The Lovely Suicide Children

Chapter 12: The Ghost in the Yearbook

Libraries weren't my thing. I didn't know how to search for anything and how to do it. Before the bell rang, I walked up to Jakayla and asked her did they keep any past yearbooks. To my surprise, they kept a whole shelf of yearbooks from the last 10 years. The shelf was next to the counter Jakayla worked behind.

After thanking her, I went over to the shelf and looked at the dusty yearbooks that fell against the next. I saw some that said Binghamton Middle School, Binghamton Elementary school, and Binghamton High school. I grabbed the one that said Binghamton Middle School and looked for the students in sixth grade. The pictures weren't at all that professional. In fact, each image was almost entirely gray, showing a few hints of color but not much. I turned to each page until I got to the R's. I didn't see a Robert Parker.

It was possible that the student order went by last names, so I checked the P's. I saw all the students whose last name started with the letter P. Robert Parker's name was first. I studied the small circular picture. It was Robert alright. I could tell by the Nirvana shirt and the hair. He didn't smile; he glared in the picture and had a mean appearance. His eyes were full of this unwanting desire to take a picture.

The bell rung, knocking from my thoughts. I was about to close the yearbook until I noticed tiny names at the bottom of the page. One in which was Robert Parker's name. Next to it was written a date.

I almost dropped the book right then and there. My lungs stopped working for a split second, and I was speechless when I read the date next to his name.

Robert Parker: 1996-2007

I quickly put the book back on the shelf then walked out of the library. Once in class, I sat down by myself. I was in complete shock about what I had seen. Maybe it wasn't him? I thought to myself. That would mean he died when he was 11. If he were alive today, he would've been 16.

Students crowded the classroom, talking and shouting while the teacher prepared the board. I watched as the teacher wiped the dirty dry erase board then sprayed it with water and wiped it with a paper towel.

Swish, Swash, Swish, Swash

When Mr. Burgston was finished, he talked about a new chapter that we would start next week about physical science. I didn't pay attention. I couldn't. As much as I wanted to find a logic explanation for things, I couldn't. I knew for a fact that the boy in that yearbook was Robert Parker. The dead Robert Parker. The Robert Parker who I talked to and sat with by the apple tree. The thought of him sent shivers down my spine. I told myself to relax because there was simply no such thing as ghost. So I thought.

After the last period of class, I looked for Robert, but he was nowhere in sight. Rose was nowhere to be found either. With no luck, I walked out of the building and straight to my dad's car. He greeted me as I got into the back seat.

"Hey, how was school?" My father asked with a grin.

"Good," I lied. I was a mess, and my brain wouldn't stop thinking about Robert.

"Nice," he fixed to the review mirror so that he could see me. "Say, I need a favor when we get home. You know that firewood in the back of the house?"

"No," I said, reaching into my bag for my headphone. Whatever he wanted, I hoped he'd make it quick, I needed to not think about Robert for a while. I was starting to bum myself out.

"It's in the back of the house. Amber will show you," he gripped the car wheel and sped past a slow car. "I need you to put it in front of the house. Me and some friends are having a bonfire in the front today. I would ask your mother to do it, but she got her nails done today," he chuckled. "They were pretty expensive."

My headphones dropped out of my hand. "I would really appreciate it if you would stop calling Shayla my mother. She's not my mother," I said, holding in the urge to yell at him and possibly jump across the seat to choke him as well.

He sighed. "We're a family. Show a little respect, Olivia. She plays a big role in your life now."

"So?" I said. "She's your wife, not my mother. Besides, she doesn't act very motherly."

"God damn, Olivia," his voice turned grim. "Can't you show a little respect once in your life?"

"Once in my life?" I said. "Can't you act like a father once in my life!" I accidentally raised my voice. I felt the tears coming but did my best to keep them from falling. I put the headphones in my ear, quickly picking the right music to soothe my raging heart.

Like a rush shot through you. Everyone is watching you. Told you why I see no need for the sun. I've found a reason to say. A love you light is a love soon gone. If this is it. Don't bother cause this love is a lie. I'm a chemical kid. You're a mechanical bride.

I let Pierce the Veil stifle my sadness all the way until we got home. I slammed the car door, not saying another word to him.

"Don't forget the firewood and all of it," he called out before driving off.

I walked up to the house and knocked on the car, realizing again that I didn't have my own key. For the first time, I didn't need to knock a gazillion times. The door opened, revealing an almost 6-foot-tall woman wearing a white and black apron. Her hair resembled Shayla's, but less thick.

"May I help you with something?" She asked.

"Hi," I said awkwardly. "I'm Olivia. I live here."

She immediately took my hand and pulled me inside. "Ah, welcome, welcome. Apologies, I forget these things sometimes. Old mind, old woman," she laughed. I detected some sort of accent but was unsure what it was. "Olivia, pleased to meet you and such a beautiful name!" She said in a bubbly tone. "I am Trisha, the babysitter."

My eyes widened as I looked at her. "What?"

"I say something wrong?" She reached her hand for me, but I backed away.

I ran upstairs to my room and slammed the door shut. I wasn't having this craziness. Not today. I threw my backpack on the ground, ready to call Vlad. However, the knock on my door stopped me.

"Olivia, please. You must tell me what I did wrong," Trisha said.

I ran up to the door and locked it. "You didn't do anything," I said from fear. "I just really need to do my homework."

The knocking stopped, and I walked over to my bed and laid down. More knocking interrupted my second of peace. The knocking turned into banging and Trisha started telling me to open the door. I sat, frightened by the hard knocking against my door.

"Olivia? Don't be scared. There is nothing to fear," she called out.

I slowly removed my phone and pressed 9 then 1 and another 1. Before I pushed the dial button, the knocking stopped, and I heard a conversation outside of my bedroom.

"You're scaring her, you idiot," someone said. I didn't recognize the voice, which was making me want to really call the cops. However, I had to listen.

"I'm sorry, I was just going to tell her about-"

"She's not ready yet. We have to make her-"

I'm no longer able to hear the words or anyone. I waited on my bed for a good ten minutes before moving. With the cell phone still in my hand, I turn my phone back on and look at the 911 number still there. I stared at it, wanting to call them. I didn't know what to tell them. I did know one thing, I didn't want to be in this house anymore. Not another second.

***

Theory time! My question. Do you think The Lovely Suicide Children are evil or good? Or do you think they're mixed and there are some good ones and bad ones?

Point out mistakes :3