Unfortunately, it seemed Tori wasn't going to be talking any time soon. After Brody made his entrance, she went back to her, hoping to finally get a response, but it seemed whatever gods there may be didn't want her bugging Tori at this moment. Instead, the long purple-haired cute looking girl/guy, whatever gender they were, walked over and tried to get her attention.

"Hey, Sidney? That's your name, right? Maybe you co-"

and that's, when said person promptly tripped over their own feet. He fell to the ground, hard, and Sidney couldn't help but to snicker rather loudly as he did so. Poor thing. She spared him further embarrassment by decided to not take a picture of his hilarious fall. It didn't seem like he had been injured though, thankfully. He quickly stood up, face a little more than red with either irritation or embarrassment, she couldn't tell at the moment. Either way, he seemed fine enough to talk to her.

"Anyways, before I was cut off due to me tripping... mind if I borrow that pen since your not really using it for anything right now? Plus, could you leave Tori alone as its obvious she doesn't want the paparazzi bothering her. Could you please save your questions for when she's in the mood?"

....

....aw hell fucking no.

The hell this jackass think he was?! Telling her what to do? Not only that demanding her pen! Pfft. Well, she had news for this clumsy androgynous moron. However, instead of blowing up or otherwise losing her temper, she gave Gray a seemingly friendly smile.

"I'm sorrrry!~" She said quickly stood, folding her hands together in front of her, as if praying for forgiveness as she bowed her head slightly. That was an obvious, blatant lie. "I had no idea I was bothering anyone!~" She sweetly said, before giving him a mischievous smirk, folding her arms. "But excuse me if I don't take orders from a scrawny giraffe that can't even walk two steps before falling on its face. Did your parents never teach you to walk or something?" She snickered, giving the person a rather hard poke on the chest to assert her point, slightly hoping he'd trip again.

....yep, definitely a guy. Oh well.

All interest lost.

Before she could take further action though, it seemed as though Andy had finally decided to address the group. She would have liked to have added 'before I make the rest of your nonexistent highschool life a living hell', but oh well. it was an empty threat anyways, even if she could do it. She may like spreading rumors, but she would never intentionally do that to someone.

“Okay, guys, settle down, Why don’t we get started? Make yourselves comfortable, and we’ll go around the room and introduce ourselves. But first… I’m Andy Anderson, a junior. Welcome to S.P.I.R.I.T! As a club, we’re going to be investigating paranormal and supernatural activity throughout Sandalwood.”

Ooh. Yep, definitely sounded fun. Her and her camera would capture any of the so called 'ghosts' easily so she could make sure they were passed off as hoaxes and idiots playing tricks and games with smoke and mirrors.

“So, what are we doing today? Well, I’m sure you’ve all heard about the rash of disappearances at our very own school. Nathan Duarte disappeared in January. Julia Parker, in April. And Melissa Franklin, just a few weeks ago. All of them vanished on the second floor. And what happens to be on the second floor?”

Oooh, those! She had did a little digging into that herself. Easy explanation for that. The three simply skipped out on school. Left. For whatever reason. There was no evidence that there was foul play, and no evidence of 'ghosts' the three probably just got bored of school and left or something.

“The haunted girls’ bathroom, right? We’ve all heard the rumors. A girl committed suicide in there eleven years ago, and ever since then, it’s been out of order. No one goes in there. And that’s where we’re going to check out for our first case.”

Sidney sat back down, ignoring the clumsy penguin. Hrm...seems decent enough. Andy probably had something planned to make it seem like there was some sort of supernatural influence over the whole thing. She'd definitely make sure to go.

"Anyway, why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves now?”

And that was her cue -

"Hello everyone. Most of you probably already know who I am, but my name is Victoria Harris, you can call me Tori. Anyway, it was nice meeting you all,"

Tori beat her to the first introduction. Ah well. Not that it mattered much. She kept it short and too the point. Apparently, she didn't want her to know why she was joining...probably a smart move, in retrospect, but oh well. Not her problem....she had her ways of getting information.

...kek...

Before anyone could introduce themselves, however, three more people decided to show up. Ooh. They all looked like they'd make for good victims interviewees too. First up, was a guy asking if this was the SPIRIT CLUB. Well duh. Anyone with a brain could figure that out moron.

next up was another girl, claiming to be the biggest weirdo in the room.

...she doubted that seriously, but eh, whatever. Anyone who introduced themselves like that was bound to make for a good little piece...yep, definitely was gonna be her next victim interviewee. Mainly because she didn't recognize her right off the bat. Curious.

