Teenage Psychic on Campus

by Pamela Woods-Jackson

  “You’re late,” Caryn said.

  Gary glanced at the dashboard clock as he fastened his seatbelt. “Five minutes.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “Sorry, rehearsal ran late. We open next weekend, you know.”

  “I’m counting the days,” Caryn muttered.

  Gary glowered at her, then turned to the window. Silently staring into the night was preferable to being insulted about his acting. Again.

  Annabeth checked her rearview mirror, put the car in Drive and pulled out. “Hey, Gary, Ghost Stalkers are counting on you to do some serious ghost whispering tonight.”

  Gary kept a steady gaze out the window. “Only if the ghost cares to chat.”

  Sean turned around sideways in his seat and peered around the headrest. “I don’t know why you’re so sure there’s only one.”

  “There is only one,” Caryn said. “We both already told you that.”

  Gary glanced over at her. One thing was certain: she seemed to have his back on this point at least. He had to admire that.

  “Ooo, I hope you’re both wrong,” Annabeth said, fairly jumping up and down in her seat. “I want to see lots of ghosts.”

  “You don’t see them at all,” Caryn reminded her.

  “Okay then, capture their orbs on camera,” Annabeth huffed.

  By the time they pulled onto Highway 38 it had started to rain, causing traffic to slow. They rode along in silence, broken only by the slap-slap of the windshield wipers, the whir of the heater vent, and occasionally the ever-chipper Siri. A couple of times Annabeth had to brake to keep her distance from the car in front or come to a complete stop as traffic backed up in the ensuing downpour.

  Sean leaned as far forward as his seat belt would allow and wiped at the foggy windshield with the sleeve of his jacket. “We’re going to be late, Annabeth. Any way out of this traffic?”

  “Not that Siri knows of,” Annabeth sang back.

  Gary almost said “Who cares?” but stopped himself. He’d made a commitment, adjusted his whole schedule around this ghost hunt, so he wanted it done. Sooner rather than later.

  “Turn left in one hundred feet, onto Conner Road,” Siri instructed.

  Annabeth made her turn off the highway and onto the one-lane road. “See? No problem.” The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but fog was setting in. She switched her headlights to bright and inched her way down the long driveway toward the farmhouse, which sat majestically overlooking several acres of land.

  “You have arrived at your destination,” Siri announced.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Sean replied.

  There were lots of cars and SUVs already there, as well as a late model red sports coupe with the Ghost Stalkers’ banner flying from the radio antenna. “Whose car is that?” Gary asked, pointing at it.

  “That’s Barry’s,” Annabeth said. “Nice, huh?”

  I’ll say. Gary drew his lanky frame out of the backseat of the compact car, shook out his legs and stretched his arms overhead. Caryn hopped out the other side. Gary glanced at her over the roof of the car, thinking he might strike up a conversation about…well, he didn’t know what, but it didn’t matter. She seemed distracted. Besides, they weren’t here as friends, if their relationship could even be considered a friendship. They were just here to do a job.

  Sean and Annabeth got out of the front seats and Annabeth beeped open the trunk. Sean grabbed two large plastic grocery bags filled with snacks, and held them aloft. “Fortification for a long night!” he said with a grin.

  The sight of the junk food made Gary’s stomach rumble. It had been awhile since his mystery meatloaf lunch and he’d never had time for dinner. Not that chips and cookies would fill him up, but it was better than nothing. “So who all is supposed to be here tonight? You’ve got enough empty calories there to feed a small army.”

  “Barry, of course. And Scott Tildren, ’cause the Ghost Stalkers’ sponsor has to be here. And the production crew,” Sean said. “Mike Donovan, Karla Hansen, and Sydney Marshall. They got here early to start mounting night-vision cameras in strategic spots along the walls, and set up the EVPs.”

  “Karla’s here?” Annabeth seemed surprised. “She doesn’t know the first thing about the cameras. And she screams at every little shadow.”

  “Barry thinks she’s cute,” Sean replied. “And he likes that her squeals make the ghost stalking seem spookier.”

