First Impression (A Shadow Maven Paranormal) (4 page)

Three sour eerie notes play on the piano in the other room, and all of us rush to the doorway, but don’t enter. My arm hairs stand on end. Tasha and I are at the front and have no intention of entering the room. Donnie shines his flashlight over our heads. No one is in the room. The panel over the keys of the piano is closed, just as we left it. A mild bit of cold air drafts in seemingly from nowhere.

Tasha swallows hard. “I think I’m ready to get out of here.”

Stacy smacks her on the shoulder. “No way. Ghosts only scare you, not hurt you." She smiles her fake smile, her perfect teeth flashing in the dim light. "What are you worried about?”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Tasha shakes her head. “Haven’t you seen
The Grudge
? Ghosts can follow you home and stuff. We should get out of here.”

“You can leave if you want, Chicken. But we still haven’t seen the kitchen yet.” Jacob starts in the direction of the swinging metal door at the other side of the dining area.  Donnie follows, making bock-b
ock noises and flapping an arm, his camera recording our faces.

I take Tasha’s hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “We can leave if you want. We don’t have to follow them in there.”

She looks up at me gratefully and squeezes my hand before releasing it. “I’ll be okay. I can do this.”

I nod, and she straightens her spine. Marching toward the kitchen, she has her hands fisted like she’s ready for a fight.

Jacob pushes open the door, and the blast of cold air has me wondering if there’s an open window. He exhales and his breath rises in a mist. Stacy opens her mouth to speak, but a blood curdling scream makes her clamp it shut, and we all whip our heads toward the sound in the kitchen. My heart leaps into my throat and pounds in my ears. Every hair on my body stands on end.

An unnatural looking girl limps around the kitchen. Her body is see-through, distorting the other side of her like an ice cube. She drags one leg behind her, leaving a vaporous blood trail in her wake. She startles, looking toward the pantry, then runs straight at us
; her mouth contorts in a silent scream.

My stomach quivers so hard that I feel like it will never stop. I’m so cold, my teeth chatter. The ghost rushes toward us, and as she draws near, she becomes a haze of white moving so fast, I barely have time to wince at the icy breath of wind.

Every fiber of my being screams:
we’ve got to get out of here
.

I hadn’t noticed Tasha’s nails digging into my arm until she suddenly releases me with a sob. I turn around and find her shadowed form in my flashlight. She’s rushing toward the other dining room door.

“Wait!” I yell and chase her. Fear has gripped my insides, and I have a side-stitch as though I’d been running for two miles at top speed, but I’ve barely made it to the music room. Warning bells are going off in my head, and I can hardly hear anything but their ring. This is a nightmare. Did we see what we really saw? Is there any way that a ghost could follow you around like in horror movies?

Tasha rips open the front door of the building, and it groans in protest.

The group from upstairs rushes down.

“What’s going on?” Matt says, from the first landing on the stairs. “Did someone scream a few minutes ago? What are you running from?”

I shake my head in the second group’s general direction and dart out the door. A cold wind whips my face. It’s as dark out here as it was in the house, darker without the light of Jacob’s lantern. The trees rustle overhead, drowning out the sounds of the city. I can’t see Tasha anywhere on the road. How could she have possibly gone that far so fast?

When the breeze dies a little, I hear the rustle of feet through leaves off to my right. When I turn, I find the light from Tasha’s flashlight dancing around in the dark of the forest. She is on the trail she told me about. I rush in that direction, trying my best to keep up.

“Tasha, wait!” I yell breathlessly.

Trees close in on both sides of me, but the trail is distinct where the leaves have been mashed by the many feet who take this shortcut. Behind me I hear more rustling. Someone is following me, and for a moment, that scares me, even though I rationalize that it’s probably just people from our group.

Tasha really should try out for track—I haven’t gained on her in the slightest. When the sounds of the city grow louder, and street lamps become more distinct ahead, I relax, hoping that Tasha will stop and feel safe when she gets there. Just as I reach the edge of the forest, I yell again, “Tasha, wait for me!”

She looks back, and her feet hit the sidewalk with her face turned my direction. Tears stream down her cheeks, and her red lids shine in the light of the streetlamp she’s under. Her step falters, and she trips over the curb. She falls toward the road.

I can’t stop the scream that comes to my lips when I hear the squeal of brakes and see the flash of yellow. Then Tasha tumbles over the hood of the taxi and crashes into the windshield.

Arms slip around me and
catch me when my knees buckle. Pine and mint. I grip him like a life preserver, denying everything I’d just seen—everything that has just happened. More feet rustle in the grass behind us, and I hear Stacy scream, “Someone dial 911.”

It snaps me out of my stupor. How can I crumble like this when Tasha needs me? I straighten and wipe my face on my sweater sleeve, not daring to look up at anyone. Not daring to let anyone see me like this. I’m falling apart on the inside, like a trash bag full of shattered glass. But I’ve got to hold things together.

“Tasha’s mom.” My voice cracks and barely comes out in a whisper. I hold my phone in my hand and scroll down my contact list. But I can barely see through my tears. And how can I possibly talk to her mom about this? My throat seizes.

