Chapter 4 - Sadie’s POV
Detention after school is just about the most boring thing ever. Without my phone, I have no idea what I’m going to do, aside from doodle on my pants. Luckily, I wore my doodle pants to school today, so my dad doesn’t care what happens to them. I call my dad via school phone and sit in a chair in the middle of the room, plopping my bag next to Silas’s stuff on the desk next to me. We are the only kids in detention, which is unusual. Usually the combination of Mrs. Yancy and Miss. Werther mean that the classroom is full of kids. But me and Silas are the only ones. Wait! I think I spoke too soon. In the back of the class, standing in front of a window, is a girl. Something about her seems… off, and for a moment I can’t place exactly what it is.
Then it hits me. She’s translucent. (Look at me, using my vocabulary!) I can see the window’s scenery behind her. Through her. She sees me looking and comes closer.
“Hey, Sadie, whatchoo lookin’ at?”
“Nothin’.” Great. Now I’m hallucinating. This is wonderful.
Who are you??? I scratch onto a sheet of paper.
“Bathroom.” It takes me a second to realize what she said, and I bite back a smile at her genius. Mrs. Yancy always lets kids use the bathroom. I walk up to the table where Mrs. Yancy is sitting.
“Can I use the bathroom?” I pray to God she says yes. God agrees.
“Go.” It almost looks like she’s looking at the invisible girl when she speaks, but that can’t be true… can it? I walk out the door in just shy of a tiptoe. I realize my phone is in my pocket and for some reason that seems important, because the girl looks at it as if it is her lifeline… or mine. Why would I need that? I shrug outwardly, and the girl gives me a weird look. I lock myself in a stall. The girl waltzes through is as if it isn’t even there.
“How’d you—”
“I’m a ghost,” she interrupts, “and I need your help.”
“Help? What do you mean help? I don’t even know your name!”
“My name is Heather Bone.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?” I muse aloud.
“You probably read it in the newspaper. After I died in a fire.”
“So… why are you a ghost?”
“Unfinished business.”
“Oh, I should have guessed. I mean, I’m very well versed in Casper the friendly ghost. Jesus, lady, what the fuck?” She winced as if I hit her.
“Don’t swear.”
“Whatever. Help you how? What’s your ‘unfinished business’?”
“It was not an ordinary fire. Someone caused it.”
“You know who?”
“Derik. He’s this kid… he went to my school… he has black hair with red streaks and one blue eye…”
“And his other eye?”
“It’s red. Like blood. All TSC members have one red eye.”
“TSC? What’s that, a cult?”
“The Shadow Clan. It’s like a hyper-organized cult. That kills people.”
“Sounds fun. And Derik sounds hot.”
“Sure, if you have a fetish for murderers.”
“I gotta go get Silas…”
“Who?”
“My friend.”
“He can’t see me.”
“Who cares? He’s my best - okay, only - friend.”
“You know this organization wants to kill you, right?”
“Not surprised. Why?”
“Because your psychic. You can see ghosts.”
“Even better. Let’s get Silas.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
“Sadie?” I raise my eyebrows at Heather.
“See? We don’t even have to get him.”
“Sadie! I need permission to come in there!”
“Come in.” He barges through the door and I unlock the stall. “What is it?”
“Mrs. Yancy-” he paused to catch his breath. “-is… chasing… me… with a knife.”
“What?”
“A knife.”
“A knife?”
“Yes, Sadie,” he says exasperatedly. “”A knife. As in, used to chop things. Like us, if we don’t fucking get out of here.”
“Don’t swear,” mutters Heather.
“Don’t be such a goodie two shoes,” I hiss.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ll explain in a minute. Once we get out of here.”
“Why—” He’s about to say something, probably deep and profound, I’m sure, when there’s a scraping sound that screams in my ears like nails on a chalkboard.
“Because Yancy’s out there, genius.”
“Oh.” He looks immediately to the window.
“We gotta break it.”
“Boy, I am not a juvenile delinquent like you are. No thanks.”
“Hey, it’s either face the wrath of the school or face Yance-ster.” I sighed.
“Whatever. Do it then.” He grins in victory, stands on top of a toilet stall to reach the glass, and punches it. His hand bounces off like a rubber ball.
“Shit!” he screeches. I want to laugh, but Mrs. Yancy is still clawing her way through the door with her butcher knife. How the Hell she snuck that through security, I have no idea. He punches the window again, and it cracks.
“Hurry up, Mr. Delinquent.”
“Shut up,” he mutters, “you’re breaking my concentration.” Despite his accusation, he punches the window hard enough to break it.
“Aren’t you glad we brought him?” I whisper to Heather as Silas crawls out the window. She glares at me, but doesn’t answer. “Exactly.”
“Hurry up, slowpoke!” I jump up, just barely reach the window ledge, and my hands slip off.
“I’m shorter than you, dipshit! I can’t reach.” He reaches a hand through the glass.
“You’re lucky we aren’t being pursued by the FBI.”
“We will be, if we aren’t lucky.”
“Which most likely we won’t be.”
“Exactly.” I grab onto his hand and he manages to hoist me out. “Thanks bro.”
“No problem.”
“So now what?”
“Now we run away, genius.”
“I ain’t running.” He grins.
“We don’t have to run.”
“What’re you going to do, hijack a car?”
“I have a car, smartass.”
“You have a car?”
“Lady, of course I have a car. I’m responsible.”