  Gary blew out a puff of air. He hadn’t realized this would be quite as big a deal as it was turning out to be. “All to chase off one stubborn old lady ghost?”

  “That’s not all that’s in this house,” Caryn said.

  “Wait, what?” Gary wanted her to clarify, but she’d already darted ahead to the porch.

  He hung back, squinting up at the house to get a feel for it. Back in the nineteenth century this must have been quite a showplace, but time and neglect had taken its toll. The only exterior light was one low-wattage bulb in a fixture on the porch, so all he could really tell was that the house was a large two-story wooden structure in the gingerbread style that was popular back then, and in bad need of repair. It must have had an elegant wrap-around porch at one time, but now most of the lattice work was either rotten or broken off. The wooden porch floor was uneven and had boards missing, and the three front steps were completely detached and probably unsafe. Oddly enough, the porch swing was still intact, although it needed a coat of paint and new chains to replace the rusty ones that attached it to the ceiling. The whole house could use a coat of paint, and it definitely needed new shutters, since the ones still there were hanging askew. Windows dotted both the main floor and upper floor, with torn lace curtains visible upstairs. Strewn around the property were unopened packages of roofing tiles and pine boards for repairing flooring, evidence of a construction project halted midway, probably because of the ghost situation. Gary hurried to join the others. He opened the door to let the girls go ahead of him and Sean, but Caryn balked.

  ****

  This was the very house I’d been having nightmares about. In my dream it looked creepier, because dreams can distort the truth, but still, this was it. “Give me a minute, guys,” I told them. “I need to commune with my…” I caught Gary looking at me askance. “My uncle,” I said in a huff. Too bad if he thinks it’s weird I have a spirit guide. Right now I need him.

  The three of them shrugged and stepped into the house.

  “Uncle Omar,” I whispered. I glanced around to see if anyone else was watching me talk to the porch swing. Just in case, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and put it to my ear.

  “You rang?”

  Always with the jokes. “What do I need to know about this place?” I asked him.

  “Welcome to the Pelson Bed and Breakfast,” Uncle Omar said. He materialized into full view, lounging on the porch swing, his feet propped up like it was a balmy summer day.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I asked him via my phone.

  He winked. “Stick with the ghost whisperer for starters. Everything else will fall into place.” And he disappeared.

  “Uncle Omar!” I stamped my foot and lowered my phone. “Will you at least stick around in case I need you?”

  “Always,” he said in my right ear.

  ****

  “Not too bad,” Gary said, surveying their immediate surroundings. “Looks like the workers got started on some of the renovations before the ghost ran them off.”

  After stepping in from the dilapidated porch, Gary, Sean, and Annabeth walked into a well-lit and warm front hallway. Off to their right was the living room, or family room, or parlor, or whatever they called it back in the day. Some demolition had taken place in there, too. The ceiling beams were exposed, the brick around the fireplace had been torn down, and the wooden mantel had been removed and was now propped against a wall, waiting to be reinstalled. The hardwood floors were in need of cleaning and polishing, but not buckled or broken or rotted. But Gary could see that a lot more work would need to get done
before Ms. Pelson could open this place up to guests. After the ghost was evicted, that is.

  “Everything okay?” Annabeth asked Caryn.

  Gary turned to see her walking in the door, a grim expression on her face. She must have already sensed something, judging by the way she’d dismissed him on the porch. As for his own abilities, Gary had enough experience to know that no self-respecting ghost would materialize with all these people around.

  “Fine,” Caryn said.

  “I’m heading to the kitchen,” Sean said, indicating the snack-laden bags.

  Loud voices were coming from down the hallway, so Gary, Caryn, and Annabeth followed the sound through the living area and into what had once been a spacious and luxurious dining area, with lots of wooden ornate trimmings on doors and windows. Now everything was covered in dust and the yellowed and flowery wallpaper was peeling off. There was no furniture to speak of, just some folding chairs and an old TV tray. Gary removed his stocking cap and gloves and stuffed them in his coat pockets. Caryn unbuttoned her jacket and shook the rainwater off her faux leather boots. Annabeth unwound her scarf to free up the camera dangling around her neck.

