Backing away from the car, Casper turns himself into a bird, soars over to the iron gate and vine-shrouded bricked walls, and approaches the manor's massive maple doors with a strange Irish rune etched on them.

Morphing himself back to his original form, Casper opens one of the doors, steps inside the house, and disappears until he runs outside with a massive smile.

"HEY, TEDDY!" he shouts breathlessly. "MOM GAVE ME THE KEYS AND EVERYTHING!"

I watch in amusement as Casper slides the key into the lock and opens the gate wide enough for me to enter.

Sighing in relief, I start the car again, wait for Casper to move aside, and drive along the cracked bricks when I notice two vehicles standing in the bricked parking space.

Ichabod, on the contrary, looks at me as if my hair is on fire.

"If you think I'm going to spend the night in that fucking house, you're insane." he snaps.

"Relax, if a monster tries to kill us, we beat the living shit out of it," I tell him. "If not, then I'll offer you as an animal sacrifice."

"Wow, Teddy," Ichabod remarks sarcastically. "You just can't wait for me to die, huh?"

"I'm just joking," I reassure him. "You know I'll defend you no matter what."

"You better," growled Ichabod. "I can't spend a minute at this place."

Sighing, I approach the old mansion. The rusted bars of the ancient gate shriek as it shuts behind us.

Lights glow behind the tall, glass windows cloaked in yellowish-green pollen. I light the way with my fiery green hands when balls of light swarm around me.

Their ghostly beam forces me to squint. I slightly back away, whereas Ichabod bears his teeth at these strange orbs.

"Jesus, just what the hell are they?" I ask.

"Le Feu Follet," Casper explains. "Legend has it they're swamp fairies who lead travelers deep into the swam until they're hopelessly lost."

Ichabod twists his pink nose. "And they're here because. . ."

"Because my abuela saved them from a bunch of ghost hunters while back," Casper beams. "So, these guys are cool if you leave'em alone."

I stare at the white orbs guiding us to the manor.

Crickets and frogs chirp in the distance. The wooden windchimes jingle above the front porch. Oakwood rocking chairs emit piercing shrieks, which make my blood rise.

I stare at the house, whereas Casper clutches the golden door handle. He tries to give it a firm pull, but the handle refuses to budge.

"Do we seriously have to go in there?" Ichabod whimpers. "It looks scary!"

Casper rings the doorbell twice and lets out a sigh.

"Come on," he starts to say. "The manor isn't bad. The guests are cool, and my mom's the nicest person on the planet. She'll give you a room, a hot meal, and everything. I want you guys to meet her, but my mom's running errands now."

"Yeah, Crane," I tell him. "Let's just calm down."

"Great idea," Ichabod responss. "Why should I freak out when I feel like I am in an 80s horror movie about four horny teenagers entering a haunted mansion to do some fucked-up dare?"

"Not every place we go to is a horror movie," I snort, squeezing my left backpack strap. "Besides, if we were trapped in one, Casper and I would probably die first."

Casper gives me a stern look. "Gee, thanks for the fucking optimism."

"Relax, Cass," I insist. "You have powers, you wear colorful clothes, and you have common sense, you know, most of the time."

"Wow, you're so funny. You should be in Def Comedy Jam."

"Shut up."

Suddenly, the golden knob jerks around for a bit, prompting the kids to take a step back. They eye the door intensely until Lea Tanaka appears right before the doorway.

Her messy, brown hair is held up in a bun. Acne sprays on her irritated face. She wears a maroon red hoodie, a faded black Cocteau Twins t-shirt, and acid-washed jeans.

The three words I'd like to describe Lea Tanaka are tough, carefree, and sarcastic. When we were in high school together, Lea was an outspoken rebel. She made zines during Math class, talked back to teachers, punched her prom date Matthew Jeffery for squeezing her butt, and started a band to protest against the female dress codes.

However, believe it or not, her defiance inspired me to take a crack at the college newspaper. With the help of Lea, I learned my way around a camera, polished my writing, and interviewed students.

But instead of concentrating on academics and sports, I went after basketball players rigging the school election, exposed my English teacher's affair with a cheerleader, and brought other scandals out in the open until Prometheus gave me an academic suspension.

Still, I had a fun time at Northwell because I got to know Lea.

Even though she was two years older than me, Lea taught me how to make zines, how to smoke cigarettes, talked about indie comic books, and introduced me to bands like 24-7 Spyz, The Cranberries, Basement 5, X-Ray Spex, and King Cooper.

