Caspers Ghosts Read online

  He jerked away from her grasping fingers.

  She shifted awkwardly; her fingers outstretched in mid-air her mouth hanging open a little as she searched for words. Then, as though someone flipped a switch inside her head, she started reeling off dates and times when we were normally free so he could meet up with us to work. From over Isabel’s head I watched as his eyes narrowed even further and scanned her from head-to-toe. His lips drew into a thin line. His grip tightened on the strap of his bag.

  “I don’t think we can work together,” he finally managed to hiss, his jaw muscles flexing. I frowned as his Adams apple bobbed on his slender throat. He averted his gaze away from Isabel’s searching eyes and turned his unreadable expression to my own.

  I decided to pry Isabel away from Casper’s reach. I didn’t think him dangerous, however he did look a little freaked out. He looked seriously spooked. Isabel made a noise of protest in the back of her throat as I moved her aside.

  “Why can’t you work with us?” I asked calmly. I tried keeping my voice as level as possible despite the heated flush creeping up the back of my neck. His eyes bore into mine with such intensity that my stomach coiled in on itself. Shivers ran through my muscles and I straightened up. I watched his body tense even more.

  “I don’t work well with other people,” he stated tersely, “I prefer to work alone.”

  “Can’t we attempt it?” I asked, not loving the idea of a failed grade at the start of a project. His eyes flashed platinum at me. “I just think that it can’t hurt to at least try.” He glared at me, both our gazes were unblinking. He didn’t respond to my hint of aggression. He merely turned towards the door that led out to the staircase. All I heard was the descent of his thick-soled boots. They squeaked on the linoleum before another door creaked open a few floors below and then slammed shut. Isabel huffed behind me, her glare penetrating through the plates of my skull. Finally, I whipped around to turn my own glare on her. “What?” I snapped.

  “Why did you have to go and do that?” she snapped back. Before I could even open my mouth to make a remark, she held up a finger to silence me. “Why must you always insist on talking across me?”

  I rolled my eyes at her, my mind fast-forwarding through to the end of the day when I could brainstorm for the project, help or no help. Where I could kick back and relax in my gym clothes and properly drift through the pages and let my mind wander to what we could possibly achieve with such an unexpected assignment. “Because Izzie I want a decent grade for this project, okay?”

  She glowered up at me but her gate softened. “Whatever. Let’s just get out of here and get back to the common room.”

  “I’ll need to catch up with you later though. I need to stop by the nurse’s office.”

  Isabel frowned at me, previous anger simmering away, and lifted a hand to ruffle my growing fringe out of my eyes affectionately. “Are you not feeling … well, again?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

  I nodded, fingering her dip-dyed hair with a weak smile. “I’m fine, I promise. I just need to drop off some forms and a new bottle from my doctor. I’ll join you in an hour or so.”

  “It doesn’t take an hour to drop off paper and a bottle to the nurse,” she stated in a teasing manner in a vain attempt at lightening the mood. I shrugged a shoulder and adjusted my bag. She looped her arm around me, kissed my cheek and then left me to my own devices.

  *

  I suppose to a lot of onlookers, Isabel and I would seem like an everyday couple. However, I can’t count the amount of times where I’ve had to deflect the accusations. Not to mention that Isabel really isn’t my type.

  I stuffed my hands into my pockets where a soft rattling emitted from within. A chain of paperclips sat at the bottom. I ran my fingers over the links as I weaved my way past people and through a network of connecting corridors. I’d developed the habit about five years ago. It was better than smoking at least. I had a chain of paperclips in almost every single one of my pockets. It soothed me to play with them, especially when I was on my way to the nurse’s station.

