See Me (3 page)

The man loved to rub it in.

Then the dismissal bell screamed its siren. My fists clenched, but I remained in my seat and endured sympathy looks from Brynne and Nicole as they flitted their fingers at me then filed out toward freedom. This wasn’t my fault. Why wouldn’t my lame teacher listen to me?

I frowned and retrieved fresh sheets of lined paper from my backpack. May as well get it over with. The lifeless pen lay in front of me and I wondered if it was safe to touch. Goosebumps popped along my arms, but from my own fear, not because of the spirits. I couldn’t sense them anymore. They must’ve taken off.

How many spirits had Nicole summoned? And what did they want with me anyway? Were they trying to send a message? If so, they’d done a lame job. The scribble marks didn’t exactly pass for English.

Footsteps approached, but I refused to look up. “The assignment won’t rewrite itself, Miss Love.”

“I didn’t think it would, Mr. Coleman.” The guy got his thrills by harassing me. What had I ever done to him? That would be
nothing
. Since he was still standing there, I raised my head and gave him a fake sweet smile.

He frowned down at me. “Unless you’re looking for a one-way trip to detention, I suggest you start writing.”

“Yes, sir.” I glared at his ugly wingtips as he walked away. He was such a tool for making me do this. Not like he couldn’t read my essay through a few random marks.

Voices clamored from the hallway. Nicole and Brynne’s giggles echoed in, reminding me what I was missing. I deserved to be at break with them, comparing notes on who was hotter: Todd Wilson or Alex Decker. Definitely Alex—even though our date had been oh-so-awkward with his friends present. Despite promises from Nicole’s wooden board, he hadn’t even kissed me goodnight. He had made some kind of awkward attempt, but ended up tripping over himself at my doorstep, then falling on his rear. Not exactly romantic.

The Ouija board spirits had done me wrong. And now they wouldn’t go away.

Those freaky spirits should be rewriting my assignment since they’re the ones who messed it up. I stared at the black pen that had charged at my chest mere minutes ago. If the possessed ballpoint killed me, it would serve Coleman’s right.

I poked the pen with my index finger and it didn’t zap me. I took that as a good sign, picked it up, and began copying my essay over on clean paper.

How had the spirits controlled the pen anyway? It’s not like they had hands. At least, none that I could see. And why were they bugging me? It’s not like I was psychic or special. Besides, Nicole was the one who had summoned them. They obviously had the wrong girl.

They needed to find the right person and move on. But how could I help them do that? Because there was no way I’d go near a Ouija board again. Ever. I hated to involve my friends in something this creepy, but it was time to get advice on how to ditch these spooks. I only hoped Brynne and Nicole would believe me when I told them.

After all, if the unseens could control my pen, there was no telling what else they could do.

Chapter Two

After recopying my essay for Mr. Coleman and grabbing a fast snack from my locker, I slid into my seat in the back row of U.S. Government class. Mrs. Beckencourt glared at me for being late then tapped her pointer against the scribble on the whiteboard. I rolled my eyes. Tardiness was the least of my problems.

One thing I knew for sure though: The very
unfriendly
spirits had just upgraded from low priority (aka: denial) to high priority. Moving pens were nothing to mess around with.

Desperate for advice from my friend, I drafted a note to Brynne. It would’ve been easier to text her, but she had accidentally sent her cell through the washing machine and, shocker, it was no longer working. The cell phone through the washer incident aside, Brynne was a total brain and didn’t even have to try. She should definitely have some good advice on the spooks. Nicole’s not exactly dumb, but she’s better for questions like “Do these shoes go with my outfit?” Plus, she wasn’t in our U.S. Government class and this couldn’t wait. What if the spooks shot a pen at me again? Or something sharper?

As Mrs. Beckencourt blabbed on about our U.S. Government speeches (I gave mine last week called “Why A President Shouldn’t Get It On With His Aide”), I scribbled to Brynne with my cramped hand.

I have to say, this was the ideal class to pass notes in. Mrs. Beckencourt was like a hundred years old and completely unaware. I’m not being mean. It’s just a fact.

As soon as Mrs. Beckencourt turned toward the whiteboard, I tossed the note onto Brynne’s desk. It said:
Help, Brynne. I need to talk to you before I lose it!!

When she tossed it back, it said:
I figured. How’d Old Cole stick it to you this time? You completely missed Alex bending over at his locker. It’s now been confirmed. He wears tighty whities. Pay up.

