*****

The classrooms in Monnellian Regional were built and organized in such a way that all possible subjects and electives were conveniently grouped together in a mixed-up, jumbled hodge-podge that would make anyone with the smallest iota of design skills curl up into a ball and cry. Conveniently enough, though, this sporadic arrangement of rooms placed spirits teacher Eileen Pritchett right across the hall from calculus teacher Dr. Patrick Wells, and right next to art teacher Morgan Bailey. Had they not forced each other to engage in small talk standing outside the doors of their rooms every morning, the odds were in their favor of never caring enough to become friends in the first place.

Natalie and Eileen reached the entrance of the school, and as soon as the main doors opened, Eileen made a beeline to her room in the second hallway of the first floor. She was rushing with adrenaline, but as soon as she laid her eyes on Patrick and Morgan, she tried to calm herself down, hiding any involuntary grinning.

“Morning, Eileen!” said Morgan. Her greeting hug with Eileen felt like hugging a statue. “How are you feeling today?”

“Guten, Morgan!” she replied. “I feel like a normal Eileen today.” She grabbed a pencil from her pocket and started twiddling it around. “What smells burned?”

“God, I hope it’s toast,” said Patrick.

“Have you gotten to know Nat any more, ‘Leen?” Morgan asked.

“Who knows!” she widened her eyes and smirked in excited vagueness as she grabbed the old book from her bag and started flipping through the pages. “We’ve got a new piece of puzzle pie on the plate.”

“You know, if you actually took the time to get to know her, I’m sure you wouldn’t need to beat yourself up over every small detail that happens to you,” said Patrick.

“Look who’s talking, you haven’t even said ten sentences to the girl yet. I am pretty much her bestie at this point!”

“Where’s she from?”

“New Jersey.”

“How old?”

“Somewhere in the ballpark of twenty-one and twenty-four.”

“Favorite hobby?”

“Based on her sweats, ponytail, and hipster-esque features, I’d probably say something with art.”

“Birthday?”

“Yes, she has one.”

“Person she’s been hanging out with the most since she moved here?”

Eileen paused and furled her eyebrows.

Patrick smugly smiled. “Sometimes, if it doesn’t involve you, you don't need to get invested.”

“You are no fun at all.”

“I try.” In his smugness, he looked back down and caught a glimpse of the book Eileen was holding. “Wai-wait, did you get that last night too…?” Patrick stood silent for a brief period, debating whether he should follow his own advice or pursue his curiosity. “Screw it, I’m intrigued!” For a moment, he discarded everything he believed in and swiftly squeezed against the wall between Eileen and Morgan.

Patrick nudged Eileen to opened hers and read aloud a section.

…And then there was Frank Trout, a man whose gun slung across his back was not the only firearm he possessed, as he could ignite everything from the tips of his fingers at will.

“What?” Patrick laughed. “Oh that is awesome.” He opened the one he had been holding and flipped through. “Demons, possessions, spirits!—These books are tailor-made for Plainwood. I can see it now: half of the people here worshipping it as the sacred text of the Monnellians.”

Eileen reared an ugly leer. Patrick and Eileen had always been an inseparable pea pod thriving off each other for practical, cynical, introverted, and sarcastic nonsense they would eat up. When it came to their beliefs in the spirits and hideous encounters, however, they couldn’t stand each other.

“Right, sorry, that’ll make your class and your textbooks obsolete, wouldn’t it?”

“Patrick, your class and textbooks have been obsolete since they invented the calculator.” Eileen breathed in and returned, “So they just came out of nowhere? Everyone got them?”

“Yeah, look at this,” Morgan said. “I’m reading the inside cover now.”

A square frame of tan masking tape held faded yellow sticky note firmly held onto the cover inner cover. The ink on the note was smudged slightly, but legible, nonetheless. It was written in the same style as the rest of the handwritten parts, so it was clearly legitimate.

Hey hey, reader. Glad you could stumble upon my Incomplete Biography of Revenants Anthology. No matter which edition you found, it was no mistake that it made its way on your porch last night. As an affluent philanthropist of knowledge, I encourage and implore you to take a read and broaden your horizons through these ghosty stories. For free, even! I hope you enjoy reading whichever edition you received.

—Best wishes, Nat Aberdeen 😊

“So what—” She saw some students coming down the hall, and everyone returned to their spots outside the doors. Eileen opened hers and greeted everyone coming in, “Hey hey, guys. Good morning. Happy Wednesday.” When she got a free moment, she turned back. “So what? Some author just wanted to do an act of charity and give free books to everyone?”

“Why not?” said Morgan, “I think it’s nice.”

“Come on, Morg, be cynical for once.”

“Take it like it is, Eileen,” said Patrick. “Yo Morg, which one did you get?”

“Uh, Burgh Saint Yves: Shapeshifting Recluse,” she said.

“Shapeshifting Recluse? Noice! You wanna trade for a Zombie Puppeteer?”

“You got it!”

Eileen flipped her book to the front cover. In the photo on the cover, there was a beautiful woman with long, flowing brown hair and glowing blue eyes. The blank space underneath had the title, Jacqueline Gates: Infinite Retention. Right next to her was Morgan’s new book, with the title Marion Marley: Zombie Puppeteer, followed by a blurry photograph of a white top hat with a purple M stitched on. She furrowed her eyebrows. At the risk of annoying her friends any more than she had been, she stood quiet, taking in every bit of information that had been launched at her, throwing everything she knew together at her brain, seeing what would stick. It was a silence that was even more unsettling as her insincere smile, and just as unsettling than her sincere one.

She stayed standing in her pensive trance, only slightly motivated to enter her classroom and reenter society by the piercing reverb of the first period bell and the “Good morning, Eileen!” of an incoming student. Her brain sparked back on like a lightbulb.

