Chapter Text
Julie thinks she’s handling the existence of ghosts pretty well, all things considered. Ghosts are real. Sure. Why not?
That said, the two boys in front of her look alive. They insist they aren’t. It would’ve taken longer for them to convince her if she hadn’t shoved her VBS cross through one of their chests.
“She’s not getting it,” the blonde one complains, turning back around to pout at his companion, not really bothered at all that her whole fist, cross and all, had just been in his chest. “Clearly she’s missing something.”
“You’re ghosts,” she breathes, her shoulders and arms falling, and she stumbles away from them in shock.
“Now it connects!” the dark-haired one exclaims, grinning brightly. “Yeah! We’re very dead.”
Ghosts. Actual ghosts.
Julie screams.
“We’re missing our friend. Have you seen him?”
The dark haired one—Reggie, he’s introduced himself as, stares at her with surprising earnest, eyes wide as he watches her pace the studio. After her screaming, and their begging for her to stop screaming, she calmed down enough for actual introductions. She’s told them to get back and away still, because they’re ghosts, but he keeps drawing near and has to get yanked back by his friend, the other ghost, Alex.
Alex is still holding onto the collar of Reggie’s shirt when he groans, “Dude, apparently it’s been twenty-five years. Luke’s probably… gone.”
“Luke?” she asks, turning to look at them sharply. If there’s another ghost around, she really doesn’t want to be surprised.
“Our friend. He had the hotdogs with us. Those are the things that killed us.” He leans in almost conspiratorially, but he’s still being held back by his friend, and it looks a little silly. Julie can’t take him seriously. She couldn’t believe she was scared of them at first. She still doesn’t want them near her.
“His idea,” Alex mumbles, but he doesn’t sound angry. Just miserable. He kicks at the carpet on the studio floor, flipping it over. With her glare, he hastily straightens it and takes a step back, dragging Reggie with him.
Reggie’s still talking. “We floated out the ambulance but it’s like Luke got stuck! Or maybe he went somewhere else. I dunno. But he didn’t come with us to that dark room where Alex cried.”
“You don’t have to keep pointing it out!”
Julie levels them both a glare she learned from her mom that shuts them up pretty good. If they hadn’t scared the living daylights out of her, she might’ve found them funny, and certainly would’ve liked them. But right now, she’s stressed and dealing with a slight existential crisis, and she’s torn between amusement at their chatter and hope that maybe her mom is somewhere.
“Well… I don’t know about your friend. You guys are the first ghosts I’ve ever seen.”
“Ditto,” Alex says miserably. He looks around the studio. “You really live here?”
“Yup. And you really don’t. Go rattle some chains somewhere else—I hear Pasadena’s nice!”
She normally wouldn’t be so mean, but Julie has little patience for ghost boys telling her this is their studio. It’s her mom’s. She doesn’t want them here. It’s awful what happened to them, of course, something about hotdogs, but before this gets any weirder she really needs them gone.
She stomps away from the studio, making sure she shuts the door right behind her. She doubts it’ll be a hindrance to them; they’re ghosts. She’s pretty sure they can walk through walls. The thought makes her shiver as she walks back up to the house, which all of a sudden suddenly feels a lot less safe.
But her night is peaceful and quiet except for mild panic.
She tries to text her best friend Flynn, but every text feels wrong, and they all make Julie look crazy. She’s already gone to a therapist for most of the year and she’s only just recently had to stop going. Texting Flynn that she’s seeing ghosts is a surefire way to ensure she’d end up right back across from Dr. Turner.
When she finds herself unable to sleep, she slips from her room and onto the roof outside her window. It’s warm out, but thankfully not humid, and Julie sits tucked up with her back against the cladding. She can just barely see over their forest of a garden, a carefully curated mass that her papi has now had to hire help to take care of.
There’s a couple out for a late-night stroll, dressed in almost old-timey pajamas, which makes Julie laugh. She watches them disappear into the night, passing the big elm tree their neighbors insist doesn’t cross the property line. She stays out for a little while longer before she finally feels tired enough to attempt sleep again.
When she lays down and closes her eyes, it comes easily for the first time in a while.
Morning comes, and she pokes her head into the studio to find is blessedly empty.
Her feelings are empty too. She stands at the threshold and peers in. She’s been kicked from the music program, she’s staring at the piano she hasn’t touched for a year, and she doesn’t feel anything. The burning desire to play can’t fight the wrathful wave of grief inside her.
As the sun rises through the glass wall of the studio, she turns away from it.
Only to be greeted by Flynn.
“There you are!” the girl cries, stomping down the steps toward her. Flynn looks like she’s been crying. Julie can’t say she blames her.
“I can’t believe you’ve been kicked out! It’s not fair!”
“Yeah, well,” Julie says, shrugging. “I haven’t sung, haven’t earned my seat.”
Flynn tucks her arm against Julie’s, lightly pulling her back toward the steps so they can ride the bus together. She’s shaking her head, her lips twisted into a frown.
