Spectral Tales: A Ghost Story Anthology

by Jamie Campbell

  “So if smashing into Kurt’s shins was stage one of your plan, what is stage two of Destroy Kurt?” I asked, warily.

  A full smile curled across Chloe’s lips, as her gaze met mine. “Did you see his face? It was gold.”

  “I don’t know if knee capping him is justice.”

  “Justice. Justice? This is not about justice. This is about restitution. Kurt owes us.” Chloe’s eyes flashed, as she glared at me. “Do you know what we’ve been through? You died. They brought you back, but you died.

  “Mom died too. We don’t have a mother anymore. She died in the hospital beside you. You have a nurse-maid, and I … ” She drew a ragged breath. “I have nothing, but the memories of what it was like before my whole family died.”

  I leaned forward to be closer to her. “We’re not dead.”

  She shook her head. “You have no idea. Mom spends all her time caring for you and researching on the internet how to get you better. Dad is never home anymore. He says he needs to work long hours so that they can afford your medicine and stuff, but he just doesn’t want to be at home. He’s gutted that you were smoking Kurt’s pole leading up to the accident …”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “I know that, but no one else does. So anyway, Dad just doesn’t want to be home. Seeing you … well … no offence … it’s pretty damn depressing. You should be going to school and getting ready for prom and graduation, instead you just sit in that chair like an unanimated Larry the Cucumber.”

  “So is that why you’re looking Goth?”

  She exhaled causing the flowers near her feet to sway. “It was mostly to get attention. I live in a house full of ghosts of our former family. Everyone pretending to be happy and okay, when Dad wishes that mom had let him pull the plug on you so that he won’t be reminded daily of your mistakes.”

  I squeezed the armrest, furious. “I can’t believe Dad is so shallow … and Kurt … damn Kurt and damn Junior …” My anger was so fierce I couldn’t string together a sentence.

  “You know, I used to wish that Dad would cheat on Mom, give them both an excuse to end the sham of a marriage.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get our parents back. We’ll clear your name and Kurt and Junior will pay for their misdeeds. Mr. Tyrol has agreed to take you pro-bono and he’ll have the records for tomorrow. Although I like the idea of waiting till next month, and letting Kurt suffer …”

  “I can’t.” I shook my head. “I need to recover. While I get you’ve had it tough … Mom has been giving me sponge baths and I pee through a catheter … and don’t get me started about the crap sack … I don’t need a mirror to see I look like an anorexia prevention poster. My neck is killing me from constantly keeping it on an angle. No. This has to end tomorrow.”

  Chloe jutted out her lower lip. “Fine. Do you know any of your friend's Facebook log-ins?”

  It was a random question, the more time I spent with my sister the less I felt like I knew her. “I used to know Kurt's and Anna's, but that was a long time ago. Why?”

  “I just wanted to get Kurt sweating.” She grinned and pulled her phone from her pocket. “So what was Kurt's?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I'm going to leave a message on his status. Something like, I know you were texting. Or I know your secret. I haven't quite figured it out yet, but I want to do it soon, so he can agonize about it all night—see if you gave me a month …”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “It'd be awesome if I could log into Junior's account and send the messages from him. But I don't suppose you have his log-in details?”

  I shook my head. “Why don't you just make a copy of Junior's profile and send a message. You only have to copy his profile pic and his first few posts and then message Kurt.”

  “Huh.” Her lips stretched into a broad smile.

  “What?”

  “You're not as brain damaged as I thought.”

  “Hilarious,” I said sarcastically.

  Chloe tapped away on her phone, while I looked up at the clouds and basked in the warmth of the sun. I rehearsed in my mind standing up and wrenching Kurt's phone out of his hands and declaring, “How did the accident happen Kurt? Tell everyone the truth, or do you want me to show them the text message?”

  He'd pale, and stutter out the truth while the whole school watched. He would know the humiliation my family had been subjected to. Amanda would break up with him and he would punch Junior.

  “It's done,” Chloe announced, triumphantly. “Stage two: completed.”