And lastly...a tall girl, that if Sid had to say, was, well...definitely out there. Not in a bad way, oh no, in fact, Sidney's curiosity was thoroughly grabbed. Was that a slight accent she detected? Was this the new student in the area? The one who supposedly had gotten expelled from her previous school because of a fight? Hohoho...

....forget the last girl. This one was gonna be who she went after first. Of course, there was currently the problem of introductions!

“Yeah, this is S.P.I.R.I.T, Are you guys here to join? We were just introducing ourselves, You probably missed it, so yeah, I’m Andy. We’re going to go check out the haunted bathroom on the second floor after this.”

"Ooh, me next!" Sidney said, standing up again. "Sidney Garland! All of you obviously know me! I mean, come on, if you don't you've been living under a rock. Seriously, who in this school doesn't visit my blog? hrmm?" She snickered with a smile. "As for why I'm here? I think it's rather obvious!" She said, suddenly becoming serious, pointing a finger towards Andy. "To disprove any supernatural phenomena that you jokers might come up with! That's right. I'ma reveal any of your little supernatural bullshit as smoke and mirrors." She gave a smug smile with a little huff before sitting back down. "And if you even think about kicking me out, then well, good luck with that~"

And with that, her own introduction was done, and she went back, to clicking her pen whether the clumsy giraffe wanted her too, or not.

Holy shit, it actually got worse.

From the depths of fashion hell crawled out an abomination in combat boots. And camo. There is never an excuse for camo. Ever. There was a very real urge rushing through Brody: an urge to reach across the room and slap some sense into the poor reject. Maybe they’d be lucky and he’d slap some of those hideous tattoos off her arms as well.

Ahh, Brody, you truly are a man of the people. A saint, even.

She asked if this was the S.P.I.R.I.T. Club. He looked at the board and scoffed on the inside. Was it really that hard to just look around before asking stupid questions? Maybe tall, pale, and brutal was beyond saving. Oh well. Now the Great Goth Gobbler might have some company. They could sacrifice some goats to their Goddess of Hideousness, or go kick puppies and blot out the sun.

Was normality too much to ask from these people? Or did they inherit some sort of freak gene from their useless, drain-on-society parents?

Andy stepped in to welcome the losers. Then Sidney went about declaring war on Andy’s club. Which was a good thing. After he went about explaining his theory on the disappearing students, Brody knew the kid was a loon. Which was sad, really. He wasn’t that bad to look at. Not ManCandy tier, mind you, but passable. He had the librarian look, and while nobody could rock that, he had a sort of nerdy charm. He might even be able to look past that but…

Well…

Crazy did horrible things to a man’s appearance. Even now, Brody could make out a slight twitchiness to the boy’s eye, a hint of deliriousness behind them. Maybe. Or he could be seeing what he was wanting.

ManCandy shook Andy’s hand and announced himself to be a true newbie called Connie. Horribly lame name. Who does that to a child? A boy named Connie? Might as well call him Sue. No, from this moment forward, he would forever be known as ManCandy.

"H'lo. My name is Lillith Marjo,"

Oh god, her voice actually made him want to vomit. She sounded like a castrated chipmunk. On helium. And probably speed. Seriously, if she could just turn the spaz levels down from eleven to literally anything below five, then she might not be completely repulsive.

"I hope none of you have heard of me or heard my voice before.

Considering that he hadn’t yet shoved nails as far into his ears as possible, then no, he hadn’t. In fact, if he could keep things like that, life truly would be fantastic.

”_{brodyisafaggot.} That's all."

…

What…?

Things started to simultaneously speed up and slow down. Did he...did she…

...faggot?

This couldn’t be a coincidence. First the kid in the hall...then her…

Faggot?

No.

Please.

Not here. Not again.

Faggot.

Brody drew his mouth into a line. Faggot. He crossed his arms, hugging himself. Faggot. Those are just words, Brody. Faggot. They can’t hurt you. Faggot. Not anymore.

Tarhead must have waddled up to the spotlight at some point, because he could now hear her voice. Though what was she saying?

”...Faggot faggot faggot.”

She shrugged. Brody’s eyes widened. She wasn’t really…

Faggot faggot fag faggity fag fag.”

Then she smiled at Andy. Fucking smiled at him. Sharing a little inside fucking joke with him. And apparently Machinehead wanted in on it, because she stepped up to speak next.

“Faaaaaaaaaaag. Faaag. Fag.” She smiled at everyone. Wasn’t it FUCKING funny? Look at the little faerie, frolicking about. Look at the little FAGGOT. Brody’s mouth quivered ever so slightly. He bounced his leg, looking off into the distance. His eyes shifted from object to object, trying to find something to blot out the...the…

“Faaaagio. Fag.”

