You might think that for a person
who has seen their own murder since they were six, the idea of
bearing your secrets to a stranger wouldn’t be so frightening.
Here’s the thing: you’d be wrong. I’m not the lie-back-and-tell-me-about-your-life kind of girl. But, as I faced Mary, one of my school’s most
respected counselors in years, I knew I was going to have to do a
little soul baring.
I sat down opposite her and tried to look
comfortable. I was terrified. Not by Mary herself. I was more
comfortable around someone like her than my own parents. It was the
fact that she was going to want to discuss things I don’t ever talk
about. She knew enough already. She would believe me. And I
believed without a doubt that nothing I said would ever be
repeated.
Mary was dressed in a pretty flower dress. Her
black hair reached the bottom tip of her shoulders. A friendly
smile graced her face. “It’s good to see you, Ms. Blackburn,” she
said.
“Bristol,” I said. “Please, call me
Bristol.”
“All right, Bristol. So nobody knows that
you’re here with me?” Mary asked.
“Nobody except Ricky,” I responded. “There are
no secrets between us.”
“Is Ricky your boyfriend?”
That earned a laugh from me. Mary raised an
eyebrow in response.
“Sorry,” I said. “Ricky is my hamster. And he’d
probably say he’s out of my league. Anyway, I don’t
date.”
“Ever?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
“I just… don’t,” I said. I had my reasons, but
I didn’t want to get into them. Thankfully, she let it drop,
although I could tell she was filing it away for later.
“Your parents won’t worry that you’re late
coming home from school?”
“Worry?” I asked. “No, they won’t worry. I’m
not sure they’ll even notice, but let’s not go there right
now.”
“All right,” Mary said. “Why don’t we talk
about you? How long have you been able to talk to
ghosts?”
I blinked in surprise. “Wow, right to it, huh?
No ‘tell me about your childhood?’”
Mary smiled warmly. “We can talk about your
childhood if you like, but that seems to put you off.”
It was true. I didn’t like to talk about my
family. I was just afraid we were going to have to before we were
done.
“So yeah,” I said. “I’ve been able to talk to
ghosts for as long as I can remember. Since I was
little.”
“I imagine that it must have been scary when
you were a child,” she said. “Seeing people like that.”
I thought back on it and shook my head. “Nope,
not really. I’ve never been afraid of ghosts. Never had a reason to
be. They’d show up, talk to me. I think, instinctively, I always
knew that they wouldn’t hurt me. Some of them were a lot of fun.
They could be very sweet. I’ve had a few that could annoy the crap
out of me, but never scare me.”
“Annoy you how?”
I thought for a moment. “Jerry.”
“Jerry?”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “This was just last week, in
fact. If he weren’t already dead, I may have killed
him.”
Mary raised her eyebrows.
“I’m kidding,” I told her. “It was just a few
days ago. I was getting ready for school…
* * * *
It was the day before my seventeenth birthday.
Birthdays aren’t a big deal to me, but this one was important
somehow.
But I tried to put that out of my
mind for now. I took a look in the mirror to see if I looked all
right for school. I consider myself to be a rather ordinary girl,
at least as far as looks are concerned. I’m about five feet
six
inches tall. I’ve got
an average build. I was wearing jeans and a nice purple blouse. I
didn’t stand out, which is normally the way I like it.
“How do I look?” I asked Ricky. He squeaked his
approval before running into his soup can to nap for the
day.
I went to leave but stopped when I heard
singing. Really bad singing. Someone was mangling the melody and
the lyrics to some song.
I spun around and saw a man standing in the
corner of my room. He wore a grey
Don Bruns
Benjamin Lebert
Philip Kerr
Lacey Roberts
Kim Harrison
C.M. Boers
Constance Barker
Norah Wilson
Mary Renault
Robin D. Owens