The Phantom Crystal

Books and Me

My eyes flicker nervously between the clock and the drawling professor at the front of the large lecture hall. I don’t normally sit in the very back of a lecture hall this big, knowing very well that I can’t pay attention when I’m not within the eyesight of the teacher. But at the moment, I can’t bring myself to care. I’ve been waiting all day for this class to come and go just so I can head to that bookstore that the librarians told me about. I had an easier time this morning in Ian’s class, still a little sleepy and groggy. My sleep went uninterrupted last night, which is a little disappointing. I really wanted to share some words with the Phantom about him not telling me about the fact that he is also INSIDE of me. But I have a feeling that is exactly why the two of us didn’t meet last night. He didn’t want to be lectured about the proper etiquette of what to tell a person when you decide to hitch a ride inside their BODY.

My lips purse as the professor mentions something about reading assignments that will be due next week at the start of class. Honestly. This class is an Anthropology class, I would hope that we would have some readings. But then again, not everyone orders their books the moment they get the list like Rae and I do, so I guess a little advance warning is always nice.

I glance back toward the clock and wince.

Is she intending to use the entire class time to explain things that we have already heard from all of our other classes? D2L, office hours, reading/homework assignments, projects, etc. I think we all understand that that the syllabus is more of a guideline than it is a rigid structure.

“And that is all I have for all of you today, please be careful walking. Everything is quite slick today.”

My head snaps up as everyone starts packing their bags. I shove my notebook into the biggest pocket of my messenger bag, shrug on my jacket and swiftly make my way to the door before anyone else.

The hall of Hagg-Sauer is relatively quiet as I speed walk toward the front door. Heart pounding, I barely pause as a blast of icy wind hits my face and I follow the sidewalk toward Linden’s and Birch’s parking lot. I was really hoping that today was going to be at least decent enough to walk all the way to the bookstore but it looks like I’m just going to have to power through this biting cold.

Shoving my hands deep into my pockets, I bury my chin in my scarf as I blink tears from my eyes. I don’t need them freezing to my face. Keeping my eyes on the sidewalk, I breathe out slowly, allowing the cold to slide through me and out near my feet. I really can’t be more thankful for the Phantom’s help in ridding myself of the excess chill. At least now I know that I won’t catch hypothermia just by walking outside.

Although, I think I might ask Mom and Dad about the prospect of me getting a car during the summer. Walking in this cold SUCKS. I flinch as a particularly strong gust of wind hits me near the bridge just off campus and I hunch further into myself as I force myself to keep walking.

It’s not like Bemidji is an overly large town. It’s bigger than my hometown but it’s more spread out than what I’m used to. But with the busing system requiring you to pay each time to use their service, even with a student discount, it can really add up. It wouldn't= be so bad if the main walkway didn’t follow along the edge of Lake Bemidji. I fumble with my jacket pocket and pull out my phone, opening the map app.

And Marvin is right, the bookstore really isn’t all that far, so I should be okay for now. If my talk with Max goes longer than expected, I can always see if Olivia can come and get me. My thoughts drift to Ian before I quickly shake my head. No. I really shouldn’t call him. Ian will ask what I’m doing at this bookstore and he will throw a hissy-fit if he finds out I’m going to speak with a poltergeist. With absolutely no equipment.

My eyebrows furrow. But I really don’t have a use for most of Mom’s inventions right now, do I? Most of the things she creates are for locating different spirits and ghosts. But I can actually see the ghosts now. The janitor and the librarians are proof of that. This should freak me out but how can I when this gives me such an advantage? I can actually TALK to the ghosts we are trying to locate and see what they want.

I quickly jog across the street and enter the downtown area.

“But how will I explain to Mom and Dad that I can see them without telling them about the crystal?” I mutter to myself as I glance at my phone. 20 more feet before I reach the bookshop.

I’m still on the fence about just how Mom and Dad will react in learning about the Phantom and his crystal. I just know that they will at least be angry during a period of finding out, whether it be from me keeping this from them or the fact that a ghost decided to use their son as his own vessel, I can’t say at this point. It’s going to be hard enough on Saturday trying to talk to Ian about all of this without straight up telling him about the Phantom as well.

But if Max can at least give me some more information about the Phantom that I can share with Ian, maybe he can use his contacts to do some research for me. Because I KNOW they have access to resources that I don’t without the help of my folks.

My phone buzzes at me and I stop walking.

YOU HAVE REACHED YOUR DESTINATION.

