“I swear, there’s a ghost in Principal Adams’ office! That’s why I was in there! I don’t care about answer sheets.” Victoria stood as straight as a ruler, glaring at the principal and her teacher, Mr. Travers.
“Victoria, you were riffling through my desk drawers,” Principal Adams said, trying to keep her voice smooth and even.
“Yeah, because the ghost had to be hiding somewhere. Where else would I look?”
“Victoria,” Mr. Travers said with a sigh. “This is the third time we’ve found you somewhere you weren’t supposed to be, hunting for ‘ghosts.’” He didn’t actually do air quotes, but they were heavily implied.
“Because this school is haunted!” Victoria cried, flinging her hands in the air in exasperation. “Why won’t anyone believe me?”
The adults exchanged a glance, as if neither wanted to be the one who spoke next.
“Victoria-”
“Quit saying my name! Jeez, don’t you know anything about ghosts or demons? If you use something’s name, you have power over it.”
Principal Adams took another deep breath. “All right, then. Is there anything you would like to talk to us about? Are you being bullied? Are things… happening, at home?”
Victoria stared at them blankly. “I’m not crazy.”
“We aren’t saying you are-”
“That’s exactly what you are saying! Just because you are too old and too narrow-minded to see what’s going on right under your nose doesn’t mean it’s not there!”
“Victoria, that’s enough,” Principal Adams said, ignoring her protests. “You have been out-of-bounds three times, even breaking into my office. You have disrespected myself and Mr. Travers. I have to give you detention, starting today after school, for the rest of the week.”
Principal Adams nodded to Mr. Travers, who ushered Victoria out of the office.
He sighed. Victoria was getting sick of adults doing that around her.
“Why, Victoria? You are such a smart kid, but you keep getting yourself in trouble hunting for something that isn’t there.” He glanced down at her. “You know you can tell me if there is something going on you need to talk about, right?”
“Sure, Mr. Travers. What fourteen-year-old girl wouldn’t want to confide in an adult who already doesn’t believe her?”
Mr. Travers seemed relieved they had reached his classroom, because he didn’t need to answer her question.
–
Victoria slouched her way into detention, weighed down by a bulging backpack. She surveyed the room, slightly surprised no one else was there, but didn’t really care. If she didn’t have to deal with any drooling idiots or skeevy upperclassmen, that worked for her.
She dropped her backpack by a desk toward the back of the room, and sank into the chair. She pulled out her phone and headphones – if there wasn’t a teacher to tell her otherwise, she was going to listen to music. She closed her eyes, letting the sounds float across her mind.
She kept coming back to the same question. Why didn’t anyone believe her, that there were ghosts haunting their school? She had known about them since she first walked through the doors two months ago. There were teachers who had been here for decades who had no idea. She snorted to herself. Adults were just as stupid as the other kids – people expected more from them, but she quickly learned that there wasn’t much of a difference.
Her left earbud suddenly jerked from her ear, and she had to stifle a curse. She whipped her eyes open, and stared at the kid sitting next to her. He was grinning, and dangling her earbud from his finger.
“What’s your problem?” she asked, making a grab for the wire, but he pulled his hand back, and her fingers closed around air.
“You’re not supposed to listen to music in detention.”
She glanced around the room, noting that there still wasn’t a teacher around. She glared at the boy. “I don’t care. Give it back.”
“Touchy,” he said, smirking, but he handed back the earbud all the same.
Victoria turned away, determined to ignore him.
Clearly, that wasn’t going to work, since he stuck his hand in front of her face and waved.
“Name’s Jack.”
“Okay, Jack. Leave me alone.”
“Oh, come on,” he wheedled, “I’m bored. Talk to me.”
“You’re supposed to be bored. It’s detention, as you reminded me.”
He laughed, and there was an odd echo to the sound.
“Don’t be such a spoilsport. You gotta be here for something good.”
She sighed, facing Jack again. “I entered Principal Adams’ office when she wasn’t there. Apparently that’s not allowed.”
“That’s it?”
She shrugged. “It might have been my third time being where I wasn’t supposed to.”
He waited.
She heaved another sigh. “And I might have called her narrow-minded. And old.”
Jack whooped with laughter. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”
Victoria shook her head at his antics, looking around again to see if a teacher was coming.
“Well, what are you here for?”
“I’m here all the time,” he said, waving his hand vaguely at the room.
“Oh, great, I’m stuck here with a delinquent.”
“Oh, that hurt. I prefer ‘rebel’ or ‘anti-authoritarian.’”
Victoria laughed, despite herself. Maybe not everyone at this school was hopeless.
They heard footsteps in the hallway, and froze. The sound continued on past their room, not even hesitating.
“Do they usually have someone watching the kids in detention?” she asked, curious. “They have hall monitors making sure we don’t leave the cafeteria during lunch, but the detention kids can just hang out unsupervised?”
Jack shrugged, lounging in his chair. “None of the teachers want to take detention duty. I think they have some kind of pool going, and the loser gets stuck here. It usually takes them a while to show up.”
“Lazy bureaucrats, the lot of them.”
He just nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts.
It was Jack who broke the silence. “When was the last time you told someone a secret?”
“Excuse me?”
He grinned again, this time a bit more wickedly. “Come on, you heard me. When was the last time you told someone a secret? You don’t have to tell me what the secret was, unless you want to.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” she shot back.
“True,” he said, tilting his head, “but I think you will. What do you have to lose?”
She considered him. There was something odd about this boy, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what.
“I don’t know why I’m playing along,” Victoria said, shaking her head slightly. “But fine. I think the last time I told someone a secret was three years ago.”
“So specific.”
“Yeah, well, it was memorable,” she said, bitterly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him gesture for her to continue. “I told my parents I could see ghosts, and they tried to have me exorcised.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, no shit,” She muttered, rubbing her wrists. If she looked closely, she could still see the scars.
“So what happened?”
“CPS got involved. I was ‘removed from the home for safety concerns.’ Or something like that. Four foster families later, and here I am.”
“Do you still see ghosts?”
“Yup. All that, and the exorcism didn’t take.”
Jack just stared at her.
“What?”
“Not many people are that open about themselves, that’s all.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is. I accepted who I am a long time ago. People don’t like that, but I don’t care.”
They heard slow footsteps approaching from the hallway, and both looked to the door. It seemed their guard had finally arrived.
“I’ll see you around,” Jack whispered. Victoria spun back to face him, but he was gone. Her eyes made it to the door just as Mr. Travers slunk it. Apparently he had drawn the short straw.
“Good, Vic-,” he started, but her glare cut him off. “You’re here.”
“I’m not a bad kid. Of course I’m here.”
Mr. Travers sighed, like the weight of the world was on his boney shoulders. “I don’t think you’re a bad kid. I think you just need some help. Or friends.”
“Well,” she said, glancing at the empty seat next to her. “I think I met someone who could be a friend today.”
His face lit up. “That’s great! You just need to let people in, and let them help you. That can make all the difference in the world.” His step was much lighter as he walked to the teacher’s desk. Apparently she was the reason he had been miserable to be watching detention today.
He sat with a contented sigh at the desk, and put his mug down before bending over to pull something out of his bag. Somehow, his mug tipped over, spilling hot coffee all over his lap. He yelped, jumping to his feet and racing from the room. Victoria heard a faint chuckle, and sighed.
“The only problem, Mr. Travers,” she told the empty room, “is that my new friend seems to be a ghost.”
Inspired by a writing prompt from Writing Prompt Generator.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020