The Ghost Files V3

Chapter Two

There is nothing but burning anger in the eye of the dead girl hurtling towards me. She means to do me serious harm. What did I ever do to her? And how is her death my fault, of all things? I've never even met the chick.

Like a flash, I'm up and moving across a huge expanse just inside the airport entrance. No way can I do anything while in front of all these people—even if I knew how to stop her. Bathroom, bathroom, I'd seen one behind baggage claim. That's the best plan I have right now.

Then I burst through the open-style doorway. "Sorry, sorry, got the runs," I say in apology to everyone staring at me like a crazy person. Those simple words clear the bathroom better than anything else. No one likes the smell of diarrhea. I'm never embarrassed to use this excuse. It works. Simple as that.

After I look in all the stalls, I breathe a small sigh of relief. I'd learned a long time ago to open stall doors to make sure no one was actually in them. It always surprised me to find out how many high school girls will hold up their feet in a stall just to hear gossip. I'd only made that mistake once when I screamed at a ghost to leave me alone. It was the last time I'd ever acknowledged one—until Sally's ghost showed up a few months ago. Rumors are nasty, especially ones about me. After that school, I always attached myself to the in-crowd. Better to be the freak on the inside than the freak on the outside.

Now where is the danged ghost? She'd lunged at me like there was no afterlife and she doesn't bother to follow me? The nerve of the little chit.

"Look, I don't have time for your drama," I call out. "I have places to be. If you need help, I'll try, but just not right now."

"She hates you," another girl-ghost voice says, making me whirl around, but I don't see anyone. I hate it when they hide.

The bathroom door opens and two flight attendants stroll in. I sigh. Why can't people just stay out of the bathroom for a full five minutes? Women go to the restroom more in an hour than men do all day. It's flippin' ridiculous.

I head into one of the empty stalls and hope to God the new ghost won't pop in with me.

"Why does she hate me?" I ask, switching to internal chatter mode. No point in letting anyone hear me and think I'm crazier than I am.

"She blames you for her death and our deaths."

Our deaths? "I don't understand. What did I do to cause someone's death?"

"I don't know," she whispers close to my ear. "But I know it is your fault."

"How can it be my fault if you don't even know what I did?" I try not to cringe from the cold slowly settling into my bones. She's so close to me.

"The only thing I remember is your name," she tells me. "I heard it over and over as I died. What happened to me happened because of you."

"How did you die? Can you say?" God, what a horrible question. Do I want to know the answer?

"Pain. Lots of pain. I remember screaming, crying out for someone to save me, but no one came. It hurt so much."

My body shudders again, and not just from the cold. "You said I'd caused all of you to die," I whisper. "How many girls?"

"I'm not sure," she said, her voice sounding more like a death rattle. "Maybe eight?"

Eight? I cringe. Eight girls dead and they all think I'm responsible?

"Where did you die?" She needs to give me something to go on so I can tell Dan. He'll chase down a lead... well, if he's still talking to me. I did deck his girlfriend, but then again, he threw me out of the way to help the little backstabber. Should I even be talking to him at all?