That class seemed to drag on forever. I tried to pay attention to what the teacher was saying, but I couldn’t ignore the insistent prickling sensation at the back of my neck. I spent the whole period concentrating on fighting the urge to turn and stare at that creepy scene going on behind me.
Finally, mercifully, the bell rang. I heard Ms. Peel’s voice, “Amy, could you come here a moment.” But I didn’t stick around to hear more. I was out of there like a shot.
I didn’t even look back.
I was heading down the hallway when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around…well actually, I yelped, nearly jumped out of my skin, then turned around.
It was the girl in the sweatshirt, the one that sat across from me in English.
“Whoa,” she laughed, “we’re a bit jumpy aren’t we.”
I tried to pull myself together enough to at least vaguely resemble cool.
I doubt that I was successful. “Jeez sorry. You startled me.”
She smiled. “I guess. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you not to let the Germ get to you like that. It only encourages him.”
“The Germ?”
“Jeremy Furgess, A.K.A. ‘Germy Fungus’; he lives to annoy. Most people need oxygen to live; he needs aggravation.”
I laughed. “The Germ; it fits. I like it. You make it up?”
She shook her head. “Naw, he’s been the Germ since sixth grade. You get a nickname in this town, you better get used to it. You’re pretty well stuck for life.”
“So what’s your nickname?” (I’m trying to be smooth here.)
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve managed to scrape by without one. I’m just plain old Rachel.”
I noted the name printed on the back of her sweatshirt. “Rachel…. Steele?”
She giggled. “Oh no, Rachel Jacobs. The sweatshirt belongs to my boyfriend.”
Dang.
I looked and saw the girl that the Germ called ‘LaBlob’ leaving the classroom. Thankfully, without her ghost.
“Who is that anyway?” I asked.
Rachel followed my gaze and then looked at me strangely. “Who? Oh, that’s Amy. She’s a new kid, like you…well maybe not like you. You look like you maybe wash your hair now and then.”
“Once a year whether it needs it or not,” I joked.
Rachel made a face. “She came here just after school started, but I don’t know much about her. We don’t exactly move in the same circles. Actually, I don’t ever see her talk to anyone. It’s sad, I suppose.”
No doubt. I tried to think of something deep and thoughtful and impressive to say, but all that came out was, “Yeah…sad.”
So much for impressive. At least I could introduce myself. “By the way, I’m Marc.” You know, just in case…
“Hey, Marc. Nice to meet you.” She shifted her books in her arms and looked past me down the hall. “Gotta go. I’ll see you around, and hey…remember what I said and just ignore the Germ.”
I nodded.
“And relax. Don’t get so stressed out.”
“Right,” I thought. “Easy for you to say.”
Sixth period was not destined to become my favorite class..
The ghost wasn’t there all the time, but then the image was so burned into my brain it didn’t need to actually be present to freak me out. She was sort of pretty in a weird way. That sounds creepy to say out loud, but I guessed that when she was alive she’d been attractive. But that look of fear and horror on her face….it was getting to me in ways I couldn’t begin to understand.
I tried to connect with it.
I sat in class screaming silently, “Hello! Who are you? What do you want?”
Nothing.
I even invented pretenses for standing up in class and trying to make eye contact with it. (That was awkward. I was standing in the back of the room pretending to read a paper.) I got a couple of weird looks from some of the kids in the room, but from the ghost…again, nothing.
When I finally consented for Zach to come to school, he tried to connect with her too, but he was as invisible to her as he was to the rest of the class.
That evening I asked him, “You’re a ghost; what’s with her?”
He shrugged. “Can’t say. It’s got me buffaloed.”
I shuddered. “It’s weird. We can see her but she can’t see us.”
Zach nodded. “As far as she’s concerned, we aren’t even present.”
“You don’t know any ghost tricks? Something you can do to get her attention?”
“Ghost tricks?” Zach puzzled on that one. “It’s not like I have an instruction manual or the like.”
I sighed. For the first time since my accident I got what people mean when they say someone is being haunted. And I wasn’t even the person being haunted! That would have been Amy LaBlanc. So why was it that I was the one who couldn’t sleep at night? And if Zach couldn’t do anything for me, who else was I going to call?
Ghostbusters?
The Germ’s constant needling wasn’t helping either. I was afraid that one of these times I was going to lose it.
Then one day I did.
Class was just about to start when he broke in, “Hey LaBlob! Has Swartz popped the question yet? ”
The girl just stared at her desk with what looked like a fierce concentration, but I’d had it.
I spun around in my seat and got right in his face. “Look, fungus, you’re about one wise-ass comment away from getting cracked upside the head with five pounds of U.S. History text.”
“Oooh touchy.”
I pulled the book from my backpack. It was really heavy. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m kidding.”
The Germ sat up straight. “I am truly moved by the way you stand up for your girlfriend.” Then, “Yo, LaBlob, I think your fiancé just challenged me to a duel!”
That did it. I aimed a vicious backhand at his head. He ducked and the book only hit his shoulder.
Hard.
I suppose he was lucky he ducked or else I may have caused him serious brain damage.
On second thought, to cause him any brain damage, I’d have to kick him in the butt.
“Ow!” he squealed. “Ow! Teacher! He hit me!”
“Mr. Swartz!” Uh oh. Ms. Peel. I didn’t like the sound of that ‘Mr.’ business at all.
“Mr. Swartz you will remove yourself from this classroom immediately. I’ll meet you in the hallway shortly.”
Great.
I stood up. The Germ was holding his shoulder like I’d just severed his arm with a chainsaw. Rachel gave me a covert thumbs-up as I made my way down the aisle. I felt every eye in the room drilling into my back.
Well, almost every eye. I stole a glance at the back of the room as I passed, and shuddered.
There was Amy looking down at her desk, and above her head, there she was, that ghost, silently screaming.
“Marcus?” Ms. Peel stepped up to me.
I forced myself to make eye contact.
“I can’t believe I did that,” I said. “I’m usually not a violent guy, but the Germ…I mean Jeremy, just got to me.”
Ms. Peel put up her hand. “Look, I know Jeremy can be trying, but you’ll have to come up with another way of dealing with it.”
“I know,” I agreed. “I was totally out of line. I’m really sorry.”
She gave me a wry smile. “Yes, I think you are, but I’m still going to have to write you up.”
Great, a detention. I was not looking forward to explaining this to Mom.
Ms. Peel looked at me hard. “Are you OK? Don’t take this wrong, but you don’t look all that well. Are you getting enough sleep?”
Was it that obvious? “Sort of. Not really.”
Because every time I close my eyes I see the face of that ghost, screaming in horror.
She took out a pad of sticky notes and a pen. “Mrs. Solomon is one of our guidance counselors. I know how coming to a new school can be stressful. Perhaps she can be of some help.” She handed me the note with the counselor’s name on it.
I thanked her. “I’ll think about it,” I said. Not that I planned to actually see her. I didn’t see how she could be much help to me.
Unless maybe she was an exorcist.
I went back to class and tried to pretend that everybody wasn’t staring at me.
Ms. Peel moved me away from the Germ, thank God, and I managed to get through the rest of the day without committing homicide.