Spiritus, a Paranormal Romance (Spiritus Series, Book #1) (2 page)

The room glowed orange with the light of the setting sun coming through the windows as I stepped inside. The arched empty shelves cried out to be filled with books, looking abandoned and forgotten. I inhaled deeply, noting the rich scent of cigars seemed to cling to the freshly painted walls.

I stepped around the boxes from Dad’s little home office at the townhouse and went across the room to the windows where the garden trees and shrubs fluttered in the breeze. The wind tore random leaves loose to blow over the patio just outside the French doors.

As I was leaving, a large area of the floor caught my eye where the wood floor had faded nearly white. The splotchy pattern at first made me think a careless worker had spilled paint, but when I got down on my knees to examine it closer, I could see it was in the wood trapped under the varnish.

What would cause that? I reached out to touch the peculiar stain. As my finger touched the slick surface of the wood, a vibrating electric shock traveled up my hand and into my arm. My eyes instantly began to water and my ears rang.

I pulled my hand back and clutched it to me. I was too shocked to even cry out. What was that?

Jumping to my feet, I looked down at the spot on the floor and backed away. A chill ran up my spine and I broke out in a clammy sweat. Even though it was silly, I backed out of the library and closed the doors.

I heard Dad outside on the porch talking to some random neighbor about the sturdiness of the foundation as I sneaked back around and went up the staircase. Each riser gave a loud creak and pop as I went up to the second floor.

When I got to the top of the staircase I turned to the left and walked back toward the front of the house where my room looked out into one of the oak trees in the front yard. My bed sat under that window with its new mattress a glaring bare white.

All the boxes from our townhouse with my name on them were stacked near my dresser by the door, but I hesitated to unpack anything.

I went over to the window that looked out over the sprawling yard and narrow drive. Through the leafy screen, in the parallel universe of Corydon, traffic was already thinning as if it were the middle of the night. It was the perfect example of how life moved at a different pace here.

It might be nice to visit a place so charmingly out of step with the rest of the world, but it just wasn’t normal to live in such a parody.

I turned away from the window and took in my new surroundings. There was nothing familiar about this room. It held other people’s memories in its plastered walls. How long would it take for this room to seem like it really belonged to me?

Downstairs my Dad came in, the sound of the front door opening and closing vibrated up the walls to the second floor, I listened for the sound of his steps on the staircase, but it never came. He went to the left where the flat screen waited, no doubt much more tempting than a conversation with his pouting daughter.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I loved my Dad and knew that he thought he was doing what was best for us, but I just wasn’t in the mood to pretend anymore. With him downstairs and occupied with CNN, I could sit on the edge of my bed and let a few tears escape from the corners of my eyes.

I sat there, listening to the distant chatter of the television and the house creaking, trying not to think about school tomorrow. Each time it crossed my mind, I got a hollow and sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Deep down I just knew it was going to be awful.

Even though it was the start of the new school year and tomorrow would be everyone’s first day, I felt at a definite disadvantage. I almost regretted that I didn’t come here with Dad at least a few times over the summer to where maybe I could have met at least one or two people before starting school.

Corydon Central High School was the one and only high school in the Corydon area. There would be no second chances, no alternatives. I would either fit in and make it or I wouldn’t, and the odds were stacked against me. The other students had known each other since grade school; everyone would know everyone, except me.

In my school back in Indianapolis, I saw how everyone treated new students. They were a curiosity for about a week and then the decision was made as to if they were worthy to be with the popular crowd or doomed to obscurity. I didn’t hold out much hope for myself.

At seventeen, I didn’t have what it took to be popular. I wasn’t blond, I wasn’t the outgoing student government type, and I wasn’t the sporty athlete. What chance did I have?

I was only me, somewhat pale, and while not ugly, I was far from a vision of teenage perfection. In my opinion, my hair was just a mousy brown, sadly lacking the depth of ebony or chestnut and my eyes were merely a boring blue. I was plain and forgettable; no one would even notice me.

That empty sick feeling came over me again. In a big school it was easy to fade into the background, but I didn’t know if that would be possible here. I tried not to think about it anymore.

Chapter 2

It wasn’t a restful night. The gentle end of summer breeze kept the oak tree branches scraping at the window like bony fingers. I tossed and turned all night, pulling the blankets over my head and covering my ears with my hands, but it was still well after midnight before I fell asleep.

When I awoke on the first day of school, a thick mist clung to the trees out my window. I couldn’t see through the branches to know if it was raining or if it was still the dew from the night before. I’d have to ask Dad about getting someone to trim some of the branches so I could at least see the ground below.

Dad was waiting in the antiquated kitchen with a bowl of cereal and milk from a plastic cooler. From the looks of the refrigerator squatting near the stove, the last time it was running was a decade or so before Woodstock.

When my Mom was alive, she made breakfast a grand affair of bacon, eggs, and made from scratch pancakes for the first day of school. She always called it my “good luck” breakfast. I tried not to miss it.

“Ready for your big day?” Dad asked with a sappy grin.

