Prom Ghosts (A Perry Moxley & Harry Singer Story)

Sketchbook

Chapter Twenty Six (Sketchbook)

Perry

Night time again and I still couldn't sleep properly. What with those weird horrible nightmares from the other night that I fear would come back. I didn't want to be tormented with nightly visitors again.

I was now truly regretting the fact that we sneaked into the West Sides when it was clearly out of bounds to students. It was mentioned on the student handbook. How was I so stupid? The West Sides could actually be haunted grounds with a curse waiting to latch on whoever sets foot in there.

And what if the ghosts in there were actually real? What if they meant to harm us? Or worse...

There was a knock from the window.

Back then I could've gotten a mini heart attack but now I knew better. It could be Harry, no doubt, but if it wasn't – I should find that a reason to be scared.

He was slowly prying the window open when I looked. He stopped when he saw me looking. Quietly, he asks, "Can I come in?"

I replied, without batting a lid, "No."

His face fell. "Oh."

I should have pushed him out and closed the window on him because that's obviously the most reasonable thing to do but instead, I rolled my eyes and sighed. "I'm coming out."

So now that's why we were out, sitting side by side a meter apart on top of the rooftop, out in the cold.

The night sky was clear. The wind was still. It's been fifteen minutes now and nobody's spoken at all. It was beginning to make me slightly uncomfortable. Even so, I refused to start the conversation. I had nothing to say to him in the first place anyway yet here I am entertaining the moron. Ugh, what is wrong with me?

I tried to look for things to focus my attention to like some random mildew that formed on the roof due to time and weather but Harry's immaculate white skin was distracting me from my peripheral view. His face was even paler washed by the moonlight in contrast against the darkness around us.

"I'm really sorry," he said, slowly and clearly.

My head snapped so quickly towards him I swear I could've gotten whiplashed.

"What was that?"

His eyes fixated towards somewhere else, refusing to acknowledge my gaze.

I peered at him, fiddling with a piece of small twig I randomly found beside me. "I'm pretty sure you said something back there..."