The Medium Kid

Chapter 11

The pen hovered over the blank page. The ink had made little dots on the paper where Alfie almost started writing but lost the train of thought like it was plucked right out of his head. Alfie had a journal for the ghosts he helped. He started an entry for Mister Dorinto, talking about how his connection made Alfie feel, how much energy he drained, how vivid his apparition was, and how long it was taking for him to cross over.

The medium got in touch with Dorinto's wife because he wouldn't cross over until loose threads were tied in their relationship. Alfie waited for an email back, but he wasn't hopeful.

Now, he wanted to start an entry for Koda's mother. Her connection to him was vigorous. Usually, the spirits who died suddenly or tragically were the ones who made him dream about them and subconsciously do things that relate to them. The dream Alfie had was a sign that her death was a struggle. He felt fear when surrounded by the pills. He was scared, and genuinely concerned for his life, mainly when the pills consumed him and he struggled through the last breaths. Spirits who take their own lives don't feel so terrified to die.

A light knock on his door distracted him from the empty page. Alfie turned on his swivel chair to see his dad standing in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Just because I don't live here doesn't mean that I won't pop round to see you. I'm still your father," he chuckled.

Alfie sat back in his chair, inspecting the differences with his appearance since moving out. Tom looked fresh. His hair had been trimmed, there was no awkward stubble around his chin, his eyes seemed more awake, and his smile was brighter. As hard as it was for Alfie to accept, his father was happier somewhere else.

"I just assumed you'd be busy with your own stuff." Alfie tapped the pen against his finger. He had to summon Koda's mother soon.

"I am, but that doesn't mean I won't make time for you." Tom looked around his son's room. Little piles of clutter stacked up in the corners. Drawers were open with items pouring out of them, and clothes scattered around the floor. "A clean room, a clean mind. I think that's how the saying goes. Maybe that's why you can't write in that journal."

Alfie didn't bother to look at what his dad was seeing. He knew how messy his room was. "It's not that. This spirit is putting a lot of strain on me."

Tom sat on the edge of Alfie's bed, just as Molly stopped at the doorway with a paintbrush in her mouth and a box of acrylic paints in her hands.

"Are you sure you can handle this one? You could always pass the spirit onto Connor who's more experienced with-"

"No," Alfie interrupted his mother. His eyes had returned to the blank page. "I want to help her. It wouldn't be fair to send Koda to another medium either."

"Koda?"

"The boy in Alfie's art class," Molly informed Tom, dropping the brush into the box. "I'm sure Koda would understand if it's too much for you."

Alfie shook his head and eventually put the pen down. He turned around and crossed his legs, making himself look smaller in the chair. "I'm finding a friendship out of this." He wanted to tell his parents about his crush on another guy, but he wasn't ready for the possibility of rejection, even though he was almost certain they would be okay with him being gay. "He believes in ghosts now, he goes to my college, and he's in my art class. I haven't had a friend who believed in what I do."

Molly nodded, seeming to understand. "We know you always have company with the spirits, but it's good for you to be in the world of the living every now and again." She smiled at him, then at Tom before moving down the hall towards her little art studio. Creativity ran through the family. Well, on Molly's side of the tree.