I scrolled the screen back up to the top and read it again. And again. Bringing my hand up, I
slowly gnawed on my black fingernails, the lacquer already chipping away from the newfound habit.
There had been a lot of things to be stressed about lately, from my school to my mom to my newly
acquired problem. I read the email address at the top of the screen and composed my own email back to
them, keys clicking uniformly.
Dear MalvernAcademy@gmail.net
Who are you and how did you find me? How can you prove that you really can
help? Your deal sounds too good to be true. Prove that it’s not.
JC.Necromancer@gmail.net
I hit send and prayed for a response for a good ten minutes before I realized that a watched pot
never boils. As if on cue, mom’s voice echoed from the kitchen, calling me down for dinner. I stood and
walked out of my room, barely even glancing at the ghost that lay reclining on my bed as I left.
Pajamas were on, teeth brushed, there was only one thing left to do before I could get to bed—
actually procure my bed. The spirit that had shown up at noon today had yet to leave. He had made
himself comfortable, long translucent grey limbs splayed out on my comforter. I glared at him but he
displayed no reaction. At least none that I could see. I huffed with irritation. After the ghosts had begun
to pop in and out of random places around me about two months ago, I had gotten used to them, but
there had never been reason enough to touch one. Well, there was a first time for everything, right?
Taking a step closer, I stuck out an index finger and poked him. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but
when my finger encountered resistance, I leapt back across the room, barely able to stop myself from
shrieking. Weren’t ghosts supposed to be made of nothing?
“It’s already past twelve Jace! Lights out in five minutes!” My mom shouted from her room
down the hall.
Shoot. Now I really had to clear him out. It was time things got serious. Tentatively lifting my leg
like some demented chicken, I prodded him with my toes before closing my eyes and kicking. The
sensation of an icy cold fog encased my foot all the way up to my ankle. I opened my eyes hesitantly. A
wordless screech nearly made it out of my mouth before I clapped my hands up. I jerked my foot out of
his chest as fast as physics would allow and jumped back against the wall. This was beyond wacked out.
One my breathing slowed, I poked him again. Solid. I planted my foot on him and pushed. My
leg slowly sunk into his body. I reeled away, now thoroughly both intrigued and creeped out. Whipping
my pillow and blanket out from under him, I descended the stairs to the living room couch. There was
no way I was playing bunkmate with the dead.
Light shone through my eyelids and I shot upright. Where was I? This wasn’t my room. Slowly, it
all came back. The bed-hogging ghost who was not entirely incorporeal. Will all the grace and speed of a
slug, I slipped from the leather sofa and onto the floor with a thunk and trundled my way back upstairs.
The ghost was gone, but another was bound to take its place by the end of the day. Wrinkling my nose
at the thought, I dumped my blanket on the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. I had just begun
working a brush through the black snarl of my hair when a ping sounded from my room. A new email! I
dashed down the hall into my room, dropping the brush on the nicked wooden surface with a clatter.
Even before my butt was plunked onto the chair, I had opened my laptop. The screen took a murderous
long time turning on and I was in agony by the time that my inbox popped itself on the screen. A new
email from Malvern.Academy@gmail.net had been sent. I clicked it open with one hand clapped to my
mouth.
Dear Jacey Collman
We here at Malvern Ac. know exactly what you are going through. Many of our
previous students were wary when they explored our offer. Should you agree, we will
arrange a meeting with the headmaster and a tour of campus as well as a personal
confirmation of our credibility from Dr. Delorez. We hope you can attend this next
semester.
MalvernAcademy@gmail.net
I paused for a moment. Dr. Delorez? How was she involved in all of this? I had known the
woman since I was ten and there was nearly no-one I trusted more. I tapped a finger to my lip,
considering. Then I opened up a new window and pulled down Dr. Delorez’s personal Email address.
