Ghost

0102

My room was a scattered mess of bags and boxes I had yet to unpack, despite my mother’s insistent nagging. I wove my way around the snaking trail I had dug out, managing to get to my phonograph without starting an avalanche. I had only bothered to unpack one of my many records, and I made sure to kiss the spot on the cover that had grown stained with slimy chap-stick over the year it had been in my possession. Right on the lips of Jim Morrison.

The Doors was a required part of my daily morning routine. Otherwise my hair would catch on fire and my great-great granddaughter would be cursed and stoned to death.

If my parents ever found out I had it, I would be stoned to death.

That’s why I had it down to a barely audible level as I pushed the boxes around to create a somewhat even circle. I took a seat in the middle and lay back, letting the music take me away from the inevitable as I pounded my head against the carpeted floor.

Today was my first day at a new school. Not just any school, a public school.

A school where nuns wouldn’t be around to remind me to tuck in my shirt.

I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to detach myself from my mind. It was lost, static, out of control. I kept trying to focus on something simple, like the fact that I would be facing a hoard of new faces in just a couple of hours, but my thoughts kept sticking to the dark places like a magnet.

I think it would be best if your daughters discontinued their classes here…permanently.

I rubbed my eyes and tried to get rid of the image of my sister’s hands while we sat in the principal’s office; wringing out her plaid skirt until her knuckles were bone. The look she gave me out in the school parking lot as we got into the car, as if my skin could have turned to stone just from eye contact. I doubted she would ever talk to me again. It had already been a week, and the most Audrey had bothered to utter was under her breathe and less than endearing.

I sighed like an old dog as I sat up, eyes still closed before my arm hair started rising.

When I opened them, the girl from the living room was sitting down in front of me, her long ravenesque hair draped over her shoulders and her eyes wide with curiosity. She bristled for a moment at my sudden wake, but didn’t move.

“Hi,” I said. “Do you like The Doors?”

Her brows furrowed. I was afraid she didn’t speak my language for a moment. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d had to deal with a ghost babbling about in fluid Russian.

“Do I like doors?” she repeated, or tried to. “Um, I suppose they’re useful.”

“No, no no no, The Doors. It’s a band.”

Her brows furrowed into a deep line of confusion.

“Never mind. After your time,” I said, waving the question off with my hand before standing up and heading to my closet. “By the way, what’s your name?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment as I sorted through the few clothes I had hanging up. When I turned around, she wore a blank expression.

“What, you don’t remember your own name?” I asked. She shook her head. “Do you remember anything?” She thought about it for a moment, but shook her head again. I was surprised. Usually ghosts didn’t shut up about how they died.

“Well, I’m going to call you Raven,” I decided, reaching up for a shirt and turning to be met dead on by a pair of glowing orbs. I almost screamed. “Jesus, don’t do that.” I stepped back, suddenly feeling uneasy.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice a small drop of air.

“We’re going to have to set up some rules. Like that. No sneaking up on me.” She nodded. “And no moving things, or being creepy, or coming into my room uninvited. And the bathroom…just stay out of the bathroom.” I paused to catch my breath, wishing I could be that assertive with the living. “If you think you can manage that, we’ll make pretty good friends.”

This time when she nodded, she couldn’t hide her smile.