Teenage Psychic on Campus

by Pamela Woods-Jackson

  Clara rose hesitantly, got too close to the mic and caused a squelch, backed up, cleared her throat and tried again. “Well,” she said, “the Thomas Conner family helped endow this college, as you know. Mr. Conner built the farmhouse back in 1886 when Hamilton County was mostly farmland and a few little towns here and there. He and his family lived there until 1936 when Mr. Conner sold it to my grandfather, Arthur Pelson. Granddad raised his family there, but after he passed away, Grandmother didn’t want to remain in the house. This was in the 1980s, so my father leased it out to a succession of tenants. The house fell into disrepair, was a haven for vandals and runaways, and no one wanted to rent it or buy it. It has been vacant since 1998. When Dad passed away he left me the house, so I convinced the historical society to back me financially so we could spare the farmhouse from the city’s wrecking ball. I’m having it restored and plan to turn it into a bed and breakfast, which will boost the economy by bringing tourists to Hamilton County.”

  “And how are the renovations going?” Barry asked.

  Clara frowned. “Three thousand square feet is a lot of house, so it would be a slow process anyway, even without all the disruptions.”

  “What sort of disruptions?” Scott asked.

  Clara shrugged. “Noises. Rattling sounds in the basement, pipes being pounded on, lights going on and off, a cold breeze in the living room, the workmen’s tools going missing…”

  “I’m sure that’s unnerving, Clara, but there could be rational explanations. We always check for those first,” Barry said, glancing at the other club members who nodded in agreement.

  “There have been reported sightings of a woman in white for years,” Clara said. “Many of my father’s tenants claimed to have seen her, but they all said she was harmless, mostly seeming to watch out for any children living in the home.”

  “She was a teacher,” I offered. All eyes turned to me and I sank down into my chair. Note to self: Stay out of it. Just write the story.

  “What happened then, Clara?” Barry prompted.

  “Some of the workmen quit,” she said. “Claimed they saw her, or heard things they couldn’t explain, or found their previous day’s work vandalized. I haven’t been able to hire any new workers because of the rumors.”

  Barry and Scott exchanged meaningful glances. “Sounds like you’ve got something going on, that’s for sure,” Barry said. He turned to address the crowd. “So that’s why we’ve agreed to help, to try to get to the bottom of things so you can move forward with your plans.”

  Scott held up his hand in caution. “But with the weather coming in, like Barry told everyone in the email, the ghost hunt may have to be postponed. As cool as it would be to hold it on Halloween night, we have to exercise caution. Barry will send out a text tomorrow when we know more about the storm.”

  “And I’ll include the list of club members participating.” Barry paused to let the grumbling die down. “We can only take a limited number, those with essential jobs.”

  Clara stood and Scott helped her into her coat. “I really appreciate all you’re doing. People almost expect a restored nineteenth century B&B to be haunted, but they don’t want to be confronted with murderous ghosts.”

  My jaw dropped. What was she talking about? I don’t do ghosts, but really, they can’t hurt people. Scare them maybe.

  Even humorless Gary almost laughed. “Murderous ghosts?”

  “We don’t know anything yet, Gary,” Scott said, “but between you and Caryn, maybe you can ferret out the ghosts.”

  “Ghost,” Gary said. “Probably just the one, if you listen to past reports.”

  I stopped and stared off into space, tilting my head to one side as I watched the mini-movie flash before me. “Gary’s right. Definitely just one ghost.” But there was something else…

  “I now declare this meeting of Ghost Stalkers closed,” Barry said, snapping me out of my reverie. “Watch your email and texts for updates about tomorrow.”

  Everyone gathered their belongings and headed for the door, but Gary lagged behind and cornered me before I could make a clean getaway. “Who—or what—were you listening to?”

  “Not listening. Watching.” Before he could ask me anything more, I hurried out the door.

  ****

  Gary didn’t think that meeting would ever be over. The whole thing just made him uncomfortable, and then Annabeth’s roommate showing up, the girl who always seemed to be looking down her nose at him. Just what he didn’t need. Not only was he being coerced into a ghost stalking, now he had to contend with the high and mighty psychic-turned-reporter. Just as he was about to make his escape into the cold night air, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Gary, mind if we have a chat?”