Dear JeanneDlz234@gmail.net
Jeanne, have you known my entire life? I thought I could trust you with my
secrets. Please tell me Malvern Academy is real and not a metal hospital because I
don’t belong there. I’m not crazy!
JC.Necromancer@gmail.net
I more I typed, the angrier I got. She had been my friend for seven years. Wasn’t that enough
time to build a trustworthy confidence with someone? My heat was rising but I forced myself to calm
down. Ghosts popped up more when I got pissed and didn’t want any more of them hanging around.
That sparked a thought. Maybe if they were popping up around me that meant I could control them.
Far-fetched, sure, but wasn’t the fact that they even existed? It was worth a try. Time to get
necromancing.
7-26-15
I scowled at the spirit occupying the dining chair across from me. “Now move!” The spirit’s body
gave a twitch but otherwise made no movement to follow my order. “Stand up!” I stared daggers at the
spirit and tried to force it to move. The spirit twitched again. Then, with a final tic, she—at least I think it
was a she—rose and stood floating in front of my chair. I hopped up and down up with excitement.
Finally! “Now go away!” I channeled the same will as before and a strange feeling tugged at the pit of
my stomach. A bit like nausea, but enough like the feeling you get you experience a voluntary thrill, that
it wasn’t unpleasant in the least. The ghost faded from view in the blink of an eye. “Come back.” I pulled
at the ghost with my mind and the tugging sensation returned. The kitchen light flickered for a moment
and then returned full force, bringing the ghost with it. “More.” Big mistake.
It felt like my gut was ripped from my abdomen as the light above the sink shattered in an
explosion of glass. Three more ghosts blew into existance and I doubled over, feeling about to puke. My
head throbbed. “Oh, shoot me now! Mom will kill me for this.” The four ghosts stared glumly back at
me, uncaring and uncomprehending.
A panicked shout echoed from upstairs, “What was that? Jacey?” Footstep clomped down the
stairs.
I focused on the ghosts and whispered, “Now go away.” The ghosts didn’t move. I focused on
them more intently, feeling even sicker than before, but desperation overruled my desire to give up.
“Leave!” The smallest one flickered and faded a bit, but didn’t disappear. The tugging feeling in my
stomach stirred up my lunch and then released as my control evaporated.
Mom ran through the kitchen door and skidded to a stop, taking in the shattered glass. She
stared at me directly through the ghosts as if they weren’t there. “Jacey Collman! What on earth
happened down here?” She disappeared the way she’d come to fetch the dustpan and broom from the
cupboard. When she reemerged seconds later, holding the tools, she edged around the mess and trust
them into my hands. “Clean this up. I’ll expect to hear your story the second this is done.” Then she left.
But before the kitchen door swung shut, I saw her sweep her eyes suspiciously around the kitchen as if
she had seen something. But that wasn’t possible, no-one could see the ghosts except for me.
It took the better part of half an hour, but finally I got the ghosts and glass cleared away.
And we’re back!
After a stammered explanation to Mom and a two hour nap to dispel the queasiness, I decided
to spend the rest of my Sunday doing something productive not involving the supernatural. By
dinnertime, I had taken a megalodon-sized bite out of the pile of homework I had yet to complete, but I
guess my mind wasn’t completely there, because doodles of skeletons framed my math work and my
english paper was as melancholy as the grave. Well, that might just have been the topic.
The next morning, still ghost free, I was so distracted by thoughts of Malvern Ac. that I almost
missed the bus. The overcast sky only added to my morose mood. When my first class started, I found
that I had forgotten my textbook, and in the next class that I had left the due assignment at home. In my
third class of the day, a few kids realized that they could alleviate their own boredom by provoking my
bad mood. As the teacher lectured, one of them reached up behind me and tugged at a few strands of
my long hair. The rest of their friends laughed quietly and the teacher didn’t even notice. I shot them a
withering glare, but at that moment the teacher turned around. “Is there something wrong, Miss
Collman?” I could tell she was peeved like the rest of us. The kids behind me snickered.
