Chapter Seventeen

Rain on the window. The sound of a fly roaming the room.

            As morning had come rain clouds had followed, blocking the glorious glow of sunrise and replacing it with stony horizon. It wasn’t a deluge or a shower but something in between; the world was white with it.

            For the first time since awakening her Artistry Nicolle was not looking forward to going to school. Timmy suddenly having an Artistry made for an uncomfortable fusing of her former life and new life, two worlds that she preferred to not mix. Two weeks with him; that was the rules. That was the length of she and Vee’s initial partnership but they’d become friends, so it just kind of extended indefinitely. In this case Nicolle would want the partnership to end with the two weeks; Timmy would not.

            Perhaps even more troubling than him following her around

            was that an Artistry?!

            was the thought of what he could do now. The only Chess Club interaction that Timmy had allowed so far was a short meeting with Elyse; her goal had been to understand what he could do, his goal had been to learn what he could of the Yellow Artistry. They could both detect lies; they could both sense the location of others, though not in the exact same way; Elyse could know the exact mood of a person, Timmy could not; Elyse could alter a person’s mood slightly, Timmy could not. But the last one made Nicolle’s skin prickle.

            “What you did before,” Elyse asked him, “what was that?”

            “Mind control,” Timmy said, and proudly.

            Elyse later, once Timmy was long gone, dubbed this an ‘Artistry of suggestion’. It wasn’t truly mind control, she said, but something along the lines of super-hypnosis, which brought Nicolle no comfort. Timmy Stoker did not need an Artistry. Timmy Stoker did not need an Artistry.

            She was dressing " a new outfit Vee had gotten her, a tight black hoodie and black skinny jeans " when her computer made a sound. She walked over to see who had messaged her, swatting at the aimlessly buzzing fly as she did. Gone was Timmy’s old screen name lordnemesisofthedeep.

           

            HeWithTheYellowEyes: Nicolle, Artist of the Black. Greetings.

           

            Nicolle ground her teeth.

 

            Salem4: hey

HeWithTheYellowEyes: The world of tomorrow begins today.

Salem4: what

HeWithTheYellowEyes: Our future, as Artists. Once downtrodden; we now arise. Let today be remembered as the genesis of that rising. Come, world. Come.

Salem4: ive gotta go

 

Nicolle held down the computer’s power button and just shut it off that way. The fly, its buzz growing louder as it approached, landed on her hand and sat there. Nicolle concentrated; the fly dropped to the desktop, dead as a rock.

 

            Nicolle had never before believed in actual bad luck, but now she wasn’t so sure.

            Strike one: having to be Timmy’s rent-a-buddy. Strike two: Adam’s continued absence. Strike three: after hopping across puddle after puddle (and landing in the dead center of one, covering her leg in water) Nicolle " minus an umbrella " reached her car to find that the battery was as dead as… well, the fly on her desktop. She would rather be thrown from a moving airplane than get her mother

            I hate you

            to jump her off; she phoned Vee for a ride and spent the time waiting for her sitting in her car, listening to the steady fall of rain. Timmy called six times. She didn’t answer six times.

            Vee’s blue Bug appeared behind her, headlights shining; Nicolle ran to the passenger side, opened the door, and fell into the seat.

“Thanks,” Nicolle said. “Sorry about the mess…”

Vee " dry and pretty, as usual " shrugged easily. “It’s not a problem.” Vee backed up and began down the bumpy road; she was being unusually silent, Nicolle thought. It wasn’t until a few minutes had passed that she spoke. “I want to apologize.”

“Apologize? What for?”

“For pairing you and that Timmy guy up,” she said. The drizzle strengthened; Vee powered up her wipers. “I know it was mostly Dom’s idea, but I didn’t really fight it. And I know being partnered with him is about the last thing you’d ever want to do…”

“Someone has to do it,” Nicolle said.

“I’ll take your place, if you want,” Vee said. But it was an empty gesture. She knew, just as Nicolle did, that if it wasn’t Nicolle then Timmy wouldn’t cooperate.

“Thanks, but I’ll manage,” Nicolle said. “I don’t have to take him shopping or any of the things we did, will I?” Then, remembering with horror: “Please tell me I don’t have to stay at his house.”