Lifting my eyes, I pocket my phones as I stare at an old brick building standing slim and tall between two other identical buildings with ‘For Sale’ signs on the doors. A warm glow shines from the windows of the cozy little shop. A large wooden sign hangs above the single door with the words ‘Books & Me’ burned into the surface.

Rubbing my hands together, I straighten my jacket and walk through the front door.

JINGLE! JINGLE!

Warm air and the musty smell of books hits me in the face as I glance around the cluttered space. Rows upon rows of packed bookshelves line the walls and take up most of the layout. My lips quirk as I tug my scarf down from my chin.

I can see why Marvin seemed quite fond of this place. This would be any booklover’s dream.

The soft glow I saw from the outside is from the multiple different lamps that are hanging from the ceiling. Not a lot of the decor matches within this little shop but it really seems to give this place a little more personality than some of those big-name bookstores have. This building has an air of someone loving and putting their entire self into this little book haven. I’m surprised not more people from campus know about this little shop. The theatre kids would love it in here, I’m sure.

The floorboards creak under my feet as I walk, careful to make sure not to step too close to some of the piles of books on the floor. I’m not sure if they’re real or not, but I would much rather not find out.

“Hello?” I call out as I approach an empty desk. Books also clutter the desk’s surface and I spy a small tip jar and tiny mints for sale to my right.

My head snaps up at the sound of approaching footsteps. A large, well-fit man with a burly white mustache and puffy white hair that is held back in a ponytail steps out from a room in the back. Wise dark brown eyes peer at me from under bushy white eyebrows and thin wire-framed glasses. His button-down white shirt is rolled at the sleeves reveal a variety of tattoos on his forearms and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone revealing even more white hair. He wipes his hands on a towel but remains silent as he walks toward the desk.

I offer the man a small smile, fighting back a shiver as he lifts a questioning eyebrow.

“Oh, uh, hello,” I say, suddenly nervous as I fight the urge to glance around. Is Max somewhere nearby?

 “Sorry, I just didn’t see anyone and wanted to make sure that it was okay for me to be in here.”

The man’s eyes flicker behind me before refocusing on me.

“Yes, it appears I forgot to put the hours sign back up. I don’t close for another few hours,” the man explains, his voice deep and booming. He would make a great announcer with a voice like that.

Swallowing my nerves, I smile at him.

“Oh, great! Would it be okay if I take a look around? A friend of mine told me about your shop and I’ve been waiting all day to come check it out.”

The man’s eyes narrow but he gestures vaguely.

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve had a new customer, so feel free to check around. Just don’t damage anything.”

My eyes widen as the man leans forward and another chill courses through my body. I quickly nod and slowly walk away from the desk, holding my breath. Once I am out of the man’s eyesight, I let my breath out. A puff of white escapes me and I bite the inside of my cheek.

Holy crap, that could have been awkward. But at least he’s willing to let me look around. Max has to be close by if I’m already reacting like this.

Rubbing at my chest, I continue forward, eyes scanning the shelves for any signs of movement.

THUMP!

Jumping, I spin around and scan a row of bookshelves for the source of the noise. My eyes land on a large book resting wide open on the floor. Heart jackhammering in my chest, I cautiously walk over to the fallen book and I squat next to it. Gently, I reach out and lift the book to check the cover.

Wuthering Heights.

At least Max has good taste in literature. My lips twitch in amusement as I pick the book up and place it back on the shelf. My fingers linger on the spine as I strain my ears for any possible movement but when I don’t hear anything but the buzzing of the lamps and the quiet movements of the shopkeeper, I drop my hand and resume walking.

THUMP!

A yelp escapes me as wind whistles by my ear and I turn with wide eyes in time to watch as Wuthering Heights slides down the wall. A few inches more to the left and Max would have beamed me in the head. My lips purse. And this is exactly why Ian will have a fit if he finds out why I came here. Shaking my head, I roll my shoulders to release any tension and walk over to the thrown book.

“Honestly,” I grumble, picking up the book and dusting it off. “If you’re not careful, you’re gonna damage the cover. Can’t you choose a book like Twilight or something to throw? Something that isn’t a classic?”

“Well, where would the fun be in that?” a disembodied voice answers, sounding bored.

My breath catches in my throat and I launch myself to my feet. My eyes flicker around the space but there is no sign of the speaker.

Damn. Maybe I can only see ghosts that were once human? And since a poltergeist isn’t necessarily a human, but a group of strong emotions that a human can manifest, I can’t see him? My nose wrinkles. I really hope that isn’t the case. I mentally kick myself for not at least bringing my tablet along that has Mom’s ghost sensing app on it.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, sweet cheeks?”