  As soon as I strode up to the sleek wooden desk I was literally about to drop off my little orange bottle when a movement from a few doors down caught my eye. I turned my head to see Casper emerging from one of the doors, Nurse Angelina’s hand being shrugged off of his shoulder. I watched him tug his sleeves down over his arms; white bandages peeking out on his wrists and over his knuckles. When he saw me he stopped short, his muscles turning to stone. His cold eyes narrowed as I offered a meek smile. It felt foreign to me, smiling at him, but we needed to make peace if we were going to work on the project together. His mouth was set in a grim line as he moved over to the desk where I was standing for my bottles to be collected.

  The air around us seemed to turn to ice.

  I could feel how stiff he was. I hadn’t anticipated him talking to me either. He came right up to me and stood in front of me, his eyes heavily lidded and his stance stiff. “I apologise for my behaviour earlier,” he stated in a clipped tone.

  I shrugged without looking. “We all have our bad days,” I murmured, “Plus, I know how annoying and forward Isabel can be.”

  “Yeah about that,” he turned away from the desk to properly look at me, his eyes and expression devoid of emotion, “Tell your girlfriend not to touch me. I don’t do physical contact.”

  I scanned his eyes for some sign of a joke. There didn’t seem to be one. He was deadly serious. I nodded my head tightly, and swallowed past a lump in my throat. “Sure,” I managed to choke out. And then something flashed at the back of my mind, “I’ll let her know on one condition.” The sly words dripped off my tongue so easily I almost surprised myself.

  His expression darkened. “What?”

  “Do the project with us. Meet us in the auditorium tomorrow evening at six. If you get hungry we can order something in so don’t worry about that.” Angelina bustled up behind the desk and took my bottles. I thanked her with a brief smile before turning my attention back to Casper. “Oh, and Isabel’s not my girlfriend.”

  I left feeling rather pleased.

  Chapter Four

  The auditorium was rather cold as I bundled my bag and coat under the piano stool, flexed my shoulders and worked the knots out of my neck. It had been a long day trying to brainstorm ideas and tackle my other homework. The lights overhead flashed against the black and white décor that surrounded me. I was early; I needed some time on my own with my mind and of course, the piano.

  I smoothed my fingers over the keys and pressed a few down, letting each hollow note echo through the room and my chest. My fingers ached to move over more notes, to explore the boundaries I hadn’t yet dared to pass. Slowly I began to press the beginning chords of Danny Elfman’s piece from the ‘The Corpse Bride’ when a voice rang out through the auditorium.

  “Victor’s Solo?” asked the voice from somewhere in the shadows by the door. It was definitely male. My throat felt tight and my hands stilled on the keys.

  Casper.

  “Yes.”

  I focused my eyes on the keys in front of me, cool underneath my fingertips. I didn’t look up at him. A hot flush crept up the back of my neck and I ground my teeth together. I had only wanted a few moments of peace and quiet to myself, just to be alone with my thoughts and –as much as I was grateful that he’d shown up at all –I grew frustrated. This was the reason I’d come here earlier than the others, to relieve myself of the tension that had built up and throbbed in every muscle of my body. I focused my eyes on the chords before me; however they seemed to be swaying, dancing along to a tune that only I seemed to hear. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “Did I disturb you?” His low voice came directly next to my ear. I jerked to one side of the stool to stare up at his tantalizingly blank features. He blinked down at me.

  “Yes,” I snapped, “I wanted to be on my own for a little while.”

  Nothing wavered on his face; his skin was far too pale for
him, as though he avoided the sunlight whenever he could, and his eyes were framed by the thickest, longest lashes I’d ever seen on a guy. His pale pink lips were a little chapped from the wind.

  That’s when I realised I was staring.

  I lowered my softening gaze to the piano keys yet again in a defeated manner, “It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now so we may as well wait for Isabel.”