Even the chomping of her gum was echoing that goddamn word. He had to get out. He couldn’t do this. Not again. Never again. It…

“Fag”
“Faaag”
“Faaag”
“Faggio”
“Faggio”
“Faggot”
“Fag”

…

Well, he had to admit, their little harmonizing didn’t sound that bad. And the gaping wound it left on his heart? It would gro-

Brody stood up, slightly shaking. He took a few steps toward the door. Then a few more.

“Fuck this. I-I don’t need th-this.”

He mumbled. It was barely more than a whisper, really. He kicked a desk, toppling it. It hit the ground, causing a loud crash to ring throughout the room. Brody left the classroom, slamming the door behind him. Fuck this. Fuck them. He didn’t need that. He didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t done a fucking thing to any of them. That was wrong.

Wrong.

Fucking wrong.

Fuck them all. Fuck them and their little reject convention. Fuck the plan. It wasn’t worth it. Brody could feel his eyes start to water up. His legs were moving, but everything was a blur. All he could think of was that word. It echoed in his mind, bouncing off the walls and slamming back into his heart.

---

“Faaaaaaag”

Umph.

Brody coughed, gasping for air.

“C’mon, sissy, we’re just getting started. We’re gonna have some reeeaaal fun, yeah?”

Brody sobbed. He looked up. The sky above was gray and it cried with him. The rain felt nice. Odd...all of this was happening but...but the rain was amazing.

Umph.

Back to Earth. Back to the shitty little alley, behind the shitty little dumpster, with those shitty little people.

His arms were being pulled to either side. On one was Gregory Watsons, senior, and starting kicker for the Gibbler Coyotes. The other arm was being restrained by Antonio Giuseppe, the Coyotes’ star quarterback.

And the ginger menace in front of him? The bastard tha- UMPH! Brody coughed violently. He was caught in the throat with that one. His eyes stung. His face was more soaked by his tears than the rain. And another one. Brody’s vision was starting to blur. He felt like he was only seeing out of one eye. He was only seeing one thing. Ethan Martin. The saving grace All-Star of the Coyotes. He was destined to end up in the NFL. And he was Brody’s first love. Unrequited love, mind you, but love nonetheless. Brody was head over heels for the guy.

Speaking of heels…

A foot slammed into the side of Brody’s face. He felt his legs give out on him. He fell, nothing but slack weight. Or he would have. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum were still propping him up.

“Ahaahah, look at the little sissy fag. You gonna pass out, boy?”

It was really Brody’s fault. He...well, he was careless. Mistake number one. When you’re a closeted guy in high school, you’ve gotta be careful. People have odd ways of battling boredom, and while Brody was more of a musical guy, he was sadly a doodler. This afternoon, he had doodled a death wish.

B+E
4-EVA

Maybe he would have been able to get away with that, but he had also written both of their names over and over in the notebook. Brody Cunningham. Ethan Martin.

Mr. Brody Martin.

“Hold this little faggot up. I’ll learn him right.”

The pulled his arms in opposite directions while lifting him by his armpits.

Someone had seen. Someone had to piss or use the pencil sharpener or some other bullshit. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that Brody wasn’t aware of his surroundings. Someone saw it and they snatched it.

And they showed Ethan.

Ethan walked closer and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a short wood- Ethan’s hand tightened, and a blade shot out. A knife. Ethan pulled it up and waved it front of Brody’s eyes.

“Whoa, hey. Ain’t that a bit too far?”

“Ease up, E. The faggot ain’t worth that.”

The ginger flushed crimson.

“So what? You guys faggot lovers now? You gonna take Sissyfag here back home and sin together?” He grinned a lopsided, toothy grin. “You guys ain’t fags. Hold him there. He won’t say a damn thing. Ain’t that right, faggyboy?”

The henchmen gulped uneasily. They exchanged nervous glances. This was going too far but…

Well…

You don’t piss off Ethan Martin. It just...no. Don’t. Bad things happen.

He pushed the knife at Brody’s stomach. He pushed the blade against the shirt. Slowly. Softly. It made contact then...he kept pushing. It cut into his skin and Brody whimpered, pleading for it to end. No dice. With his free hand, Ethan punched Brody’s face, throwing his nose to one side. Blood started gushing out immediately. Ethan smiled. With the knife, he traced Brody’s shirt down the middle. slicing the buttons right off. He pushed back the shirt and looked for a moment.

Then he sliced.

One long line. Than two shorter lines perpendicular to it.

He grinned a disgusting monster’s grin. Brody screamed, but one of the minions held something over his mouth, muffling him.

One diagonal slash, than another in the opposite direction. Short slash connecting them. He screamed bloody murder each time the knife touched his skin.

