He took a moment to soak in the calm, it felt peaceful. Perusing the kitchen for the ingredients to stunt the growing hunger in his belly, his go to breakfast of toasted crusty bread, smothered in butter, would have to wait. He'd forgotten to stop by the deli on the way home from school yesterday. The coffee was ready, thank you technology, and after a few minutes of indecision, he decided Stella D'oro original breakfast cookies, would be the best substitution. Perfect for dunking, his taste buds salivated thinking of the sugary substance.
Setting a plate with four cookies and a mug of coffee on the table, he called his grandmother and put it on speaker.
"Bonzetta. You're calling early, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Gram. I had a visitor last night and I'm not sure what to do."
Alex detailed the story about Haven, and the bad feeling that was haunting him.
"You want to call her spirit back?"
"Yes. I think she really needs me. It's bugging me that I can't hear her. That's a first."
"It might be where the child is located. There are places that can keep a soul from finding the light. Realms beyond the space of the living and the dead. Do you remember that boy your grandfather helped in Naples last year? The one that haunted him for months. He was one of those souls. Not with the living or the dead, he wandered between worlds, held captive by a lost spirit. It drained your papa trying to track him down. The spirit kept moving the boy to different dimensions."
"How do I do this, find out where she is?" Alex bit a cookie.
"If this girl truly needs your help, she will find a way to contact you again. When she does, get as much information as you can. Anything she can give you will help."
"Can't we just summon her like we did Catherine?" Alex questioned.
Catherine was a tormented spirit forced to kill by the human hand of Greta Kirkpatrick, a woman with an eighty-year grudge. She possessed a hold on Catherine's soul using dark magic.
"No. When a soul is trapped in the between world, summoning spells can be inaccurate. We might cause the child to wind up some place worse than she's in already."
"Okay. I'll wait. I guess I don't have a choice." Alex put his phone down and shoved it.
Frustration was not an emotion he dealt with well.
The bus ride to school was quick. Lost in his thoughts of Haven, he barely noticed Heather Johnson, the spirit of a young girl killed by a hit and run fifteen years ago. Every day she rode the bus from her parent’s former house to school. Alex tried to help her cross over a few times, but she wasn't ready. Normally, he'd give her a nod when he boarded the bus, but not today. The ghost must have missed the attention, because for the first time in two years, she sat next to him. Alex didn't notice until the bumps mapped their way across his forearms. His spidey sense, the terminology Margaret coined his psychic ability and his family referred to as their know, had kicked into high gear. The closer a spirit was to him, the more predominant the bumps. He rubbed his forearms and pivoted his head to face the filtered spirit of Heather. When an entity uses its energy to appear corporal, it drains them. So, most of the time, they remain in a celestial state. Their bodies muted in color, roll through the air similar to ripples in water.
Alex smiled and Heather was satisfied. Drifting back to her usual seat, she went back to her normal ritual of staring out the window.
The bus stopped at its destination, The Academy of Cain Amry Thearige. A long name for the man that had the original school built in England, several hundred years ago. His great grandson insisted on carrying the name over when he donated a small fortune for the American version. That was over a hundred years ago, and Alex wondered why they just didn't simplify it for modern society. It was a cool name, but try letting that roll off your tongue when you’re in a hurry. The kids just referred to it as the Academy. It worked.
Margaret was waiting for him in their usual spot by the bleachers.
"Hey you." Alex wrapped his arms around her waist and tasted a sweet chocolate cherry kiss.
"You look tired." she ran her fingers through his hair.
"I'm beat. Had another bad night. Only this time Haven took over where Tom left off."
"You speak to your gram?" She sat down.
"Yup. I gotta wait until Haven comes back. If she comes back." He frowned.
"If she needs help like you think, she'll find a way." Margaret gently raised the corner of her mouth.
A deafening ring signaled the start of the school day. Alex groaned before caressing Margaret's lips with his. They were headed in opposite directions and he hated leaving her. Holding onto her hand as her fingers slipped through his, he squeezed gently before letting go.
Begrudgingly stepping one foot in front of the other, he landed in front of Chemistry, his least favorite class.
Luckily, he had a seat by the window, and unlike Math, this one faced the west side of the building. He could see the three-block strip of town in the distance, and below, the grassy fields that lead to the bleachers. A much better view than asphalt. Taking out the book, Chemistry in the Community, he opened to the assigned reading and let his mind wander. Dust particles danced along a luminous beam of yellow ribbon, punching its way through the glass. Mesmerized, Alex swayed with the swirling motion. A flush of cold air wisped around the base of his neck brushing up the tiny hairs, his hands trembled, and the room slowly spun with the speed of a child's ride at Disney World.
Glancing around the room, the peculiarity was his alone. The other students had their attention on the assigned class work. Alex's gaze focused on the corner of the wall behind the teacher’s desk. Peeling back like wallpaper, the landscape of the classroom began to change, replacing the sleek, modern desks with thick, solid wood chairs and tables. A fireplace in the corner crackled, illuminating the room. Heavy drapes covered most of the windows, drawn back in the corners with gold tassels. The clanging of a bell startled him, and he nearly jumped from his seat. Checking with the kids next to him, no one seemed to notice. The door to the class flew open, and the students glided in. The waves of their celestial bodies sliced through the air and took a seat. Alex leaned forward, could they see him? He thought. Trying not to attract too much attention from the present-day teens surrounding him, he knocked one of his books on the floor to see if the ghostly class responded. One girl looked up. She turned around and locked eyes with Alex.
"Who are you?" The girl rose from her seat.
Hovering, she reached out and then pulled back.
"Ophelia. What the hell are you doing?" Kyle quipped.
"Don't you see him?" Ophelia's eyes widened.
"Who?" Kyle looked around the class.
"Him. Right there in front of me." Ophelia pointed.
Alex was stunned. Not by the meeting with the dead teens, he was used to that. When you see the departed for as long as you can remember, it becomes, normal. No, he was shocked by the resemblance the girl had to Haven. Same eyes, hair color and delicate features. Only this girl was clearly several years older.
"I don't see anyone. Dang it, you okay, Ophelia?" Kyle's voice softened.
Ophelia didn't respond. Fixated on Alex, she asked again.
"Who are you?" She inched closer.