Andy Anderson
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.
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