Ben pulls the phone from my hand, and it slips through my limp fingers. He hits the dial button. After a moment, he says, “Mrs. Brown? Hi. No, this is Ben Oscuro. I’m sorry but there’s been an accident…”

His voice trails off as I force my heavy feet to turn and face what I don’t want to. I don’t want to see Tasha like this. I can’t, but I do. Her crumpled body, busted and torn, is cradled by the windshield of the taxi.

“Nobody touch her,” a cop yells and points toward all of us standing at the edge of the wooded lot. “You. You were with her right? Nobody goes anywhere until we find out what happened! Got it?”

I nod limply and feel someone pick up my hand and set my phone in it.

“She’s on her way,” he says, and his voice can’t cast the spell on me it did earlier today.

The siren of the ambulance drowns out all other sounds. It cuts off the minute it pulls close to the scene. My knees buckle again as they check for a pulse.

“She’s alive,” the paramedic says, and fresh sobs escape my throat.

Thank God.

The taxi driver raises his voice at the officer. “I tell ya the kid came out of nowhere. I couldn’t have avoided her. She’s lucky I was just getting up to speed from being stopped at the light. I…I…is she going to be okay?”

“My baby? What’s happened to my baby?” Mrs. Brown squeals when she comes into view. Mr. Brown stands behind her with Kevin in his arms. Mrs. Brown reaches for Tasha, but then pulls back as the paramedics lift her onto a plastic cot.

I wipe my face and jog to her.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice finally works, but it’s hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Brown pulls me into her arms and gives me a quick hug. “I know this wasn’t your fault, but what happened?”

I shake my head, my voice failing me again. Ben steps beside me and sets a hand on my shoulder, and somehow the small gesture gives me strength. I open my mouth, and the words pour out as I confess everything that had happened since she dropped us off at the front of the school.

At the police station, I
find out that Matt Benson, Sr. happens to be one of the lead detectives in the city Sherriff’s office. He comes down really hard on his son for the whole incident and makes it clear that “Junior” is going to be on lockdown for a long time. The rest of the crew gets picked up by their parents, but no one is arrested for trespassing.

Mr. Benson takes Matt and Ben into an interrogation room, so that I’m alone when Mr. Scott arrives at the station.  His hair is wet as if he’d just taken a shower. His blue eyes are sad but kind. “Chira
Kelly, were you a part of all this?”

I swallow and can’t meet his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“I hate to hear that. I hope that this doesn’t affect your scholarship.” He sounds genuinely worried.

“I’m ashamed, Mr. Scott.” And I am. My heart aches in my chest. If I had never gotten involved with this whole stupid thing, Tasha wouldn’t have either. And then she wouldn’t be sitting in the hospital right now.

The key Mr. Scott retrieved is dangling from his finger. He pats me in the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson. Just try your best to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” I sniff.

“I’ll likely give this key to the new night watchman. The school doesn’t want this sort of thing to become commonplace.” His hands rub his bald head, and I see he blames himself for the fiasco.

“That makes sense,” I say.

With a kind, shaky nod, Mr. Scott leaves with his shoulders hunched shyly. It seems strange to see him in something other than the suits he wears to school on a daily basis. I don’t realize that he’s in freshly pressed golf pants and a polo shirt until he’s stepping out the door.

Behind me, Detective Benson clears his throat. “Okay then, Miss Kelly, since neither of your parents was able to pick you up, I’ll be driving you.”

I nod. “Is there any chance you could take me to the hospital instead of my house?”

Detective Benson stands between both Matt and Ben. He frowns. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head. “No, I just want to see Tasha…to know how she’s doing, if that’s okay?”

“I’m not sure they’ll allow visitors outside of her family, but I’ll take you anyway. Maybe you could at least talk to one of her parents.”

I nod, and my voice cracks when I say, “Thank you.”

He makes all three of us sit in the back of the squad car, a Dodge Charger, and the boys have decided to put me between them. I do my best to shrink in on myself to avoid touching either. I’ve never been too comfortable around boys to begin with, and now that they all think that I’m playing for the other team, it makes it that much more awkward. I’m surprised when Detective Benson parks the car rather than dropping me off at the front of the building. He shuts off the engine and gets out of the car to open the door on the driver’s side.

Matt steps out first.

“Thank you for the ride, Detective Benson,” I say.

He makes a motion for Ben to get out of the car, too. “No problem, Chira. I’m going to see how Tasha is doing myself, and see if she’s able to give a statement.”

I nod, and we head into the hospital. The detective gives info at the front desk and shows his badge which grants us access that I probably wouldn’t have been able to gain on my own. It makes me wonder if maybe he already knew that, and it was a reason he’d come along in the first place.

When I’m standing in the back of the elevator, I lean against the cool metal bar and watch the three family members from behind. Matt is a little shorter and stockier than Ben. Although they both have dark hair, Ben’s is longer and has a slight curl to it.