One of the hooligans punched him, causing his good eye to swell up. He could barely see. He tasted pennies rolling around in his mouth and...his ears were ringing.

Ethan got creative with the last series of cuts. He made a three-sided square, then a two-sided triangle. What a fancy ‘G’.

Ethan threw back his head and laughed hard. He pointed at his handiwork with his knife. “Lookee, boys. We did good. Now there’s a warning sign on the fag. You ain’t gonna perv on anymore good ole boys, now, are you?” He lightly sliced a line below the word. Then below that he did it again, pressing deeper.

FAG

How fitting a label.

“Come on, guys. Littering is wrong. Let’s put the trash where it belongs. But first…”

Ethan grabbed Brody’s leg and straightened it out. The boy fought wildly against it, flailing about fiercely...but eventually, one of the other boys grabbed it and held it in place.

“P-p-please no...not the l-leg.”

Bad idea.

Ethan laughed. And laughed.

“‘Not the leg he says’. Hahaha, can you believe it? Not the leg.”

There was horrible snap, followed by a howl of pain by one Brody Cunningham. Never before and never since has the boy ever experienced such pain.

“Oops. Did I do that? Faggot.”

Brody felt himself leave the ground, then he was moving, soaring, then he was…

There was a squish. Brody landed on a black Hefty bag filled with whores know what. He heard laughter that began to fade away quickly. He was in so much pain. Everything hurt, stung, or was itchy. Brody wasn’t able to move. He just cried. Alone. Until he passed out. The faggot with the truth carved into his flesh wanted nothing more than death’s embrace.

---

How’d he end up here?

Brody looked about. He was in a bathroom. There were no urinals, he quickly noticed. Girls bathroom. He dropped to a knee and looked down the row of stalls.

No feet.

Clear.

Wait...he looked back at the door, then to a window.

Girls’ bathroom on the second floor. Seriously. Fuck. He had just stormed out to leave those fuckers and now…Now they’d be here soon. Those cruel bigots, ready to cut him down in order to defeat the gay agenda. Time for them…

No. Y’know what? No. Fuck them. Fuck their club. Andy Fuckerson wants to scare some losers? Well no. Over Brody’s dead body. He looked around, looking for something that seemed out of place...but to no avail. Everything was just, well, bathroomly. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But something felt…wrong. He couldn’t quite place it. It was almost like a feeling that he was being watched. Something…

He went to the first stall. He hesitated then...kicked.

Nothing.

To the next one.

Nothing.

To the next one.

Again...nothing.

This was a waste of time. There was nothing. Anderson was just a fucking idiot.

Brody ran his hand back through his hair then pulled it back and rubbed his mouth. Then he cried. Bawled even. It was just too much. Why? Why couldn’t he get out from underneath the fucking gay umbrella? Did it really have to follow him everywhere? No. Just no. Fuck it. He was done. It was already starting here. He’d just have to talk to mom. There were other high schools nearby. He cursed. It wasn’t fair. He was being careful...other than the clothes. Fucking hillbillies. Because he used soap, he was gay. Great.

He walked over to the nearest sink and loosed some water. Brody removed his watch and placed it on the edge of the sink, more out of habit than anything. He pushed up his sleeves than tested the water. It was warm It felt nice.

Huh. There was an odd smell…

Whatever.

Brody cupped some water then splashed his face. He would have to leave in a bit. His light makeup was already being attacked by the tears. Might as well clean up before leaving. Never let them see they hurt you. The fucking vultures. The go-

...what was that?

What....

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!

Brody stared fearfully in the mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary at first glance but…there were four open stalls. Four. Brody had only opened three. The others were securely closed. What the actual fuck? He turned and looked around. Nothing. He dropped to a knee and looked under the walls.

Nothing. Well then. Whatever. He was upset and...and Andy's stories were just getting to him. Whatever. It happened. Loserdom had infected him...but he'd survived.

He turned back, ready to just wash his hands and be ou-

…

…

…

Five open stalls. Fi-

CRRRREEEEAAAAKKKK

Brody’s eyes shot open wide.

The sixth stall door was moving. Slowly.

…

Brody could see an eye in the slit. Brody could see the madness dancing wildly…

He turned around slowly, shaking harshly. Then he wept. All of the doors were closed. What the actual fuck was even going on anymore? Was he losing his min-

The fourth door opened. Brody screamed at what he saw.

Then he stopped screaming.

---

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

She was late.

She was so so so late.

If she didn’t make it, the instructor would drop her from the lessons. But she couldn’t help it, she had to go. Bad.

But…

But was it worth going in there?

She stood in front of the supposedly haunted girl’s bathroom. She was running late, so she had to hurry. She also had to go. Badly. But the other one she knew about was full up.