“Good morning, my little specimens,” she said as she stretched and walked up to the front of her room, facing a semicircle of uninterested teenagers. “So before we get started, I finally finished looking at all of your Dorian Gray analyses, and if you’re wondering: yes, I did accept it if you said that artists didn’t have any souls to begin with.” She tossed her collection of papers from her desk to a small table in the front of the room. A strong rip of motivation flashed as she thought back to everything else. “So! Here is our do-now for today: I am going to write down a list of characteristics on the board. Stand up when you can relate it to something we’ve been learning about. Go!”

- Attracted/repelled by symbol rather than object

- Intrusive of space and property

- Targets individuals (often no reason)

- Enthralled by Hallowe’en

- Deceptive/liar

- Relies on others on how to act

“What do you mean by ‘symbol’?” one student asked.

“What do you think I mean?” Eileen answered.

“Like, could the left hand be an example?”

“Could it be?” Eileen answered. Her Piagetian method of questioning and scaffolding was her preferred method of getting students to think for themselves and apply what they’ve learned, as well as her preferred method of avoiding questions she didn’t want to answer. Most of her students found this method annoying, no longer being in elementary school. She would keep at it anyway.

“Could it be a poltergeist?” another student said.

“Never a poltergeist, but nice attempt,” she replied.

“This may be wrong, but it’s a demon, isn’t it?” said another.

“Is that a question or an answer, Alyssa? You can’t be in the grey area.”

The student rolled her eyes and breathed in to give a confident, “It is a demon. You can also tell from the starburst-shaped scars on their hands.”

“Starburst-shaped scars on their hands? Someone’s been reading ahead. But yes. All classic characteristics of a demon. Basic, basic, basic. Now, part two!”

Awwwgggghhhh.

“C’mon guys, you don’t expect to learn without applying these cut-and-dried facts, do you? So, what are…” she trailed off as she watched Natalie pass by in the hallway. She picked up speed in her voice, “…What are some specific demons you can name with those characteristics? Give them a brief summary, list their abilities and what to do if they encountered you. Discuss amongst yourselves, and…” she sped out of the room and came back dragging Patrick by the wrist, “…Doc Wells is gonna cover for me for a sec! I expect you to give me some thorough answers when I come back!”

Eileen casually exited the classroom and then speed-walked down the hall under the guise of politely rushing to the bathroom. Finally, she managed to catch up with the janitor she couldn’t tear her eyes from. She shimmied close enough and tapped her on the shoulder. Natalie jumped but was relieved to see someone she knew.

“Hey hey, Eileen.”

“Hey hey, Nat. What’s up?”

“Nothing much, just doing some odds and ends. How ‘bout you?”

“I’m thriving. You been thinking of a costume for Hallowe’en?”

Natalie lightly chuckled, “Uh, no, not really. Do I really need a costume if we're not doing anything?”

Eileen froze as if smacked in the face with an invisible skillet. That question had offended her as much as the question Do you mind if I slaughter your friends? “Yeah, you need a costume, it's Hallowe'en!—you know what?” she pushed her hand down and breathed out. Something about being around Natalie made her want to drop all talk about spirits and demons. “Doesn't matter right now. You know, it dawned on me that we haven’t really gotten to know each other yet. I mean, you’ve been shooting the breeze with almost everyone here, and here we are not even knowing each other’s last names!”

“It’s Pritchett, isn’t it?”

Eileen blinked. “Yes.” Eileen blinked twice more, and then once again out of sync. “In any case, since I don’t have a class right now, and you’re probably not doing anything important, you wanna walk around and have another chat for a bit?”

“I actually do have somewhere to be, but we can chat on the way if you want.”

“Cool, cool,” Eileen replied, nonchalantly slipping off her gloves.

Natalie flinched. “Are you allowed to do that?”

Despite the many disadvantages it caused, Eileen’s unchanging flow in her voice made it impossible to tell whether she was lying or not. “Oh yeah, yeah, just for a few minutes as long as there aren’t too many people around. Gotta let those pores breathe, right? Otherwise, you get acne.”

“On your hands?”

“…I’m not a scientist, but you know, Vivi always has her gloves off, and she is a scientist, so…”

“I mean, I love Vivi with all my heart, but I’d rather not get myself in trouble on my fourth day here.”

“Ah, you know what? I feel the exact same way about her.” Eileen subtly widened her eyes and flattened her smile as if that response even surprised herself. The rest of her words continued to slide and tumble down the hill, picking up in speed of emotion. “In any case, I feel you. Trust me, you get used to living here, you’ll get used to all the rule-bending and such. I mean, you can take them off around me, I’ve never called anyone out for that! Are you seeing lights in your peripheral?!”

Natalie panicked, her hands tingling, emitting a soft glow. Dammit! The freaking tears in my gloves! She was quick to redirect, “Do you need to go to the nurse?!”

He gave a hysterical, “No! Most likely, I’m just stressing out. I’m gonna head back to class, I’ll see you at lunch today.”

“Well, I—I have cafeteria duty today.”

“That’s too bad. I guess I’ll see you at the Everoak then! Take care, Nat!”

“S-see you, ‘Leen.” Natalie was extremely hesitant and quasi-concerned. “And you’re sure you’re fine? I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

“Couldn’t be more okay!” She gave two enthusiastic thumbs-up, which Natalie unsurely returned.

“Okay. You have fun. I’ve got a bathroom to clean.”

 They nodded at each other as each went opposite ways. Eileen didn’t take her eyes off of her until she finally escaped her view. For an instant, she could have sworn she had seen another glow. Eileen shook her head, squinted and thought back to how Natalie had worded her concern.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”