  I smiled at her enthusiasm, grateful for the support. “Tomorrow I'll complete stage three and our family can stop being shadows of our former selves.”

  ***

  My palms were sweating as I sat at the school lunch table waiting to confront Kurt. Chloe had insisted I wait for her signal. She sat at the table across from me, where I could see her clearly, even with my skewiff neck. I couldn’t wait to hold my head up straight.

  The food court was alive with conversation, but Kurt's table was silent. Junior sat on the bench farthest from Kurt, who occasionally glared at his friend.

  Chloe had messaged Kurt with Junior's fake profile, “It's time to tell the truth.”

  Kurt had responded immediately: It was your idea. I can't believe this …

  Junior: If you don't, I will.

  Kurt: What the hell? You are the worst friend of all time. You were the one who said it. You'll be liable for aiding and abetting. You hooked up with Amanda and then dumped her on me because you don't want to make the commitment and now you're trying to make me take the fall for your lie. You are a festering boil on the face of humanity. Get bent, I'll deny everything.

  “What are you not answering now? Typical. You are a coward and a pathetic human being.”

  Chloe hadn't written anything else, but the message had achieved its purpose, Kurt was miserable. That made me want to smile. Soon enough I could smile, laugh, walk—live. I would live again.

  Kurt was curled in a ball three seats down from me, playing on his phone. Amanda had her arm over his back, and Anna was sitting closest to me nibbling on a salad sandwich.

  “So is there a reason no one is talking?” Anna asked, looking up and down the table.

  “Why don't you ask him,” Junior indicated to Kurt. “He tried to punch me this morning.”

  Kurt looked up from his phone. “If I'd wanted to punch you, you'd be bruised.” He pushed Amanda's arm off. “Stop cramping my space.” He went back to whatever was on his phone.

  “Alrighty then,” Anna said, getting back to her sandwich. “I'll chalk it up to male PMS.”

  “Why would you say that?” Junior snapped. “If I'd … ”

  Chloe stood up and coughed loudly—the cue. My pulse raced, and dots danced before my eyes for a moment. I took a calming breath and stood to my feet and picked up Junior's phone sitting on the table in front of him and ripped Kurt's phone from his grasp. Maybe I didn’t need the phones for evidence, but it made me feel better to hold onto something.

  “Hey,” he protested, but the words died on his lips when his gaze met mine.

  “H...H...How did the accident happen Kurt?” I got the words out around the boulder in my throat.

  “Oh snap,” Junior mumbled.

  Chloe appeared at the end of the table, a smug smile on her black lips.

  “Zoey?” Anna whispered. “You're standing … and talking.”

  I continued to look into Kurt's eyes. His jaw hung open as though the hinge had broken.

  “Aren't you going to answer me Kurt?” I asked.

  He closed his mouth, and it swung open again, the process repeated a few times before he licked his lips.

  “You were giving him head,” Junior offered.

  “Shut up Junior, you know that's a lie,” I snapped, not taking my eyes off Kurt. “Tell them the truth.”

  “What is she talking about?” Anna demanded.

  “She has brain
damage,” Amanda rolled her eyes, “as if she even remembers.”

  “Tell them,” I told Kurt. “Or I'll show them the text.”

  “You didn't delete it? You're on your own fool,” said Junior, holding his hands up in surrender.

  “You were texting when the accident happened?” Anna screeched.

  Kurt looked around the table, his eyes glazed. He stared toward the cafeteria doors, but I didn’t want to know what had his attention. It didn’t matter who he was looking at, all I wanted was to hear his confession, to see the words fall from on his lips.

  “I was texting when I had the accident. Zoey wasn't giving me a blow job,” said Kurt.

  “Crud.” My gaze followed Kurt’s. Standing behind Junior’s side of the bench was Sheriff Leaman, my lawyer and Mom. I hadn’t even noticed them, that was what Chloe had been waiting for. “You’re under arrest son. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say, can and will be held against you in a court of law.” Sheriff Leaman walked around the table to handcuff Kurt, his thin face and bushy brows scowling.