…

Just a quick in and out.

She opened the door and walked in. Or at least started to. Something felt hella off about this room. Maybe it was just the stories she heard whispered about it but...she couldn’t do it. Oh well. She was a chicken. Bawk bawk. All she knew was that she couldn’t do anything in there.

Before she left, she did notice something odd. There was a nice looking watch on one of the sinks. A very nice watch. A...man’s watch.

…

Huh.

She dropped down and checked, but as she expected, the stalls were empty. She briefly considered swiping the watch, afterall it had been abandoned. But…

No. She couldn’t go any deeper in that place. Hell no.

So she left.

Andy Anderson

"Yeah...very interesting," Connie whispered back. He sure was getting kind of… close… "Ah, really? Maybe this will be your chance to get to know everyone well. Good luck though, looks like some people will be pretty tough to handle."

And then he was very close. Very very close.

Andy nodded back, but he was already feeling a little flustered, _{andyxsweets4ever, whispered a small voice in the back of his head,} and quickly had to turn his attention back to the room.

"Hey. I'm Deborah Wright, by ya'll can just call me Debs," said the next person to speak. Short Girl One. "Well, if you want that is. It doesn't matter much to me. Anyway, I'm, err, not entirely how much I believe in the supernatural, but I'm willing to be convinced." She smiled at Andy, shrugging. "That's all I have to say."

Andy grinned back at her, relieved to have at least one person willing to give this a chance. She seemed nice, too. Maybe he’d go talk to her or something afterwards.

He was so busy feeling grateful for, uh, Debs (the nickname felt weirdly overly-familiar for the stoic looking girl, but he’d deal) that he nearly missed the next girl who stood up to speak. Eliza Falke: she sounded pretty serious about all this. He liked her already.

People were getting restless, though. There was only one person who hadn’t introduced himself, and all the new people had, so that meant that ‘Gray Crowell’ was the guy with the long, flowy purple hair who looked like a girl.

"Hey boss... Are we going to head out to find this-" said Theresa, making creative use of some finger quotes and confirming Andy’s worries. "-Haunted toilet? Or are we going to sit around and see who can come up with the snarkinest comments?"

Andy opened his mouth to respond, but then--

Brody stood. He was shaking. “Fuck this. I-I don’t need th-this,” he mumbled.

AND THEN HE KICKED OVER A DESK.

That… was a hell of a crash. Andy watched, eyes wide, as Brody made his exit stage left. The door slammed behind him. What had been the cause of that outburst? Had… had Lillith really said what he’d thought she said?

He bit his lip. The silence was stretching on.

“Well,” he said, for lack of anything better to say. It wasn’t as if he could logically go charging after the other boy, or launch into a lecture about appropriate language. He’d… maybe he’d talk to Brody after school. See if he was still interested, or something. Andy bit his lip.

They should probably skip Gray's introduction before anyone decided to murder someone else.

“Uh. On that note, why don’t we head on over to the bathroom to check it out? Not to do anything yet, because I don’t know if we’re ready to fight off a vengeful spirit. But if we just go in for a while, in a group, and look, then it shouldn’t bother us unless we bother it.”

Andy picked up his backpack. It was heavy with books, and his baseball bat swung from where it was strapped to the bag.

He smiled awkwardly. “Shall we?”

---

Edison High second floor, the out-of-order women’s restroom
September 4th, 2015. 4:01 PM.

---

“We’re not going to bother the ghost,” Andy warned, pausing at the door. No one was in the hallway: everyone seemed to be at club activities, or had already gone home. “We’re just going to check things out, okay?”

The air just outside the doorway was already a little cooler than the air in the rest of the hallway. The door looked… ominous, really. The out-of-order sign hung slightly crooked.

Andy had popped by the day before to check it out, and… hey, wait. The dust on the floor looked recently disturbed. In fact, there was a footstep in it.

What…?

He shook his head, brushing off the wave of worry that suddenly washed over him. They might as well check things out.

And so he pushed open the door.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a regular women’s washroom. Six stalls, sinks on one side, mirrors on the wall. Andy hadn’t seen too many women’s restrooms over the course of his life, but this looked like it was pretty standard.

Still, it… didn’t explain the awful, creeping feeling wriggling its way up his spine. Something was wrong in here. The air felt so heavy that it was almost hard to breathe, even for Andy. And he had no supernatural powers whatsoever.

But—

Hey, wait. Was that… a watch? Andy narrowed his eyes. He knew that watch. Heck, he’d been ogling it a few minutes before. Here was the question, though. What was Brody’s watch doing in the haunted women’s restroom?

Well, if your name was Andy, then the answer was pretty obvious, actually.

