Homeroom in the art room was a tumult of teen bodies, everyone – except me – in a buzz about the day's activities. I sat at a table near Mr. Klassen's desk, slumped down into my seat, wishing I had another cup of coffee and a 'Lumberjack Special' on the side as my stomach growled. I pulled out my sketchpad and flipped to a clean page. As soon as I could pull out a charcoal pencil, my hand was making weird swirls on the page.
"Don't get so excited, Alex. You're disturbing the rest of the students." Mr. Klassen sauntered up to his desk, tossed a stack of papers onto it and started to take off his jacket.
"Can't help myself. You know me, the life of the party, the hub of all things exciting." I couldn't get past a monotone delivery.
"I've been wondering if you were going to finish up your papier-mâché sculpture anytime soon." He gestured to the corner table behind his desk, where a spread-winged eagle prepared to launch. "You haven't touched it all week. What's up?"
"Nothing's up. I just haven't had the time." I hadn't been able to focus on her with all the disturbing visions darkening my muse. "I should be able to make some progress during lunch break."
Klassen took a step closer. His long, curly blond hair swung forward as he leaned over my table. "I've seen you looking rather distracted the last few days. Are there any problems at home?"
I snorted. "As compared to every other week? No, there's nothing going on at home that's out of the ordinary, at least for our family."
"Boy problems, perhaps?" He smirked as he raised his eyebrows. "You haven't broken out of your reclusive shell and joined the human race now, have you?" Klassen usually razzed me about being a tortured, hermit artist. He didn't know the half of it.
I felt my face redden. What was up with that? "You don't want to go there. Nothing to see, nothing to do." I tried for nonchalant. I'm not sure I pulled it off.
He chuckled as her pushed himself off the table. "You mean you don't want to go there." He straightened and faced the rest of the class. "Okay people, it's time for attendance. Keep it down to a dull roar." He gave another self-satisfied chuckle as he sidled over behind his desk. I heard him mumble under his breath, "Alex had a boyfriend, Alex has a boyfriend..."
"I do not!" I hissed back at him.
"She doth protest too much."
I shook my head as I slumped lower in my chair. I should have known better than to let him bait me. If I came away from this life having learned one thing, it was that I wasn't Cassie. I couldn't tell people what to think. They always just believed what they wanted to believe, truth or not. I bent over my sketchpad and let my hand do its thing.
A notebook slammed into the table next to me, making me jump. "Hey Alex, you brown-noser, it's not even art class. What are you drawing?" Even though Kayla was a tiny blonde wisp of a girl that would blow away in a stiff breeze, she carried herself like an NFL linebacker, banging doors, slamming down books, bumping into things and causing a general ruckus. Cassie – the budding psychologist – says she behaved that way to get noticed. I knew better. She had four older brothers who started rough-housing with her before she could even walk. She 'behaved' like a walking tornado out of self-defence.
Not that anyone else noticed over the din in homeroom today. There was a weird kind of buzz going through the student body, one I wasn't quite plugged into, but still had a sense of. Like an electric current in the air, a nervous excitement.
I closed my sketchbook. I didn't want anyone to see the odd things that were coming out of my pencil lately. "Just killing time. Are you sticking around for the football game? I was thinking maybe you could come over and watch movies, and then we could throw burnt popcorn at trick-or-treaters from my bedroom window."
Kayla gave a loud huff. "Can't. I have to be home right after the game to either hand out candy or take the curtain-climbers out trick-or-treating." Kayla not only had four older brothers, but two younger sisters and a little brother as well. "I'll bring them by your place for you to throw popcorn at them."
I sighed. "It's just not the same."
Kayla giggled as she dropped into the chair on my left with a thud. "We can hang after I take them out. They'll be done early since Mom doesn't want them out too long, with the storm expected and all. Who knows, Halloween might end up cancelled yet."
"Don't tease me like that."
"Is this seat taken?" A male voice over my right shoulder asked. I whirled around in my seat to find the 70's retro dude with the bullet hole in his temple standing next to the chair pulled out from the table.
"What? What is it?" Kayla asked.
"Nothing. I mean, whatever." Great. This day just kept getting better and better. I turned my back to the ghost, trying to pretend he wasn't there.
Kayla raised an eyebrow, but changed the topic. "Is your dad around for movies tonight? I love it when he tries to scare us."
