Ghost Guardian

Chapter 10

Emery's POV

I was sitting in my bedroom, staring at the foaming liquid pouring from the flask. Green ooze slid over the glass container's outside seemingly methodical in its ways.

A knock on the door.

"Come in," I said, "It's unlocked," I added.

I heard the door creak open, and without looking behind me, I knew it was my grandmother. She always had a silent way of walking. No one would know she was there if she tried her best to hide.

"Em, why don't you come downstairs? I know you aren't fond of your cousin, but you can't avoid family," her voice was shaky, but in my eyes, she was the strongest woman out there. Yes, she was frail, fragile, and on the verge of collapsing any day now. But her mind. God, that woman's mind was so strong, if it was a weapon, she could vanquish a thousand enemies. In ways, it was a weapon, but she never used it for herself.

"He's mean to me," I muffled into my crossed arms, continuing to stare at my science project ooze green liquid onto the baking tray below it.

"Well, now, everyone is mean sometimes," my grandmother reasoned, leaning onto the table where my science project laid. Her cane was gripped tightly in her raisin hands as she tried to make eye contact with me. "Even sweet little ten-year-olds like you are mean sometimes."

Stubbornly, I continued to watch the ooze. "He's mean all of the time. To everybody," I said.

I heard my grandmother sigh. She stood there looking at me, observing me. I knew she was reading me, reading my mind. She did that often. It was almost magical how she could solve your problems just by an outside observation. Then she'd start on a whole new different path.

"You are a difficult little boy, you know that? Fine. Don't go downstairs and see your cousin, but I have something to give to you, " she reached a shaky hand into her pocket, grabbing it with much more difficulty than a healthier person could grab it with. She brought out a glass object- a glass flower- "I wanted to give you this."

"A flower? Isn't that a girl thing? Go give it to Wednesday, Grandma, " I remember saying, looking at the beautiful antique with distaste. My grandmother frowned and placed the flower gently in front of me. 

"I would give it to Wednesday, but I don't think she needs it," my grandmother stated, looking at me with extra crinkles in her forehead from her raised eyebrows at my distaste. 

"And you think I need it?" I asked in curiosity. Grandmother always had a reason, but most of the times her reason was unclear. Sometimes I thought she was beginning to grow senile. "What would I need a glass flower for, Grandma?"

"It's not an ordinary flower-"

"That's what everyone says to me, it seems. And what is it then? Unusual? Special? Grandmother, just because I'm being bullied doesn't mean everyone can just tell me the same thing over again and it will be fine. I'm not unusual. I'm not special. I'm just-"

"You," my grandmother finished. I looked up at her when she said this, making eye contact for the first time since she entered my room. "You are just you," she smiled, " I know, Em. But I was not going in that direction. You believe in ghosts, yes? That's why you're being bullied?"

"Not exactly..." I trailed. I was only ten. I wasn't ready to tell everyone what I had discovered about myself.

"I know. I've always known, Em. But let's just use that excuse, shall we? You do believe in ghosts, don't you?" she asked.