“On second thought,” he said, raising his voice a little. “It looks like we’re going in after all. You can follow me, if you want. Or not.”

He dropped his backpack, taking the baseball bat with him. It probably wouldn’t do much against a ghost while it was incorporeal, but when it manifested… then it might help. Maybe.

Good thing he’d brought his handy-dandy big plastic bags of salt with him. Well, he only had two, actually. He tossed one to Tori, and the other to Deborah.

He wasn't sure how well anyone, himself included, would be able to handle a ghost coming at them. But they were the two he was most inclined to think would need the extra help. And at least this way, if anyone was about to die, someone could try to do something about it.

“Salt repels ghosts,” he said matter-of-factly, grinning ruefully. “Well, temporarily. If you’re coming, you can be in charge of that. If not, give it to someone else.”

To exorcise the ghost, they’d need to destroy whatever was tying the spirit to the mortal plane… usually its corpse. So they probably wouldn’t be able to exorcise this particular spirit. Andy had a bad feeling about this.

He took his first step into the bathroom. Immediately, it felt like something was off. For one thing, it was a whole lot colder.

Andy crossed the floor in a couple of strides, stopping by the sink. He picked up the watch— shiny, expensive, and golden. Definitely Brody’s watch.

He looked around. There was no one in any of the stalls. Glancing into the mirror, he only saw himself, and the bathroom. Maybe Brody was playing a cruel prank on the weirdo club president… but that didn’t seem to be his style. And Andy honestly didn’t think that Brody was in any state to do something like that, anyway.

“Brody?” he called out, his voice echoing off the walls of the bathroom. No response.

Fucking hell. What had it done with him?

“This isn’t good,” he said. “Brody was here. And now, somewhat obviously… he’s not.”

Andy gripped the handle of the baseball bat a little tighter.

This was one hell of a bad situation.

"Wow, Mommy and Daddy must have not loved you enough, huh?

Theresa.

"Oooh. Wow." Sidney rolled her eyes, obviously not bothered by her retort. "If you can't come up with a better insult than that, you should probably leave it to the big girls, okay?~" She said, giving Theresa a playful wink. She would have replied with something else, but Andy interrupted her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, You’re part of this club now, Sidney Garland. So regardless of whether you believe in ghosts or not, you’re going to have to participate to the best of your abilities. So how about this? You try to prove to me that it’s all just smoke and mirrors by the end of the year. Give me undeniable proof that it’s all make believe. For now, though, you’ll be a responsible member of this club. And I’ll prove to you that it’s all a hundred percent real. Okay?”

Sidney mischievously giggled.

"Sure, prez. You can count on me~" He might not have believed her, but Sidney Garland always gave 100%!...though, in this case, 100% in debunking anything that might remotely be called 'supernatural'. Well, Either way, she was in the club for the long haul. After that, the redhead listened to the others introduce themselves, a bit too quietly for comfort some might say. If they took care to look though, they would see her writing away in her notepad, writing small little notes in her usual cursive. What? Her handwriting was awesome. Some might have expected it to be a messy scrawl, but those morons were morons. Handwriting was one of the things a writer should always, be good at. And she liked to think of herself a writer first, and reporter second.

"Nice to meet you Andy. I'm Connie Sweets, it's my first year here. Hope we all get along well!"
Ooh. New kid. She might hit him up for an interview on his first thoughts on the school. But first, notes!



All the note taking she had time for, currently. Lillith introduced herself next. Sidney already knew a bit about the girl. One, she was a lesbian. Two, she like the horrible, horrible form of music known as rapping. She was more of a Rocker, even if she didn't look like it. At least it was pop of all things. Ugh, she didn't understand people who like that music. Okay, maybe she could. It was fun to dance to-

and she's off topic again. Brain, focus.

"H'lo. My name is Lillith Marjo, I hope none of you have heard of me or heard my voice before. brodyisafaggot. That's all."

Did...did she just? Wow. Okay, rude Lillith, rude. Rude, but kinda funny. She stifled a small giggle. Lillith had no room to talk about someones sexuality. Neither did she, really, but eh, whatever. Not her problem. Brody was gonna probably react badly though. No notes for her. She already had a file on Lillith somewhere...

"Hey. I'm Deborah Wright, by ya'll can just call me Debs. Well, if you want that is. It doesn't matter much to me. Anyway, I'm, err, not entirely how much I believe in the supernatural, but I'm willing to be convinced. That's all I have to say."

Next up, Deborah.



"Heya people! my name is Elizabeth Falke. Most of you probably dont know me cause I just joined Edison High this week. I'm from Germany and as you might have guessed from my attire I'm what you could consider a Metalhead I'm looking forward to working with all of you as we're gonna do our research into the occult. Besides that I dont really have alot to add at the moment but if you've got any questions you can always ask."