Vee smiled a little at that. “Normally, yeah, you would, but not this time. I already talked to Dom about it. This is actually the first time we’ve partnered a guy with a girl. Anyway, Timmy’s not a Chess Club member. He gets none of our benefits or anything like that, but he must yield to our rules and possible punishments. No telling our secrets. No using obvious or potentially harmful Artistries on people… at some point you’ll have to go into greater detail with him over that stuff.”

Nicolle wondered how he would be punished if he did break the rules. Usually a Chess Club member had points deducted, but Timmy had no points to deduct. She hoped they never had to go there.

When they pulled into the school parking lot Nicolle saw him and felt an immediate urge to throw up; he stood beside his car with a black umbrella, water dripping off liberally; he wore a dark trench coat, one hand holding the umbrella, the other tucked into a side pocket. On his face were a pair of odd futuristic looking sunglasses. He did not smile, which Nicolle thought was on purpose; it gave him a more serious, brooding look.

Vee looked at Nicolle the way a mother would look at a child about to receive their first shot: it’ll be alright sweetie, it doesn’t hurt that bad, just grit your teeth. “I’m gonna go on up, then,” she said, her face apologetic. “Typically you don’t have class with him first period but Elyse has rearranged your schedule"” Nicolle’s face exploded. “"just for two weeks, just for the two weeks!”

Nicolle looked back out the window at him. “Murder me, Vee.”

With her little pink umbrella Vee bounded off up the hill, leaving Nicolle to join Timmy. Now that she was closer to him she could see that he’d done something to his hair. Was it gel? It was probably his mother’s hair moose. It was hardened and sticking out in different directions. He must have thought it looked stylish.

“Are you excited, Nicolle?” This struck her as an odd question to ask. Even odder, he didn’t smile when he asked it.

“Yeeea-um… ready when you are.” She’d nearly said yeah… a lie.

She had no umbrella, giving Timmy the perfect excuse to snuggle up closely to her with his. In the distance Alyssa Craven watched greedily, undoubtedly forming a wild story in her head; Nicolle suddenly felt as if she’d never joined the Chess Club at all.

 

“Nice to see that you’ve decided to rejoin us, Miss Darling,” Mr. Browning said. “Along with your new makeover I thought you may have developed a disliking for biology.”

Nicolle nodded. It wasn’t the typical practice to allow students to jump from class to class, especially mid-semester; Elyse had to work both her office magic and her Artistry magic to pull that off. She and Timmy’s usual by-the-window seats in the back were free so they sat down and waited for class to begin.

“What humble beginnings,” Timmy said, and not quietly. “For such a magnificent tomorrow to find its commencement in a classroom like this.”

“Timmy, why are you talking like that?” Nicolle said. “Just because of… recent events… happening doesn’t mean you’ve gone back to the fifteenth century.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. He was scanning the room with the air of a dictator, a ruler on high surveying his peasants. The desks were beginning to fill now, the sound of forty or so voices all talking at once.

“Hmph,” Timmy chortled. “Did you just hear Macie Bottom over there, Nicolle? She said that she was getting a Corvette later this year… that was a lie.”

“Who cares?” Nicolle had been spoiled by Vee; her patience for Timmy’s oddities had shortened considerably since they had last hung out.

Her words stung him; it showed on his face for only a second before fading. “We all should, Nicolle. What use is a lie? With my Yellow Artistry, I will abolish"”

“Timmy!” Nicolle whispered. “You can’t say that out loud!”

“No one knows what it means"”

“Ahhhh… widdle Nicolle and big ol’ fat Timmy wimmy… back together again…”

Nicolle inhaled and exhaled impatiently; Alyssa was approaching, her everyday self-satisfied grin in place. Timmy did not regard her with fury or embarrassment as he might have once; he turned and gave her his attention calmly, hands clasped before him. A few heads looked in the direction of this early morning drama, perhaps hoping for a repeat of the lunchroom.

“We don’t have time for your immaturities today, Alyssa,” Nicolle said, secretly happy with her authoritative tone; perhaps the Chess Club had rubbed off on her some. “Just find your seat.”

Alyssa cackled. “You’re so stupid, and you think you’re so damn hot now. You just"”

“Alyssa, my dear,” Timmy said. “Stop talking now.”

Everyone waited for Alyssa’s retort, or maybe some kind of response to my dear; even Nicolle wondered what would come of that. Alyssa’s eyes bulged angrily; the veins in her neck strained. But she did not say another word. Nicolle surveyed the onlookers with a quick glance; they seemed dumbstruck. Why would Alyssa Craven take orders from Timmy Stoker?