  Out in the hall, Barry was supervising Mike, Sydney, and Karla as they untangled cords and plugged EVP recording devices into an old-fashioned outlet. Just as Gary was thinking that didn’t seem safe, there was an ominous buzzing. Barry quickly dropped the extension cord and pulled his hand back from the electrical shock, shaking it vigorously to relieve the pain.

  “You okay, man?” Gary asked.

  “Damn knob and tube wiring.” Barry growled. “Try a different plug, guys,” he told his crew. He walked over to the four of them, still rubbing his hand. “Hey, glad you could make it, Gary. We were afraid the ghosts would scare you off.”

  “Ha ha.” Gary started to reach for Barry’s right hand to shake, but that was the sore one. Embarrassed, Gary withdrew his hand and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.

  Scott Tildren emerged from the kitchen with a travel mug of steaming coffee in his hand. He held it up and tilted his head in the direction of the kitchen. “There’s a fresh pot if anyone wants any. Might be a long night.”

  Sean came out of the kitchen empty-handed. “And there’s plenty of junk food if anyone gets the munchies.”

  Scott turned to Caryn. “And here’s our campus psychic. Welcome!”

  Barry folded his arms in front of his chest and shook his head. “She may be psychic, but officially she’s here as press. We need media coverage, even if it’s just the campus news rag.”

  “Gee thanks,” Caryn said.

  “The Herald is not a rag,” Annabeth reminded them. “It’s an old and respected publication.”

  “Respected enough for this story to get picked up by the wire services?” Barry asked with a glint in his eye.

  Scott frowned at Barry and turned to Gary. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  Gary and Caryn exchanged surprised glances. “No way,” Gary said, as Caryn shook her head.

  Barry watched them looking at each other. “Uh-huh.”

  Caryn scrunched up her face and turned her back on Barry. She started punching buttons on her phone, then held it up in the air, trying all angles. “No signal?” she asked Scott.

  “The house hasn’t caught up to twenty-first century technology,” Scott said. “None of us can get any bars. I guess that means we’re off the grid for the night.”

  “Well, that’s just great,” Caryn said, powering down her phone and shoving it in her pocket. “How am I supposed to file my story? The whole campus knows Ghost Stalkers is here, so our readers will be eager to read about it in the morning edition.”

  “Don’t worry, Caryn,” Annabeth said. “I’ll post some photos on social media when we get back to civilization, and then you can write your story. It’ll be online by breakfast.”

  Gary was starting to sweat in the overheated house, or maybe he was just getting nervous about this whole thing. They all expected him to conjure up the ghost and talk to her, possibly on video, and Gary knew that wasn’t the way it worked. He took off his jacket and tossed it on a folding chair. “So what do you guys need me to do?”

  “Right now you can just familiarize yourself with the house, because once we go dark it gets more challenging.” Barry checked his watch. “And that should be soon.”

  “Annabeth and I are gonna stake out some places where she can get the best shots.” Sean took her by the hand and led her down the hallway.

  “Just keep it professional!” Barry called after them. “Gary, take Caryn with you and go see if you two get any psychic hits.”

  Gary could feel his blood pressure rising. These electronics-dependent amateurs just didn’t get it. “For the last time, I’m not a psychic. And she’s not a ghost whisperer.”

  Barry waved his hand in annoyance at both Gary and Caryn. “Semantics. Maybe you two need to figure out how to collaborate, because we have a job to do here. Ms. Pelson’s depending on us. Capiche?”

  “Got it,” Gary growled. He put his hand in the small of Caryn’s back and directed her toward the entryway. Once they were out of earshot, he said, “Sorry ’bout that. That guy just rubs me the wrong way.” Caryn nodded her agreement. “We may as well go upstairs and see what we find. You ready?”

  Caryn closed her eyes and stood perfectly still for a few seconds. “I’m all ears, so to speak. And you need to keep a lookout for the ghosties.”

  “Don’t worry, they—she—will find me.”

