Three Years Later

The first rule was to never let them know you could see them.

Ghosts were lonely beings. Vestiges of their past selves, roaming the Earth they once belonged to, hungry and desperate for attention. Of course, they could find other ghosts for a chat or two. But they didn’t like to hang out with their kind—it only reminded them they were dead. So, when they found a human could see them, talk to them, or touch them, it intrigued them. It was like the stuff from the movies. Where humans believed ghosts existed only in fiction, ghosts believed that humans who could see them also existed only in fiction.

And once they found this special human, they attached themselves to their last hope. Perhaps their wishes would be fulfilled. Perhaps they would find a way to live again. Perhaps they would be able to end this everlasting existence and ascend to the afterlife.

They were wrong. There was nothing I could do to help them. And it wasn’t because I didn’t try. It was because each time I tried; I failed miserably.

Hence, the next rule. To never make a deal with a ghost.

Just like there were good and bad humans—there were kind and vengeful spirits. Some ghosts lingered to look after their loved ones, but some stayed on for a far different reason.

People who were wronged in death. People who died suddenly, violently, or with too many unfulfilled desires. These were the ghosts that possessed and haunted the human realm. They wanted to go against the natural order of things. It wasn’t up to them to right the wrongs. Fate had already written their end.

If they meddled with human lives, there would be consequences, terrible terrifying consequences.

That was why, when they couldn’t fulfill their purposes, they dealt with mediums that could do it for them. Witches, black magicians, or shamans. It was a lucrative business. Ghosts could offer a lot in return. From numbers to a bank account to wealth that they’d left behind. They were ready to pay any price to get what they wanted. And that was where the danger lied. A promise with a ghost was a promise for eternity. There was nowhere in this world where you could hide from them. If you failed to fulfill your end of the deal, the spirits knew how to exact their revenge.

The last rule was simple. Never, ever, under any circumstances, get possessed by them.

I’d already seen the consequences once—the ashy skin, the dark nails, and the blood tears. That night, my stepfather had been possessed. I would never know if he really wanted to kill me and my mother. Or if that ghost abetted him to do it. He didn’t make it alive to tell the tale.

But I think I know why I became a medium. That night, I tasted Death. And its mark never left me.

“Do you have any questions?” The principal looked up from the papers and adjusted her glasses. She waited for my response as the AC blared on noisily in the background. I opened my mouth to speak, but then closed it again. I could barely recall what she said. She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Her eyes followed my gaze to her table. A laptop, some showpieces, and papers. Nothing unusual...for her. She couldn’t see what I was seeing.

The Collar Boy—that’s what I called him—sprawled across the table. He was no more than fifteen, but his long lanky limbs passed through the objects and swung down from the table. He propped up his head on his arm and played with the school tie with his other hand. As usual, he buttoned the collar tightly. He looked at me and chuckled. “Go on, Tamara. Why don’t you tell her what you see?”

Focusing my eyes on the wall calendar behind her, I ignored his icy presence and replied to the principal, “Nothing. How did I win the scholarship again?”

The principal sighed and collected the papers in an exasperated manner. “Every few years they sponsor a student from developing countries. India, this time. And you made it to the top of the list.”

“But I didn’t apply for—”

“Your mother did.” Her eyes softened. “And they considered your application this year.”

I frowned. Ma? Why would she want to send me so far away? Why...I stopped. The answer was obvious. She wanted me to escape from our hellish life. There was a sudden lump in my throat. How was I supposed to tell her that it was too late for that? Aloud, I asked, “Is it a good school?”

“One of the best in the world.” The principal finally cracked a smile. “Why don’t you get this new experience? Your aunt already approved it.”

I nodded and tried to wrap my head around this sudden news. Next year would be my senior year. Did I want to spend it somewhere else? I shifted uncomfortably in the cushioned seat. The Collar Boy noticed my restlessness and sported a lazy grin. “Running away, huh? Everyone hates you here, anyway.”

Anger surged inside me, but I swallowed my rebuke. Rule number one. Remember, rule number one. I bit my lower lip and addressed her, “And the costs?”

She handed me the papers and squeezed my hands. “They’ll cover all your costs. You’re one of the best students in the country.”

“And a freak!” he added.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it.” Her tone suggested the end of our conversation. Did she also want to kick me out of this school? A freak, a witch, a curse. That’s what everyone called me. When I didn’t get up, she asked, “Is something the matter, Tamara?”

“Nothing.” I squeaked out.

The Collar Boy laughed. He knew he had gotten to me. I stepped out into the hallway and he floated through the door after me. I gripped the papers in my hands and ignored him. Students parted ways to let me through. They avoided my eyes, whispered into each other’s ears, but I could still hear them. As usual, rumors churned around me. The truth had long been distorted into something vile and ugly. I’d listened to these words thousands of times, yet each time they brought a fresh pinching pain. Her parents died. I heard she killed them! Don’t look into her eyes, she’ll curse you!

“You should have made a deal with me.” The Collar Boy stopped in front of me. I released a harsh breath and stepped around him. He didn’t relent. “I would’ve taken care of them.”

I rolled my eyes. And what would he ask in return? Revenge, felony, murder...?

As if he knew what I was thinking, he whispered, “I just wanted a friend.”

My steps faltered. I almost glanced at him, but then I quickly shook my head. No, I couldn’t break my rules. Not for anything. They were my survival guide for the dead. One lapse would lead to another…

And what if I got possessed? The thought sent cold shivers down my body. I couldn’t let that happen. It would be a fate worse than death. I steeled my heart. In this unfamiliar world, I couldn’t let my emotions make decisions.

I opened the door to my classroom. The class quietened when they saw me. I avoided their eyes and sat down at my desk. My eyes flitted back to the door. He didn’t enter the class like he usually did. Instead, his shoulders slumped, and he turned away from the door. Slowly, he faded away.

A weird lump stuck inside my throat. Except for that day three years ago, I never conversed with him again. Was I too rigid with my rules? I never even asked his name or how he died. Or rather, I knew why he kept his collar buttoned. Funnily enough, he might be my only friend in this school and today would be the last time I saw him.

I took a deep breath and fisted my hands. It was for the best. At least, I didn’t give him any false hopes. One day or other, I had to graduate and leave this place.

I looked down at the papers in my hands. Brighton International High, Switzerland. Was this what I needed? A fresh start? Nothing held me in India anymore. No family, no friends, and no reputation. I could change my life. Live by my rules. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Hope budded inside my chest, but I was hesitant to believe it. Whatever happened, I had my survival guide with me. Three rules. It would be fine… right?