Susan McCauley - Ghost Hunters: Bones in the Wall

M orning mist clung to the ghostball field like spiderwebs. I shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for the ghostball to appear. I caught a quick glimpse as it streaked past; the swirling symbols on the ball that trapped the poltergeist inside flared gold. The ball dodged right, then left. I dashed after it, barely aware of Mom and half my school screaming my name from the sidelines. If I made this goal, my team would win the play-offs and wed be headed to the state championship!

It was now or never.

I ran straight for the jittering ghostball. And kicked it with all my strength.

The poltergeist energy that powered the ball didnt stand a chance. I grinned as the ghostball soared through the air and straight into the goal at the opposite end of the field.

Cheers erupted from the sidelines, and before I could catch my breath, my best friend and teammate, Jason, had shot off the bench and into the middle of the players. He helped hoist me above their heads. Id done it, and wed won the play-off game! Next week wed head for the Louisiana State Ghostball Championship!

I whooped and pumped my fist into the air. I was the first ever sixth grader at Rey Middle to score the final point to take us to a championship game.

Our team captain, Tommy Lord, and my other teammates surrounded me. Alex. Alex. Alex. They chanted like wild banshees set loose on a battlefield.

You were awesome, X! Jason grabbed me and gave me a half-hug, halfback slap. I laughed and yanked on his ghostball shirt, glad he was part of the team and our victory. The only reason he was even on the team was because of me. He secretly hated ghostball. Unless he was watching his home team, the Jamaican Nationals. My grin was so big I felt like my face would split in two.

Great job, champ! Mom plopped a quick kiss on my head before I could stop her. Oh, well, one kiss wouldnt hurt my rep too much, and wed won! Nothing could be better than that. Mom put her arm around me and gave me a squeeze. Im so proud of you.

Thanks. Still smiling, I looked around and my heart dropped. Wheres Dad?

Moms smile wavered, but she forced it to stay in place. He had an unexpected showing for a client. But dont worry. Hell be there at the championship game.

Right. It was like Dad to miss the important stuff. And for what? Some stupid real estate sale. I shoved away the twinge in my chest and focused on the people still chanting my name. On the people that really mattered. I forced all my cheerfulness into my voice and hugged Mom and Jason back. Well, Im glad youre here.

A week later and it was time for the championship game... but first, I had to renew the protection against ghosts in my room. The wardsprotective symbols to stop them from getting inside. If I didnt renew my wards, Mom would never let me hear the end of it. Just imagine if a ghost got into the house while we were away at the game. Shed never let me play again! Then my life would be over.

I added a dab of white paint to the pentacle on my bedroom window, making sure each of the five points of the star were enclosed by a circle, and then hung a Seal of Solomon from a nail in the wall. Perfect. No ghosts would get through that. We had to use magical symbols, called sigils, to ward against ghosts. If we didnt, theyd get inside and wreak total havoc.

I pulled on my team jersey, grabbed my warded cleats and game bag, and headed for the car.

Mom was already waiting, keys in hand. Ready for the big game, champ?

Definitely. I hurled my bag and myself into the backseat. What an awesome way to end my sixth-grade year.

And your wards and sigils have been renewed? Mom adjusted the rearview mirror and then checked the Third Pentacle of Jupiter she had painted on the interior roof of our station wagon along with every other protective psychic symbol she knew how to paint; never mind that Seals of Solomon and wards against spirits were also etched in the glass of every car window as soon as it rolled off the production line. As an occult historian, she was ultra-paranoid.

Mom. I rolled my eyes and scratched at the sigil at the base of my skull, a miniature black Third Pentacle of Jupiter that was tattooed on every child as soon as it was born and blessed. Mine always itches when Im nervous. When I was younger my parents worried that I might be one of the 4 percent of the population who is actually psychic, and that Id be apprenticed to some psychic far away so I could learn to protect the Untouched. The Untouched. Those are the people who cant hear or see ghosts. Thankfully, that didnt happen. Im as Untouched as you can get. There were no breaches in my room or my cleats. All of my sigils are fine.

She glanced in the rearview mirror again. I still dont understand why you have to play ghostball. Maybe you can try soccer next year?

Mom I flopped myself against the backseat and clicked on my seat belt. Soccer is so boring. Ghostball is fun. We have to kick the ball everywhere we want it to go in soccer. With ghostball you never know where itll go on its own. But that wasnt what was nagging her. What she really wanted to know was why Id play a game where a sigil could get damaged, letting a poltergeist loose. She bugged me about that at least sixteen hundred times a week, which is nuts, because if that ever did happena huge IFthen the team psychic would handle it.

I just dont like the game... she muttered. Translation: I won. It was such a silly thing to worry about and she knew it. Poltergeists were supposed to be really nasty, but theyd never been alive. Its not like we were playing with peoples souls. She pushed the remote and the garage door creaked open, revealing a gray sky. Dad has to show a house this morning, but hell try to meet us at the game.

I dug my fingernails into my hand, leaving little crescent-shaped marks. Yeah, right. Typical Dad.

We drove in silence watching the usual morning fog clear from the twisted Mississippi River. She merged onto the main roadway and gasped.

In the rearview mirror, I saw her eyes widen.

She slammed on the brakes. Our car swerved, jerking the seat belt hard across my chest. Metal screeched. A horn blared. Glass smashed and flew everywhere. My heart launched itself into my throat and strangled my cry.

Sound and motion melded together.