I answered politely but when the teacher turned back to the whiteboard, my fingers tightened
around my pencil and snapped it with a muffled crack. I only realized after the bell rang, but a ghost had
occupied the only empty desk in the classroom, scowling in the teacher’s direction somewhat blankly
the whole time.
In math class, my temper already stretched to the limits, snapped. As the kids continued to
torment me, an oily black fog began to leak out from between the fingers of my clenched fists. While the
teacher was occupied answering a question, one of them took the opportunity to stab a sharpened
pencil into my back. I twisted around abruptly and punched him in the nose.
His nose made a satisfying crunching noise and he shrieked (in a higher pitch than I would have
expected), clapping his hands to his face. A trickle of blood oozed down his chin. The fog from my hands
writhed like a nest full of snakes and lashed out to dive into the boy’s flesh. Time froze and my vision
evaporated.
In my mind, I saw a thread expanding across a sea of churning shadows. The thread was imbued
with thousands of different colors that I didn’t even have names for. Some glowed with vitality while
others shrank back into the shadows. A pair of gleaming gold and silver shears was clutched in my hand
and I understood that I had the power to end his life just by reaching forward and snipping.
I was snapped out of my trance by a firm hand seizing my shoulder. “Miss Collman! We do not
punch our fellow students unprovoked! Come with me!”
7-29-15
“Suspended?!” My mom shrieked. “What do you mean suspended?”
I cringed and held the phone away from my ear. “It means that I can’t go to school for the rest
of the week.”
“I know what it means! How on earth did this happen?”
Now comes the bad part. “I um, punched someone.”
“WHAT?” Now the anger had completely vanished, replaced by worry. “What happened?”
“Some kids were bothering me. Pulling my hair, kicking my desk. One of them jammed a pencil
point into my back. I got mad and hit him.”
My mom’s voice was creepy calm in a way I’d never heard before. “Did anything happen to
him?”
“Well, I think I broke his nose, and…nothing else. I’m sure it hurt a lot, though.”
“I’m just around the block, parked a few houses down from Old Mr. Pinkerman’s. I want you to
walk out of school and come to me and make sure no one is following you.”
“Umm…Okay.” The phone clicked off as Mom hung up. How could she have gotten here before I
had even called? Even her warning was weird. But oddly enough, as I walked out of the school, chills ran
up and down my back as if someone was staring at me. I glanced up and down the street, but no-one
was there.
Mom’s car wasn’t where she said it would be. I walked around the corner and didn’t see her
there either. Just as I turned back to search the street again, I caught a glimpse of a shadow a house
behind me in the middle of the street where there was nothing to cast it. I took off running. Suddenly,
Mom materialized out of the air. She seemed to have stepped through the doorway to our car, except
there was no car, just the doorway that led inside. She shoved me in headfirst and practically jumped in
on top of me, slamming the door shut behind her.
“What the heck?” I sat up and pulled the hair out of my eyes like a curtain. “Mom, what is going
on?”
She sat in the front seat, paler than I had ever seen her. She stared at the windshield, which
gave a perfectly clear view of outside. “They finally found us.”
“Who Mom? Who found us?”
She dragged in a heavy breath. “Honey, I know you can see them. The ghosts.”
The air whooshed out of my lungs. “What-what are you talking about?”
“And I know you can see the…the shadows.”
I hugged myself, relieved and afraid at the same time to have someone to talk to about my
predicament. “Why? Why is this happening? What is happening? And how?” I jerked my chin up to look
at her. “How do you know about this? Did it happen to you too?”
Mom started the engine of the car and clasped her hands across her eyes for a moment before
turning the car away from the curb and starting down the street. “We’ll talk about this when we get
home, okay honey? Just-I need to think until then.”
When we arrived home, Mom had calmed down remarkably. Some color had returned to her
skin and her voice was almost back to normal. “Now we can talk.”
