2 Whispering by Amanda M. Lee

ghosts?”
    “No,” Paris shook her head. “A lot of supernaturals can see ghosts. It’s not relegated to just amplifiers. It depends on how powerful the supernatural being is.”
    Well, that was a small bit of good news. I think. “What about witches?”
    “Some witches can see them,” Paris said. “Not all, though.”
    “Can you?”
    “I don’t know,” Paris admitted. “Not that I know of. I’ve never been in a position to find out.”
    “Maybe you should come to see my ghost?” I suggested hopefully.
    “I can do that,” Paris said carefully.
    I jumped to my feet hurriedly, an idea suddenly resurfacing. I walked over to my laptop, opened it and logged on to Google.
    “What are you doing?” Paris walked up behind me to watch curiously.
    I didn’t answer her. Instead, I typed the name Lisa Hawkins and Covenant College into the search engine and waited for the results to come up. I was surprised when I saw a few links pop up right away.
    “Who is Lisa Hawkins?”
    “The ghost I met today.”
    “I thought you said she died two weeks ago?” Paris looked confused as she read over my shoulder. I was right there with her.
    “That’s what she thought.”
    “You didn’t believe her, though?”
    “Let’s just say her clothes were a little . . . dated.”
    “Maybe she just wasn’t up on the styles?”
    “I considered that. It just didn’t feel right, though,” I said.
    “Well, it looks like you were right,” Paris inhaled deeply. “Lisa Hawkins went missing in 1975. It doesn’t sound like a body was ever found, though. She’s obviously been trapped in that building for a lot longer than two weeks.”
    “Great. A hippy ghost.”
    “Do you think she knows?”
    “I doubt it,” I said. “She was wondering if her mother knew she was dead yet. Cripes. Her mother could very well be dead now.”
    “Maybe that’s where she went,” Paris said. “To see her mother.”
    “Maybe,” I agreed. “Or maybe she just realized that she’s been dead for a really long time and it was too much for her to bear.”
    “That’s a possibility, too,” Paris agreed.
    “Crap!”
    Paris jumped at the tone of my voice – and its decibel level. “What?”
    “Why can’t I have one normal day? Just one.”
    “You’re not a normal person,” Paris smiled at me. “You’re an extraordinary person. Isn’t that what Zach said to you the other day?”
    “Don’t remind me,” I groaned. “The guy who walks around with uneven hair and shirt sleeves thinks I’m extraordinary. That should look great on my transcripts.”
    “You’re just going to have to face it,” Paris said blithely. “You’re not a normal person and you’re not going to have a normal life.”
    “Yeah, I get it,” I said. “Why does my life have to be such a soap opera, though?”
    “Just lucky, I guess.”
    Luck? More like a curse. I really do hate this day.

Twelve
    I had hundreds of questions I wanted to pelt Paris with after our earlier discussion. I had to put them on hold, though, when Brittany came back to the room. While Brittany was aware of the supernatural population on campus, she wasn’t exactly taking things well on that front, though. I thought ghosts might push her over the edge. In addition to that, I didn’t want her gossiping with her new pledge sisters during some lame rush event. I didn’t exactly trust her. What? I said I’d be nice to her face. That doesn’t mean I trust her behind her back. I’m complicated that way.
    The next day was Wednesday, so I had the same class schedule as Monday – math, horror literature and current events. In addition, though, Paris and I had our weekly astronomy lab on the roof of the science building. I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to that. It was supposed to dip into the 20s tonight. That should make for a comfortable star watching experience.
    Paris had jokingly said she was going to bring a flask of Hot Damn cinnamon schnapps to keep us warm. I was