The day went past like any other in Pinebrook High, the bell had rang and class was finally over and the cascade of students poured out of the classes and filled the hallways. I played with my auburn hair as I watched the chaotic rush dissolve in front of Ms. Ramirez’ room.
Pinebrook high was the local mundane school almost everyone in town went to. Like the rest of Pinebrook it was adorned with an outdated design. The jagged lockers that barely budged, floors that creaked as students paraded down the corridors, faulty ceiling lights that hummed day in and out. It’d be wrong however to say it didn’t hold a certain sentimental atmosphere, it was almost like the town was frozen in time.
The many faceless students of Pinebrook passed me by absorbed in their own worlds. Of the 3,000 students that went there I was an outsider. Wasn’t built to be a jock, never was really into art like that, was deathly afraid of drugs so stoner was off the table, and I never found the appeal of the whole goth thing despite their decent taste in music, and of course, I wasn’t smart or popular or anything like that. No, I opted to not be part of any of the “in crowds” of the average high school junior, and would instead spend as much time as I could alone in the school library researching various historical events.
History, for as long as I could remember, was one of my closest friends. My father was a college professor at an institution close to where we lived, so I grew up surrounded by books and papers. It’s thanks to him that my love for history is what it is today. However, along with it came a reputation that I’d been cursed with since the beginning of high school. Despite the library's calming embrace, the icy cold stares of dissatisfaction from my peers tended to fill me with a bloating sense of unease. If it wasn’t for reasons outside of my control, I’d likely lock myself inside the school library for days on end.
Of course Pinebrook had its fair share of those who actually wanted to stand out. But none stood out as much as Brittany Hayes, the town's prized queen bee. Her loyal entourage trailing her as planets orbited the sun. She always seemed to effortlessly captivate those around her, drawing them into her sphere of influence. I, on the other hand, wasn’t affected whatsoever by her charisma.
Brittany and I had been at it with one another since the beginning of high school when I'd told her that her designer Versace dress looked nice. A moment she never failed to make me regret.
As I collectedly approached my locker, trying to make myself invisible and go unnoticed under the watch of the she beast herself, only for a brief moment our eyes made contact. Her eyes pierced through me like a tiger stalking its prey. From the corner of my eye, I saw her bright pink silhouette growing closer. The clicking of her heels reverberated around the room like ticking clockwork. Ugh, you could put down bears with the strength of her raspberry perfume. The very thought of dealing with her caused me migraines. I knew right then and there normal reasoning was off the table and confrontation was inevitable.
“Oh, if it isn’t Pinebrook’s resident history nerd, Alex,” Brittany taunted with a sly tone, dripping with condescension.
I came to a halt, I couldn’t help but let out an exasperated sigh. “You know Brittany, sometimes I wonder about our little game of cat and mouse,” I responded with a hint of annoyance. “I mean there’s no way she’s actually that much of a snob, right? But no, you just never seem to amaze me with your predictable repertoire,” I said, nearly matching her sarcasm.
She stood at awe for a couple of seconds, taken aback by my breakage of our usual back and forth. She laughed, “Alex, you really are just the weirdest kid, but I’ve got to say, bravado is not your style. Why don’t you stick with the usual dork routine? I mean, you already look the part. With those tacky cargo pants and all.”
“My clothes may be tacky but at least my insults aren’t as tacky as yours,”
I retorted. She scoffed, clearly irritated, but before she could throw out another barb, a familiar vibrant voice interjected.
Cory entered, boasting his usual irreverence. “Did someone say ‘tacky’? Hope I’m not underdressed for the fashion show,” he said, putting his arms around both our shoulders.
Brittany swiftly removed his arm in disgust before remarking “Well, look who decided to join us. Here to save your lackey one again. Hmm, Cory?”
Cory grinned as he said another of his nonsensical comebacks “Come on, you know me, always a fan of THE fashionista extraordinaire Brittany hayes. Can you blame me?”. His omnipresent smile stood tall and seemed to work its magic as usual.
Brittany rolled her eyes, leaving us her final dose of sarcasm “Save your quips for someone who cares, I don’t have time for this” She then turned, whipping her platinum hair back and leaving, her clique followed suit in a synchronized exit.
As the clicking of heels faded, Cory began to grin harder than usual. “She’s finally gone, took her long enough. So, Al, you up for my latest brilliant plan? I really think this one's gonna be great,” he cheered.
