The Twelve Percent

|||

I was not looking forward to this. I was not looking forward to this at all.

Brushing my long hair out, I took the extra time to dance with the knots. Anything to put off what was coming. I carefully divided the brown from the purple underneath, and then braided it down my back. I left the purple half of my hair fall straight beneath the braid. I hooked one of my leather strings of feathers and gold clasps into my right ear, and a plain gold hoop in the other. Pulling a dark green tank top over my head, I swore at myself yet again. I needed to quit giving people my number. The desire to help was embedded in me and I couldn’t help but reach out to those with abilities similar to mine. Those that didn’t understand what it was.

I couldn’t imagine if I had gone crazy. I couldn’t imagine thinking I was crazy. I’d known very clearly, from Lydia onwards, that the apparitions I saw were ghosts. I’d run in to three others that could see them as well. Only one knew what they were. She taught me more about them. The others were in one of the various different psychiatric hospitals I’d stayed in. I tried to help them. I really tried. But trying to make someone believe they’re seeing ghosts from inside a psych ward? Never ends very well.

Once dressed, I fingered through my jewelry. I had promised to meet the guy from Woodglen for lunch at one. It was nearing fifteen till, and I was still dragging my feet. I piled on gold bangles and leather wraps onto my wrists, and slipped my long gold chained locket around my neck. The locket was an oval shape as big as a skipping stone. I had found it when I was seven in the attic of one of our houses. There was no picture in it, but I kept a small sprig of sage, and a miniscule baggy of salt inside. Burning the sage would keep a ghost from the area for at least an hour, and flicking flecks of salt at them scared them off.

The Winchesters got a few things right. Iron didn’t faze them though, and rock salt in guns? Don’t be ridiculous. When dealing with ghosts; witchy routes were better than offensive ones. Don’t piss off a ghost. Especially one that’s been around for longer than a few months. The longer they’re a ghost, and the angrier they are, the more volatile they become.

Realizing I was out of things to prolong my visit, I grabbed my satchel and headed for the car. My bag had more sage, salt, and matches. Not to mention more ghostly notebook, a secondary notebook, and a gaggle of pens and pencils. Plus my wallet and car keys.

I climbed into the car and headed into town. I parked beside Rosie’s Café and sat in the car another few minutes, leather-bound notebook in my lap. I chewed on the end of my pen and contemplated Natalie’s past. In the midst of thinking about trying to contact her past boyfriend, Trey Granger, a rapping on my window nearly made me jump out of my boots.

I cursed as my eyes fell on the face amidst the mass of knots and curls. I held up a finger and turned back to my bag, shoving my notebook inside and turning the car off. Jumping from the car, I glared at the guy. “Was that completely necessary?”

He stared at me. “It’s one fifteen.”

“Oh, okay. So fifteen minutes late means come scare the shit out of me?” I walked past him towards the hostess. “As if seeing ghosts isn’t startling enough. Jesus.” I smiled at the short blonde girl at the podium. “Hi. Is it okay if we sit outside?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Jessica is working the patio. She’ll be right out.”

I smiled my thanks and headed for the far metal table. I perched on one railing enclosing the patio from the sidewalk, feet on a chair. The guy gave me a strange look. “So where’s your sister?” I asked as I pulled my spare notebook out.

He rubbed his hands together nervously. “Still in Woodglen.” I made a noise indicating I had expected as much. “She’s allowed visitors now. I told her about you and now she’s trying to pull herself together enough to where they’ll release her to me.”

“To you?” I glanced up at him.

He nodded. “She’s been declared a constant danger to herself so she has to be under constant supervision, even if she’s released.”

I cursed. “So what did you call me here for?”

He gave me a look of hopelessness and exasperation. “I don’t know.” He threw his hands up, nearly whacking the tall red-head waitress that was approaching us.

I eyed her in a way I hoped she took to mean I didn’t really know this dude. She smiled at me and nodded slightly. She got me. Good. This dude was just weird.

I ordered an iced vanilla latte and a Panini to go. The dude gave me yet another of his patented strange looks; like he was annoyed I was ordering to go. I shrugged in response. He ordered a hot chocolate and the pasta salad. Hot chocolate. In August. I gave the waitress, Jessica, another look. She made a cringing face and then walked off to place our orders.

“I told you to call me when she’s out.” I reminded him.

He took a length of untangled hair and started wrapping it around his finger. When it was wrapped around to the base of his skull, he pulled the end through the wrap and tugged. Aha! The mystery of the knots was solved. This dude should be in the nuthouse with his sister. Or instead of his sister. “I know. But I needed to talk to you.”

“We were on the phone, just this morning.” I narrowed an eye at him, cocking my head to the side and waving a hand.

He waved my comment off like a fly. I looked over his shoulder for the waitress, willing her with all my heart to save me. This was the problem with telling people about my ability and trying to help them. Sometimes they turned out to be complete whack jobs. I scratched at my knee and fiddled with my bracelets while I waited for him to speak again.

Minutes later; “Clarissa wants you to visit her.”

I shook my head. Not to say no; but to shake the water that was surely in my ears and causing me to hear him wrong. “Sorry. Did you just say your sister wants me to visit her?” I asked incredulously. “In the loony bin I just got out of?” He didn’t reply, just started knotting his hair again. “In the crazy house I just tricked myself from?” Still no word. “You expect me to go back to the nuthouse from which I just sprung myself; to visit your sister?”

He threw his hands up again. He had impeccable timing. Jessica managed to dodge his flailing limbs, even holding the tray of food and drinks. I widened my eyes at her knowingly. She smiled to assure me it was okay. I grabbed my boxed Panini and the bag of chips it came with. “Listen, um, buddy.”

“Calvin.”

“Okay, Calvin,” I started again, taking my latte and handing Jessica a bill big enough to cover my bill and tip her for her troubles significantly. She thanked me, set the guys food in front of him, and scurried off. “I’m in the business of helping ghosts, and of helping people learn about their abilities. I am not in the business of getting locked back up in a padded room because I dared to go back to Woodglen and talk about seeing ghosts with another patient.” I hopped off the railing. “Call me when she’s out.” I took two steps, then stopped and backtracked. “No, have her call me when she’s out.”

I was getting into my car, settling my precious lunch into the passenger seat, when I felt a hand grab my arm. I whirled around. Calvin had such a strong grip on me that his too-long nails started to draw blood in crescent shapes. I narrowed my eyes at him, and willed him to let go. A confused look on his face, he released me.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me again.” I threatened.

Desperation crossed his face and it was like he hadn’t heard me. He reached for me. I shoved at him mentally, and he hit the car beside mine. I slammed my door and locked it. He stared up at me in shock.

I rolled my window down about three inches. “Yeah. Seeing ghosts can come with some cool side effects.” I smiled as I referred to my occasional telekinetic ability. “So back the hell off.”

I backed out of the parking space, crunching on my chips as I drove.

I’d have to remember to go back in my phone and block his number.

Crazy ass.

|||