“You bet.” I replied with a forced smile. I took a set at the oversized kitchen table. “Can’t wait.”

Dad sat down across from me and sighed, “Just try to give it a chance. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think.”

In an instant the rush of guilt flowed over me. He was trying so hard and I was acting like a spoiled brat. My Mom would be so disappointed in me.

“I’m sure it will be great.” I countered, really trying to sound cheerful. The effect sounded almost comical to my critical ears.

He smiled as if he believed my ruse, “That’s my girl.”

I choked down my breakfast while he leaned against an ancient white stove watching me. Shoving the last spoonful of my mushy feast into my mouth, I smiled as I stretched past him to put my bowl in the sink. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s nothing.” He replied in a tight voice. “I was just thinking of how much you look like your mother now.”

I didn’t mean to, but I flinched. I sensed her absence acutely and resented being reminded of it.

A suffocating silence fell between us until I stretched my face into a smile like I knew she would have wanted me to and gathered my things.

“Wish me luck.” I said as I walked toward the door, not waiting to see if he actually would.

The bright stillness of the morning met me when I stepped out on the porch. I walked down the drive to the sidewalk and looked around. The entire town seemed to still be sleeping; even the scant traffic was quiet as it passed.

It didn’t even seem real. Towns like this belonged in movies, the cheap dollar matinee kind featuring white faced zombies chasing buxom blondes. I didn’t know to be charmed or frightened.

I didn’t hurry. I just sort of walked along, looking at the old houses and trying to guess what the owners of them looked like or what they did for a living. For some reason I couldn’t get past the idea of a lot of duck hunting males married to a bunch of garden party ladies.

By the time I reached the corner I began to see a few kids near my age leaving their homes with books in hand. Even if Dad hadn’t gone over it a dozen times and put the map on my phone too, I didn’t have to worry about finding the school anymore.

I stayed about a block behind all of them though, just so they wouldn’t think I was following them, no point in calling attention to myself. I already hated being the new kid and not knowing where I was supposed to be or what I was supposed to be doing.

Corydon Central High School looked like a scaled down version of my old high school in Indianapolis. It had the same generic exterior that tried to look cheerful and welcoming, but came off the exact opposite, looking very institutional. There was more green here, with more shrubs and larger trees, but other than that they were very much alike.

Inside it was not much different either, the same overly bright lights, the same medicine-like school smell and the same ugly tile. Did all schools in America look and smell somewhat the same? I wondered if they bought paint and tile in bulk and then just shipped it to schools all across the country.

I glanced down at my class schedule; the blurry dot matrix print read that I should be in room one thirty-two for Science. While I searched for room numbers above doors, everyone else pushed past me, already knowing where they were going.

I felt flushed; the first fluttering of panic in my chest was trying to rise to the surface. I wanted it to already be evening and then this day would be nothing more than a story of mishaps I would be recounting to Dad over dinner.

The science room was easy enough to find, but I still stood in the hall and let the other students file in past me. They were all chattering about what they did over the summer.

I saw the seats in the back of the class filling up quickly, so I went on in and claimed one of the lab tables in the second to last row. It was easier not to draw attention to myself towards the back of the room. I just sort of blended in as the rest of the class wandered in and took seats.

Science was never my favorite subject, I knew within minutes my opinion wasn’t going to change. Geometry was next and it promised to be just as boring as it was in Indianapolis. At least no one seemed to notice me. I wasn’t sure if everyone was still half asleep or if I really was that insignificant, but I knew my luck was bound to run out soon.

Another bell, another class. This time English and I felt somewhat better as I took a seat again near the back, pretty sure I would just get lost in the mix again.

That feeling of comfort disappeared when a lanky brown haired girl took the desk in front of me and turned in the seat as soon as she sat down. “I don’t know you.”

It wasn’t a question, more of just an announcement of a fact.

“
Hi,” I said with a nervous smile. “I’m Becca McAllister.”

“
I’m Ally Lentz,” she said without a smile. “And I don’t know you.”

Now I was really unsure how to respond, but she sat there staring at me as if she expected an answer of some sort.

“
I just moved here.” I volunteered.

I didn’t have to say anything else. Ally began telling me all about Corydon Central. I couldn’t even begin to keep up with everything that she was saying; something about concerts downtown, a park somewhere, and football games. I was actually grateful when the bell rang and the teacher began the class.

Mrs. Temple, a chunky woman with chalk smudges across her skirt hips, went on and on about the great American writers. She never mentioned any of them by name, but promised we would learn all about them by the end of the year.

I was saved when the bell rang. I barely had time to glance at my schedule before Ally was blocking my path, peering down at my schedule, and trying to read it upside-down.

“
What do you have next?” She asked, squinting to decipher the blurry type.

“
Lunch.”

“
Oh, so do I.” She said with a big smile. “Come on, I’ll show you where the cafeteria and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

The way she said “everyone” made me think she meant just that. Her energy was a little overwhelming, but I was happy she was there. I had been dreading lunch all day. Nothing could be worse than sitting at an empty table alone while everyone stared.