First Impression (A Shadow Maven Paranormal) (3 page)

“No worries there, Mom. Chira was befriending him all over the place.”

I kick the back of her seat amid Kevin’s giggles. “What’s that supposed to mean? I just showed him around like I was supposed to.”

She laughs and turns in her seat. “There’s showing around…and
showing around
.”

“You make no sense, you know that?”

Tasha just laughs and straightens herself again. “The boy sat behind you in every class we all had together. I’d say he was interested in you for more than just your touring duties.”

I shake my head at her and avert my eyes to the window. Not if he gets a whiff of my reputation. The only boys
who talk to me at all are those vain perverts who get it into their sick heads I need convincing to switch teams.

“Well, either way, Tasha. Don’t leave this entirely on Chira’s shoulders. You be nice to the boy, too,” Mrs. Brown says.

Tasha salutes. “You got it, General Mom.”

“General Mom, General Mom,” Kevin sing-songs.

I laugh. The times I go home with Tasha’s family are always the best. Even though Tasha’s life is typically full of dance lessons and piano recitals, it’s great that her family is a solid unit. And having an awesome little brother like Kevin around is icing on the cake. I’d love to have a sibling—if my dad was still around. The thought of my stepdad and mother having offspring gives me the creeps.

The daylight is immediately replaced with shadow the minute we pull into the parking garage at the bottom of Tasha’s condominium. Being in places like this cold, damp, dimly lit concrete structure makes me feel a little claustrophobic. But it’s just a short walk from the Brown’s Beamer to the elevator, and Kevin holds my hand which somehow makes me feel braver.

Mrs. B puts in her key at the number seven and turns. We are taken up to that floor, and when the elevator opens, it spits us right out in the middle of their living room. One wall is almost entirely glass and opens up to a spectacular view of the city. My eyes are always drawn to the grey-blue hue of the horizon since it’s so much farther than I can see in most other places I go. I can’t help but compare the view to the Jackson Hall roof now that I’d been there. I feel silly when I realize that I’m hunting for a distinct owl shape among the clouds.

“Okay girls. Homework first. Dinner will be ready in an hour and a half, when Mr. Brown gets home. If you need a quick snack, you know the drill. Fruits and vegetables only.”

Tasha aims for the fridge and snags a snack pack of apples and peanut butter. She tosses one to me and grabs one for herself. I reach over her shoulder to grip two water bottles between my fingers. We dance around each other while she heads for the cupboard for two paper towels. We sit at the breakfast bar and start in on our snack. I help Kevin into the stool beside me.

“Can I have one?”

“Of course,” I say at the same time Tasha says, “Get your own.”

I stare at her and shake my head, then push my snack toward Kevin and return to the fridge to snag a second pack for myself. “He’s three, Tasha.”

“So? He’s big enough to open the fridge.”

I return to my stool and shake my head at her again. Then sniffle. “Oh, Mrs. B. I forgot that I need to head to the drug store. Any chance you could take me by there on the way back to school?”

Mrs. Brown is folding up little triangle pastries into croissants. Her pale pink apron covers her dark slacks and cream blouse. “No prob, Chira.”

After we finish up our snack, we head to Tasha’s room. Kevin tries to follow, but Tasha shoos him away. “Mom! Call the brat, will ya? We need to get our homework done.”

“I’m not a brat!” he yells back.

“Kevin, can you come help Mommy decide what to make for dessert? Do you want chocolate chip or peanut butter cookies? I need help with the spoon!”

My mouth waters at the thought of it. Mrs. Brown is one heluva baker.

“Peanut butter!” Kevin yells as he turns back toward the kitchen.

Good choice.
I smile. This family has my heart.

After we hit up the
drug store for my decongestant, Mrs. Brown taxis us over to the school building. Several afterschool meetings and activities go on at this time of day on a Thursday, so nothing looks too suspicious as we jump out of the car, and Tasha pecks her mom on the cheek.