  Scott Tildren looked like he had something important on his mind, and Gary was in no hurry to head out into the bitter cold. “Sure. What d’ya need?”

  “Coffee.” Scott tilted his head in the direction of the student bookstore in the basement. It was near closing time, but Gary followed Scott down the back steps and into the store. Hey, a warm beverage might be just what he needed before braving the night air, and with any luck Coach Tildren was buying.

  As they entered the deserted coffee bar, Gary offered a sheepish grin and half-hearted wave to Ellis and the barista. They didn’t smile back. He should have known better than to come in at this hour. They were sweeping floors and wiping down counters, which was the last thing they always did before locking up the store at night.

  “What’s your pleasure?” Scott asked as he walked to the order counter.

  “The usual,” Gary said, and then seeing the puzzled look on Scott’s face, said to the barista, “Mary, I’ll have what I always have.” He watched her scowl as she rebooted her register to ring up the sale.

  Scott shrugged and said to Mary, “Black coffee. High octane.” He paid in cash for both cups and then turned back to Gary. “Come here often?”

  Gary smiled. “I work here.” He led the way to a freshly-cleaned table and they sat down.

  Mary set down two black coffees. “Sorry, Gary, but since it’s closing time, this is what’s left.” She winked at him before returning to her closing duties.

  Gary blushed as he took a sip of his coffee, which was the dregs of the pot and boiling hot from sitting too long on the burner.

  “Looks like you’ve got a friend.” Scott grinned at Gary, took a tentative sip of his beverage and grimaced. “Ugh.” He shook his head. “So…I usually like to get to know new club members a little before we take them on a ghost hunt.”

  Gary sighed, blew on his own coffee, and then poured a packet of sugar in to help cut the bitter taste. “I don’t know how you got the idea I was joining your club.”

  “You said you were,” Scott said. “In your email.”

  Gary rolled his eyes. “You know my roommate Sean Paxton, right? He took it upon himself to volunteer my services, and he’s known to play fast and loose with the truth.”

  “Ah.” Scott tapped a couple of packets of sugar against the coffee mug, poured them in, and took a sip. “Does that mean you aren’t planning to go on this ghost hunt after all?”

  Gary blew on his own coffee, mostly to stall for time. Even though this whole thing had been Sean’s bright idea, he was in too deep to back out. “No. I mean…” He shook his head. “Ghosts hunt me all the time. But I don’t know anything about hunting them.”

  Scott chuckled. “We’ll ease you along. Just be sure to bring along your ghost-whispering abilities.”

  Gary groaned. “If only I could ditch them somewhere.”

  “Look, Gary, I like you. You remind me of my teenage son in some ways, but…” Scott propped his elbows on the table and leaned in toward Gary. “But even if Sean stretched the truth, he was right that you can communicate with ghosts, and that’s not a skill too many people have. We need you.”

  “Truth?” Gary said. Scott nodded, so Gary continued, “I don’t like the notoriety, and I alre
ady got a taste of it tonight from all those Ghost Stalkers. And then there’s Caryn Alderson. Makes me feel superfluous.”

  “Well, you’re not.” Scott shrugged and took another swallow of the stale coffee. “But this might all be moot, judging by the deteriorating weather.”

  Gary was relieved at that news. “Okay, great, so you’ll let me know?” He took a swig of his coffee as he stood up and reached for his book bag.

  Scott pointed to the chair. “Not so fast, Riddell. Just because we might not do the ghost hunt tomorrow night doesn’t mean we’re not doing it at all.”

  Gary plopped back down in the chair. Dammit, he liked Scott and didn’t want to let him down. He sighed. “I said I’d do it. If the lady ghost in that old farmhouse wants to chat, I’m game.”

  “What if there’s more than one?”

  “The only thing Caryn and I agreed on tonight was that there’s just one ghost haunting that place,” Gary said. “I don’t know how she knew, but my clue came from Clara Pelson when she mentioned a cold spot. One cold spot. The rest of what she said sounded like your territory.”