I snorted. "No. He's out of town on business – again. We never get any warning about his business trips. He just got home a couple days ago, then this morning he was gone again. At least that's what Mom said. But I swear I nearly tripped over his suitcase by the front door this morning."
"Ouch. He's not around for your birthday? Tough luck." She pulled a classic Kayla by switching to a more positive subject. "Anywho, I'll stop by the library and pick up a couple of classic DVD's. You and I will have a blast. How about 'Night of the Living Dead'?"
I glanced over at the 70's dude sitting on the other side of me. Too close to my reality. "How about a werewolf movie instead? Or vampires. Make it vampires." There aren't any real vampires, right? Right?
The 70's dude chimed in. "'Count Dracula' is one of my favourites."
"Yeah, 'Count Dracula' sounds like a good idea," I agreed. Oops.
"Kayla lifted her eyebrow. "I don't remember suggesting it, but okay..."
Klassen took this moment to interrupt. Did I ever mention his keen sense of timing? "Kayla, would you deliver the attendance record to the office please?"
I grabbed the paper from him. "I've got it. It's on my way to math class." I gathered up my sketch pad and backpack. "I'll catch you later," I called out as I raced for the door.
I hated hearing voices that no one else did. It made simple conversations feel like shark-infested waters. I had to get away from the 70's dude. But I wasn't going to get away that easy; this ghost had longer legs than I did. "Did I hear your friend say it was your birthday today?"
"Yeah, no big deal," I mumbled, hoping the other students scurrying in the hall wouldn't hear me. Then again, it's not like I was the school's queen bee – a.k.a. Cassie – so I didn't have to worry about attracting attention.
"I like your Halloween costume, by the way. Erm, what exactly are you dressed as, anyhow?"
I rolled my eyes and clenched my teeth as I tried to increase my walking speed. "I'm Alex, and only Alex. Not anything – or anyone – else."
The gap between us widened as we continued down the hall. "Cool, cool. I get you. You dance to a different beat. I hear you." He nodded his head a few times. "You seem familiar to me, but I don't recognize your name. Maybe without all that makeup, I might be able to place you. I'm Bo, by the way."
"Gotta go, Bo. I need to deliver this," I said, shaking the paper in my hand. I ducked into the office before he could say anything more.
And I ran right into Mrs. Oliver, the vice-principal.
"Alexandria." Her icy greeting made chills run up my back. She only use that tone on me.
"Good Morning, Mrs. Oliver," I crooned, feeling like a grade-schooler. For some reason I still couldn't figure out, Mrs. Oliver had it in for me since day one. I don't remember ever giving her a reason. Not that I'm an A+ student with a spotless record, but she just turned up her nose at me the minute we met, like I smelled bad. That thought made me want to subtly sniff my armpit.
Oliver shook her head in disappointment. "Why aren't you in costume? I thought you of all people would be excited about Halloween."
"Me, of all people?" What was that supposed to mean?
"Isn't your family pagan?" She said 'pagan' like it was a dirty word. "And is it not also your birthday today, if I do so recall?"
I usually try not to rock the boat with her, considering I had no love for detention, but I was getting awfully tired of everyone figuring I needed to be reminded it was my birthday. "But Mrs. Oliver, I dress like a witch all year long." I slapped the attendance record on the counter as I smiled at her. "Happy Samhain!"
She curled her lip and snorted as she turned on her high heel and stomped off to her private office.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and turned to make tracks for my first class. I quickly glanced around the hall; no 70's dude – or Bo – in sight. I darted out of the office, trying to rush without getting collared for running in the halls, or cornered by any more ghosts.
Math class never got off the ground. Most of the teachers gave up trying to control the chaos and let their students "get ready" for the pep rally. I had dropped off my books in my locker and was scouting the crowded halls for Kayla. Something smacked my back. My temper, which was even shorter than I was, began to flare up. "Just ignore it," I mumbled to myself. I knew it was Bobby. He always threw wads of paper, comics, hats, whatever he had handy when I walked by him.
"Hey, shorty! Come here a minute. I need to talk to you."
"Eat dirt and die." So much for ignoring him.
"Love you too, pipsqueak." His sickly sweet fake female impersonation was even more irritating than his normal voice. Suddenly, I was surrounded by football jersey-clad chests. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of having to look up at their faces. "So nice of you to stop by for a chat," Bobby mumbled in my ear. His buddies just laughed.
