Then his shoulders relaxed and he leaned back in the chair, “I should get a coffee. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
I couldn’t help but snort into my own coffee and almost choked. “Sorry,” I gasped wiping at my mouth. “But when do you ever need sleep?”
His eyes were wide, almost startled, as he tried to see through my rhetorical question. I kept my eyes open and honest, a trait I’d taught myself when dealing with Casper. Eventually he hummed low in his throat, “Even sociopath’s need sleep, Fletcher.”
Isabel cleared her throat and shattered the fine bubble that had encompassed us. She sat there with her arms folded and her eyes boring into mine as Casper slipped out of our booth and headed towards the counter without a backwards glance. “Fletcher?” she hissed out sharply as she leaned over the table, “Fletcher? Avery is there something you’re not telling me?” Her tone made me flinch. “Seriously, this is what I’m talking about! He practically calls himself a psychopath and you don’t even flinch at it!”
“Sociopath,” I interjected.
“WHAT? What are you talking about?”
“He didn’t say ‘psychopath’ he said ‘sociopath’. There is a difference,” I stated. I scooped out my soggy gingerbread man and popped him in my mouth.
She shot me a glare, “See! This is what I mean, Avery! You’re sticking up for him and acting like it’s not weird!”
I leaned over towards her and said in a deliberately slow voice, “It was a joke, Isabel. Remember those? We used to have those all the time.”
“This boy isn’t good for you, Avery. You’re not well,” she hissed in a low voice. “You need to be around positive-minded people right now. What does Camilla think about all of this?”
“She actually thinks it’s a good idea to branch out and meet new people.”
“Yeah, at a party or in class or something, not this,” Isabel stated rather shrilly before looking over my shoulder to make sure that no one was watching us. “This isn’t healthy, Avery. Seriously, you look as though you haven’t slept in ages.”
“I feel fine,” I managed to say without sounding stressed. The truth was I hadn’t been sleeping as much as I should have, but I felt a lot more rested than if I’d had several twelve-hour sleeps. “What is wrong with you today?” I asked, “Why do you have to start arguments every time Casper is around? We’re going to be working together for the next few months; you really need to do something about your fixation of hating him.”
“I’m trying,” she snapped at me and slouched back in her seat. “I just don’t see why he needs to come along every time that we meet up with each other.”
“You suggested this!” I snapped. “Why tell me to invite him if you’re just going to sulk?”
Isabel glared at me but didn’t respond. Instead she busied herself with writing down some notes and ignoring me until Casper came back with a drink in his hand and a few packets of biscuits in the other. I cocked an eyebrow at him but he merely shrugged, his face as ever expressionless, and tossed the packets into the middle of the table. Isabel blinked, momentarily taken aback, as she looked up Casper and frowned. “What are these for?”
“They’re cookies,” he said, “According to popular belief we eat them so we don’t get hungry.”
The glare she threw at Casper was enough to make my own stomach turn. Smiling, I swiped one of the cookies for myself and nudged Isabel’s ankle under the table. She glared at me through her fringe and I gave her an exasperatedly desperate look, urging her to at least try to be civil for the short amount of time we were all together.
She mumbled out a weak, “Thanks,” before all our notebooks were pushed out onto the table top and we started to get down to work.
*
To say that I was surprised that Isabel showed up at my room later that evening, with a pizza box in her hands, and her guitar slung over her back was an understatement. However, the cheerful glimmer in her eyes was enough to make me not be snappy like I’d been that morning. The session itself had gone fairly well and we had all left on rather civil terms. I had no reason to be mad with her as I closed the door and placed the pizza box on my desk, narrowly missing a page of sheet music I’d been doodling. We spent the evening talking about nothing in particular, and this new little assignment she was writing up for French lectures, and how her teacher was a word Nazi at the best of times. We laughed and joked and I felt a lot more like the ‘old’ Avery than I had in a while. Isabel also seemed more like her old self. I couldn’t place my finger on what was shifting between us, but I could only hope that the calm, humorous evening was shifting us to level ground. She even killed the conversation so that she could play me a slow, melodic set she’d been drafting during her studio time. It sounded soft and sweet and whisked me away to the banks of a lake with the dawn peeking out from behind a vast border of mountains. It was so beautiful and moving I felt like I’d been floating in a dream.
“Don’t change it,” I managed to say as she packed her guitar away, muttering to herself about how late it was and that I needed to get my rest.
She turned around once she’d snapped her case shut and cocked an eyebrow at me. “What do you mean? It’s only a rough draft, it still needs some tweaking.”
I shook my head and placed both of my hands on her shoulders. “Seriously, Izzie, don’t change that tune. If you want to extend it or something, that would be great, but honestly? It’s pretty much perfect the way it is-.” I pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and then flicked her cheek.
She blushed and rolled her eyes at me. “Stop getting all soppy on me. I’ll see what I can do about extending it though. But you’re right,” she stated smiling over at me, “I think it’s pretty good too.” She tiptoed up and wrapped me in a hug. I squeezed her back until she sank back to her normal height and stroked my fringe out of my eyes. “Shower then sleep, Avery Fletcher,” she clucked in a motherly tone before hoisting her guitar case onto her shoulder and went over to the door. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she grinned over her shoulder and then she was gone.