I choke down a sob when we reach the intensive care unit. The hallways in the hospital have windows along one full side that stretch from floor to ceiling. Outside, in the dark, the city lights shine like millions of stars. We head toward the waiting room, where we find Mrs. Brown. I can’t hold back the tears.

As soon as he sees me, Kevin speeds for me and wraps his arms around my thigh. He’s crying too, and his wails grow louder as he squeezes me. I kneel down so I can hold him in my arms.

Mrs. Brown’s heels click against the tile floor as she approaches. “Chira, it’s so good of you to come. Matt, Ben, Junior…I’m glad to see you all. Thank you for coming.”

Her voice sounds so welcoming and professional, but I detect the quiver in her words. I stand up, still holding Kevin, and he wraps his legs around my waist. He buries his head in my shoulder, but he’s calmed down a bit already.

“How is Tasha doing?” the detective asks.

I’m really glad he’s here. Without him, how would I even be able to speak? I’d spend all my time sitting around, sobbing like an idiot…if they had even let me come up here to the ICU in the first place.

“She’s stable, but she’s in a chemically induced coma for her body to heal. Her lung has collapsed.”

Phantom pain snakes across my chest and constricts me tighter than
Kevin’s legs. I hurt for her. How could I have let this happen to Tasha? I whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Brown wraps her arms around me and Kevin. It comforts me but does nothing to assuage my guilt. I continue to sob. She squeezes me harder. “It’s not your fault, sweetie. Please don’t blame yourself.”

But her words can’t comfort me either. Parents lie. Even Tasha’s. They’ll say anything to try to make you feel better. Anything that will take away your discomfort, no matter how temporary it will be. I don’t care how many times my own mother has told me things would be okay—they were never okay after my father died.

It’s when I feel Mrs. Brown’s own shoulders shaking with sobs that determination stiffens my backbone, and I do my best to suck it up. I need to be strong, for Tasha, for Mrs. Brown. Even for Kevin. I can do this. “Tell me what you need Mrs. Brown, and I’ll do it. Does Tasha need anything? You? Do you need someone to help you take care of Kevin?”

“No, sweetie. Kevin’s grandmother is on her way to help us with that. Don’t worry about anything at all. You have been nothing but a good friend to Tasha.” Mrs. Brown swipes her eyes. Her face is masked with a warm smile that turns mildly determined. “I know this was her idea, and you just got dragged along in it. When that girl wakes up, she’s going to be grounded for life.”

I smile. Mrs. Brown’s determination comforts me more than any of her other words could. If she’s certain that Tasha will be okay, then I believe her. “Okay. But can I visit. Will they let me?”

She leans in toward me and lowers her voice. “You’ll be able to visit her any time, but there’s no more than two allowed to visit at once. I put you down as her cousin.”

I frown and lift an eyebrow. “How’s that going to work?”

A look of mock shock registers on her face. “What? Can’t I have a white cousin? Do you think all of my family members are black? You’d be mistaken.”

I shake my head and sniff again, wiping my face with the cuff of my sleeve. I’ve done way too much crying today.

“Mrs. Brown, could I have a word please?” Detective Benson asks. The two of them step over toward the window down the hall a little ways, their heads bent in conversation.

Kevin has settled into playing with one of the buttons on the portion of shirt visible in the v-neck of my sweater. Matt and Ben have both taken seats in the waiting area, and I join them.

Matt leans toward me, his face holding a cautious, concentrated expression. “So did you guys really see a ghost?”

Even Ben turns toward me with his measured gaze. The edges of his colored contact lenses catch my eye again, and the obsessive part of me really wants to know why he wears them.

Kevin stops messing with my button and looks up at me with wide eyes. He sniffs, too. “Did you really see a ghost?”

I glare at Matt. “You know, this isn’t really the best time to be talking about this.”

Matt's expression takes on a look of hurt, and he sits back in his chair.

Kevin wiggles from my lap and calls, “Daddy!”

Mr. Brown approaches us, having just come from inside the main ICU. He kneels down and catches his son up in his arms. His usually smiling face seems forced today, and worry lines mar his normally smooth forehead. “Have you been a good boy?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Mr. Brown nods toward me and the boys, saying hi and calling us each by name.

“Honey, could you come here for a second?” Mrs. Brown calls from down the hall.

Mr. Brown excuses himself and joins the others. All three of them lean in a deep conversation that we aren’t privy to.

“How about now? Is it a good time?” Matt’s leg bobs up and down in anticipation.

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Yes. There really was a ghost.”

He leans back, a shocked expression on his face. Ben’s position and expression remain unchanged.

“We went through the music room and saw that the piano was in really bad shape…” I recount the events for the two boys. I feel detached as I’m talking to them. Like I’m telling them about a movie that I saw instead of what had happened to me. My eyes become unfocused on my surroundings, and I can’t even hear the nurse’s station anymore—like I’m hypnotized by the sound of my own voice.

But I find my gaze constantly drifting toward Ben. He’s listening intently, but his expression tells me that it’s okay somehow. He’s not judging me—he’s just listening.