“Tell that to your grades.” He hops into a beat up pickup truck, ignoring me.
“I call shotgun!” I scream. Heather sat in the back. I wondering if she’d fall out, given that she went through things and all.
“So… who were you talking to?”
“Brace yourself, because this is going to sound downright insane.”
“You already are insane, Sadie.”
“Shush. Anyway, I was talking to a ghost. Her name is Heather. We have to avenge her somehow.”
“That sounds… nice.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“I know. That’s what’s freaky. I’m not saying you’re seeing things or anything, it’s just… wow.”
“My life in a nutshell.”
“Yeah.”
“She’s currently sitting in the backseat.”
“Well, tell her not to get ectoplasm everywhere.” Heather rolled her eyes.
“Dude. I’m not from freaking Ghostbusters.”
“She says she’s not from Ghostbusters.”
“Well, good for her. I don’t want shit in my car.”
“It’s a little late for that. I mean, you have a good little Christian ghost, a juvenile delinquent dumbass, and me.”
“What are you?”
“A psychic weirdo.”
“Makes sense. So Heather is a good little Christian girl?”
“Well, she gets pissed at me for saying the f-word.”
“Yeah, okay. Seems legit. Well, now I know you’re not making it up.”
“How?”
“Because there is nothing good or Christian about you,” he cracked.
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
“I’m a very funny person.”
“Obviously.”
“Guys-” Heather starts in alarm.
“Holy sh-” Silas swerved to avoid the kid standing in front of the car. “Man, what the fuck?”
“That’s Derik,” Heather noted.
“That’s the dude we have to kill,” I muttered. “Look, guys. I’m going out there.”
“You’re what?” demands Heather and Silas at the same time.
“I’m going to talk to him.”
“About what?”
“About… I don’t know.”
“Wonderful.” I couldn’t tell if Heather said it, or Silas. Maybe both. I get out of the car.
“Hey, man. Sorry I almost ran you over.”
“It’s fine.” He stared at me as if I was the weirdest thing he’d ever seen.
“Okay. So, you lost or something?” Heather comes up behind me.
“No, I’m just… on a walk.” I almost laughed at him. I wanted to scream at him that I knew what he had done; I wanted to scream that he was crazy, that he deserved to die… but I didn’t.
“Well, see ya round, I guess.”
“Yeah.” He gave a little nervous laugh. I turned and walked back to the car, and the whole way back I felt his eyes on my back, and part of me was scared that he was going to stab me, but I made it into the car safely.
“Seriously though, what did you hope to accomplish with that suicidal trick?” Silas asks me as he starts the car.
“I dunno.” I shrug. “He looks hot.”
“You’re hopeless.” He slams his foot on the gas pedal and drives forward.
“Where are we going?” asks Heather.
“Where’re we goin’?” I relay to Silas.
“I dunno. Just driving around, I guess.” I’m struck by a pang of guilt. My dad’s probably worried sick.
“Uh…”
“What?” He looks at me without stopping the car and for a second I can’t answer because I’m too scared we’re going to crash.
“Uh, can we go see my dad?”
“You suck at being a fugitive, but fine.” He swerved a corner, finally looking back to the front.
“Fuck! Man, drive safely.” He smirks. Heather winces in the backseat.
“I’m a troublemaker. I don’t do safe.”
“Just please don’t kill me, kay?”
“Sigh. I guess I won’t.”
“Psycho.”
“Weirdo.”
“Guys, focus,” Heather yells. I wonder if she knows Silas can’t hear her. She probably does. Maybe she’s just talking to talk. I do that a lot, too.
“We’ve arrived.” I take a deep breath and jump out of the car before I lose my nerve. I press the doorbell with more force than is necessary.
Ding-dong. My dad cracks open the door.
“Sadie where the- Where’d you go? Where’ve you been? Jesus Christ, I was worried sick!”
“Sorry, Dad. I was kind of busy, I mean…”
“What?”
“Uh, Mrs. Yancy tried to kill me and Silas, and I’m seeing ghosts. So how was your night? Besides worrying about me?”
“Fine, thanks,” he says distantly.
“Please don’t call me crazy…”
“He’s psychic too, Einstein,” Heather mutters behind me.
“Wha-?” I whisper, almost unconsciously.
“The dead girl is right,” my dad says.
“Holy- Silas!” I turn towards my dad. “Bye! I’ll be back! Soon, I hope…” My dad smiles without happiness.
“Be safe.”
“I’m a troublemaker. I don’t do safe,” I whispered under my breath. He didn’t hear me.
“Why were you yelling at me?” Silas asks.
“My fucking dad is psychic! Like, holy what?” (Insert Heather wincing.)
“Your dad can see Heather?”
“Yup.”
“I feel very left out.”
“Lucky you. Seriously.”
“Yeah, yeah. So anyway, what’s Heather look like? Is she hot?”
“You have a one track mind, Silas.”
“Yup. So is she?”
“I don’t know. Sure.”
“Does she have big boobs?”
“Can we please stop talking about this?” Heather moans.
“I decline to comment on her boob size. The conversation is over.” Silas chuckles.
“Thank God,” Heather whispers.
“Be careful, Heather. Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” I warn in a teasing voice.
“Shut up, Sadie.”
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Silas mocked in a singsong voice. Heather starts muttering, probably a prayer for both me and Silas to die in a tragic accident. Maybe Derik would kill us.
Bad Sadie, I scold my imagination. Stop scaring yourself.
My imagination doesn’t listen.