“In fact… lean closer, dear,” Timmy said; Nicolle watched, heart racing, as Alyssa leaned over, her face almost touching Timmy’s, her expression one of confusion, perhaps fear. Timmy whispered something to her, she backed up, and returned to her seat.

“All right, everybody here?” Mr. Browning asked. “I’ve got a headache today so try and keep the noise to a minimum and we’ll be done quick, I hope. Get your books, the hardback, not the softback ones, and… where are you going? Alyssa?”

She was out of her seat and walking to Mr. Browning’s desk. She lifted his coffee and, with the same confused expression on her face, threw it at him. The class gasped together in the instant before it hit; hot coffee got everywhere.

“Ahhh! Alyssa… d****t! What is the matter with you?!”

Alyssa was trembling. She looked at Mr. Browning helplessly for a moment; then she turned and looked at Timmy. She was shocked, scared, puzzled…

“I don’t… I have no clue…” she said, he eyes beginning to water. Her friends were staring at her unlike they ever had: for once it looked like she wasn’t in control.

She ran for the door and bolted out. Nicolle’s mouth hung open, her heart pounding her chest still. Timmy’s hands remained clasped before him, a tiny smile on his lips. Almost unperceivable over the new chatter in the room Nicolle heard him.

“… justice.” 

 

            Vee listened as Nicolle relayed the entire first period, her features weighed down with exhaustion. Nicolle knew why, too: the farther the story of Timmy went, the more tiring it was thinking of how to handle it. It was nearly third period; though Nicolle was supposed to stay glued to Timmy’s side she managed to escape to Room 44 to rendezvous with Vee in between classes, leaving Timmy who knew where.

            “Well… it wasn’t an obvious Artistry, really… we can’t get him for that…”

            “But Mr. Browning was hurt though, hot coffee was thrown all over him… can’t we get him for that?”

            Vee massaged her eyes beneath the sunglasses. “Errrr… you know, we probably could, but what would we do to him? We really can’t do anything. I hate this entire situation. I wish that"”

            “… that Timmy had never gotten an Artistry?” Nicolle shared Vee’s exhaustion. “The thought’s crossed my mind.”

            They began down the stairs again, moving from solitude to a sea of students going to their next class. As they walked Vee leaned in to whisper.

            “… our only option may just be for you to talk to him the best you can about it… he might listen to you. Just tell him it isn’t responsible to use Artistries like that… compare it with something nerdy so he’ll understand… you know, ‘a good dwarf would never throw hot coffee on an innocent… I don’t know… alien’…”

            Nicolle grinned. “If he heard you put dwarves and aliens in the same sentence he would probably melt.”

            “Good, then we have Plan A.”

            Nicolle burst out laughing, Vee smiling beside her. That was how Timmy found them; he walked up with his hands in his coat and a hard expression on his face.

            “Salutations,” he said. “Prepared for third period?”

            But Nicolle barely heard him. Just outside a window across the hall, standing in the rain, was a girl. Her attire was, without question, out of style; she wore a light purple dress and a white bonnet. Her hair was a golden brown, and her face was kind. A glow emanated from her entire body, a soft warm light amidst the dark of the weather.

            A spirit, Nicolle thought. Vee, do you hear me? A spirit is standing in the window over there.

            “Why so silent?” Timmy asked.

            The girl assertively beckoned Nicolle over.

            Vee, she wants me to go outside.

            “Um,” Vee said, then looked up at Timmy. “She just remembered something, and… we have to step outside for a moment… if you’ll excuse us please…”

            Nicolle glanced at Timmy before she and Vee began for the doors; he knew Vee had lied. Nicolle wondered if she should yell something comforting back, something to quell his paranoia over what was actually happening, but she never did. They exited the doors and Timmy fell out of sight and mind.

            Everything shifted; from school noise to rainy lull; from heated inside to cold outside; from bright lights to easy gray. The spirit was no longer by the window.

            “There’s a ghost out here…?” Vee asked.

            “A spirit girl,” Nicolle said; she saw her again at the corner of the building, waving them over. “Over there.”

            Thankfully Vee had her umbrella on her; together they walked to the privacy around the corner of the school. Nicolle startled when they turned the corner to see the girl so close; she was about Nicolle’s height.

            “She’s here?” Vee asked.

            Nicolle took a deep breath and said, “Hello… I’m Nicolle. This is my friend Vee.”