I wave. “Bye, Mrs. B. Thanks for having me over.”

“Any time, Chira.” Her smile is wide and genuine.

We slowly make our way up toward the steps of the building until the Beamer is out of sight, and then sneak around the side of the building and across the track toward Old Schoolhouse Road. Built over a hundred years ago, the Old Schoolhouse was the original site of Jackson Hall. It’s a smaller, two-story building that is more of a house than an actual school. Twenty years ago, when the prep school became hugely popular, they built the new school, larger and closer to the road. For a while they tried to use the Old Schoolhouse building to run as an elementary school, but after a few short years, they gave up on the idea. And Jackson Hall returned to being for eighth graders and up.

The sunset stained sky barely pierces through the thick canopy of trees overhead. Old Schoolhouse Road is more of a gravel driveway lined with a wooded area slightly to the west of our school. The road only leads back from building to building.

“I bet they call the place haunted just to keep kids from hanging out there.” Tasha’s trying to put backbone in her voice, but it still quakes a bit.

I shiver. “I’m sure.”

“The couple times I’ve had to walk home, I take the trail off to the side. It’s a short cut to the next street over. I’ve never seen anything strange in all the times I’ve passed by.

She seems a little creeped out, nonetheless.

When we reach the building, we find Jacob, Stacy, and a
few other seniors and juniors hanging out in front. Behind us, the crunching gravel makes me start. My eyes meet Tasha’s. Her brown eyes open wide, a mirror of mine, before we both turn toward the sound. Ben Oscuro and Matt Benson, Jr. are heading up the drive. At first I’m shocked that Ben is friends already with a senior, and then I remember—cousins, duh.

“The gang’s all here,” Jacob says as he fist bumps Matt. Ben hangs back, away from most of the group, and Matt just leaves him that way.

Jacob and Stacy are counting the crowd, and then Stacy takes over, bossy from being head cheerleader for the last two years. “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. There’s enough of us to split into two groups.”

“Split up?” Donnie laughs. “Isn’t that always a bad idea in horror movies?”

Jacob steps forward. “There’ll still be five to a group, scaredy cat. There’s safety in numbers, right?”

There’s a general murmur and consensus, but I still feel Tash
a's shoulder leaning against me. She’s such a chicken. Why on earth did she sign us up for this?

Stacy pulls a strand of her
blonde hair behind her ear and continues. “Matt’s group will head upstairs and check out the second floor. They’ll make sure that there’s no chance of rotting floorboards for people to fall through, nothing unsafe for the party.”

“And that there’re plenty of beds, just in case, right?” Donnie Price shouts out, getting general laughter from all of the guys.

Stacy rolls her eyes. “Sure. Whatever. Jacob and my group will scout out the downstairs and check things. Everyone, stay in your group. Do not scout out separate rooms by yourself.”

“What about the ghost?” Tracy James asks, her mass of red curls pulled back in a bushy ponytail. My shoulders relax. At least there’s another junior around besides Ben, Tasha, and me.

“Well, that is one of the things we’re checking for.” Stacy laughs. “We even plan on having a medium come to the party and give a séance.”

Ben huffs and shakes his head. I doubt that anyone else saw that, as they were too busy giving each other high fives and talking about how cool that was going to be.

“All right. Matt’s team is going to be Ben, Tracy, Lloyd, and Jolie,” Jacob calls out. “My team is Stacy, Donnie, and the dykes.”

Everyone laughs. My face flushes, and I swear I see spots in the fading daylight. It’s one thing for them to say it behind my back; another for someone to call me out on it. My nails dig into my palms as my hands become fists. I’m mortified and want to deck someone at the same time.

Tasha defuses it, though. “Very classy, Jacob. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Change the sound of that word just a little bit, and we all know what we’d call you.”

The laughter crescendos, and Donnie shouts, “Burn!”