Even in danger from angry pens and who knew what else, I couldn’t let her get away with that. I scribbled a response in barely legible penmanship:
No way, Brynne. Not giving you a dime. Take it from me, I’ve SEEN the boxers. Not in a good way, but—I can’t believe I’m admitting this—I searched Alex’s gym bag when he was at a swim meet once. Boxers from Old Navy. If you’re still my friend after this, I’m having a problem. A SERIOUS one. More serious than Alex’s underwear (and you know I hated to say that).

An entire five minutes later (Brynne had more faith in Mrs. Beckencourt’s eyesight than I did) the folded paper dropped back on my desk:
OMG. I’ve never known you to prefer any topic over Mr. Hot Lips. I’m all ears. What gives?

I poised my pen to respond, but before the tip could meet paper, the note was snatched from under my palm. I gaped up in horror at the liver-spotted hand that clutched my note.

Mrs. Beckencourt raised a blue eyebrow at me in challenge.

I stared in horror as she did the unthinkable. She unfolded the paper and read it. Not aloud, thankfully.

My face heated and I slumped down in my seat. If she read my boxer confession to the class, Alex would know I’d stalked his underwear. The entire school would find out and I’d be forced to drop out of San Felipe High from pure humiliation. My entire life was in that white-haired old lady’s hands.

“I’m sorry,” I said, pleading mercy with my eyes, tension coiling inside me. Three seconds of that and I couldn’t stand waiting anymore—I reached up to grab my note back.

The old bat whipped it away quickly. She was much faster than I’d given her credit for. With a smug look, she walked to the front of the room and tossed the note onto her desk. My stress level went into the red.

Could this day get any worse?

“Thank you for your attention class.” She didn’t notice no one was paying attention. “Today, Owen Jenner is scheduled to give a speech on his elected U.S. Government topic.”

Yep, the day was getting worse. Owen was the school’s ultimate geek and can yammer on and on over a topic for like, years. Brynne has had a huge crush on him since second grade, and yeah, he’s a total hottie in a geek-chic kinda way, but he does nothing for me. And the fact that he’s into the whole government conspiracy thing drives me a bit nutty.

“As usual, you are all to take notes.” Mrs. Beckencourt wrote “take notes” on the whiteboard. “You must turn in these notes at the end of the period to show what you learned. Owen, are you prepared to go today?”

Of course Owen Jenner was prepared. He was hot, but wow, what a complete and total geek. Beyond lame. He had brainiac genes since his dad was a doctor and his mom was a rocket scientist, but he was always spouting off whacky theories. You’d never know it to look at him though. He could easily pass for one of Alex’s crowd if everything out of his mouth wasn’t completely random. Too bad he hadn’t noticed how Brynne’s gaze followed him everywhere. They’d be a totally cute couple.

Last semester, for example, he gave a speech on how the U.S. Government was artificially producing human bodies at a closed naval base on the coast called Treasure Island—less than an hour away from us here in San Felipe. Owen was adamant the government was gonna “turn on” these artificial bodies during war times to bulk up the U.S. military.

Hot, yes. Out there, to the tenth degree.

“Yes, I’m prepared, Mrs. Beckencourt.” Owen strode to the front of the class, stopped behind the podium, and pulled out index cards.

Mrs. Beckencourt didn’t respond. She’d sat back down behind her desk and appeared to be nodding off in her chair. I turned to Brynne.

She glared at me. “You should’ve hidden the note better!”

Even though she’d mouthed this, I knew she was really yelling at me. I raised my hands in defense. “Not my fault,” I shout-mouthed back.

Like I’d gotten caught on purpose. Please. How was I supposed to know Mrs. Beckencourt had a clue?

“Ahem.” Owen cleared his throat and then scratched his unkempt mop of blond hair. I checked out Brynne—she loved it when he messed with his hair. “UFO is short for Unidentified Flying Object. Some theories say UFOs are meteors, others say they’re ships for space aliens. I’m here to tell you they’re very real. And you’d better watch out.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Excuse me? Mrs. Beckencourt?” Lindsay Sloan raised her hand as she sat perfectly postured in her chair, wearing a white blouse, khaki pants, and a navy blazer. Her mom was a successful lawyer and must’ve rubbed off on Lindsay, who looked like a teen lawyer-in-training.