            The girl smiled. She did not seem shy. “Hello. My name is Isley.”

            “Her name is Isley, Vee,” Nicolle mediated; Vee nodded kindly but uncertainly; being introduced to someone you couldn’t see or hear surely wasn’t easy, Nicolle assumed.

            “Pretty name,” Vee said.

            “I’ve come with an urgent message for you,” she said, her voice taking that same light echo sound that Nicolle had associated with spirits in the past.

            “A message?” Nicolle said.

            “Yes. A message from Adam Darling.”

 

            Nicolle’s car was still dead back home; her only option was for Vee to drive her. Not knowing how long they had Nicolle didn’t even check out at school; they just left. Vee texted Dominic the news to keep him from worrying; Nicolle, reluctantly, texted Timmy with a half-devised alibi, apologizing for leaving. As it stood, though, she didn’t care if Timmy removed his glasses altogether and announced his Artistry to the classroom; she had been summoned.

            Isley had told her that the meeting would be held at Kelsey’s Shed, an out-of-use old barn in the pastures outside of town. Isley wasn’t sure why Adam had selected the place and wouldn’t explain why he didn’t simply come to the school himself for Nicolle.

            But hurry she had insisted. Vee obeyed, driving as if a tyrannosaurus rex were chasing her. Several cars honked and one woman even gave Vee the finger (which Vee returned), but that stopped once they reached the countryside; they passed no more cars before finally pulling into the abandoned gravel drive of Kelsey’s Shed. The wood that made up the barn looked dark and old; it was far past its prime and barely seemed able to stand at all. Granddaddy Longlegs had always joked that

            the old barn would fall in while they played in it, and sometimes the building would creak when the wind would blow, leading Adam and Nicolle to rush out and jump into his arms for safety. Nicolle would look back at the barn in worry, as if expecting it to come crashing down behind her, but they’d started coming out to Kelsey’s Shed to play when she was only four " Granddaddy and Grandmama would take them to get them out of the house " and now, at seven

            at eighteen the place still stood. Nicolle had never before been to the barn in the rain… Granddaddy had always waited for warm, pretty days to bring them out, but the nostalgia came regardless. The lonely building was the only one in sight, an old refuge of childhood, a treasure chest of memories.

            If what Isley said was true, Adam was inside.

Nicolle and Vee walked inside carefully, leaving the large doors slightly open for light. They eyed the many shadows, the high ceiling, the far back wall; there was a basketball sized hole in the roof; rain poured through that one spot, splashing on the dirt floor below.

“Adam?”

“Here.”

Nicolle turned quickly; though Vee had not heard his response she did the same. Adam looked much as he had the last time Nicolle had seem him: that easy-going smile, that casual walk, a gentleman’s demeanor. He was barefoot, his white pants legs rolled up to the calves; his long brown-blonde hair even looked a little wet, somehow.

Vee frowned, her brow creased with unease; she was standing completely still, refusing to move. “Your brother is here? Is he close to me?”

Adam looked at Vee with polite amusement. “I wasn’t expecting tea for three. You can inform her that I won’t be biting.”

“Where have you been?” Nicolle had intended to sound angry; it came out more worried.

“Abroad,” he said, meeting Nicolle’s eyes with an apology. “And not voluntarily.”

“Is he talking…?” Vee asked, her body still frozen in place. “I’m sorry, Nicolle, this is creeping me out, I mean no offense to ghosts or anything…”

They ignored her.

“You told me two days,” Nicolle said. “It’s been much longer than that.”

Adam sighed and walked closer; only then did Nicolle realize that all along his hand had been on his side. Her irritation melted in an instant.

“I’ll explain in a moment… along with many other things,” he said, coming to a stop in front of Nicolle; Vee noticed that Nicolle’s eyes were on a moving target and let out a soft squeal. “For now I’m just happy to see you again.”

“I’m happy to see you too, Adam,” Nicolle said. “Don’t ever leave me like that again.”

He nodded once… a gesture that, to Nicolle, was not compliance with her command. He turned to Vee and smiled, perhaps to change the subject.

“Who is this?”

“This is Vee,” Nicolle said; Vee’s eyes predictably enlarged. “Vee, my brother is standing a few feet in front of me… his name is Adam.”

“Hello Adam,” Vee said, failing to appear collected.

“Afraid of the dead?” Adam asked, chortling.

“He says hello back,” Nicolle said to Vee. To Adam: “She’s part of the Chess Club.”