  They both glanced over when Ellis cleared her throat to get their attention and put her hand on the light switch.

  “I guess that’s our cue.” Scott smiled and stood as they prepared to leave. “In spite of Sean’s little deception, I think we’ve got the right man for the job.”

  Gary shook Scott’s hand and they parted ways. Even though they’d just met, Gary decided he liked Scott, even admired him for being the caring father he seemed to be. Tildren Jr. was a lucky kid. Gary admitted to himself that he was jealous, and wondered yet again why Ned Harrington couldn’t be persuaded to share even a fraction of his wealth with his only son and the woman who gave birth to him. It was a source of constant anger and resentment that he’d tried to work through over the years, but nothing could alleviate the pain and rejection. Yeah, the ghost thing was a little weird, but he had other talents his father could’ve admired, like his acting, so why would it have been so hard for Harrington to spend an occasional afternoon with him? “Knock it off, Riddell,” he chided himself, “it is what it is.”

  Before exiting the building, Gary wrapped his wool scarf tightly around his neck, put on his gloves, and zipped up his down jacket. He told himself it wasn’t that far to the dorm, but it would have been nice if he had some kind of transportation instead of being forced to walk the half mile or so across campus. He pushed the heavy glass door open and sucked in his breath at the blast of cold air. Once again he wished he owned a car—heck, any car, even a clunker. Brenda had offered to help him buy a car but he knew the expense would be a strain on her budget, never mind the insurance. And it still rankled that his father could easily have provided him with one.

  He watched in amazement as his breath condensed in the air. He could almost feel the snow coming as the wind whipped around and chilled him to the bone. Gary reached a well-lit crosswalk and jumped up and down to keep warm as he waited for the light to change. “This sucks,” he muttered as he realized he couldn’t feel his hands. Just as the light in the crosswalk indicated he could go, someone in a sleek, late-model luxury sedan pulled up alongside him.

  “Need a ride?”

  Gary peered into the car, but the windows were tinted and he couldn’t see the driver. “No, thanks, I’m fine,” Gary said, and hurried along the sidewalk without waiting for the light. Some stranger offering him a ride. Creepy. He walked a little faster.

  The guy lowered the passenger side window. “Come on. Hop in. It’s freezing out there.”

  Gary stopped walking when he thought he recognized the voice, and then recoiled. “What the hell, Ned?”

  Ned Harrington put the car in park, stepped out and leaned over the hood from the driver’s side, towering over the top of the car. Gary realized that they were approximately the same height, one more thing they had in common, and yet they had nothing in common.

  “I just happened to be driving by and saw my son walking in the cold.”

  Son indeed. “What are you doing on this side of town anyway?” Gary demanded. He blew on his fingers to get the feeling back in them. “Slumming?”

  Ned walked around the front of the car and approached Gary, but Gary stepped back. Ned sighed and shook his head. “Gary, I—”

  “Like you said, it’s freezing out here.” Gary jaywalked across the street and started running toward his dorm. In the distance he heard his father’s car roar off.

  Chapter 6

  Halloween morning had started out just like any other Friday. Sean had been wide awake and hungry, and Gary was jonesin’ for caffeine, so the two of them had gone to the cafeteria for breakfast like they always did. At the checkout, Gary picked up a copy of the The Hamilton Campus Herald and brought it to their table. He unfolded the paper, took one look at the front page and choked on his coffee.

  “You okay, man?” Sean pounded Gary on the back.

  Gary shook his head and got up for a bottle of water. He coughed a couple more times and then took a few gulps of water. When he’d gotten control of himself, he straddled the white plastic institutional chair backwards and pointed to the offending picture on page two.

  “It’s enough to make even you lose your appetite,” Gary said.

  Sean scrunched up his face and took a closer look as Gary thumped the photo for emphasis. Half of the page was taken up with that photo Annabeth had snapped yesterday in the newspaper office, the one of Gary and Caryn mid-argument, staring each other down. The caption read “A Meeting of Minds” with a subtitle “Gary Riddell, Theatre Arts major, and Caryn Alderson, Journalism, face off over artistic differences.”

