Teenage Psychic on Campus

by Pamela Woods-Jackson

  “No way. Not till I’m sure he’s safe.”

  Gary shifted his backpack to the other shoulder. “Safe from what?”

  Lucy was fading. Gary knew it took a lot of energy for a ghost to materialize, much less have a lengthy conversation, but he could tell she had more to tell him. When she’d completely disappeared, Gary sighed and started walking again. That is, until he felt the familiar tingle on the back of his neck. He stopped and turned around, thinking Lucy had come back.

  “See here, Mr. Riddell, that woman has no right to occupy this space. She’s not from this institution.”

  Gary frowned at the ghostly professor. “Seriously? Territorial ghosts?” He shook his head and hurried on. “You two work it out on your side and leave me out of it,” he muttered.

  “Late night, Gary?” Ellis asked as he walked into the bookstore.

  He nodded. “Sorry I’m late, and thanks for understanding. Complications at the ghost hunt.”

  “Hopefully there aren’t any ghosts around here today to keep you from your work.”

  Gary chuckled, did a quick glance around the store, and tossed off a lighthearted, “Not at the moment.”

  Mid-morning the store wasn’t busy at all, except for a half dozen or so bleary-eyed students sucking down coffee. That was fine with him, because he had lots to do and not much time to do it. There was yesterday’s shipment of books in the storeroom to unpack and place on shelves, inventory to check and reorder, and the bathrooms that always needed a good cleaning. He wiped down the counter with disinfectant, and then the cash registers, and went to work unloading the new books onto shelves back in the English literature section. That was when he noticed that a bunch of the existing stock was all out of order. Those English majors could sure paw through a lot of books, and then put them back in all the wrong places. You’d think they’d know alphabetical order.

  Next he went into the restrooms to check their condition and restock supplies. When he opened the door to the unoccupied women’s restroom he gagged, covered his nose with his hand, and went right out again for the bucket of cleanser and the mop. He was pulling them backwards through the door to the women’s restroom when he ran smack into Sean.

  “Uh, gender crisis, Gary?” Sean asked with a smirk.

  “Very funny,” Gary said.

  Sean smiled and pushed open the men’s room door, but stopped halfway in. “How’s our ‘house guest’?”

  Gary shook his head and looked upward as if to say Heaven help us. “I left him playing one of your old video games. I called Caryn, and I hope she and Annabeth will go over and keep him out of trouble for a while.”

  Sean nodded. “Yeah, but Annabeth and I have a date tonight, and that kid can’t stay in our room indefinitely. You got any kind of plan?”

  Gary leaned on the mop to catch his breath. “Well, I was going to ask Brenda, but I can’t get ahold of her. I have reason to think—”

  “Reason, as in ghost?” Sean interjected.

  Gary ignored him and went right on. “—that Eddie might have been abused. Any way we could get your dad to check him out?”

  Sean shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll text him and see what he can do.”

  ****

  More running. This time across campus because Gary was late to rehearsal. He pushed open the doors to the Thomas Belford Fine Arts Building and rushed down the hall to the stage.

  Foster pulled up his sleeve to check his nonexistent watch and frowned at Gary. “It’s about time, Riddell,” he called from the stage, his voice echoing in the empty auditorium. Foster was standing in for him as Mr. Bingley, rehearsing the scene with Delia Ferguson who was playing Jane Bennet.

  Gary slid out of his backpack and took the steps two at a time onto the stage. “Sorry, but it got busy at work,” he said. “Where are we?”

  “Act Two,” Foster said. He stepped away from Delia, shaded his eyes from the glare and called out to the light and sound techs, “Top of the scene you guys!” Foster jumped off the edge of the stage and sat down in the front row.

  Gary went to his place next to the fireplace mantel. He leaned his elbow casually against it, mindful of the correct posture required to pull off a tight-fitting nineteenth century waistcoat, stretch pants, and boots, which would make him appear even taller.

  Delia tossed him a dirty look and reached for her bottle of water hidden behind the satin-covered sofa. “Some of us actually want this play to succeed.” She swallowed a gulp of water and glared at him.