“The group with the colored eyes?” Adam asked.

“Yes, we’re called Artists,” Nicolle said. “I’ll have to explain it in detail sometime.”

“I’ve observed the group some and already know a fair bit… once you jump the hurdle that one can exist beyond the grave it isn’t much harder to witness the kind of phenomena your friends and you exhibit. Actually, the Chess Club is part of why I wanted to meet you today.”

“What do you mean? Does it have to do with why you’ve been away? And why you’re holding your side like that…?”

“Yes. I’ve wanted to come to you sooner but Isley wouldn’t allow it… said it was too risky, given my condition…”

Nicolle gave Adam a look that caused him to smile, sigh, and sit down on a nearby barrel. When he looked back up at her he said: “It all started with the Intuition.”

“He’s going to tell us what’s been going on, Vee,” Nicolle said, and repeated after him: “It all started with the Intuition…”

 

The Intuition: a spirit’s ability to feel, sometimes, when something extraordinary was soon to be upon a place or a person. All spirits could do this but many did not know how. Adam, in his years passed attempts to learn skills to aid his still living sister, was among the few that could.

It happened the day Nicolle first saw him, ten years after his death. She’d passed out from the sight of him and was carried away; Adam did not have the spiritual energy to pursue her that distance back home, not after a day of fighting to get her attention; all that was left to do was roam the hallways of the high school he would have attended had he lived beyond ten years old.

A certain group " all of them clad in sunglasses " caught his attention. Not because of their supernatural abilities… at this point he had not witnessed such things… but because of their interest in his sister.

The Intuition flared in their presence; something immense would happen to them eventually.

(“Nicolle!” Vee interrupted with excitement. “That sounds like what Dom is foreseeing with his Up-and-Coming Artistry!”)

Adam had felt the Intuition before: sometimes what he saw coming was good, sometimes bad; the old witch all those years before had never taught him how to differentiate between the two. In any case, he did not know those people, and he had a lot on his plate at the moment with Nicolle, and their hideous mother, that he couldn’t be distracted by this.

When next he saw Nicolle she was part of that group, though, and the Intuition could not be ignored. Whether it warned of a good or bad thing, Adam refused to stand by and let his sister go unprotected when it arrived. After leaving Nicolle at the end of their last visit, Adam departed the area.

“…to a small town on the Alabama-Georgia line,” Adam told them. “Do you recall the ghost story from when we were kids… the Tale of Barlowe Chains?”

            He knew she did; he had read the story to her from his very own ghost stories book, late into the night, long after Mama thought they were asleep. Barlowe Chains was his name in the story; a poltergeist that, for reasons unknown, haunted a hillside far away, preying on unsuspecting lovers retreating to the hillside for a good vista. Legend tells that on full moon nights Barlowe Chains returns, the sounds of his chains clanking in the wind audible for miles around. A few teenagers, the story said, had even gone missing in that area, causing superstitious locals to blame the ghost of Barlowe Chains…

            Barlowe Jepsom was his name in life, some one hundred and twenty years ago. Local drunk and wife beater, he was eventually imprisoned for the murder of his daughter. He died in jail when an angry townsperson stormed the building with a gun and shot him. Adam learned these truths behind his childhood ghost story when he went to that town himself, his goal to learn one more truth: had Barlowe actually murdered those teens over the years that went to the hill he supposedly haunted? If so, how had he made contact with them beyond the grave?

            “The night was colder than most lately, and the moon was full…”

            “The night was cold, and the moon was full,” Nicolle repeated to her friend…

            Adam arrived at the time the story suggested " midnight " and waited to see if Barlowe Chains would ever appear. Skepticism set in after an hour of nothing; how had he even been sure Barlowe Jepsom had lingered after death at all?

            Flashlight beams emerged from the woods, one, two, three, four of them. Laughing teenagers. Teenagers were always laughing, seemed like to Adam. He’d never had too much to laugh at, himself, ghost teen or not. Though he had seen nothing to suggest that Barlowe Chains was even real he still felt a shiver of fear in his being for these unsuspecting young people, all of them ignorant of their own mortality, whether Barlowe was there or not, daring life to tell them that they weren’t going to live forever.

            A lonesome cloud covered the moon; in the darkness Adam heard a scream. He had been watching from a fair distance; he now bolted toward the scene as quickly as he could, the screaming continuing, getting louder as he approached.

