Necromancer - 6. Visions

I kissed Simon Chernosky. Simon and I shared a kiss behind the trees that bordered our school oval. And what was even better – Simon probably didn't hate me for it. Last class of the day I was still humming with feeling. Maybe glowing. The butterflies were more like worms or maggots, eating their way through my belly. I didn't care, it was a good feeling.

I remember slowly developing my crush on Simon the first time he'd moved here. We didn't talk, because he didn't talk to anyone. But he was intriguing, and his looks grew on me. Then I started wondering about the signs, could he be gay. Then I had a full-blown secret crush, my own imagination getting ahead of me. And if it hadn't been for the graverobber encouraging me to seize the day we might still not be talking. I found that fact a little awry.

When class finished I all but flung myself from the room. I knew Simon moved fast, so I wanted to be sure I beat him to the school gates. There was always the chance he had a free last period and had gone home early, maybe he only stayed last lunch for his meeting with the councillor. I was prepared to wait for him regardless. Jogging the pathway I made it in time to see the first of the crowd scattering down the road, and no Simon.

I buried my hands into the pocket of my blue jumper. The curls of my hair stuck out from the beanie I wore to keep my pink ears warm. It was the hottest part of the day, and so cold. I watched my schoolmates leave, and it wasn't long until Simon came into view. I'd almost missed him, he wasn't heading toward the parking lot but the main gate. I guessed he didn't drive. Even better, that's something I could work with.

"Simon!" he was already outside school property, walking right beside the tall security fencing. I ran over until I was next to him, on the other side of the metal bars. "Simon, what's up? You walking?"

His dark eyes were softer as he studied me. For the first time he looked nervous, or was it just embarrassment? He slowed mid-step but continued walking, I kept pace. Ahead was the driveway opening to the student parking lot.

"Mmhm." he was slow to answer my question.

"Why don't you let me drive you?"

"...you don't need to do that."

"I want to. We could hang out." We trudged along, I saw Simon's face lowered through the passing bars of the fence. "I can tell you the crazy thing Jane told me about Friday night..." I tried to sound tempting and watched him think. "Come on, it's cold. You going to walk to Roberts Road from here?"

"For the record, I like walking." Simon raised his head and gave me that obstinate smile "But sure, lets hang out."

"Great." I was elated, and it clearly showed on my face.

We passed the opening and Simon turned with me, arcing back into school and over to my green eco car. I caught sight of Erin by her Toyota Prius, she looked over as Simon climbed into the passenger seat of my car and dropped her keys. I gave her a jerky head-twist, a sort of shrug before ducking in and taking my seat beside Simon. He strapped himself in and I turned the ignition, the heater quickly choking to life as it fought to warm the space.

"How come you don't drive?" I asked, watching his tense posture.

"Don't have a car." He answered back.

I nodded and buckled myself in before getting the car into gear and swerving out of the lot. We went down the street in silence and I watched my crush gazing out the window. My normal reaction to the silence would be to put on the scratchy radio, but I didn't want that. I wanted to talk to Simon, just unsure of what was safe to talk about. I didn't want to bring on his twitchy moods.

His apparent interest in Tommy Phelps's mystery was a safe topic, but also distracting. When we turned down another street I felt myself blurting conversation for us.

"Sorry for kissing you before. I just wanted to be sure I got my point across."

Simon didn't say anything for a while, before my panic could settle in he said "That's okay."

"Good..."

"I was wondering why you were so interested in talking to me."

"Well I'm glad it's out in the open." I eyed the back of his head and wondered if he'd say more.

It felt too pushy to pry the answers from him, even if I wanted to know: Do you like me too? Can we be friends? Is there some reason this wouldn't work? Are you gay? Can we date? I cleared my throat and said nothing.

We came to a stop outside his house. I could see the colours now it wasn't so dark. White-panelled wood laced with ivy. Brown-tiled roof with rusted gutters, one end in a severe dip where the hinge had come loose. The footpath was cracked and the lawn a mud-muck, shrubberies under the wide windows were untended.

"Peter... we can be friends, if you like?" he turned his head to say.

"Just friends?"

"You can come in if you want. My step-Dad won't be home until late."

"...okay."

We got out of my car and I followed him to the front door. He was much more relaxed than at school. After the front door was unlocked I followed him in, the house was cold but Simon immediately went to switch on the heaters. A metal one by the wall and a bunch of smaller ones scattered about the messy living room. A tabby cat jumped up the top of an old leather sofa and watched me with a swishing tail.

I stood awkwardly in the miniature hallway after closing the door behind me, watching Simon busy himself before rounding on me. He'd taken off his jacket, underneath he was wearing a black V-neck jumper.

"Want something to drink? I have Blackcurrent."

