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school.
    Yanking my hood over my head, I wished I’d chosen something else to wear other than my frayed jeans, a cerise cropped hoodie that exposed my bellybutton ring, and my pink Doc Martens boots.
    Not like I’m rebelling. Okay maybe I am, but I like to think I have my own quirky sense of style.

    I didn’t stress my incongruent style for long, because my inner babbling was stifled by the racket that greeted me inside. Girls, who hadn’t seen their friends since school ended three days ago for Memorial Day weekend, squealed and hugged. Guys fist bumped their buddies and gave each other head nods. My eyes searched each face for Trent’s tan, blond features. Disappointment edged into my heart when I realized Trent was nowhere to be seen. The bell rang as I walked toward English class, and two kids said hello. I shuffled past the desks and sat in the back, opening my textbook. My pencil fell on the floor and rolled behind me.
    The energy surrounding me changed. A glacial current ruffled my hair. I bent to grab the pencil and noticed…a ghost floating in the rear of the classroom.
    The wraith stared with a rather remote calm. A greyish glow draped curiously around her. And like in a horror movie, her body flickered. Hanging from her bruised throat was a rope tied in a noose, the frayed end dangling behind her. Her ragged lace gown hung loose.
    The wraith’s iridescent blue eyes narrowed on my face. With her voice soft and melodic, she said, “Shiloh, recognize the deceit. Only then can you perceive the truth.”
    Ah, hell. Now ghosts are turning up at school. Not good.

    A chill scaled the ladder of my spine. I wasn’t given to premonitions, but as the cold tremor shot back down my back, I was overcome by a sense of real danger.
    Sunlight sliced through the blinds over the windows, casting shadows into the room. Shadows that moved. Swirling blobs of darkness. Hollow moans erupted from the paranormals. They melded with the shadows, except the greenish gleam of skin and fiery eyes.
    Remain calm, Shiloh. Pure white light, pure white light, pure white—
    Damn! My defensive wall wasn’t working. Ordinarily, I could block ghosts. Not this time.
    “Miss Ravenwolf? Are you with us?” Mr. Hall, the English teacher, caught my attention.
    I flinched, my hand flying up to my heart. “Uh, yeah…I mean, yes, sir.”
    “Terrific. I’d like you to read aloud for us the first two stanzas of Poe’s poem, Spirits of the Dead,” he instructed.
    Now? Really? If I freak out, the trash talking will be everywhere by lunchtime.

    With my head low, I raised my textbook and recited, “Thy   soul shall find itself alone. Mid dark thoughts of the grey tombstone. Not one, of all the crowd, to pry into thine hour of secrecy.” My voice rose and broke in awkward tones. “Be silent in that solitude. Which is not loneliness—for then. The spirits of the dead, who stood. In in life before thee, are again. In death around thee—and their will. Shall overshadow thee; be still.”
    “Thank you. In this poem,” Mr. Hall began, “Poe alerts us to the unseen strangers among us. This room is overflowing with people. While frightening, it is also reassuring, because souls of the dead surround us. We are not alone.”
    Glancing at the wraith, I shuddered in my seat. Shadows circled her ankles, stroking her legs like snakes. “The mystical energy is not meant to be used,” she said. “More powerful than you know. It is old and always restless.”
    My breath escaped me. My pulse spiked as the shades’s raucous whispering grew in volume. Again I imagined being surrounded by protective white light. But I couldn’t concentrate, my body shook with the chill of winter. My eyes opened and scanned the room. No one saw them but me.
    Outside, the sun pushed between the malignant mass of gloomy clouds, straining to shine upon the earth. The rays found their way through the blinds.
    What would the Charmed Ones do?

    On impulse, I sprung from my seat