to wash out."

I felt my jaw drop in surprise. What was this girl on?

"Wh- blood? Are you, are you hurt?" I questioned incredulously, seeing as I didn't smell any blood on her. And if anyone would know if she were bleeding right now, it would be me.

She rolled her eyes at me, like I was a small child who'd just asked a stupid question. "Come on, Gerard. Get it together! If you're trying to sneak through my window you must be pretty desperate, and I'm trying to help you out! Quit acting like you were born yesterday and just drink!" She remarked impatiently, angling her head towards her side braid, leaving her pale neck exposed.

I couldn't even string together a coherent sentence. I don't recall ever speaking to Lindsey, let alone divulging my deepest, darkest secret to her. I was so careful at school, and I was certain that no one there paid enough attention to me to take notice of anything abnormal, or... paranormal, rather. So that posed the question of how the hell Lindsey effing Ballato figured it out with no more than a simple glance. The answer to that prompted the question of what exactly she would do with that information, but my brain hadn't quite made that connection yet. I was, frankly, still in shock.

I felt like I had been standing there for hours, with her looking at me like I was having a seizure. Finally, I stuttered out, "You have got to be shitting me." She snorted, but it didn't register with me. "You... You know? How?!"