We continued our friendship until I saw Lea leaving her ex-girlfriend's Greenwich Village apartment. I tried to keep in touch with her on the holidays, but because I had rent and bills to pay, I kept forgetting to call her.

"Holy shit!" Lea gasps, standing before me. "Is that you, Teddy?"

I give her a friendly smile until Lea lets out a piercing squeal. She sprints towards me, flings her arms around my neck, and gives me a bone-crushing hug.

"Why didn't you page me, you bitch?" she cries, giggling. "I tried calling you, but my stupid ex had dial-up in her apartment!"

"Yeah, I'm so sorry." I sigh, squeezing her back. "I tried to page you, but you didn't respond and-"

"Okay, okay." Casper grunts. "As much as I appreciate watching you two perform your mating ritual of sisterhood, do you ladies mind if we come inside?"

Lea and I blush, then step aside so he and Ichabod can enter.

Luminous chandeliers shine on the golden wallpaper as if someone stitched yellow silky fabric onto the sleek walls. Numerous antique frames of old paintings hang above African pottery and tables carved in glossy wood.

I can hear the old grandfather clock ticking in the living room, but I am in no mood to explore due to my aching feet, dire need for food, and a scalding hot shower.

Speaking of which, Casper locks the front door and points his finger to the white spiral staircase that leads to the second floor of the house.

"The spare bedrooms are up there," he explains. "You can pick which one you like as long as you clean up after yourself."

"Okay," I said with a shrug.

Casper looks down at Ichabod and says, "I wasn't talking to you, Teddy."

Ichabod twitches his tail and mouths, "Fuck You," when Lea grabs me by the hand and takes me up the spiral stairs.

"Come on, you can share a room with me," she beams.

The constant creakings from the floorboards bounce across the soft blue walls as I explore various rooms.

The ceiling fan produces enough air to cool my face. I twist another knob and switch on the lights to see a room fit to my liking.

The teal green calico wallpaper catches my eye as I run my fingers along the carved pieces of the Wicker bedroom furniture on the soft brown carpet.

Lowering my backpack on the king-sized bed, I kick off my shoes and lie on the mattress while Lea settles on her bed. She picks up a Spin Magazine with Kim Deal on the cover and cranks up the volume to PJ Harvey's tunes.

Ichabod, on the other hand, circles around shoes and asks me if I brought him his lunch.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." I answer, kicking my shoes on the floor.

I asked Lea if she minded feeding Ichabod the food I picked from Doc Win's Cajun Shack.

"Nope," she answers, getting up from her chair.

As Lea approaches the cat, I notice she isn't wearing any shoes. Her toenails are dipped in soft lavender nail polish. After I hand her the lukewarm bottle of milk and Ichabod's food from my bag, Lea whistles for my cat to follow her and then asks me if I want to come to the living room for a movie night.

"Alright, sure." I nod, stretching my arms. "I think I'll take a shower first."

"Cool," Lea replies. "When you're finished, meet us in the living room. Casper rented a shitload of horror movies from Blockbuster, but I bet you eighty bucks he'll wet his pants."

After she and Ichabod leave, I finish my Po'Boy, take my Coke and a bundle of my pajamas, and then enter the bathroom. It looks outdated - with its pink calico wallpaper, golden chandeliers, glossy white sink, and sickeningly sweet cherry blossoms.

Hanging next to the round vanity mirror is a painting of a blonde boy in embroidered blue silks wearing a black, oval mask with three holes on it — two for his eyes and one for his mouth.

I place my pajamas and soda can on the white sink countertop. I first go up to the painting, remove it, and turn the frame to the wall so the boy in the painting won't see me changing. Next, I peel off my sweaty clothes and Doc Martens. I take a few minutes to loosen my dreadlocks before taking a strip of toilet paper from the rack and using it to shove my old tampon deep into the trash can.

White steam and dew drops. Smells of coconuts and vanilla rise from the porcelain bathtub and hit my exhausted face. A yellow plastic soap bottle rocks anxiously on the slightly wet, white bath towel, prompting me to pick it up and slowly shake the container.

Empty, I think. Lea must've taken a bath before me.

Tossing it into the trash can, I watch the clear water reach the brim of the tub until I switch off the dial and climb inside. Hot water soaks my brown hair. I lift my finger and watch the Coke can hover from the sink countertop and float towards me. Pulling the silver pin, I tip the beverage close to my pale lips.

Every time I sit in this tub, all my problems melt away. I don't remember avoiding my parents, my period, the dead kid, or paying the bills. All I care about is sitting in this bathtub. That is until my cat begins to tap his paw on the door.