  A staircase near the front door led up to what Gary assumed was the second floor bedrooms. “This way.” He stopped halfway up the rickety stairs and turned to see Caryn hesitating at the bottom. “They creak but they’re sturdy,” he told her as he bounded the rest of the way up. “See? They don’t build ’em like this anymore.”

  Caryn tried the first step, found it solid, and inched her way to the top, hugging the wobbly handrail all the way. Once at the top, they both peered down an expansive hallway, but it was hard to see anything with only one old-fashioned light fixture in the center of the ceiling. Its low wattage bulb cast eerie shadows on the walls. She shivered. “Gary, there’s something in this house…”

  Gary winked at her. “Don’t worry. Ghosts only hurt people in the movies.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” She hugged her arms tightly around herself. “There’s something human we need to watch out for.”

  Gary was reaching for the nearest doorknob, but he stopped to face Caryn. “Any idea what?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet.”

  Gary went back to opening doors. Four of them led into empty bedrooms, one was a storage closet, and the last door opened onto a bathroom where something rustled under a pile of plaster that had fallen off the walls.

  “Ugh! What is that?” Caryn squealed.

  “Mice maybe?”

  Just then a loud bang from somewhere below caused them both to jump. “And what was that?” Caryn whispered.

  Gary shrugged. “Someone probably knocked something over downstairs.” He took one last look around the dimly-lit hallway. “I say we go back downstairs and wait for the go-ahead to start the real stalking.” Suddenly he felt the air get chilly and that familiar tingle pricked at the back of his neck. “She’s here,” he whispered.

  “Where?” Caryn’s eyes darted all around. “Is she saying anything?”

  Gary stood still and waited, but the ghost didn’t make her appearance. He shook his head. “She’s gone. Maybe she’s shy.”

  “Great. Dead and bashful.”

  “Come on, let’s go.” They retraced their steps back to the top of the staircase when there was yet another loud noise from below. Gary stopped in his tracks and listened intently.

  “Hey, Gary,” Sean called up from the bottom of the stairs, “did you guys hear that?”

  “Yeah.” Gary walked back down the creaky stairs with Caryn right behind him, tightly gripping the bannister.

  Annabeth giggled and pu
t her arm around Sean’s waist. “Maybe the ghosts started the party without us.”

  “Hey, Barry!” Gary yelled out, his voice echoing through the house. “Did you guys drop something down here?”

  Barry poked his head out of the dining room. “No, but we heard it. Sounded like it came from the basement.” His walky-talky squawked. “Yeah, Scott?”

  “Lights out in five minutes!” Scott said over the device.

  “Good to go from here,” Barry replied. He hooked the walky-talky onto his belt loop. “Gary, Caryn, you two go back to the upstairs hallway. Hopefully our elusive Lady in White will appear and get caught on camera.”

  “Absolutely not!” Caryn said.

  Barry lifted an eyebrow and exchanged glances with Gary. “Say what?”

  “If you want to make use of my psychic abilities, my radar says the action is in the basement.” And with that, Caryn turned and headed down the hall, trying doors on the main floor that might open onto the basement staircase.

  “I’ll go with her,” Gary said.

  Annabeth checked her camera to make sure it was ready to go. “What about us?”

  “Sean, Annabeth, since they’re going downstairs, you two cover the upstairs hallway and then the family room,” Barry said. “I’ve got Donovan and Marshall checking out the exterior around the house. Hansen’s with me covering the kitchen and main floor living spaces. And Scott’s monitoring the equipment in the van.” Barry handed a flashlight to Gary. “It’s go time!” he called out.

  Then everything went black.

  ****

  I was on a mission. I didn’t know if ghosts were haunting the place or not, but that was Gary’s department. Every fiber of my being was screaming that there was something in that basement and I had to get down there. The first door I tried in the main hallway was nothing but trash stuffed into what should have been a coat closet. I tried another door that turned out to be a butler’s pantry. Kinda cool with all that built-in wooden shelving, but I had to bypass the architecture tour in favor of solving this psychic mystery.

  Gary turned on the flashlight and aimed it at the door. “What are you doing?”