  The only response I received was the awkward twitch of a shoulder. He turned towards the windows and eased a one open. A gust of cold air made me sit up straighter at the piano. I was about to tell him to snap it shut, when a subtle aroma of cigarette smoke ripped through the still air. I took a slow inhale of it. Most people detested the smell of cigarette smoke, the fear of cancer and no teeth act as a placebo for their hatred. Personally, I adored the scent; it was my own toxic perfume. I couldn’t abide the taste, I just liked the smell and looking at the smoke. I still had the odd one here or there when the stress got too much for me, or the rare occasion where I went out for a drink or two. Little did I know that it would be these toxic little sticks that would burn a hole through the ice that was built around Casper and I.

  That evening after I’d fished my dinner out of the small microwave in the communal kitchen and taken it into my bedroom, I collapsed into my desk chair with a notebook open and brainstormed ideas from the session in the auditorium. In my opinion the few ideas we had looked minimal at best and it jarred my brain just looking at the empty spaces all over the page. I hadn’t been entirely focused as the smell of cigarettes wafting off of Casper’s clothes had made me feel lightheaded. Isabel had spent a lot of the time chewing on the ends of her pens, which made me want to yank them out of her hands and throw them at her head.

  It had taken a good forty minutes before Casper had volunteered an idea and then clamped his mouth shut once again as though he’d insulted himself by doing so. He’d sat there slouched in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his fringe drooping over his face. For all I know he could have been asleep. It had been disappointing, seeing as Casper had come up with the only decent idea, really, and Isabel had spent the rest of the session thinking of ways to not do his idea.

  Personally, I wouldn’t have minded developing a storyline based on three genres and creating an instrumental storyline. It would take the listeners through the varying emotional and musical ranges that could be presented. Just because it was a touch of extra work on our part, Isabel was turning her nose up at it.

  An alarm chimed from my wristwatch and I ground my teeth in annoyance. I was due another dose of my new batch of pills –this dosage was stronger than the ones I’d been taking before the Christmas holidays. Apparently I was quickly developing immunity to them. Not that anyone had listened to my opinion on the matter. The tablets made me feel queasy and really put me off my food. I tried to eat whenever I could, but taking the pills twice a day made me lose a lot of weight in the long run, and I didn’t have all that much to lose in the first place.

  I’d locked myself away in my room until my alarm was due to go off and now that it had, I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to take them. I could have serious repercussions if I didn’t –but even so.

  I tipped my head back and exhaled loudly. I clicked my tongue hopelessly as I dropped my notebook on my desk and clawed my hands through my hair, before curling an arm beneath my head and resting it against the wood. I was starting to feel jittery; my fingers were twitching and my legs kept randomly jiggling, my knees hitting against the leg of my desk. I needed to get out; maybe I could sneak to the roof and have one of my emergency cigarettes. Only a couple of weeks into the new time and already needing a smoke? Not good.

  Sucking my teeth, I unfurled from my slumped position and groped around at the foot of my bed for where I’d slung my hoodie, tugged it on over my head and snatched my trainers from the corner where I’d kicked them. Once on, I straightened up and flexed my shoulders, patting my pockets down to make sure I had my spare lighter, and my room key-card.

  Check and Check.

  With an exasperated sigh I left my room.

  The frigid air was so cold that it burned right through my skin and made my bones creak. My breath came out as clouds of ice floating in front of my face. I crossed the bridge outside the library and walked around on the narrow walkway that acted like a balcony to the building. My hands were bunched into fists buried deep in my pockets, not that it kept the chill out completely.

  The thin sheet of ice on the floor was slippery underfoot as I reached out and grabbed the railing of the fire escape ladder. I hauled myself up onto the ladder; the ten foot drop onto the concrete below sent a bolt of ice running down my spine. I tightened my grip on the frozen metal and ascended to the roof of the building. When I reached the top of the building and dropped a foot down onto the flat roof I grimaced at the sight of the flat area sluiced in small icy patches and grime that had grown over from numerous years of neglect. There was a small aging pile of cigarette butts decorating the far left corner that overlooked the football field.

  That was ‘my corner’.

  I didn’t like to share it with anybody. I didn’t even tell Isabel where I went on these nights where I needed some relief and solitude to clear my mind out.