If I wore that kind of outfit, it’d be stained and ruined in ten minutes. My mom would say I’m a slob. I preferred to think of myself as low maintenance.

Mrs. Beckencourt was currently snoring and oblivious to Lindsay’s frantic hand waving.

Wait a second. If Mrs. Beckencourt was asleep, I could sneak over to her desk, and reclaim my note without her noticing. Brilliant idea, if I did say so myself. I shifted my feet and prepared to recover what was rightfully mine.

“I said, Mrs. Beckencourt?!” Lindsay shouted.

Mrs. Beckencourt jerked awake. “Yes?”

Did I mention that I loathed Lindsay Sloan? Freshman year, she’d tattled on me for ditching class and changing the attendance sheet. Two years later, she was still shooting off her mouth and ruining my plans.

Lindsay put her hand down. “Aren’t the speech topics supposed to be related to government? I don’t think it’s fair that the rest of us researched relevant information for our speeches and Owen gets to just make his up.”

Mrs. Beckencourt’s eyes widened, probably clueless as to what Owen’s whacky speech was even about. “Owen?”

He shot an irritated look at Lindsay. “For your information, I saw a UFO last night at oh-two-hundred hours. It is my opinion that the government is using tax dollars to build these UFOs and they’re sending them to an alternate universe.”

Oh, brother.

“Puh-leeze, Owen . . .” Lindsay lurched forward in a way that made her red ponytail bounce. “You can’t expect us to learn from this. You’re wasting our time. This is an outrage to your peers!”

The only thing that enraged me was that Mrs. Beckencourt would be deep into REM by now if Lindsay had kept her pie hole shut.

Mrs. Beckencourt scratched her cheek and appeared deeply confused. How she’d gotten that note away from me, I’d never understand.

“Mrs. Beckencourt?” I raised my hand. “Lindsay has no right to judge how much each of us might learn from Owen. Personally, I was completely absorbed in his speech until Lindsay over there interrupted him. I find the topic of UFOs fascinating and completely relevant to our U.S. Government class.”

“You would.” Lindsay glared at me.

My brows came together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She pointed a finger at me. “In your speech, you referred to Monica Lewinsky as a political icon.”

“And you’re saying she’s not?” I glanced at the alert faces around me—apparently Lindsay and I were more entertaining than Owen’s supposed UFO sighting. “Raise your hand if you’re familiar with how Monica got it on with Bill.”

Everyone raised their hands, including Owen—who was currently making goo-goo eyes at me. Weird. I hoped Brynne didn’t notice that.

Mrs. Beckencourt finally stood up. “That’s enough, girls. I’m going to allow Owen’s topic.”

“Ha!” I couldn’t help but gloat.

Lindsay crossed her arms and made a huffy sound. “But, Mrs. Beckencourt—”

“I’ve made my decision,” Mrs. Beckencourt said, hopefully wanting to catch some more Zs. “The assignment is for each of you to discuss a U.S. Government topic that is tailored to your personal interests. Owen has chosen the misuse of tax dollars, which is acceptable. Please continue Owen.”

“Thank you.” Owen cleared his throat. “First, I must point out that I don’t disagree with the government spending tax dollars on intergalactic missions . . .”

I’d shut Lindsay up, but Mrs. Beckencourt remained awake through the rest of class—even though several others nodded off. When the bell finally rang, dismissing us, Mrs. Beckencourt caught my eye and crooked her bony finger at me. “Amy Love, please come up here. Brynne Peterson as well.”

Brynne threw me a nasty look and then trailed behind me toward the front of the class where Mrs. Beckencourt was collecting class notes from everyone. Mine only had two lines on it, the first being my name and the second being today’s date.

“I’m disappointed in you, Brynne.” Mrs. Beckencourt shook her head, wearing a downcast expression as if her dog had peed on the carpet. “You’re normally such a good student. Passing notes in class is not acceptable.”

“Yes, Mrs. Beckencourt.” Brynne bowed her head, taking her beating like a champ.

Then, Mrs. Beckencourt leaned closer to Brynne. “And looking at a boy’s underpants when he bends over? That’s inappropriate behavior. I expect more from you.”

“Yes, Mrs. Beckencourt.” Brynne’s face contorted as if she were ashamed, but I knew she was faking it. Checking out guys’ hinies was her favorite hobby.

Mrs. Beckencourt gave her a side-glance. “I’m going to let you off with a warning this time, Brynne. But I want to see better behavior from now on.”