It is pretty funny. My fists unclench. I smile a little and nod toward Tasha. “Good one.”

Jacob flushes as his ego deflates a bit. Tasha saunters up to him as we join the rest of our group. She gives him a hug and says, “You know I love ya.”

I hate the way she does that. Tasha is such a diplomat that she plays both sides of the social field. She’s hard for anyone to stay mad at. I know I’m also just jealous of her ability to do it.

Stacy laughs and makes a claw gesture toward Tasha’s face. “Don’t make me scratch your eyes out over a boy.”

Tasha feigns fear and runs to the other side of me as though she’s hiding. I fold my arms across my chest and play along, raising my eyebrow at Stacy. She smiles and calls out to the group. “All right, let’s go.”

The large wood doors creak from lack of use as we enter into the front of the building. Tasha puts a cold metal cylinder in my hand, and I realize it’s a flashlight. Everyone’s lights snap on at once, causing dancing beams to flutter in from the doorway to the darkened interior. It seems like an old mansion rather than an actual school building. Furniture is scattered about the room, covered in white cloths, which I find strange, because there’s hardly any dust at all. There’s a rusty, antique, woodsy smell about the room, but not as musty as I’d expected.

“This place is awesome,” Donnie says from behind me. He’s so close I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.

I step away a bit to allow everyone else to enter in. We split into our two groups, and Matt’s group starts up the stairs. Jacob turns the knob on his lantern which nearly lights up the whole room. “So where should we start?”

“This way,” Stacy says and leads us down the hallway. The hall is a little narrower than the ones at school but wider than those in an actual house. The rooms are all basically similar, with a few desks in each, a closet space filled with cubby holes, and a chalk board near the front.

“I bet there’s not much electricity to this building. Where would anyone charge a laptop back in the day?” Tasha says.

I shake my head. “I don’t think anyone had laptops back in the day. No cell phones either.”

Donnie pulls out his iPhone and starts filming us all from the back of the line. I duck my head. Does he really need to do that? Seriously?

Tasha and I are directly in front of him, while Stacy and Jacob lead us, hand in hand.

“Maybe this video will become famous like that Blair Witch story. You know, ‘I see dead people…’” Donnie half whispers.

Tasha clings to my arm.

“Wrong movie, moron,” Stacy says. “That’s not
Blair Witch Project
.”

We pass
into a music room with a piano that’s only partially covered. The back half is still hidden with a sheet, but the front half reveals a beautiful cherry type wood. Stacy, her blonde hair shimmering even in the dim light from the flashlights, sits at the covered bench and opens the panel to reveal the keys. A few colored stickers cover the middle section with letters written on them for the notes. Although worn in places, it’s easy to see what the letters said. Stacy presses a key and the piano gives off one sour note. She pushes the ivory key again, but it’s stuck and refuses to make a sound on the second push. Her fingers move across a few keys, but several of the ones she presses make no sound at all. She stands and slams the panel. “We can see why this piano is over here instead of in the music department of main Jackson.”

A general murmured agreement goes up from the group. We continue to the last portion of the house. The dining area is wide with a tile floor and several small tables and undersized chairs. Donnie sits in one, and his knees protrude above the table to both sides of him comically. He turns his iPhone around on himself and says, “I feel like we’re in an overgrown doll house, man. These chairs definitely weren’t built for a normal-sized guy like me.”

“Well, it was an elementary school,” Tasha says.

Donnie tries to stand but can’t get himself out of the crab like position. He milks the show for all it's worth, having Stacy and Jacob in stitches with his contortions. Tasha and I even smile before he finally shoves a hand in Jacob’s direction. “A little help?”

The smacking of their palms together echoes through the quiet room.

The domed ceiling overhead is covered in a similar white tile to the floor, and the ceiling fixture is a bronze chandelier. My eyes are drawn to the leaves that weave throughout the tile work. Each vine unites perfectly with only the grout between the tiles breaking up the pattern.