Oooooh. Elizabeth Falke. Kek. She was going to definitely hit this girl up for an interview first. She believed in the Occult and was from Germany, and was a new student. So. Much. Juicy. info. She could barely contain herself, and found herself grinning rather stupidly in her direction. Quickly, she turned back to her notepad before the other people went about introducing themselves. She was going to have tons of...heh, ~questions~ for her later.

"Hey boss... Are we going to head out to find this--Haunted toilet? Or are we going to sit around and see who can come up with the snarkinest comments?"

Theresa again. Seemed like she wasn't the only skeptic here with the 'haunted toilet' Really, how cliche. At least be...like, a haunted living room or something if you're going to haunt something.

oooh. a haunted cafeteria. If she was a ghost, she definitely would chose to haunt a cafeteria. Why?...free food, obviously.

...focus brain. Brody was finally flipping his shit. She made sure to get several very good pictures when he flipped that desk. Never underestimate the speed at which she could click a button on a camera! She had ten awesome pictures of Brody absolutely losing it. Ahahahaa, okay, she was gonna have an interesting little piece to write up about this incident, definitely. Now, all she had to do was decide if she wanted to make fun of him, or put the club in the spotlight by saying that they all humiliated him....

And then, Gray seemed to lose it.

Pfft. Well, she had to say Lillith kind of deserved that.

"Also, don't you bother making a bargain bin insult like you did to me earlier. Whats said is said, you don't need to make a big deal out of it and go off on your childish rants. I request only one thing and its to keep your trap shut for at least five minutes unless you legitimately have something useful to say for once during a club meeting. Use your breath wisely and don't waste it on meaningless insults because you are going to have to try harder if you want to rile me up... Anyways, see you guys at the bathroom, best we get started on crackin' this case, you know?"

...there he goes, telling her what to do again. Also, he seemed to take that insult the completely wrong way. Ugh. Moron. She folded her arms and gave a little huff before replying, her camera hanging around her neck again. She'd have given him a piece of her mind, but he had already walked out. oh well. Not like she actually cared.

Either way, to the bathroom!

---

Edison High second floor, the out-of-order women’s restroom
September 4th, 2015. 4:01 PM.

---

“We’re not going to bother the ghost, We’re just going to check things out, okay?”

"Right, Right, Prez. No bothering the ghostie." Sidney replied, following Andy in. As usual, the bathroom hadn't looked used in ages. Well, there was signs that someone had been in here recently. Probably a student who couldn't hold it and had to make an emergency pit stop.

“On second thought, It looks like we’re going in after all. You can follow me, if you want. Or not. Salt repels ghosts, Well, temporarily. If you’re coming, you can be in charge of that. If not, give it to someone else.”

Pfft. yeah, she was going in. Ghost or not. Like it was actually a ghost anyways. This was probably just some elaborate prank.

“Brody? This isn’t good, Brody was here. And now, somewhat obviously… he’s not.”

"... The butt ghost musta got him! What ever shall we DO!? Or maybe, he took a dump in the haunted toilet and it sucked him innnnnnnn! Ha!"

Sidney stifled a giggle at Theresa's comments. She had her own theory, though.

"Well duh. After that comment Lillith made, the guy probably was upset. We all know Brody's a sensitive wittle baby~" She giggled. "He probably was upset and left. Case closed." She shrugged, obviously happy with her conclusion of current events.

"Sidney, aren't you cold? I'm not sure I believe in ghosts, but something just feels off,"

Tori was obviously cold, from the way she was rubbing her arms. Andy probably hid a air-conditioning device in here or something. Like...one of those mini AC units and stuffed it somewhere where they wouldn't find it easily. Well, he obviously didn't understand that she would spend all night here to find it, if she had too.

"Ehhh? You think something feels off?" she said, unzipping her jacket, revealing a plain yellow T-shirt underneath it. She, wasn't cold. Probably because she was wearing her usual rather warm jacket, but she wanted to see if it was actually as cold as Tori was making it out to be. She hadn't noticed any huge change in temperature, sure it was a little cooler, but eh, the cold never bothered her anyways. She just wore a jacket to hide her camera.

"Here." She said, taking off her jacket, handing it to Tori. "Let it never be said, that Sidney Garland, is not a nice person!~" She chuckled to herself, before leaving the other girl so she could explore the restroom a bit more. First things first, pictures! Recon! Information gathering!...this place was actually kind of cramped with this many people in here. Huh. Oh well.