“It’s not fair!” she repeats, “I’m never gonna see you again! We’ll just pass each other in the halls and wave and the only interaction we’ll have before that fades away forever is the little heart emoji we’ll send each other when we like each other’s post on Instagram!”
“Flynn, you live two minutes away,” Julie says, laughing. “I think we’ll see each other still. Also, we share a dance class as our gym credit.”
“That’s not the point! And we better still see each other! That sad world I just described is about two seconds away from being a reality.” Flynn frowns. “When will you be getting a new schedule?”
The problem with leaving the music program is that Julie now has two gaps in her schedule. She’ll have to fill them with something else. But it’s the beginning of the semester, so she has time to catch up and adjust, hopefully. She’s not sure if she’ll be given options or if the school, disappointed with her lack of recovery, will just give her the bare minimum to make sure she graduates on time.
“Don’t know. The email from the school came through last night. My dad and I talked about it. He… wasn’t happy. I have to go to the office when we get there.”
“Gross,” Flynn says.
They have to leave it at that. They climb on the bus. All the usual kids are there, and then one at the front that Julie’s never seen before. A girl with wild hair and a puffy denim jacket. She’s clutching her bag and staring down at the seat in front of her, not making eye contact with anyone. Before Julie can stare any longer, she’s being pulled to her and Flynn’s usual seat in the middle of the bus.
The ride to school feels like it takes ages, but in reality, it takes about fifteen. As they pull up to the school, Julie wonders for the first time that morning about the ghosts from last night, Alex and Reggie. Suddenly, she feels a little sorry. They looked barely older than her, and they’re dead. That can’t be easy.
Flynn separates for her homeroom soon after they make it inside and Julie trudges toward the front office, dragging her feet the whole way. She makes it inside right as the bell rings, and the secretary at the front gives her only half a glance before she tells Julie to sit and wait for her counsellor to come get her.
The front office is quiet. The occasional phone call. A printer going off. Nothing obnoxious or annoying and yet Julie feels tense, like the noises are overwhelming.
She rests her gaze on the vice principal’s office. Through the glass she can see them at their desk, talking on the phone, while someone she doesn’t recognize from behind stands in the corner.
His suit looks a little odd, but the man is older. His hair is balding, and he’s got wide, square framed glasses perched on a round, red nose. He’s standing with one hand on his hip, tweed jacket brushed back to reveal a tan button up shirt. He’s leaning against the other wall, not saying anything, just watching.
Julie watches a little while longer. Just as the vice principal ends the phone call and sits up straight, her counsellor comes out and beckons her to her office.
She get’s a peek of the man walking around the desk of the VP to peer at the computer before her counsellor’s door is shut and she’s forced to take a seat.
“Julie,” her counsellor begins, turning around the desk and falling into her chair. She takes her glasses off and her smile twists into something Julie reads as disappointed.
“I know, Mrs. Browne,” Julie replies miserably. “But I just… I can’t do it.”
Mrs. Browne turns and rummages through the mess of papers on her desk before pulling out a manila folder with Julie’s name labelled on the tab. She flips it open, holding it up so Julie can’t quite see, and she peers down at it. Then she frowns. And then she begins to pat around for her glasses.
Used to this with her father, Julie reaches forward and picks them up. “Right here.”
“Oh! Yes. Thank you. Right. I’ve talked to Mrs. Harrison about this. We’ve discussed you a lot this year, Julie. Is this really what you want?” Mrs. Browne asks, frowning again.
“No! But… I just can’t do it. I’ve tried. Really hard!”
“And I believe you. But you have to understand that… trying hard, that just can’t be good enough for a program like this. It’s highly desirable. Mrs. Harrison, me, the school, we’ve made a lot of accommodations for you. But we need you to work with us, too, and if you can’t play, trying hard to or not, then we can’t let you stay in the program.”
Julie slumps in her seat. She knows Mrs. Browne is right, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. She doesn’t know what else to do. “I know.”
“I know you know that.” Mrs. Browne frowns, and then turns to her computer. “You have space for two more classes. Let’s take it easy, hm? There’s a creative writing course Mrs. North in the English Department always wants more students for. Would you be interested in that? I’ve already talked to her. She’s absolutely willing to have you this late in the game.”
Creative writing? Julie’s never considered that before. She still writes ideas down, even if she doesn’t consider them lyrics anymore, and they’re all just things that don’t make her sad. Writing music is off the table, but is all writing?
She squirms in her seat. “I…”
“Julie,” Mrs. Browne says, lowering the folder. “It’s this or a gym class on walking. Which is of course good for your health, but I think we can both probably agree this class is a better alternative. And you’re already taking a gym credit this semester. This class would be a better… step forward. Or diagonally, if you prefer that.”
“I’ll take it,” Julie says. Part of her feels like she has to, but part of her likes the idea. It’s not music, but it’s something. This whole year has been trying to get her to specifically play and sing and write music again. But that’s not happening. Maybe a different creative outlet would help. “And the other spot?”
