Slow Motion

Chapter Two

I sat at the breakfast table staring down a bowl of Lucky Charms with disdain. The type of luck I needed to get through the first day at a new school without being labeled a freak, lunatic, or utter pathetic loser, did not come in the form of tiny artificially colored marshmallows. Pushing past an underappreciated glass of orange juice, I took hold of my new class schedule. "Ridgeway Alternative High School" was typed in bold across the top of the page.

"Alternative? Alternative to what, exactly?" The voice was jarring, coming at me from all sides and nowhere all at once. I recognized it immediately. That did not make it any more welcome.

"No. No. No!" Simple. Firm. Direct. That's how you had to be with these ghosts. "Absolutely no freaking way are you doing this to me today. Go away!"

I turned around ready to stand my ground and came face to face with my mother's shocked face. She looked stricken. Of course she did, she thought I was talking to her.

"I didn't even ask you a question yet Viv," she said softly.

I wanted so badly to let her off the hook, to excuse my rudeness with a perfectly valid explanation. I didn't happen to have a perfectly valid explanation. Not one she would believe anyway. "Sorry mom, just lashing out at a wayward sprit that's been haunting me for the last 2 years. He's a rather nuisance of a fellow that likes to sing commercial jingles while I'm brushing my teeth just to name one fun example of his companionship." Yea, that sounded like a one way ticket to the loony bin for real.

"Never mind, I'm going to be late," I said without offering any further explanation. My mother just stood there, staring at the soggy bowl of cereal for much too long. Sometimes I wasn't sure what was worse, that Molly was gone or that I was still around.

Standing outside in the cold October air, I pressed in my ear buds and pulled my black hoodie up over my ears and forehead. My dad insisted on driving me to school but I couldn't wait for him in the house. The pressure of breakfast and my mother's mournful eyes were way too much to handle today. I leaned up against the car and let the music take me away.

"You didn't finish your breakfast. It looked good to. You know I like watching you living people eat." He was back. He always came back. Ghosts were like this pale flicker of the image they used to portray. I suppose Rusty was once a tall good looking young man with many prospects, hell, he might even have had a non-annoying personality at one time. Years of being a restless spirit had damaged his noncorporeal brain though.

"Noooo. Go away!" I whined at the ghost, as the direct approach had gotten me nowhere fast earlier. For good measure I stomped my left foot on the ground like a five year old.

Rusty continued on as if I weren't there at all. "I've always liked September. You know how I can tell that it's Semptem..."

"It's October." I mumbled turning up the volume on my IPod until it was so loud I could barely stand it.

"Now really, how is that going to help Vivian? I'm inside your head silly girl," Rusty shook his head and laughed at me but it was an empty smile with no sound to his laughter.

I looked at the ground and memorized the cracks in the pavement until it was time to leave. It was so easy to get lulled in to talking to a ghost like it was a regular person than WHAM they unleashed some seriously spooky nightmare inducing imagery on you. I was visibly shaken when my dad walked out to the car to meet me but he had learned not to ask questions.

On the way to my new school I tried not to think about Rusty and his silent laughter or Molly - at all. That was a feat in itself. Not thinking about Molly. I had been trying to not think about Molly for the last six months and that was before she turned up in my new house as a ghost. So I tried, real hard, not to think about Molly and her seriously sharp wit. I tried not to think about Molly and her calm rational way of dealing with the ookie parts of our "gift." I tried not to think about Molly lying on the bathroom floor, not breathing, not moving.

I rested my head against the cool passenger side window. I was exhausted and it wasn't even 8 AM yet.