She walked to the entrance of the restroom, and took a picture of the entire room from the entrance. It seemed normal enough, and there wasn't anything too suspicious on it at a glance. She'd look closer after she took some more. From there, she moved to the sink, the one that had Brody's watch on it, before quickly snapping another one of Andy holding the watch.

"I hope the ghostie isn't camera shy~" She mused to herself, as she continued to look around the restroom....Tori had been right though. It was kind of...chilly in here without her jacket. Must just be the old construction or something making the room cooler. God knows this room hasn't been touched since whenever it was abandoned. Still, next up, she wanted to get a picture of the stalls. So far, nothing paranormal or otherwise unexplainable phenomena occuring.

looks like your ghostie theory was sinking fast, Prez. At least to Sidney it was. After all, if it was a ghost then it would probably want to get them out of here as fast as it could, wouldn't it?

Andy Anderson

"... The butt ghost musta got him! What ever shall we DO!?” said Theresa. “Or maybe, he took a dump in the haunted toilet and it sucked him innnnnnnn! Ha!"

…butt ghost? Andy ran through a mental check of all the ghosts he’d ever heard of. The “butt ghost” that Theresa mentioned… didn’t seem to be something he recalled.

Maybe he’d look it up afterwards.

But still—there were lots of skeptics in this particular group of people. Theresa, Sidney, Lillith… well, they were still part of the club, and while Andy really did believe in ghosts rather sincerely (sincerely enough to get labeled a bit of a wackjob, to be honest), he could see why people would be doubtful.

After all—even he hadn’t really seen a ghost before. Or… well, there’d been that one time in his neighbor’s garden, but. He’d never actually seen anything particularly definitive. He’d just done a whole lot of research into things like this.

"Well duh. After that comment Lillith made, the guy probably was upset. We all know Brody's a sensitive wittle baby~" said Sidney, interjecting herself into the situation. "He probably was upset and left. Case closed." She shrugged, looking pleased.

"Sidney, aren't you cold? I'm not sure I believe in ghosts, but something just feels off," said Tori. She’d opened up the bag of salt, Andy noticed.

Well, good for her. He was liking her more and more by the minute. Usually he’d give a location the benefit of the doubt, but this place really did have strong evidence (if you could call it that) connected to it, and…

Well, it gave him the creeps, to be honest.

He smiled reassuringly at Tori, but turned away to check out the rest of the room. Sidney was offering Tori her jacket— how nice of her. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

"I hope the ghostie isn't camera shy~" hummed Sidney.

Andy looked up from the sink that he was inspecting. The metal spout was spotted with rust, but said rust looked… oddly redder than it should have. He turned the tap on absentmindedly. “I’m not really into taking pictures myself,” he offered hesitantly. “But I heard that having a ghost in the frame corrupts the picture. If you printed it out, though, then you might be able to see it. I’ve heard a lot of different theories about this, though, so I’m not sure.”

There. A peace offering. Photography advice from the school's resident ghost buff. Yeah, now that he thought about it... his advice probably meant nothing to her.

He looked down. Rust was mixing into the water as it swirled down the drain, leaving red stains on the sides of the porcelain sink.

Somehow, that seemed like a bad sign. A very, very bad sign.

The lights flickered, and Andy glanced up sharply at the single, antiqued-looking lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something move in the mirror, but when he looked back, there was nothing. Just Sidney, Theresa and Tori, and the rest of the club just beyond the door.

And that, of course, was when the lights went out all together.

Andy flinched, and promptly tripped. He caught himself on the sink, but his glasses went flying… somewhere. Well, fuck.

He could still see the rest of the club outside, silhouetted in the light from the hallway, but it was dark as hell. The frosted glass window was not doing much for visibility.

“You three okay?” he said, and took a step forward.

Something crunched under his sneaker. Oh, Christ-on-a-shish-kebab. Those… were his glasses, weren’t they?

They’d been nice glasses, too. And expensive. All I have for back-up are contacts, he thought, feeling vaguely frustrated. But now really wasn't the time.

Something breezed past him, brushing against the nape of his neck. It felt like… fingers. Cold, chilly fingers, running down his neck. He jerked forwards even more, unwilling to let go of his baseball bat. In the darkness, though, he didn’t know how he was going to use it without killing someone by accident. What the fuck—

Rustling noises. He thought he could hear muffled sobbing sounds, from the direction of the stalls, but… none of the three girls who’d come in with him had been crying, had they?

Was it… the wind? But it couldn’t be. They were indoors, for crying out loud.

Fucking hell. He could only just barely see the outlines of the other club members.

“Be careful,” he said, raising his voice. It echoed oddly in the darkened room. “And get ready with that salt, Tori. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I think it has Brody, and it’s sure as hell not happy that we’re here to get him back.”