"Sure, thanks."

I waded into the living room while he stepped around the dividing breakfast counter, into the kitchen. A bulky-looking fridge that looked retro-old, like something you could hide in to escape a nuclear blast. I sat myself down on the couch, it was quickly getting warmed by all the strategically placed heaters. The cat was still staring at me.

My glass of juice came into view. I took it from Simon and he sat on the armchair next to me, taking a sip from his glass. The house was a little messy. There were trip-hazards. My parents were Nazis about putting things away and vacuuming the house once a week. This place might've not been vacuumed in months. I only cleaned when forced to, so I was more curious than disgusted.

Staring at the dark drink, with tints of transparent red through the bottom, it was almost like we were drinking blood. I took a thoughtful sip and noticed Simon watching me.

"So, does your Mum work too?"

"My Mum isn't alive." He replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh. I'm sorry." I winced "What about your Dad...?"

"He's in prison."

"So it's just you living here? With your step-Dad?"

"Yeah. We moved from inner-state. Andrew thought it'd be better than the city, figured school would be nicer in a small town."

"Is it?"

"It's about the same..." Simon shrugged. "How about you? How's your family?"

"Well, my Dad's a car salesman. He gave me that second-hand crap I'm driving, but you know, never look a gift-horse in the mouth..." I quirked my lips, Simon gave no reaction. "My Mum is a receptionist at the local medical centre. And I have a little sister, thirteen, she's obsessed with dancing."

"And what are you obsessed with?" Simon raised his glass and studied me while taking a sip.

"Theatre. Acting. When I'm not doing that, I'm out with friends, doing school-work or helping around the house. I play computer games, too." I watched Simon nodding to himself. "What about you? You like chess right?"

"Yes. I like games. I like to read."

"I've never seen you read."

"It's something I like to do at home. In my room."

"Quieter." I offered.

"So what did Jane see?" Simon abruptly changed the subject, crossing his legs and eying the wall.

I adjusted my sitting "she said... she saw Angela Preaker that night in the woods."

"Hmm?" Simon's eyebrows narrowed as he took another drink.

"She said Angela was smiling at her and that her eyes were all red."

"Did she see Tommy?"

"She said it was too dark. There was someone else there who might've been Tommy, he was the one who told us to go away."

Simon was thoughtful for a while, staring off into space. I gazed at the yellowed wall as well, my curiosity showing despite myself.

"...it couldn't have been Angela." I continued. "If Tommy's all dead, why would she be in one piece?"

"Unless she wasn't actually there. It might've been her ghost." Simon pondered. I gave him a look. Zombies and ghosts? Unease swept through me as I noticed we were actually considering it. "What was Angela wearing?"

"Uh I didn't ask."

"You didn't?"

"I didn't get time. Jane was waiting outside the councillor's office." I watched Simon frowning to himself. Wondered if he knew I knew he was there. It was probably too personal to ask.

"The way I see it." Simon shifted, slouching to one side. "Jane thinks she saw Angela. Either Angela is also dead, and her body was somehow preserved after she died – however her killer-slash-resurrector managed to do that. Or, Jane ran in during some kind of magic ritual, freaky juju was taking place in that spot, it was in the air, and so Jane was able to see Angela's ghost made manifest. Either because the ghost actually manifested, or because she was psychically able to see it."

"Wow..." I ogled Simon, mouth agape.

"I think it's very possible there were others in the forest that night. But they would've heard us coming, they probably hid." He took another sip.

"Have you... read about stuff like this?"

"I like to read about mysteries." Simon admitted.

"Paranormal activity? Psychic phenomenon? Yeah it shows..." I took another sip of drink. "But the one thing that gets me, honestly Simon. Why are so many people catching glimpses of stuff? Why do I see something outside my bedroom window the night after Tommy's dug up? Why are we just driving along and we happen to come across Tommy? I know we'd been looking for him, but it's all a lot of coincidence in just a few days."

"You mean, why does it look like it's in everyone's imagination?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"Because it is in everyone's imagination."

"I don't follow...?"

"It's not just the rumours and everything going around. Scone feels different now. All of us are subconsciously aware that something dark and unnatural is going on in this town. A lot of what we saw probably was only the imagination. Does that mean something real isn't happening out there? No, it doesn't."

"So people are imagining seeing Tommy... because Tommy is really out there?"

"I believe so." Simon finished his drink.

"That is so..."

"Creepy." Simon finished for me.

"Horrifying." I could feel it. I knew what he was saying. The unsettling fear in my instincts. The background knowledge that something wasn't right in Scone. The dreamy unease of my subconscious. I hadn't trusted my own feelings, and despite the fact everyone's nerves were live, nobody else was accepting it either. The supernatural isn't real, we were all telling ourselves despite the inner certainty leaking out as phantoms. Showing us what we were unable to face.