  The cold wind bit at my ears. I tugged my hood over my head and hunched my shoulders against the wind as I made my way over to a small raised fire escape hatch at the other end of the roof. Tucked away behind the latch was my stash of cigarettes. I slipped one out and pursed my lips around the butt, fishing my lighter out of my pocket. I had to cup my hand around the flame for the end to catch alight.

  I inhaled the acrid flavoured air and felt relief wash through me.

  I shivered as the wind whipped my hood off my head and spiraled around my body. The only problem, really, of going up to the roof for a solitary smoke was that it was not sheltered and of course the risk of falling whilst climbing either up or down the fire escape was enough to terrify me. The idea of falling to my death by slipping on an icy fire escape, plummeting to the concrete, and then dying of hypothermia didn’t really appeal to me. I took one last final draw, relishing in the relief rushing through me before I stubbed the butt out and ground it with my trainer. I straightened up and hugged my arms tighter around myself before casting one last look over the frost tinted football field. For a brief moment it looked almost beautiful, and then the wind whipped sleet into my eyes and I decided to go back to my room. My bones were turning numb as the temperature dropped even further, before turning back and heading for the fire escape.

  The following morning I awoke to a text from Isabel saying that we should meet up later that afternoon. I squeezed my scratchy eyes shut for a few moments, almost falling back to sleep in the process, before tapping blindly on my phone. I prayed that whatever it was would make sense. I tossed my mobile underneath my pillow and reacquainted myself with its pleasurable plushness. It was eight o’clock on a Friday! I only had one lecture in the afternoon. Today was my lay-in day. After two years, Isabel still didn’t seem to understand the concept of sleeping-in. I buried my head under my covers and resumed my previous state of unconsciousness.

  When I eventually did wake up of my own accord the bleak winter sun was high behind the smoky grey clouds and it was almost lunch time. We were in for another thunderous day; I could feel it, like a high note on a piano being plunked out along my veins. I trembled and reached over to turn my heater up a little more. My eyes were still sore and burning and yet when I closed them, they all but screamed in protest. I couldn’t win. I flopped back down onto the bed despite my stomach growling, the urge to remain motionless for the rest of the day and night growing. I just wanted to be left alone.

  That’s when my mind turned to Casper and how he apparently didn’t like to be touched. Through that lack of touch alone, he was isolating himself from everyone and everything around him. A hollow shell of respect began to form in my mind; perhaps that shell would fill although
I doubted it very much.

  Later that afternoon, I got my answer.

  I arrived at the auditorium earlier than the others as I’d gone there straight after my ‘dinner’ –not that I ate much of anything. I’d tossed my fork down and given up when it felt as though my throat was closing up from the sheer effort to try and force food down. I’d wanted to clear my head and decided that some chords would make me feel a lot better. However, as soon as I sat down on the piano stool and played a few basic chords to work the tension out of my fingers, I felt nothing.

  No urge, no gut-coiling need to play a symphony.

  Nothing flickered to life in my mind. I simply sat there, staring at the black-and-white keys until they blurred around the edges with my finger holding down the middle ‘C’ as though, if I held it long enough, all the secrets of the world would be revealed to me.

  I didn’t know how long I sat there for, staring at the keys. It didn’t really matter, as the voice that broke the silence made me jump.

  “It might sound better if you press more than one key.” I flinched and jerked around in my seat. There he was, walking down the aisle between the dark rows of chairs. Casper.

  “I –was side-tracked,” I stated blandly trying to keep my voice as neutral as I could.

  My ears picked up on his almost weightless tread half-way down the aisle between the dark chairs. He stopped at the last row of chair and slipped his bag from his shoulder and dropped it along with his jacket onto the folding chair and then turned those grey eyes onto me. My chest tightened. I swallowed thickly, my tongue feeling dry, before I turned around on the stool and faced him, “So have you been thinking about anything that we could do for the general story-line?”