We both leaned up against my bed, our shoulders touching. Mom spoke softly, “When I was
little, I had powers. They were like yours a little bit. But different. You are a traditional necromancer, I
am somewhat of a half breed. Part necromancer, but instead of ghosts, I deal with nightmares and
monsters. And I could do other things as well. I could always make people afraid of me by wanting them
to be. I could drag the shadows around me to create a hiding space in plain sight.”
“Why do you say ‘you did’? I saw you go invisible not half an hour ago.”
“I can still do the other things, but the monsters-” She broke off and shuddered. “I began to see
them when I was just a little girl. They were giant leering shadows and I was afraid of them. But then
they were…nice to me. They cared for me and helped me when no-one else would. For years they were
my best of friends, always there for me. After a while, their danger seemed to fade. They wouldn’t ever
hurt me. But when I was in my third year, I made a mistake and they hated me for it. Suddenly I realized
why I had been so afraid of them all those years ago.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “They started searching for me, trying to hunt me down to tear
me to pieces, to haunt my dreams and destroy my life. I had to hide, so I ran away. After I had been in
hiding for a few months, your father found me.” Her expression lifted for a moment as she continued
her story. “I was living on the streets, paranoid every second that they had finally caught up. He saved
me. We fell in love and I had your brother. Then we got married. After a year of that life, I had almost
forgotten the fear that so plagued me before. I had you and then, when you were just a toddler, they
found me. And you. I knew at least one of my children would be special, but I didn’t know which one. It
was almost like they were attracted to you. When you started screaming about the shadows, I could tell
your powers would be similar to mine, so I hid us both and started making wards. I kept the ghosts away
from you, putting them off of our scent. I thought I had lost them again, but a few months later they
came of nowhere. Your father was in the other room. I sensed them at the same time that they got their
revenge.”
A second tear joined the first one and dripped down onto the floor. “Just before they could get
your brother as well, I snatched the both of you up and ran. I added even more precautions, but now
you’ve reached the age when finding your powers in inevitable.” She wiped away her tears with the
back of her hand. “They smelled you and now they’re back. They think their revenge isn’t complete and
they’ve come to take you and your brother. They want me to suffer before they take me too.” She
looked at my stunned face. “That’s why I don’t use them anymore.”
I snapped my jaw closed from where it had been hanging open and swallowed hard. I asked the
first question I could think of to dispel the sudden quiet, “You mentioned your third year. Your third year
in what?”
“I was in a school that was supposed to help. And I guess it did. It was my fault. My mistake.”
I hesitated, thinking of Malvern Academy. I would get to that in a moment. “What are the
monsters and ghosts for? Why can we control them?”
“Well, there are all different types of monsters, but they are there to cause fear. They can hurt
people too, give them scars they’ll never forget. Both mentally and physically…” She trailed off. “I’m not
sure if I should be the one explaining too much of this. I’ve been thinking for a little while now that
maybe you should attend the school I went to.”
“Malvern Academy?”
Shock spelled across her features. “How do you know that name?”
“They sent me an e-mail two days ago. It talked all about this miracle school that would help
people like me.”
Mom laughed once. “Miracle school. I suppose it is. Did you reply?”
“Yeah. I asked how I could believe them and they said they would arrange a meetign to explain
in person.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you want to go?”
I almost laughed aloud. “Are you kidding? It would be such an improvement over my school
now!”
“It’s a boarding school.”
“I know. I would get to come home and visit you every holiday. And I would be living with
people like me. I’ve never had too many real friends. Maybe there I could find some.”
Mom pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you want to go that badly I suppose we should get you
signed up.” She turned and looked at me imploringly. “But there are so many bad things that could
happen there. What if the monsters find you? I won’t be there to protect you from them!”
I patted her arm. “But I’ll be learning to protect myself. And I’m sure the teachers will know how
to keep them away.”
Mom rose, pulling me with her. “Okay.” She drew me into a hug. “My baby girl’s growing up so
fast.”
8-4-15