Ordinarily UnOrdinary

How the hell do you hug a ghost?

I might just go full on crack for this story. I also revised the summary and past parts. Check it out if you haven't already.

*

Standing in the middle of the cafeteria like a lost child in Walmart was not how John had planned his lunch to go. No, his lunches were strictly kept on the rooftops, not in the jungle.

A tin foil ball recoiled off his head, as shouts impossibly raised in volume. Maybe this was hell, maybe this was why ghosts persisted after death. Life was hell all along like some sick joke god played on the whole lot of humanity. 

A firm hand on his shoulder, and John was ready to show the cafeteria just how well PP&J worked as makeup. Balancing the trey on the tips of his fingers, John was more than ready to launch the cardboard in the face of whoever touched him. 

"Whoa, whoa, cool it man. Arlo asked me to fetch you since you looked kinda lost out here. Not sure why he couldn't do it himself, but he's the boss, y'know?" No. John didn't know, but he nodded along anyway like he actually cared about the natural high school hierarchy.

Once the henchmen turned around, John got a good view of the dudes muscular back. He had Duel colored hair which was weird but not uncommon in the school. To put it crudely, it was as though god had eaten an entire bag of Skittles and barfed on the head of each student.

Once they reached the lunch table, John did a double take because, holy shit why was a teenage ghost lounging on the table doing the Titanic French pose.
Taking a deep breath, John reassured himself. It was alright, just as long as he didn't make eye contact with the undead teen and– god dammit he's the worlds biggest idiot isn't he? Might as well slap a bumper sticker on his ass for it, because he couldn't help but glare right into those pearly undead eyes.

With unrivaled speed, John dropped his cardboard onto the table, and plopped across from the king himself. Taking care not to look at the ghost again, John could only feel those electric yellow eyes bore into his face. The last thing he needed was another ghost incident.

"So, m'lord, what brings you to be so interested in my peasantry" John exclaimed in the worst falsetto British accent he could manage. He watched from the corners of his eyes as Arlos henchmen visibly cringed.

Unfazed by his antics, Arlo smirked. "Well before we begin, I'd like to introduce my associates, it would be rude not to. The one who fetched you is Isen-" The duel haired teen waved with a quick 'yo', before stuffing a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth, promptly choking right after.

"The red head laughing at Isen is Blyke, and the pink haired girl panicking to preform the Heimlich maneuver is Remi."

As charming as this all was, John was more distracted by the transparent entity who moved from off the table, and next to Arlo. It was grinning widely, as it's eyes lit up with a strange sort of delight as it watched John. "Right, uh, nice to meet you I guess? Could someone tell me why I was summoned here?" John could feel his hands get all sweaty and clammy.

The Remi girl managed to dislodge the mashed potato from Isens throat. Her arms were still around his waist when she perked up. "Actually, well, you see we've been watching you for quite some while, and—" That was enough for John. So much for an inconspicuous identity. Maybe he could convince his dad to move them to Wyoming. Barely anyone lives in the ass crack state of Wyoming.

"...john? John are you okay?" The Remi girl waved a hand in front of his face, causing John to launch upwards, only drawing more attention to himself. He was really bad at this, wasn't he? "Bathroom! I gotta use it!" Picking up his tray, John dashed out the cafeteria doors.

*

"Well this is just a pile of dog shit. I knew he was stalking me the moment he knew my name." John loudly exclaimed to no one. He was lounging on the rooftop, having bribed the keys off the janitor months ago. 

"Bet it really sucks doesn't"

John huffed, "You have no ide- WHAT THE HELL" Letting out an unmanly screech, John  jumped backwards, his back hitting the wired fence. His eyes searched desperately for the person who managed to sneak up with him. 

"Heyo, over here!" A ghostly figure sat atop of stairway roof. The same ghost who was lounging with his stalker group. 

Now, John had vowed to never talk to another ghost after the first incident, but here was now, caught red handed. It was far too late for damage control. That trip to Wyoming was starting to look quite tempting. 

"I— uhm....ah who's there?" Now that he looked back, maybe this all stemmed from the fact that he was horrendous at planning ahead and lying.

"Common, I know you can see me. Acting like that will only make you look like an idiot between the two of us. If you're worried about possession I give you my word that I won't try anything creepy. They call me the Good Ghost! Ah..haha..or at least that's what I would be called if anyone ever talked to me anymore"

The green haired ghost sulked, it's shoulders slumped and it's head dipped.

"I—" John started. Was he feeling something akin to...pity for this ghost? Lord forbid he got himself caught up in another tangle.

"But that's alright! I'm alright! This isn't about me anymore, it's about my family. You're the only one who can see me, or at least the only person I've met that can. I need your help...Joan?"

"John" He corrected the ghost, and then mentally slapped himself for acknowledging the ghastly being yet again.

"Right, yes, John. I need your help. There's many lives here at stake. Not just yours. Something's coming and I know it's blood lust won't end with me."