Chapter 4 #2
“Yes, you,” Thomas said. “You’ve tried to reorganize my entire existence. Twice.”
“That was organizational assistance,” Oliver said, waving his hand casually. “Completely different.”
The way they teased each other left Slate satisfied. All they needed was a little push. “Can we move this to the kitchen?” Slate asked. “We should have lunch. Knowing my mother, she’ll call as soon as she gets home to make sure we’ve eaten.”
“I’m doomed,” Dash said, pulling his hood over his head. “If she has her way, I’m going to die from overeating.”
Thomas shook his head, but Oliver looked shocked, as if Dash was really going to die. “Run a few extra miles and you’ll…” Slate paused mid-sentence when he detected a new presence. From the way Dash reacted, he felt it too.
The temperature dropped, something Slate hadn’t experienced since his great-grandmother had died. He’d need to ask his father about why some had that effect and others didn’t.
Before he could speak, a new ghost materialized in the room. He appeared to be in his early twenties, and with his long hair, scruffy beard, and bell-bottom jeans, he had that late-sixties hippie vibe.
“Far out, man,” he said, looking around the room. “This place has such a mellow aura. It’s like a welcome beacon for lost souls.”
“If you’re trying to cross over, this is the right place,” Thomas said, glancing at Slate. “Otherwise, you really are lost.”
“Cool. More ghosts.” He drifted closer to Thomas. “Love the letterman jacket, bro. Very retro-cool.”
“Thank you.” Thomas took a step forward, putting himself between Oliver and the new ghost. “Did you need something?”
“Nah, I was just checking out the weird mood this house gives off,” he said. “It’s the only place in town that feels ghost friendly.”
“That’s because it is,” Oliver said. “Spirits are welcome at Blackwood Manor.”
“Oh, hey, little history dude.” He looked Oliver up and down. “That’s a sweet Victorian outfit you’re rocking. Have you been dead that long?”
“That’s rather personal, don’t you think?” Oliver asked. “I don’t even know your name. Why should I tell you anything personal about myself?”
“Cain Suncar.” He took a foppish bow, pretending to sweep an imaginary hat from his head.
“I grew up in Pittsford. Got drafted and died in ‘Nam in ‘68. Followed my casket home, met some other gnarly dudes, changed my look, and have been having fun ever since. Wanna see what Private First Class Cain Suncar looked like before he got all shot up for nothing?”
Before anyone could answer, Cain’s image shifted. A young, clean-shaven man in army fatigues and a crew cut stood before them. He snapped to attention and saluted them before devolving into laughter.
“Why are you laughing?” Oliver asked.
“Everyone who knows me now thinks it’s funny I used to look like this,” Cain replied. “But it’s not like I wanted to be a soldier.”
“I’m sorry you died over there,” Thomas said. “It was a senseless war.”
“Thanks, man. But enough with all the dark talk.” Cain’s appearance returned to its hippie persona. “I’m going to be on the field tonight with everyone. You’re really cute. I’d love to make out with you under the bandstand if you dig it.”
Oliver made a small choking sound, and Thomas went very still. Slate had wondered if ghosts could be physical with each other, and Cain’s proposition answered his question. Given how his friends reacted, however, this seemed like news to them.
“That was rude,” Slate said. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Cain.”
“Don’t be such a buzzkill, man. Just asking.” Cain shrugged. “Though you’re way too young to be such a square.”
“Sorry, Cain, but it’s kinda rude to come into someone’s house and ask if they want to suck face with you,” Dash said. “You should at least ask to hang out first.”
Slate snapped his head around. He expected Dash to be helpful, not suggest Cain ask Thomas on a date.
“I dig you,” Cain said. “You’re pretty cute yourself. Too bad you’re not dead.”
“Sorry, bro,” Dash said in a tone that matched Cain’s. “Slate and I are together, and no, there isn’t room for anyone else.”
“Respect, dude.” He tapped his fist to his chest and then turned to grin at Thomas. “I’ll be at the bandstand tonight if you want me to kick it with me for a while before I rock your socks off.”
He vanished through the wall.
The room fell quiet. Oliver stared at the spot where Cain had disappeared, his translucent form somehow looked flushed. Thomas stood frozen, as if he wasn’t sure what had just happened.
“Well,” Dash said after a moment. “He was interesting.”
“Are you going to meet him, Thomas?” Oliver asked quietly, but didn’t look at his friend.
“What?” Thomas blinked. “No. Of course not. Don’t be silly.”
“Right.” Oliver finally met Thomas’s gaze. “Of course it was silly.”
The awkwardness stretched until Dash cleared his throat. “I think you both should go meet him.”
“What?” Thomas and Oliver said in unison.
Slate couldn’t believe Dash would suggest they both go make out with Cain. “That’s out there even for you.”
“That’s because you all have dirty minds.” Dash pulled a face. “Cain was outgoing and social. Most ghosts don’t acknowledge we’re around. He’s probably looking to make new friends.”
“I’m quite sure I’m not interested in the type of friends he seeks,” Oliver said.
If this hadn’t been so serious, Slate would have laughed at how put out Oliver was with Dash’s proposal. “It’s okay, Oliver. He isn’t suggesting you kiss him, just befriend him.”
Thomas and Oliver didn’t seem convinced, but they didn’t push back.
“There’s another reason to go,” Dash said. “Cain is probably a good source of information. He certainly has his finger on the pulse.”
“He’s doing what?” Oliver asked.
Slate tried not to laugh. Poor Oliver had made great strides acclimating to this century, but there were still things he needed to learn. “It means he knows a lot about what’s happening.”
Thomas appeared to think it over, and Oliver chewed his lower lip, watching his friend. Finally, Thomas nodded. “Oliver and I should talk about this before we decide.”
They disappeared before Slate or Dash could say a word.
Dash stared at the empty space and shook his head. “Do you think they’ll ever figure it out?”
At the rate they were going, not before he and Dash were ghosts themselves. “I think we’ll need to push them together if we want them to acknowledge what we see so clearly.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”