"Knock it off, pigskin breath, I need to get to class."
"Nice try. There is no class, just the assembly. I need your help with something."
"For you? Anything. Not! Let me go, loser, or I'll scream rape," I growled, even though I knew no one was going to interfere with the football team hazing another student. Except Cassie. Cassie could not be intimidated. I wasn't sure if she was too headstrong, or just oblivious to how the 'Other Half' tried to make people do their bidding. I could imagine her coming upon a scene like this and tearing Bobby a new one as she dragged him off by the ear, lecturing him on How-People-Are-Supposed-To-Treat-Each-Other, and The-Way-Things-Are-Supposed-To-Be-According-To-Cassie, and How-Persons-In-Positions-Of-Influence-Need-To-Set-Examples...
"Hello! Earth to pipsqueak. It's official. Alex has left the building." Bobby snapped his fingers in front of my face.
"I was enjoying myself in my Happy Place, thank you very much. What a killjoy."
"I need a favour, brat. And like it or not, you're the only one that can help me." He almost sounded desperate, a bit of a whine coming out at the end of his statement.
"Aren't you screwed," I said, then ducked and somersaulted between two of his jock friends, their shoulder pads making it too hard to get in tight formation. My feet hit the floor running.
I broke into a sprint for the stairs. I was able to dodge between students faster and easier than a monster like Bobby in his football uniform. I got down the stairs and ducked into the art room before he reached the bottom stair. I watched him jog past the class on down the hall, turning at the hall intersection and disappearing from sight.
"Running from the cops again?" Klassen was sitting at his desk with a novel in his hand.
"Just getting in my daily exercise," I remarked as I nonchalantly sauntered up to his desk. "So you're studying the classics in your downtime?"
"Yep. Spaghetti westerns are the backbone of American literature," he drawled.
"I take it that's why you teach art and not English."
Klassen grabbed his chest in mock indignation. "You don't think I'm deep enough? I'm hurt you think so little of me."
"It's not me, it's the system. I'm a victim, just like you." I made my way over to my papier-mâché eagle.
Rotating his chair, he followed my movement. "That poor fella could use a little more attention. A little more paint and some detail work, and he'll be ready for the art show exhibit in the city next month."
"She. She'll be ready for next month." I ran my fingers down her neck to her talons.
He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I should leave the two of you alone." He stood, sweeping his jacket from the back of his chair and the novel from his desk top. "My shallow self shall be found in the staff room if thou dost need any...deep and forthwith assistance."
I blushed and turned my back to him, pretending to busy myself. "Yeah, whatever. I'll have to be at the assembly soon anyway." It was a quirk of mine, but I didn't like to work on my art with others around, and Klassen seemed to realize this. I never got much done during class time. Maybe it was the habit of mine of studying and doing homework in my room at home for hours on end, not at the dining room table with my sisters. Uncle Horace was often bored and looking for someone to play with, namely, me. The wards on my bedroom kept him from bothering me when I was in it. I accomplished more when I was left alone.
I ran my hand over the chest of the sculpture and along the inside of an out-stretched wing. "I don't have time to start anything with her now. Maybe I'll spend the afternoon in here. It's not like I watch football, if I can help it."
Klassen chortled, then waved as he left the room.
I sighed, feeling more alive when I was close to my art work, but especially this piece. I felt a rush when I handled this baby. I twisted the base so I could check over the wing span from the back, fingering the pattern of the feathers. I faced her forward again and sighed. "I'll be back later, baby. Sorry for neglecting you."
I slowly opened the door to check the hall for Bobby and roaming ghosts, when I found Ryan leaning up against the wall just outside of it. He looked a little tense, even though his pose was that of the cool greaser dude. "What's up, Ryan?"
"Klassen just asked me if you were running away from me." He looked confused. "Are you trying to avoid me?"
"What? No. Why would he say that?"
Ryan shrugged. "When I asked him if he had seen you, he said you came into his class winded and obviously avoiding someone. I thought we were supposed to meet up to go to the pep rally."
I stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind me. "I was just going to find you and Kayla."
"Who were you running from?" He demanded. The intense, almost feral look in his eyes made me stop and think before I answered. What was going on with him? He was usually so laid back and easy going.
"No one. I just wanted to take a quick look at my papier-mâché project before the pep rally. We'd better get going." I grabbed his arm and pulled him down the hall.