            The cloud passed by, blanketing the countryside in silver light. Adam emerged from the trees and looked up to the hill; one of the four was floating in midair. Another was lying on the ground beneath him, a girl; the other two teenagers must have fled at first sight of the unknown. All they could see was their friend, floating midair on a hillside that was reported to be haunted. Adam could see him, though; he wore no chains but was menacing anyway, a bearded, sloppy phantom of the night. Barlowe was going to kill them.

            “Barlowe Jepsom! Drop him!”

            Barlowe’s head spun at the sound of his name; he let go of the teen and bounded at Adam with the ferocity and roar of a bear. The teens, crying and afraid, ran for the trees at full speed, and Adam was suddenly alone with the hateful spirit of his childhood stories.

            “We collided… I was more lithe than he was, and I managed to save those four foolish kids, but…” Seeing Nicolle, he couldn’t continue that way. “Long story short. Barlowe Chains is not the idiotic drunk he was in life. Over one hundred years as a spirit has sobered him into a hateful and powerful poltergeist. I wasn’t able to defeat him.”

            Adam removed his hand from the place on his side and Nicolle gasped. He’d expected as much; the wound was not bloody and bruised as a living body would endure, but glowed like lightning inside the claw marks.

            “A man did that to you…?!” Nicolle asked.

            “A poltergeist,” Adam repeated. “I’m not sure how he managed to cause the wound like that, like an animal would, but he did. I barely escaped.”

            He wouldn’t tell Nicolle of those hours, kept alive only by his desire to see her again and help her. Many things " not just about that trip, either " would have to stay unsaid to her. Nicolle’s life was on the verge of bursting on several occasions; he didn’t want to burden her with the difficulties of his existence.

            But the Intuition, what he sensed was coming. That he couldn’t hide.

 

            “So… did you ever learn anything…?”

            Vee had asked the question, which was a bit comical, as she couldn’t see or hear Adam.

            “Does she mean did I learn how to do what Barlowe did… coming into physical contact with the living? You can tell her no, but"”

            “He said no,” Nicolle said, “but"”

            “"but I did glean some clues about it.” He sighed, looking resigned. “I think it may be associated with fury. Extreme anger may affect one’s spiritual energy in such a way that physical contact if possible. If so, then I may be out of luck…”

            Nicolle relayed the information, gratitude warming her like a fire. During his absence she had returned, if only a little bit, to the feeling of helplessness she had associated with him not being around to protect her those ten years after his death. Even if he had yet to find a way to help her beyond encouraging her with his presence she was still thankful he was doing his best.

            “I don’t like what I felt, Nicky,” Adam said, crossing his arms. “You have a chance now to walk away, I think. Quit school, move schools… run away from home. Whatever it takes to avoid whatever may be coming.”

            “If I leave my friends will still be around to face it,” Nicolle said, ignoring her rumbling cell phone in her pocket; likely Timmy wondering where she went. “Leaving them isn’t something I can do.”

            “I assumed as much,” Adam said. “I’ll be watching over you, regardless. If it gets to the point where we can know what’s coming before it arrives, and it’s bad, then you have to leave. And be wary of those abilities you and your friends use… they seem dangerous.”

            Nicolle thought Maria: “I know. I will.”

            “Adam Darling…?”

            Nicolle and Adam turned; Isley was standing in the doorway, her spiritual glow taking on an interesting reflective light with the backdrop of the rain.

            Isley walked over to them with dainty steps, a true lady. “I hope you’re not overexerting yourself… you need to be resting…”

            “I can rest all I want when I’m dead,” Adam said; Nicolle laughed, but Isley did not. Perhaps that joke made no sense in the time period she was raised, whenever that was. “Isley, you’ve met my baby sister, Nicolle Darling?”

            “I have,” she curtsied. “Hello again.”

            “Nicolle, this is Isley Jepsom.”

            Nicolle nodded, thinking she already knew the ghost girl, but then her mouth fell open. “Jepsom?”

            “Yes… the daughter of Barlowe Jepsom. It was she that warned me when I arrived in her hometown to not mess with her father, and it was she that found me when I was fading from my injuries. She’s been tending to me ever since.”

            Nicolle looked at the girl with a strange newness. According to Adam’s story she had been murdered over one hundred years ago. And now here she was, in Kelsey’s Shed with them, taking care of her deceased brother.

            “I do not have the Intuition like Adam does,” Isley said. “I’ve never had much interest in returning to life in any way. But I know to take heed of its warning. You and your friends could be in a lot of trouble.”