I stood there for a few minutes watching the door sit in its frame, Isabel’s hint of perfume still lingering on my collar from where she’d hugged me. I raked my fingers through my hair and looked around my room, trying to decide on whether I should read in bed or browse the internet for a while longer and sort out some more of the written section of our music assignment. Or, I reasoned, I could simply take my laptop to bed with me. With that decided, I turned off all the lights and cuddled up in my duvet and propped my laptop up on my knees. As I started to type in random words to YouTube to get me some inspiration, I heard a ‘Bing’ from my other tab that was open. I frowned as to who could be messaging me at such a late hour. There was only one person who would even think about messaging me past one in the morning.
Casper.
I went onto my Facebook page and read the message he’d just sent me.
‘Are you still awake?’
I quickly tapped out a reply, trying not to let my mouth smile, ‘Yeah I’m awake. Why, what’s up?’
‘I just wanted to see if you were open to watching something.’ It wasn’t really a question, much like most of what Casper said.
I tapped out a quick ‘yes’ and within moments a link was sent my way. As soon as I clicked on it my screen went black, the mouse icon disappearing from view and I held my breath waiting for what would come next. A slow note rang out from my laptop, so subtle at first that I didn’t realise where it was coming from until it gained momentum and more notes joined the first in a soft rift.
An image began to appear on the screen, like the music it was subtle at first, just a swirl of blue that danced over the black screen. Then a forest appeared, sprouting up through the blackness, in all shades of blues and murky greens, birds flitting by with their wings beating in time to the violin. It zoomed into the water that swirled into a whirlpool, drawing me in, until the screen zoomed out to depict the watery blue iris of a
small boy with a haircut –very similar to Casper’s –as he observed the surrounding woods –the reflection of the birds catching in his eyes. He wondered through the woods, the music matching the movements and moods I was feeling as I watched, enthralled, as a flicker of red came onto the scene. It was a small fire that was dying; the small pale boy huddled over it and blew soft wisps of white curling air around the flames. They seemed to entwine and dance together, the fire growing, the embers blowing up into the black night air until the embers morphed into twinkling stars.
I felt a shudder run through me as the twinkling stars vanished into the closing eyes of the little boy, but he wasn’t alone this time. This time he was with a little boy with crackling, flaming hair looking up, stars winking in their eyes. I watched with my jaw unhinged as the stars winked out and the screen faded to black. The last few notes drew themselves out through the darkness and then ended.
The room was silent as my screen went blank, several unread messages from Casper and Isabel bobbing on the screen. I ignored them, my thoughts unfocused as the music resounded in my head. The silence pressed down all around me and I finally forced myself back to the present, my breathing harsh in my ears and my heart drumming in my chest. I hadn’t felt that exhilarated from watching something in a very long time. Had Casper drawn all of that? All the singles frames, all the backgrounds, all of that as well as writing and recording the music well enough to match everything together? How had he managed to accomplish all of that whilst I still struggled to keep my head clear for twenty percent of the day? Was this the reason he rarely slept, or did it just happen to coincide?
I felt jittery all of a sudden, like I wanted to hurry down the hall to his room and knock on his door. I wanted to see him, talk to him, and maybe even risk touching him? No! I couldn’t do that. It had taken too long to get to this point with him. Then again, why not? Clearly he wanted some sort of reaction, so why shouldn’t I give him one? I sat there against my pillows and gnawed the inside of my cheeks, absently reaching under it for the link of paperclips. It would be so easy; his room was only down the other end of the hall from mine.
A tremor ran through me and my stomach coiled with excitement and anticipation. Placing my laptop to one side, I tugged a hoodie over my head and slipped out of bed. I let my feet guide me along the corridor until I realised I’d only a vague idea of which door belonged to Casper. I swallowed thickly and continued on. As I stopped outside the door I believed to be Casper’s, I hesitated, my palms growing clammy. I raised my hand and knocked on the door.
After what seemed like ten minutes or so, I found myself holding my breath as the door opened and saw Casper. My chest grew tight at his blank expression and the almost cute angle his head was tilted at. ‘Jesus’, I thought as I rubbed the back of my neck, ‘If that was what I liked then I should just get a dog or something.’ I grimaced as Casper’s voice startled me out of my inane musings.
“Did you not like the video I sent you?” he asked, his voice neutral if a little anxious.
My throat was dry as I struggled to find the words to convey just how much his sequence had touched something in me. I couldn’t tell him that without him freaking out. Damn, I wished I hadn’t left the chain of paperclips under my pillow. My fingers felt stupid as they knotted inside my tracksuit pockets with nothing to hold on to. I licked my lips, the atmosphere turning awkward as I stood there like a mute moron. “I’m surprised you had time to work on something so …great.” I winced at how lame I sounded. Judging by the amused gleam in Casper’s eyes, it was obvious he thought so too.
He shrugged a shoulder, averting his gaze so he didn’t have to look at me. “I combined our music project with my Media Studies so technically I’m cheating.”
I scoffed for lack of anything better to do, “You cheat? I don’t believe it.”