  Gary tried to overlook Delia’s sarcasm so he could get into character. “Jane, don’t you look lovely,” Gary-as-Bingley said.

  “That’s not the line,” Delia said.

  Gary sighed, pulled himself up to his full height and this time spoke the correct line. “Miss Bennet, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”

  Delia was suddenly Jane Bennet, all straight laced and nineteenth century proper. “Why, Mr. Bingley!” She batted her eyelashes and fanned herself with an imaginary fan.

  Gary offered his arm to escort “Jane” onto the dance floor. “May I have this dance, Miss Bennet?” She took his arm and Gary started to walk her over, but then stopped. This was their first time on the stage they’d actually be performing on in five days. It was much bigger than the rehearsal stage, and up till now they had never done more than mark their places. Gary stepped to the footlights. “Just where exactly is this dance supposed to happen, Foster?”

  “You act like you’ve never been in a play before, Riddell,” Foster barked. “Get your head in the game.”

  Gary sighed, stretched his neck and back to get himself refocused, and faced Delia for the pretend dance. Tricia Palmer’s Elizabeth was downstage from Jane, and Kevin Michaels as Mr. Darcy stood across from “Elizabeth.” Two extra men and women filled out the dance set. They all bowed to their respective partners, Foster made a circular motion with his arm to signal the start of the music, and the English Country Dance began.

  Gary lost all track of time inside the theatre as they went through the rest of the play. It wasn’t Shakespeare, but he felt an obligation to do his best and perhaps prove his versatility. What seemed like a short time later, Foster gathered the cast for notes and then called it a wrap.

  Gary pulled out his cell phone and saw that it was after seven. Unfortunately he’d missed a text from Brenda hours earlier.

  —Meet at Tony’s Pizza Palace 6 pm.—

  Gary groaned and texted her back.

  —Sorry. Long rehearsal. On my way.—

  So much for the library.

  ****

  Even though we’d promised Gary to look in on Eddie, Annabeth, and I were a while getting over there. After the long night at the ghost hunt, we’d both slept in, and then I had some research to do that wouldn’t wait. I went to the school newspaper office, fired up my computer, and pulled up the archives of The Indianapolis Star so I could read up on the accident that had killed Eddie’s mother. I pored over all the news coverage, but my radar told me there was more to the story than the official police report. By the time I tore myself away and met up with Annabeth, it was late afternoon.

  Outside Gary and Sean’s dorm room, Annabeth rapped lightly on the door. We waited for an answer, but it was really quiet inside. Maybe the kid’s asleep, I thought, or he’s taken off again. No, I shook that thought off.

  “Hello, Eddie?” Annabeth called out.

  “Shhh!” I whispered, glancing sideways at a couple of girls strolling past us in the narrow hallway. “You can’t call out his name.”

  “Oops.” Annabeth nodded a silent greeting to the girls and then she knocked even louder. “Yo! Sean! Gary! Open up!” The door opened a crack and an eyeball peered out at us.

  “Let us in!” I hissed.

  Eddie hid behind the door as the two of us walked in, and then hurriedly shut and locked it behind us. He was wearing a dirty and worn pair of ill-fitting jeans, the same hooded sweatshirt from last night, socks with a hole in the heel
, and I spotted his mud-encrusted tennis shoes at the foot of the bed. “Great. Babysitters,” he muttered. He flopped back onto Sean’s bed on his stomach, retrieved the remote from among the covers, and resumed his paused video game.

  Annabeth reached over his shoulder and hit the TV’s off button. “We need to talk.”

  “Hey!” Eddie whined, sitting up. “I was winning!”

  “Keep your voice down. We—” I suddenly got a cold chill, the kind I’ve heard people sometimes get when there’s a ghost nearby. I can’t see ghosts but I know a creepy feeling when I get it. I hugged myself tightly and let my eyes dart around the room.

  “What’s with her?” Eddie asked Annabeth, jerking his thumb at me.

  Annabeth watched me closely and asked, “Do we have company?”

