NaNoWriMo, Part 27: How to Be a Master

Today's word count: 1,273 words
Running total: 45,045 words
Summary: Spoiler character finishes talking with Scarlett and interviews Chase instead.

Also, there is marveling over lack of a DC property in Chase's room.  Pun not intended.

    “Are ghosts real?”
    “…Yes.”
    “What the fuck is up with Kenneth?”
    “His soul was eaten by a ghost.  Partially; he’s still got enough of it intact to live.  Unfortunately… he has to eat souls to survive.”  She plays with her hair briefly.  “He only eats souls of the dead—ghosts.  But he was really hungry, so—“
    “So he was going to eat my soul as a snack?”
    “That’s right.”
    This is the point any sane person would start slapping their knee and proclaiming that this was the best practical joke ever played upon them.  But for some reason, everything she’s saying makes sense.  I guess we can’t all be sane all of the time.
    Our dinners arrive and for a while we’re both quiet as we eat.  I glance up one to see that Scarlett’s really stuffing it in her face.  Totally unflattering.
    “Wow, this is really good!”
    I force a little smile.  She sits up, chews, swallows, and explains herself.
    “I only partially believed you when you said the tuna was good, but… wow!  It’s like a really rare stake, only even easier to eat… it’s all… it’s really good.”
    “Glad you like it,” I say.  “It’s one of my favorite dishes, too.  I don’t have it very often because good tuna like this is so expensive… I think it’s one of the reasons I like it so much.”
    She smiles and continues eat.  I take a few more bites myself before I ask, “Does… what’s wrong with me—does it sound like any condition you’re familiar with?”
    Scarlett looks up at me sadly.  “One of our club members claims to be possessed.  I don’t know if it’s—“
    “Is it Brian?”  I ask.
    “No, it’s Chase.”
    …Are you serious?  Chase?
    “As I was saying, there’s not a lot of proof that he is.  You could try asking him, though.  I’m sure he knows a lot more about this than I do.”
    “That’s not going to work,” I mumble, looking at the sugar packets in deep thought.  I take a few more bites of my tuna.  I assume Scarlett does the same, because I hear the scrape of a fork against a plate.
    “Look, I know Chase and you hate each other, but he’s really the person to ask about this stuff, not me.  I wish I could help you more, Dean… but I can’t.  I’m sorry.”  More scraping of fork on plate.  I glance up and see that she’s finished with her whole filet.  When she sets her fork down, there’s only a brief period of silence before she speaks again.  “I might be able to talk Chase into talking with you, but I can’t help you beyond that.”
    “Thanks, Scarlett, but—“
    “Don't say it won’t work because he hates you that much!”  She smiles at me mischievously.  “Chase has a tendency to be a pretty loyal member of our club.  If I tell him to jump, he’ll complain that it’s a terrible idea, but he’ll jump.  And if this is a ghost, I want to get the problem solved before it turns into something we can’t handle.”
    “…Thanks.”
    We don’t talk much after that.  Just a few little lines about life, the weather, things like that.  I have to admit, it’s kind of nice.  Scarlett is treating me like someone normal.  It must be really hard for her to do that, but it really, truly makes me feel better about myself, like my body isn’t covered in horrific burn scars.  Like I’m just an ordinary teenager again.
    When the check comes, I pay for the whole thing.  Scarlett glances over the bill and looks a bit worried.
    “Are you sure you want to pay that, Dean?  That’s—“
    I cut her off.  “Don’t worry about it.  Think of it as my way of paying you for helping me out here.  It means a lot to me.”
    She smiles sweetly again as we finish up and head out.  She offers to take me home—she can drive, apparently—but I politely decline.  She’s done enough for me today.
    She’s just getting close to you to hurt you.  You already know that, right?
    You know what?  Voice, whoever you are.  Listen up.
    Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

~~~

    This isn’t as easy as talking to Scarlett, to be sure.  I haven’t talked to Chase more than to insult him since that time we ran into each other at the Toys ‘R’ Us picking up limited edition Guardian action figures.  I wonder if he still has those.  I wonder if he’s still into The Guardian.  I mean, I still really like the series, but a lot of the die-hard fans say that the movie completely ruined the franchise.  You know what?  That’s the way to go in and talk to him.  We share a common interest and I can use that to my advantage.  I keep reassuring myself that everything will be fine.  Just go in and be cool, and everything will work out.
    I walk up to the front door and knock.  After a few seconds the door opens ever so slightly and a woman’s face appears in the crack.  She looks completely horrified by my appearance.  I wince.  I even have trouble forcing a little smile.
    “Hello,” I introduce myself.  “My name is Dean… Chase and I were going to talk today?”
    Once she registers this, she shuts the door again.  I am left standing there, completely unsure of what to do.  Did I say something horrifically offensive?
    It’s your face.
    I run my hand over the scars.  It’s a strange feeling—bumpy and wrinkled like I’m so much older than I really am.  After the fire my parents covered all the mirrors in the house—they’re still there for the rest of the family but I really want to avoid seeing my reflection whenever I can.  From the few glances I’ve managed, I look hideous.
    Maybe it really is my face.
    Just as I turn around to leave, the door opens a second time—this time all the way.  Chase is in the frame now.
    “Hey, Dean.  Sorry about my mom.  She’s… like that,” he mumbles.  I notice he’s specifically not looking at my face.  “You want to come to my room?  It’s pretty private in there.”
    “Sure,” I say.  I don’t even manage a fake smile this time as he steps out of the way and lets me into his house.  He informs his mother of his plans to take me to his room; halfway up the staircase she asks, “Is your friend staying for dinner?”
    “Thanks, Mrs. Summers, but my mom will pick me up before then.  Don’t worry about me.”
    She nods and flits off to go do the laundry or whatever it is homemakers do.  Chase leads me through his house to a small bedroom.
    Although, when I think about it, the bedroom isn’t that small—it’s just crammed with stuff.  There are all sorts of shelves filled half with books and half with toys (and some of those tiny statues of characters from Japanese TV shows).  Posters and other sorts of pictures take up much of the remaining wall space.  On a desk taking up an entire wall is a computer with an enormous monitor running some sort of operating system I don’t recognize.  It almost looks like a Macintosh,  but the casing’s different.
    He notices my perplexed gaze at the computer and informs me, “It’s Unbuntu.  A kind of Linux OS.”  He pats the monitor lightly.  “Built it myself once.  Still works pretty well.”
    He built his own computer?  Doesn’t surprise me, but at the same time, I’m impressed.
    I sit down on the bed, briefly marveling over the fact that the linens aren’t Batman-themed or something.  He sits in a comfortable-looking leather swivel chair and turns to face me.
    “So… Scarlett told me you think you’re possessed?”
    I feel myself