  “I knew it. I asked you if it was true,” Anna yelled at Kurt, her graceful hands gesturing fiercely. “I asked you … I comforted you … I told you how Zoey was doing … You victim blamed her … You slut shamed her memory … You … You …” She grabbed the milkshake on her tray and threw it in his face. The beverage dribbled down his face as Sheriff Leanman pulled Kurt’s hands behind his back to cuff him. “I hope the inmates pass you around like a peace pipe,” Anna yelled. She turned to Junior. “And you. I know you had something to do with this. You’re dumped. Eat crap and die.”

  Anna grabbed me in a savage bear hug. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  As Anna pulled away, Mom’s arms came around me. Mom’s sobs echoed through the silent cafeteria, as the students observed the drama.

  Kurt’s panicked voice called over Mom’s sobs. “I’m sorry Zoey. I’m …”

  Mr. Tyrol interjected, “Please don’t address my client unless it is through me. We have a restraining order that prevents you from speaking to her or being within one hundred yards of Miss Saunders.” The lawyer reminded me of Clark Kent, with his too big suit and thick black rimmed glasses.

  Kurt hung his head as Sheriff Leaman, a.k.a, Captain Seaman to the high schoolers, led him out of the cafeteria.

  Mom continued to wail and hug me, till I said, “Mom I can’t stand anymore.” She released me and I sat down in the wheelchair.

  “Mrs. Saunders,” Mr. Tyrol said to mom, his voice soothing. “We need to talk about the case. How about I meet you at your home in an hour?”

  Mom swiped at her eyes and nodded. “I’ll call my husband.” She took hold of the wheelchair’s handles. “Chloe, come with us please.”

  Mom wheeled me out of the cafeteria followed by Chloe, Mr. Tyrol and Anna. I expected to feel jubilant, justice had been served, the truth had been revealed.

  But it felt empty.

  People whispered at their tables as I was wheeled past them. Kurt’s panicked eyes haunted me. Mom’s sobbing resounding in my ears even though she’d stopped.

  I’d achieved what I thought I wanted, why didn’t it feel awesome?

  ***

  Mom had only driven a few miles from school when she pulled over on the side of the road. “How long has this been going on?” She asked eye balling Chloe and me. The disappointment in her eyes almost brought me to tears.

  “I found out Friday night,” Chloe said, unable to look mom in the eyes.

  She nodded, pursing her lips. “And you?”

  I met mom’s gaze. There were green flecks in her blue eyes I’d never noticed before. The last time she’d been this mad at me I couldn’t look in her eyes, but I didn’t want to look away. It was glorious to look into someone’s eyes and talk—I’d missed out on communicating for so long I was willing to be the weirdo who held eye contact too long.

  “After the death sermon a while back,” I responded.

  “So almost a month.” Mom exhaled. “You’ve been walking and talking for almost a month?”

  I shook my head. I could shake my head. Man, it felt good. “No. I realized I wasn’t dead then. I started to walk, maybe ten days ago, but I can’t go far and it hurts and makes me really tired, and the talking about the same. That is not so hard.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Mom asked, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

  “I didn’t want you to warn Kurt. He shamed me publicly and I wanted him to take it back publicly.”

  Mom turned around and checked the road and started driving without saying another word. She didn’t have to. I knew her well enough to know she was thinking, “What about turning the other cheek? What about being the bigger person?”

  I didn’t want to be the bigger person, I wanted justice. The fact that I didn’t feel better was a sign Kurt hadn’t been punished enough. I needed to make sure Mr. Tyrol destroyed him.

  ***

  “Mr. Tyrol called and said I needed to meet him here,” Dad said, ripping open Mom’s door the moment she turned off the engine in our driveway. “What happened at school? Are we in trouble? What have you done now? I told you not to take her there, it’s an embarrassment …”

  “Chill dad,” I said. “Everything is fine.”

  He looked past mom, staring at me.

  “Hi Dad.” I waved at him. “I’m not a vegetable anymore. Yay.”