  “Maybe, but you know I can’t be sure.” I slowly walked around the cluttered room, dodging books, clothes, and empty soda cans, and felt the unfamiliar energy increase with every step. And the closer to Eddie I got, the stronger the energy. I took a deep breath, listened intently, and then nodded. “Uncle Omar says Eddie’s mom is here.”

  “What!” Eddie shrieked.

  Annabeth winced and put her fingers to her lips to shush him.

  Eddie took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “What about my mom?”

  I felt bad for the kid. First he runs away from an abusive stepfather, gets discovered by a psychic and a ghost whisperer, and now I’m telling him—through an unseen third party—that his mom’s ghost is in the room. It was enough to scare the daylights out of anyone, let alone a thirteen-year-old boy.

  I sat down facing Eddie from the edge of Gary’s unmade bed, and leaned my elbows on my knees. “Remember last night when I told you I’m psychic?” Eddie nodded, eyeing me suspiciously. I didn’t blame him for being skeptical of my abilities. Heck, most people are. “Well, my spirit guide—my late uncle—says to tell you that your mother is here in this room. I can feel her but I can’t talk to her.”

  Eddie folded his arms in front of his chest and glared at me. “Why the hell not?”

  “Watch your mouth,” Annabeth warned him.

  “Eddie, I’m a psychic medium, so earthbounds—ghosts—are at too low a frequency for me to pick up.” I expected him to ask me to explain, but surprisingly he seemed to understand what I was saying.

  “Then what good are you?” he finally growled.

  “Caryn, isn’t there something you can do?” Annabeth pleaded.

  “Wish Gary was here?” Neither of them seemed to appreciate the humor. “Okay, I’ll try.” I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and listened to what my uncle was saying. When Eddie opened his mouth to interrupt, I held up my hand to keep him quiet while I concentrated. Annabeth stepped back to give me space, since she’s familiar with my process. Finally I opened my eyes, ready to put into words the video I’d been watching in my head. “Your mom died a few weeks ago in a car accident. Uncle Omar tells me she was angry, driving too fast on a two-lane road somewhere up in Melville, her brakes didn’t grab, and she smashed into a tree.”

  Eddie sucked in his breath as his eyes welled up. Annabeth sat down to put an arm around him, which he shrugged off. “So, big deal,” Eddie spit out. “I guess you read the papers.”

  “Yeah, I’ve read the news stories. But the part about her brakes wasn’t in any of them,” I said. “The press just said she lost control.”

  Eddie’s head popped up at that and he gasped. Anger, hurt, grief, and disbelief were all reflected on his face. He balled his fists and clenched his jaw as tears started flowing. “I don’t get why she was even in Melville.”

  I crossed the room and sat down on the other side of him. “She was filing divorce papers at the county courthouse. She and Clyde—”

  “He’s a jerk,” Eddie said, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

  Annabeth scooted away from him a little in order to look him in the face. “So when did you decide to run away? And how did you pull that off?”

  “After the funeral, things got really bad.” Eddie dropped his head into his hands. “My friend Jake Harris, his dad’s the foreman on the construction crew working at that old farmhouse. Mr. Harris took us out there after school one day. Jake’s into all that hands-on building stuff and I’m a history buff, so while the two of them were measuring or hammering or something, I went exploring.”

  So that’s how he found an out-of-the-way place to hide out. “But the day you disappeared, your friend Jake said you got into a white pickup,” I said.

  Eddie lifted his head and gave us a crooked grin. “I used my birthday money to stock up supplies, and then I called Uber.”

  “Yeah,” Annabeth said, “but your picture was everywhere. Why didn’t that Uber driver call the police?”

  Eddie shrugged. “College guy. Stoned out of his mind. Kept staring at his phone the whole time, ignoring me.” He sat up straight and looked me in the eye. “So what’s my mom trying to tell me?”

  And then just like that all the paranormal energy in the room simply evaporated. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I know. We’ll need Gary to get the rest of the information.”

  Annabeth’s phone pinged and she pulled it out of her pocket to read the text. “Sean says to meet him and his dad and Brenda Riddell at Tony’s. You guys up for pizza?”