            “Please don’t be like those teenagers that provoked Barlowe,” Adam said. “Feeling immortal is a terrible habit of the young. Be preemptive, Nicky. Don’t sit around and wait for it to come to you.”

            Nicolle almost shook her head to respond that she wasn’t going to leave her friends behind once more, but stopped once it occurred to her that before her stood two youths that had been removed from life unfairly soon. So instead she said: “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

            Vee " who had eventually retreated to the corner of the room, unable to keep up with the one-sided conversation " stepped forward. “Darling?”

            Nicolle turned back to her. “Hm?”

            “Next class is about to start… we should probably get going.”

            “We should be leaving too, Adam… you’ll need to save your strength for mending,” Isley said. Her words struck Nicolle strangely; only after a moment did she identify it as jealousy. For as long as ever Nicolle had had Adam to herself. Judging from the way Isley stayed near to Adam, it looked like that number may have grown by one.

            “I hope our next meeting isn’t so grievous,” Adam said, placing a warm, glowing hand on Nicolle’s shoulder. “I was kind of hoping we could fit in some down time today.”

            Nicolle grinned. Her times with him seemed so short. “I bet now I could finally beat you in Go Fish, if you wanna try that next.”

            Adam laughed. “If you couldn’t it would mean you have horrible problems… I’ve been too busy being dead to practice much these days.”

            Isley reached out and took Adam’s hand " Nicolle noted this with a lump in her throat " and pulled him towards the doorway.

            “Love you, Nicolle. Stay safe. Please.”

            “I will. And, hey, you stay safe too, no more fighting poltergeists!”

            Adam grinned, turned, and vanished, a chuckle on his breath.

 

            Vee and Nicolle did not drive back in silence, not at first. At first they spoke without slowing down of Adam’s Intuition, his warnings for the future being the same as Dominic’s. They wondered aloud how a spirit such as himself could sustain injury, of how such a thing was possible, and the spiritual laws that exist on the other side of the universe’s physical laws. Nicolle wondered what Timmy thought of her abandoning him; Vee did not supply an answer, and for several minutes they drove in silent thought. Nicolle doubted that Vee could glean anything from her addled, complex thoughts; her mind probably sounded like a radio barley out of signal range, static filled and mysterious.

            The car came to a halt in the gravel lot of Maple Hill High School. No one exited the car; something seemed left to be said, a finishing remark to the day’s midday adventure, but Nicolle did not know what.

            Vee spoke softly. “Your brother was right… it’s very possible that you could avoid whatever’s coming. You could just leave.”

            “We don’t know if what is coming is good or bad,” Nicolle said.

            “We need to assume it will be bad… and Dom’s already confirmed that whatever it is, it’s really big. Life changing.”

            No one spoke; after a moment the school bell rang in the distance, closing out the hour. They had only a few minutes before next class began, only a few minutes before Nicolle had to return to being Timmy’s rent-a-buddy.

            “One of us could die,” Vee said, her voice solemn as a freshly dug grave. “Maybe all of us.” Nicolle couldn’t read her friends mind but she assumed Vee was thinking of their sleepover, and their mall day, and their fun classes, and the bon fire, the hours spent in new friendship. Her mood brightened a hair’s breadth as she looked at Nicolle and smiled feebly. “People used to think you had no backbone. That’s not the case, though, I don’t believe. I’ve never seen you fear since we became friends, not really.”

            Nicolle stared at Vee, moved by her words though unsure how to answer them. Something Granddaddy Longlegs said years ago came out of her mouth.

            “I don’t think courage is an absence of fear… … I think it’s believing that something else

            Friends

            Elijah’s acceptance

            Vee’s smile

            Dominic’s strength

            Granddaddy’s love

            Adam’s presence

            The east coast at sunrise

            Tybee lighthouse

            is more important that fear.” She let these words settle for a moment; it seemed they had accepted being late for class. “I would die for those things.”

            Vee took Nicolle’s hand and squeezed it. “Me too… … … I hope we don’t have to. Not knowing what’s coming, if its good or bad or life threatening or whatever, sure is exhausting…”

            They exited the car and began up the hill to the school, their hearts heavy. Before they reentered the building, in their last second of solitude, Vee leaned in and whispered:

            “Glad you like my smile, by the way. Some have compared it with the moon and the stars, if I’m lying I’m dying…”