"What is actually going on in this town, Simon?"

"I think a group of occultists raised Tommy from the dead. I think they summoned Angela's spirit to commune with her."

"Why?"

"For shits and giggles." He leaned his head back and stared at me. "For a hobby. The real question isn't why they did it. It's 'what are they going to do next'? Did they make Tommy kill himself so they could bring him back?"

"Are you saying that you think it's Pagan Club? Those geeky girls are seventeen, the same age as us. How did they manage it?"

"If Emily and her friends practice the occult... they could have made a pact. Something helping them with death magic. Necromancy."

"How do you know all this, Simon?" I sat upright. This talk was actually distressing me.

"I told you. I read about it. I don't actually know much about the occult, but I've read books on ghosts before." He watched me fidget, twist my fingers around. "...We don't have to talk about this..."

"Sorry." I made myself relax. I was surprised he noticed how uncomfortable I was. I was surprised at how much talk of this was actually upsetting me. I swallowed. "You still... trying to get to the bottom of this?"

"I told you, didn't I?" He gave a small smile. "When I get interested in something... I can get a little obsessed."

*

Simon Chernosky was my friend now. In the wake of the terrible revelation stemming from his detective work, I at least had that to be thankful for. Now that I was sure my fretted feelings was only a result of my subconscious, I figured it'd go away. There was no need to be frightened of zombie boys or witch girls in the middle of town, in the middle of the day. And yet I was more anxious.

I felt like a rotting face would reveal itself from behind every street sign I passed. I thought about what Simon had told me, how much sense it all made. All of it... except for Angela. It didn't occur to me until after I'd left. But if Angela were a ghost... why was she smiling at Jane? And why were her eyes red?

I had a nightmare that night. And funnily enough, the scariest part was that I wasn't scared. The next morning I'd bunched a blanket over my mouth at the slow recall in terror, sitting up as the memory came back in trickles.

In the middle of the night I'd thrown my blanket off me. Sleepwalked myself up and out. Swept open the curtains of my window and come face-to-face with Angela Preaker exactly the way Jane had described her. Her face was only an inch from the glass. Chalky pale, eyes horror-movie red. She was floating on her stomach, weightless as a sheet in wind, smiling and waving.

"You look like you didn't sleep well last night." Mum pointed out at breakfast that Tuesday.

"Not been up on your computer all night?" Dad asked from the living room, TV showing a cheery morning news crew as they laughed about a cash giveaway.

Megan, my little sister, had her curls tied back in twin ponytails. She raised her eyebrows in a gossipy way, sitting beside me at the round breakfast table, slurping another spoonful of porridge.

"No... just nightmares."

"Oh sweety, you haven't had nightmares since you were nine-years-old."

I shrugged and swallowed another mouthful of honey oatmeal, chasing it down with orange juice.

I left early so I could take a detour to Roberts Road. It turned out Simon walked himself to school as well. It was a twenty-minute walk but as he'd already said, he didn't mind walking. He also didn't seem to mind letting me drive him, which was good. Before I'd left his place yesterday we'd talked about normal things. Music. Our different clubs. He asked me to leave an hour later, before his step-Dad came home. As I wove through the streets to his house I thought about bringing up my disturbing dream, but I really didn't want to.

I pulled up beside his house, no other car in the driveway. His guardian left for work early as well. I bet they looked nothing alike. I wondered what that was like, living with someone, depending on a man who wasn't even biologically related to you. Simon came out the front door and locked up before making his way over to my car.

"Morning champ." I grinned.

"Good morning. You look tired."

"Just didn't put on makeup today." I said and he laughed. First time I'd seen that – just a quick grunt of mirth. I took another swig of coffee from my thermos, cause I was sleepy. Then I pulled out onto the road. "I was just thinking... maybe I should give you my number. In case you ever want a lift, or something like that."

"Okay." He was being so easy today. A much different Simon now that he was learning to trust me.

"So, you got chess club first lunch?"

"Yeah."

"And I have theatre. No way can I miss two practices in a row."

"I saw a flier for that. The Enchanted Kingdom?"

"Yeah, the date's getting close. You should come see it."

"I will."

"Great. Another reason for me to get stage fright."

"Ha."

"How about second lunch? You going to check out Pagan club again?"

"No. I'll leave them to drool over Edward Cullen without me."

"Do you think he's dreamy?" Obviously me fishing for a confirmation he's gay. Simon wasn't going to give me that yet.

"We can hang out second lunch, if you like." he said. I eyed his dark tan face, the smile edging up his lips. His long lashes.

"Definitely." My mood inflated again.