"Get your ass out of the tub and come downstairs!" Ichabod yells. "Casper's starting the movie!"

"Fuck off, Crane!" I yell back. "I just sat down! At least let me scrub myself! Jesus!"

"Sorry," Ichabod says.

I wait for his steps to disappear and finish my Coke.

My hands rise from the warm water as I set the can beside the tub, grab a white, small cake of soap off the white shelf, and scrub my chest, armpits, and legs until my fingers are as raw as steak.

Just then, I hear loud gunfire coming from downstairs.

I freeze for a moment and then lift my head over the rim. "Guys? Are you okay?"

Lea and Casper don't answer me - just the loud popping noises burning my eardrums.

Curious, I pull the stopper and climb out.

I take the time to dry myself, throw on a black t-shirt with a pair of patchwork pants, then hurry to see Casper putting four bowls of popcorn underneath the microwave; he opens the fridge and gathers four Surge cans and other drinks from the convenience store.

After spreading snacks on the table, Casper is about to slip the cassette tape into the VHS player when he sees a young Hispanic man playing Nirvana on his guitar.

He wears a white Buzzcocks t-shirt and black pants with monochrome patterns on the fabric. The soft light bathes his nose and lip piercings. His brown skin is darker than mine, making me wonder if he is black.

His shaggy, dark brown hair covers his ears. After he is finished tuning his guitar, the guy places it beside the couch and then stretches his arms above his head.

Casper groans and then sets the tape above the VHS player.

"Would it kill you to stop playing that "Polly" song, Nick?" he complains. "It's depressing as fuck."

"Do you ever hear me piss on your loud rap music?" he grunts in a slight Southern accent.

"No, but I constantly piss on your DIY clothes because they're tacky as fuck," Casper retorts, gesturing to his friend's shirt. "I mean, come on, man! No one listens to the Buzzcocks anymore."

A fake smile stretches across his mouth as Holden coldly flips him off. In the meantime, I walk up to the couch. I sit beside Casper's new friend and ask how they know each other.

Casper looks away from Nick and groans, "Teddy, this is Nick Ramirez. Nick Ramirez, this is Teddy."

My eyes widen at Nick's last name.

"Ramirez?" I repeat. "I think I heard that name before."

Nick's left eyebrow in surprise. He slowly lifts his hand off his leg and holds it out to me.

"My mom was an English teacher at Northwell." Nick answers. His nervous gaze remains on my face. "You must've seen her there."

I smile, though I don't remember meeting a teacher named Mrs. Ramirez.

"Where's Lea?" I ask Casper.

"She's at the store, getting some barbecue chips," he explains, returning to the microwave.

Releasing my hand, Nick looks at me for a second and says, "Anyway, it's nice to meet you, Teddy."

"You too," I respond, looking over my shoulder. "Hey, where's Crane?"

Casper collects the plastic wrappers off the black kitchen countertop. "He's in my bedroom, probably tearing the shit out of my pillow."

Nick looks at me weirdly. "Who's Crane?"

"My cat," I tell him. "Sometimes I take him with me wherever I go."

"Are you from New Orleans?"

"Technically, I'm from Philadelphia," I admit. "But my dad decided to move the family to Hiraeth County for work."

"Hiraeth County?" Nick repeats curiously. "What's that?"

"A small, shitty town where everyone treats gossip as currency instead of gold," I grunt. "It brings out the worst in you, you know?"

"Is that why you left that town?"

"Yep."

"Why did you come back?"

"Someone close to me passed away, so I'm attending a meeting with his family. What about you, man? What's your story?"

Nick is quiet. He turns his attention to the television screen when, all of a sudden, Casper stops cleaning around the microwave. He stares at the door, puts on a goofy smile, and sprints like a jogger completing a marathon.

Nick, on the other hand, inches towards the edge of the seat with caution. He eyes the black katana sticking out of his backpack and then draws it out, much to my surprise.

Jesus, is he a demon hunter or did he stole it from Bruce Lee?

I turn to see Casper who goes up to Nick with a calm smile.

"Relax, it's just Lea," he reassures Nick. "I paged her the details and told her to buy some snacks at the store."

Speaking of my best friend, Lea enters the living room, hauling a bag of chips and a bottle of Pepsi in her arms.

"Alright!" she proclaims, slamming the door with her foot. "Sorry about the hold-up! The line was a bitch, but I'm here! Let's watch some movies!"

© kstorm68q