  Dad took a ragged breath. Mom climbed out of the car. “Go hug your daughter.” Dad climbed into her seat and climbed over the console and fell on top of me in an embrace. Mom walked around the van and rolled the door open. “You could have walked around,” she mumbled, a smile playing across her lips.

  My father pulled back and took my face in his hands. “I thought you were gone.”

  “So did I, but I guess we’re all still here together,” I responded. I glanced my reflection in the mirror, and saw scars on my face for the first time. Angry spider-vein scars criss-crossed over the left side of my face, even the heaviest concealor would not cover it. I squeezed my eyes shut. Even though Kurt had confessed I would still bear the scars of his actions.

  “Oh, Dad,” Chloe interjected, standing beside Mom. “For the record, Kurt admitted to lying about the circumstances of the accident. Turns out he was texting.”

  Dad released me, his face clouded with rage. “I’m going to kill that sick …”

  “He’s at the sheriff’s office being charged, and to be honest, I don’t care about Kurt at all,” Mom said, wrapping an arm around Chloe. “Our family is whole again. All I care about is getting us re-connected.”

  “Sure. Okay,” Dad agreed. “But we’ll ensure that little punk gets what’s coming to him too.”

  ***

  Later that day Junior had been arrested and given a slap on the wrists for subverting justice in the form of forty hours of community service. Kurt was out on bail by the end of the day. It cost his parents a small fortune and he had to wear a not-so-attractive electronic tracking accessory on his ankle till the trial, which was set for the end of summer.

  Mom was opposed to the whole process, but Dad insisted we follow up the criminal case with a civil suit, so Kurt’s parents would have to pay for my medical bills. The bills had increased. A professional physiotherapist, speech therapist, psychologist and neurosurgeon had been added to my list of people I didn’t want to see, but mom was adamant; she had mastered getting what she wanted during my illness.

  Things should have been getting better, but I felt bleak. Research had convinced me there was nothing that could be done about the scarring on my face, yet it seemed easier to deal with than the scarring on my heart from the betrayal. So I focused on building a happier future. I studied hard to get closer to graduating, I reconnected with friends, got involved with educating people about texting and driving, and with the help of the church pastor, who gave us free family counseling, our family was returning to life. Chloe was even growing out her strawberry blonde hair, w
hich looked hilarious against the jet-black ends.

  Despite all the positive things happening in my life I couldn’t get out of the rut. When I saw my face it made me furious, I couldn’t wait to see Kurt carted off to prison. I leaned over the desk re-writing my victim’s impact statement for the fortieth time.

  Sweat beaded between my shoulder blades and rolled down my back on the warm summer evening. “How is it going?” Mom asked, standing in the doorway in a Garfield nightie.

  “It’s …” I exhaled and dropped my pen on the desk. “I want to get it just right. I want them to know that he took a year and a half of my life, that even though he confessed to lying that the gossip is still out there, that I still have nightmares about the accident, and that my face will never be beautiful again, that his actions have changed the course of my life …” I buried my face in my hands. “That time is never coming back and I will never be the same.”

  Mom crossed the room and hugged me. “You’re right all of those things are true. It’s also true that you are stronger than I’ve ever seen you. That you have a passion to protect young people from what happened to you. What Kurt did was terrible, and he should pay for it, but will sending him to prison atone for what’s he done to you?”

  “Yes,” I said, pulling away from Mom. “My life was interrupted for eighteen months, and it’s fair for him to sit and root in prison for the same amount of time.”

  “What happens if the judge doesn’t grant that?”

  “He will. Judge Lawman is fair and just and he is harsh on this kind of thing according to Mr. Tyrol.”

  Mom kissed my forehead. “I’m praying for you.”

  I nodded, aware that Mom was retreating from a fight she knew she couldn’t win. I picked up my pen, and started writing again. It was therapeutic to be able to cross things out, so much better than the delete key, which made it seem as though I’d written nothing. I had ten pages of text, crossed out and moved around, but still evidence of my efforts. When I finished a section I would type it up. So far, there were two and a half pages of double-spaced material, but I needed another half a page. It had to be perfect for me to have any hope of happy future.