  I looked Eddie up and down, checking out his wardrobe. “Yeah, as soon as we find some decent clothes for this kid.” I got up and brazenly rummaged through the closet. Gary was way too tall for any of his clothes to fit this short, skinny kid, so I pulled a pair of khaki cargo pants and a Hamilton Liberal Arts logo-embossed sweatshirt from Sean’s side and tossed them to Eddie, along with a pair of deck shoes. “Go put these on. We roll in ten minutes.”

  ****

  Being without a car was a constant problem for Gary. How was he going to get from the far side of Hamilton Liberal Arts College to the south side of Belford? Brenda had texted him back that they—“they?”—would wait and save him some pizza, but if he tried to walk, he’d be at least another hour getting there. And it was cold out. The only solution was to call a cab and hope he had enough money in his debit account to cover it.

  Fifteen minutes later the cab let him out in front of Tony’s. Gary gave the driver his credit card, held his breath as the guy ran it, and breathed a sigh of relief when the driver handed him his receipt without comment.

  Gary hurried inside. Off in the same corner where they’d all eaten the last time, he spotted Brenda, happily chatting with Dr. Paxton. Sean and Annabeth waved him over and he was surprised to also see Eddie nestled between Brenda and Caryn, his hood pulled up over his head.

  “We saved you some meat-lover’s special,” Brenda said, patting the chair next to her.

  Gary hung his jean jacket on the back of the chair and shoved his backpack underneath the table. His stomach growled loudly as he opened the lid of the pizza. He pulled out one of the three slices left and took a big bite, moaning with pleasure as he savored the lukewarm flavors. Brenda shoved her half-empty glass of tea over to him and he took a swig between bites. Finally he came up for air and smiled at his mom. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

  “Never,” Brenda said with a wink. “But we’ve got kind of a situation here. This young man”—she indicated Eddie—“has a well-known face.”

  Dr. Paxton nodded in agreement. “When Sean texted and asked me to meet him here, I had no idea my son had been harboring a fugitive.”

  “Dad,” Sean said, “you make it sound like Eddie’s committed a crime. He’s the victim.”

  “Did you have a chance to check him out, Dr. Paxton?” Gary asked between bites of pizza. “I mean, Eddie’s kinda had a rough couple of weeks.”

  “I gave him a cursory once-over,” Dr. Paxton replied. “This young man’s been fairly resourceful. He’s not malnourished or suffering any long-term effects of his time in hiding.”

  “But the reason he was hiding is scary,” Caryn said.r />
  Gary lifted an eyebrow at Caryn. “Scary how?”

  Caryn readjusted the knitted scarf around her neck. “I sorta heard from…”

  “Caryn had a conversation with her dead uncle who was talking to Eddie’s mom,” Annabeth said, clapping her hands in excitement. “All in your dorm room this afternoon!”

  “Lucy,” Gary informed them. Eddie’s eyes widened in surprise as Caryn glanced at him with a quizzical expression. “Yeah, I’ve talked to her. For some reason she thinks it’s up to me to look after her boy.”

  “She might be right,” Caryn said with a nod. “I mean, from what I heard…”

  “Wait,” Dr. Paxton said, raising his hand like a traffic cop. “Will someone please explain what’s going on here?”

  “Caryn’s a psychic, Dad,” Sean said. “And Gary—you know he sees ghosts, right?”

  Gary watched as the color sort of drained out of the doctor’s face. It was always like this when someone found out what he could do. But somehow Gary thought Dr. Paxton already knew, either from Sean, or from being his pediatrician when he was a kid, or from hearing it from Brenda, who worked as his receptionist.

  “Brenda,” Dr. Paxton said, “I remember back when Gary was a child and you were sure his imaginary friends were, well, imaginary. I thought he’d outgrown that.”

  Brenda looked chagrinned. “His so-called imaginary friends turned out to be ghosts. There are people who can really do what that lady in the TV show did. Gary talks to them and helps them cross over.”

  Dr. Paxton sat in stunned silence. He shook his head, took a big slurp of water and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. So he finished off the water.

  “That’s why I was trying so hard to get him to join Ghost Stalkers,” Sean told his father. “He’s a natural. I finally talked Gary into going with us to the Pelson farmhouse, which is how we found Carson here.”