I let out a breath of relief. Brittany was finally out of our hair for the time being and also for whatever scheme Cory had brewed up. Cory and I had been friends since the 8th grade when he intervened in a scuffle that would have left me a human punching bag. Ever since, it’s been the two of us on whatever crazy adventure he comes up with, along with my job of usually finding a way out of whatever mess it resulted in. Cory was likely one of the few things in this town keeping me from being locked inside a room all day. Sure, he had a knack for landing us in trouble, but don't get me wrong, he wasn't a bad guy, it’s just the way he is. But I mean, I can’t leave the man hanging. What kind of friend would I be if I did?
“Sure, I’m in,” I eagerly replied. It had been forever since the last time he’d had one of his “brilliant plans” and dragged me along on an adventure. Cory’s plans, no matter how dangerous or stupid, always ended up being fun somehow, so what was the harm in a little fun. I’m sure he’d find a way to involve me in it regardless of what I said.
“Cool, uh, meet by the cemetery later. I got some stuff I got to do first,” and with that, Cory sprinted off.
For the first time in a while, I didn't have Brittany beating down my back or have Cory talking my ear off during the normal end-of-school rush. It was a little strange but also tranquil. The booming noise of students subsided, becoming mere ambiance as I took a leisure stroll to my locker. After a quick match against my lock, I grabbed my usual satchel, put away my stuff, and went on my way to Pinebrook cemetery.
The cemetery lay on the outskirts of town, roughly a mile past the old diner and a good hour and a half’s walk from school. The path there was crossed with a rough dirt path full of dead bushes and trees, which is probably why barely anyone visited it. Maybe it was the way the sun’s warm bronze light sat on the clouds or the way the wind rustled against the lifeless branches, but today felt different, unusually cordial. A serene chill settled over me, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it. By the time I arrived, the feeling had dissipated entirely.
I settled at the entrance, my patience wearing thin as I waited for what felt like an eternity. Cory was never one to be punctual, but this had to be a personal record for the longest he'd ever kept me waiting for one of his "great ideas.” And his ideas did have a notorious reputation for not being all that great.
Finally, Cory appeared on the horizon. He approached with his usual disheveled appearance, his unkempt brunette hair stood up as if he'd just survived a tornado. His tattered jeans flirted dangerously with the skateboard's wheels as he sped toward me, his excitement palpable even from a distance.
“So, Cory, what’s the plan this time?” I asked, trying my best to act nonchalant. I had an urge to play it cool, not that it mattered. Cory’s plans were always an enigma. He’d either tell me while we did it or tell me directly after we finished. I, of course, hoped that this time he’d give me a straight answer.
He gave a soft chuckle while responding, “You know that Mausoleum in the center of the cemetery. The gigantic one that’s practically a mansion?”
“Yeah? What about it?” I began to ask, but before I could finish, he was handing me a number of things such as night-vision goggles, flashlights, and strangely enough, a full-sized vacuum cleaner, not even one of the tube ones, just a normal household vacuum cleaner. Or ‘equipment’ as he called it.
I stared in confusion as he paused and finally gave me a sincere answer. He smirked as he confidently made his announcement. Only two words came out of his mouth, “Ghost-hunting.”
This had to be one of the strangest things Cory could have said; it wasn't out of character, however. Cory always had a large range when it came to his sense of fun. One day we’d be skateboarding down the steepest hill in town and get a bit too crashing into the neighborhood. The next, we could be baking 10 dozen loaves of bread for a competition he signed us up for. Too shocked by what he had just said, I let out a sigh and inquired, “Where on earth did you get all this?”
“Well,” he hesitated, “I may or may not owe Mr. Castillo from the general store seventy-five bucks… Oh, and did I mention that you probably shouldn’t break any of this?”
“A vacuum cleaner? Seriously, Cory?” I had a hint of sarcasm and irritation in my voice, but I managed to keep my composure. Allowing my tone to go undiscovered by him.
“Cool, right! Now come on before it gets too late,” he urged as he began dragging me across the cemetery. It didn't take long before we had reached the Crawford family Mausoleum. The Crawfords had a long history in our town, having amassed their riches from at least a few centuries ago, or something like that. Not many people knew the details, but what everybody did remember was the mysterious fire that claimed their lives one night. It was chilling; there were no signs of gas leaks, no stove top left on, not even a plugged-in appliance or anything. And Cory’s grand idea was to go into their final resting place and disturb them.