  Gary pounded the table, causing his mug of hot coffee to slosh. “I can’t believe it! First Caryn’s op-ed and now this.”

  Sean pulled a handful of paper napkins from the dispenser and gave them to Gary as he pointed to the byline. “‘Photo by Annabeth Walton,’ it says.” He peered at it closely and beamed with pride. “It’s pretty good, don’t ya think?”

  Gary wiped up the coffee spill, wadded up the napkins and tossed them on the table. “It’s not the quality of the picture I’m upset about. It’s like they’re out to get me.”

  “Don’t be so paranoid,” Sean said as he returned to his half-eaten plate of pancakes. “This is a small campus, so something like a disagreement between two major players in different departments is gonna be front page news.”

  “I gotta go to class.” Gary shoved aside his now-cold coffee. “Tell Annabeth she owes me big time.”

  “Hey, this is a big deal for her!” Sean called out as Gary sailed out of the cafeteria.

  ****

  Halloween and snow don’t go together, I thought. This was just crazy. Growing up in Houston, I’d only seen snow a handful of times until I moved to Indianapolis three years ago. Seeing everything white and frozen for months was a big enough adjustment, but this time of year I expected to see frost on pumpkins, not icicles on telephone poles. I had to keep my head down to avoid the blowing snow as I scurried across campus to the newspaper office after classes.

  Everyone on staff must be lying low till the storm passed, because Mr. Delwood was the only person there. His office door was ajar as he sat pounding on his computer keys. I noticed he had on his signature jeans and black turtleneck. Someone once told him he resembled Steve Jobs, so after that he dressed like the Apple guy did.

  He glanced up and readjusted his glasses when I knocked. “Caryn. You’re finally here. I left you that message hours ago.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” I said. “I had some personal business.” I had to call the psychic client my mom had texted me about earlier this week. I tried not to judge, but sometimes what seemed urgent to my clients was pretty mundane. Like this one. Luckily I’m as effective on the phone as I am in person, so after classes I went up to my dorm room for some privacy and gave Faith a call.

  “Hi, Faith, it’s Caryn. Mom tells me—”

  “Oh, Caryn, than
k goodness. It’s about Miguel, you know, the guy at my church?”

  I remembered that she’d talked about him before, but I rarely remember details about my clients’ personal lives. So I opened up my energy and focused on Faith and Miguel. I could visualize him—good-looking Hispanic guy, high school senior, totally focused on his schoolwork, job, and…wait, this was new. The guy’s an artist? A pretty good one, too, from what I was seeing. I’ve got a little artistic talent myself, but Miguel’s work looked awesome.

  As for Faith, she was one of those wallflower types. Not totally unattractive, but she didn’t make the most of her potential. And she didn’t have many friends, either, preferring to spend her time alone, writing stories or poetry. Maybe that was why she was constantly consulting a psychic about her love life.

  “Miguel still hasn’t asked you out, right?”

  I could hear Faith sigh on the other end of the phone. “No, but I was hoping he’d ask me to the Fall Dance. Everyone at school is going.”

  I watched the scenario play out in my head and blew out a puff of air. “Faith,” I said as tactfully as I could, “Miguel’s got a lot on his plate right now.” She giggled on the other end. “Oh, sorry, bad pun. He works in a restaurant, right? Anyway, you’ll be going to the dance, just not with him. But don’t give up because there’s a chance for something later in the spring. Give it—give him—some time. And there’s a classmate of yours who’s going to facilitate the date.”

  Faith sounded disappointed when she thanked me and hung up. But even though the timing wasn’t perfect for her, she and Miguel will one day be a couple. I knew that for a fact.

  “Caryn? Did you hear me?”

  “Oh, sorry, Del, my mind wandered. What did you say?”

  “Well,” Del said, swiveling around in his desk chair to face me, “I wanted to talk to you about…”

  I nodded. “The Ghost Stalking’s been called off.”

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  I smirked as I folded my arms and leaned against the doorway. “Some people say I’m psychic.”

  “Oh, right.” Del reclined in his swivel chair.