He gave me a serious nod, “Oh yes, I’m quite adept at multi-tasking high-level studies. Although don’t tell your little friend.” It took me a moment of two to realise he was referring to Isabel. “I want it at least seventy percent finished before she sees it and I want to watch the smile drop off her face.”
At his words, I was suddenly reminded of Isabel’s own behaviour and once again I felt like the middle-man. It was exhausting. Brushing my fringe out of my eyes, I tilted my head at him and frowned, “Why can’t you two just get along for the sake of the project? Is it really that hard?” Despite how I wanted him to take me seriously, my wan voice made it difficult for even my own ears. I sagged against the doorframe.
Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Casper leaned against the wood of the door, his expression finally softening as he peered up at me. “Some people just weren’t meant to get along, Fletcher, and there’s not much else you can do about it.”
“But can’t you just try? A little bit? If not for the project then do it for me! Let me get through this project and keep my sanity!” I pleaded, my voice tightening with the pressure I felt building up inside my head.
He gave a huffed little laugh. “For you?” he asked incredulously before those pale eyes softened again and made me tremble inside. “Okay,” he nodded gently, “Alright sure, I can do it for you.”
As soon as those soft, hushed words caressed my ears, I felt myself drift out of my body. It was like I was watching myself when I wrapped my arms around his body and pulled him close, ignoring how my touch practically turned him to stone, like Medusa’s eyes. My face rested against his shoulder for a brief moment before deciding to unwind and step back into the safety of the hallway.
His pale eyes were wide and confused. His knuckles flashed white as he gripped the door. I swallowed stiffly, wanting to say something, but no words came forth. I watched as his shoulders shook slightly before he coughed.
“Well I’ll er … see you.” He closed the door in my face and I was left feeling hollow and exhilarated at the same time.
On my way back to my room all I could think about was how he hadn’t punched or choked me. He could have done, I was nothing if not vulnerable when I’d gone down to his room. But there’d been nothing; just the smell of his hair still tickling at my nose and the way he’d felt rigid against me.
I went back to my room, instantly curling into my duvet. As my eyelids grew heavy and my mind started to black out, I watched the little boy of white wispy air swirls and the boy with the crackling flamed hair hopping over the twinkling stars before the black sky swallowed them whole.
Chapter Eleven
The next week or so passed me by in a blur of rain, cold and monotonous trips to the recording studio with Isabel. I still had yet to write up the ending piece, which was my main contribution to the project. Now that I knew just what Casper wanted to do with it, animation-wise, it made me even more nervous about what to write. I wanted it to do his animations justice but my ideas kept falling short. To her credit, though, Isabel hadn’t said one bitchy comment about Casper for the last week and that alone was soothing. She did prod and poke me about my sessions with Camilla and I told her they seemed to be going well and she was monitoring me closely in regards to my medication. I knew that Isabel, and even Camilla to some extent, were anxious about my determination to stay on my old dosage. I couldn’t understand why; I felt perfectly fine for the first time since Christmas.
Recording was going better than I’d originally anticipated, too. Isabel had written out the section for the character that she’d thought up –as per our agreement –and was writing a soft guitar rift that would symbolize the highs and lows of someone’s life working in tandem with one another. A musical sort of balance and so far her recordings were sounding rather good. I was interested to know how her guitar riffs would sound alongside both my piano chords and Casper’s violin. They sounded rather good on their own but eventually one or both of the other instruments would need to create a base, regardless of anyone’s preference. It was the whole point of the project.
On my Friday afternoon session with Camilla, I told her all about our pr
ogress and had even brought along a recording of what we’d managed to compose so far. There were a few glitches of human error but they could be edited out. The day after I’d spontaneously hugged Casper, I’d asked Camilla to limit our sessions to once a week. I wanted to conduct an experiment to try and study my behaviour through physical evidence. The evidence being the length of the chain of paperclips I made in the space of each day. It had been a week since said suggestion, and this afternoon would be the second time I had seven lengths of chains to take her for analysis. She had been intrigued and had agreed on a temporary basis to see if it actually worked.
Camilla smiled when she looked up and saw me enter her room. “Oh, good afternoon Avery, you’re right on time,” she sat down in one of the armchairs in the room. “Have a seat.”
I smiled and sat down in the empty chair, the coffee table between us, and dumped my messenger bag underneath. “Do you want me to pin the chains up now or later?” I asked, my hand delving into the side pocket of my bag.
She nodded her head, “Sure thing, just hang them up on the notice board and we’ll have a chat.”
I stood up and untangled the chains from one another and pinned each one up onto the corkboard by the little labels I’d put on the end of each one. Some days had only about eight links, and Monday only had five. The only really long one was on Wednesday. Upon noticing this, Camilla raised her eyebrows at me, “So what happened on Wednesday to make you so edgy, Avery?” she asked in her calm voice, her lips vaguely wavering from her usual smile.
I hummed to myself and reclined back in the chair, casting my mind back a couple of days. Grimacing, I returned my attention back to Camilla. “That was the evening that my mum called me up,” I stated in a begrudging tone.
Caspers Ghosts Page 9