Author has written 10 stories for Harry Potter, Dragon Ball Z, Yu Yu Hakusho, and Mediator.
I AM ALIVE AS OF THURSDAY, OCTOBER 28TH, 9:00pm
I updated a thing. I am shocked. Check out chapter six of nine of "Start All Over" now. :)
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Preview Summary Trailer Thing of "Rapport," a story in the Mediator fandom:
School was out, I noted dourly. It was three o’clock, meaning that the Mission could no longer contain its students and could no longer label their leaving the premises as skipping class. Although if I’d left school today at that time, it would probably count as me skipping the student council meeting.
There was a meeting today, come to think of it. I wondered if I should call Kelly to let her know that I couldn’t come. But she was Kelly, a gossip addict. Meaning that she probably already knew that I was at home suspended from school. She’s probably happy because now I’ve forfeited my vote or something and she can schedule a pointless dance in my ab—.
The thought was broken as I saw a shimmer. The tell tale sign of a ghost materialization. As much as I usually hate my job, I was actually kind of happy to see a ghost turning up. I was just that bored.
But then, when I saw who it was, I instantly wished that no ghost had ever decided to show up in my bedroom.
Tanned skin, honey blonde hair, blue eyes, conceited demeanor…
“Kelly?!” I half screamed. I was pretty glad that I was home alone. Otherwise screaming that loud about someone that wasn’t there was going to be a red flag about my insanity.
Kelly looked just as confused about the whole situation as I did. “Suze?” she asked, staring at me like I’d grown a pair of antlers from my butt.
We stood in a sort of stalemate for a while. I didn’t exactly know what to say to her. Kelly, as far as I knew, wasn’t allowed to be dead. It just didn’t make sense. Kelly was supposed to stick around and annoy me with her snobbish, materialistic, the-world-revolves-around-me attitude until the end of time.
Finally, I decided to step up and end the stand off. I was the mediator, and I had a job to do. No matter how odd the client. No matter if I’d known the client or not. No matter if the client had probably died from hairspray seeping into her own brain.
“Kelly,” I began. “How did you…” I was about to say die, but the word wouldn’t emerge from between my lips properly. And when I went to start my sentence back over, Kelly beat me to it.
“How did I get here?” she asked, looking around my bedroom, taking in all of its girly pink frill glory. “I don’t know how I got here. What’s going on, Suze?”
“I wasn’t going to ask how you got here,” I said, waving my room around my bedroom for emphasis. “Though, I guess I kind of was, in a roundabout way. What I meant was, how did you… die?”
“Dye?” Kelly Prescott asked. “What are you talking about? I’m a natural blonde. Debbie’s the one who—.” She broke off her sentence quickly before taking a very hard look at me.
“Are you spelling that D-I-E?” Kelly asked.
I was about to give her kudos for being able to spell, but I realized that that would probably be unprofessional. And sometimes it is necessary for us to separate business from pleasure.
SECOND Preview Summary Trailer Thing of "Rapport," a story in the Mediator fandom:
Silence, if you discount the radio, filled the car, with a pressure so thick you’d need a machete to get through it. I’d never felt like I should have any compulsion to strike up conversation with Paul, seeing as he usually did it himself, what with tormenting me about exorcising my then dead boyfriend and making me uncomfortable with his sexual advances. But he wasn’t saying a damn word.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about this Paul Slater. The Paul Slater that had accepted that I wasn’t so into him and that we weren’t meant to be. And maybe Paul was feeling the same way. He’d worked pretty hard, in a perverse way, to get me as his girlfriend and then the whole universe pretty much says that me and Jesse are meant to be together.
It was weird. It was almost like he felt that being in a car with me was just as painful as I felt being in a car with him was. And what was even weirder was that, somehow, knowing that we had this in common, this mutual awkward-ness, made me feel better about everything. Like… He wanted this ride to be over just as quickly as I did. He wasn’t interested in flirting with me or trying to make out with me. He just wanted to get to the ghost busting location as quickly as possible.
It was almost endearing.
THIRD Preview Summary Trailer Thing of "Rapport," a story in the Mediator fandom:
“Night before?” Andy asked.
“Uh…” Brad said, clearly trying to think up a reasonable lie. Yeah, they’d definitely been out partying—and none too soberly. “Big history test. Kelly probably was up cramming or something.”
Andy accepted this lie, probably figuring that it’d be a lot less headache to just go with it.
“Weird thing is,” Brad said, in his attempt to gravitate away from the previous night, “she’s not answering her phone or anything.”
“Probably because she sees your name on caller ID,” Doc supplied.
“Shut up! And the first time I called it wasn’t even from my phone.”
I wanted to interject that it had probably been from Debbie’s cell phone, but I restrained myself. I wanted to know if anyone had begun the process of looking for her. If someone else could find her body instead of me, then it might be an instant case closed on the Kelly Prescott file.
“No one’s seen her since last night—uh, yesterday afternoon at school, I mean.”
Mom looked a little alarmed. “So no one has any idea where this seventeen year old girl is or what’s happened to her in the past twenty-four hours?"
Brad thought about it for a second. “Basically, yeah. I guess.”
“Have they notified the authorities?” Andy asked.
Brad shrugged. “I don’t know. But I doubt it’s that serious, Dad. She’ll be back any time now.”
Doc began to speak. “Brad may just be right. Current statistics indicate that Carmel has virtually no murder or manslaughter nor any forcible rape.”
Neither Mom nor Andy looked pacified. They were wearing matching Worried Parent expressions, the kind of expressions where you know they’re imagining one of us being randomly missing for twenty-four hours. I don’t think Mom has to go very far in imagining me missing for twenty-four hours, though. I’m pretty sure it’s happened at least once before.
The saddest thing about this conversation is that Mom and Andy’s beliefs were going to win out over Dopey and Doc’s. Which is odd, considering that I usually don’t want Dopey to be right about much of anything. But today I did, despite the fact that I already knew he was wrong.
Like it or not, Kelly Prescott was dead.
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