“Why not just a free period, hm? You don’t already have one of those. We don’t normally give those this late in the game. But I think it would be beneficial. Focus on your classes, including your new one, you’ll have to play catch-up, and use it as a breather.”
Mrs. Browne makes a few notes in Julie’s file. Then she sets her pen down and clearly thinks hard about something for a moment. “Do you do much out of school, Julie?”
“Do I…? I don’t understand.”
“A job? After school activity? You don’t do any sports. Are you in any clubs?”
She flips through Julie’s folder again, her frown deepening.
“Um.” Julie hums thoughtfully. “No. My parents didn’t want me to get a job because they said I should enjoy being a teenager, that I shouldn’t have to worry about that. I’m… not in any clubs.”
“It might be good,” Mrs. Browne says. “Get out, meet new people… Maybe tutoring. Your English and History grades are high enough for that.”
Julie frowns. She’s never thought much of work before, or a job, or anything like tutoring. She gets a decent allowance in exchange for checking the mail and taking out the garbage bins once a week, but she also doesn’t have much to spend money on. She doesn’t go out really, not even with Flynn. She’s certainly never thought about a workplace as a place to make friends.
“There’s a corkboard in the hallway outside the front office. It’s got job postings on it. Local places looking for students interested in part-time work. Why don’t you check it out when you head to class?”
Julie nods slowly. She watches Mrs. Browne adjust her schedule in real time. She winces as Music Composition and Music in Practice are removed and replaced. And then the new one is printed, and then it’s being handed to her along with a signed late slip.
Julie grips the sheet of paper in her hands, staring at down it with a feeling of hurt in her chest. Her mami would so be disappointed in her. She knows her dad is.
Mrs. Browne smiles at her not unkindly, but Julie knows the counsellor can tell that she is disappointed. But the woman was right, before. Disappointment, just trying hard, those things don’t make a difference if there’s no outcome.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this, Julie. If it makes you feel any better, Mrs. Harrison is too. She really fought for you this year.”
“I know,” Julie said, folding the new schedule in half and shoving it in her back pocket. She almost wishes Mrs. Harrison hadn’t fought for her this year, if only because the fighting had been a completely waste of time. Julie’s let everyone down.
I know, I know, I know. Knowing hasn’t helped her at all. Hasn’t made a difference even remotely, not even once.
“It’s not gone forever,” Mrs. Browne says. She smiles again and Julie can’t help but smile back.
“I know,” Julie lies.
She bides the counsellor goodbye and shuts the door softly behind her. The thing is, Mrs. Browne isn’t quite right. Lots of things can leave forever, like dead mothers. Rose Molina is gone. There’s no getting her back. In her death, she’s taken music from Julie. Music, like Julie’s mami, is dead too. Gone, buried. The only difference is that there wasn’t a funeral, and there is no gravestone.
She gives passing goodbye to the front secretary as she leaves the office and only stops short to glance at the VP’s office again. They’re on the phone again, still ignoring the man that now stands over their shoulder. He’s peering at the files on the desk and carefully balancing himself to keep from crashing into it. Julie’s nearly convinced that he’s going to fall over.
“Ahem,” the secretary says, pulling Julie’s attention away from the scene in front of her.
“Oh, sorry,” Julie mumbles, and then hurries out of the front office.
She glances to the left and finds the job board Mrs. Browne had told her about. She’s half-tempted to leave it, walk away with her late slip and head to her first class she’s already thirty minutes late for. But then she groans. She should look at the board. Besides, with her luck, her counsellor would pull her from class next week just to ask her if she’s done it.
And Julie Molina is a terrible liar.
She trudges over to it and stares at it without really looking before she sighs, hangs her head, and presses her cool fingers into her eyes. She stands like that for a minute and then straightens, blinking rapidly to clear the spots from her vision. She feels woozy and her stomach fills with dread.
There are a few places of interest; shops in the local mall, car washing companies, a community center hiring lifeguards, and then there… in the back, something catches Julie’s eye.
She pulls it from the corkboard. A music shop. The street name is familiar, Julie knows exactly where it is. They’re looking for a part-time cashier to come in in the afternoons. She stands there unsure, holding it in her hands. It’s not a bad idea.
Could she manage it, is the question.
She glances up and down the hall, and then she sees something that makes her entire body freeze.
The front office wall, all windows, is being partially blocked by the man from the vice principal’s office earlier. He’s standing at it with his hands behind his back, peering out toward the lunchroom that sits adjacent to the office. He’s just staring, thinking hard, his brow furrowed, and then…
He steps through the glass.
Julie’s heart seizes in her chest.
His whole body warps and goes transparent and fuzzy. She can see through him to the office, and he flickers like static. His body pulls and twists through the glass and then snaps back into place, back into the shape of a thing that clearly isn’t a man anymore. But Julie’s mind fills in the gaps.
Ghost, she manages to think, just as the man disappears in a flash of silvery light.
“Ghost,” she whispers aloud.
And then she collapses onto the ground.