“Our pleasures were simple - they included survival.” - Dwight D. Eisenhower
For her term project, Hailey might have undertaken a jaunt into a dark tunnel, rehabilitated a needy creature, written her report, and been done in a few hours. Instead, she decided to build a better ghost trap.
And Giselle wasn’t a fan.
“For the thousandth time,” Giselle grumbled, “as your roommate, I strongly object,” she said as the two walked from their ParaComm class.
Hailey turned to her and smiled proudly.
She was about to compliment Giselle’s carry-over of non-not-polite words outside of class, but then Giselle stepped a little too close to the Chattering Gazebo.
It immediately recoiled, saying, “An acoustical nightmare as usual, Giselle. How I wish you’d keep your loathsome vibrations away. You really do know how to repel any creature, don’t you? Oh, I suppose it comes naturally to a—”
Giselle jumped back before the gazebo finished.
“I hate that thing,” she muttered.
After a whole class of forced conversation with Giselle without a single accidental insult, Hailey’s foot jumped in her mouth.
“So, what kind of monster are you?” she asked in an innocent voice, and Giselle slowly scowled. “Insensitive…” Hailey mumbled. “Was that insensitive? I’m sorry,” she said as fast as she could.
“You need a blurt filter. Maybe that should be your term project,” Giselle growled. The day’s ParaComm discussion topic had been “My Term Project,” and Giselle thought redesigning a ghost trap bordered on suicidal stupidity. She hadn’t been shy about sharing that opinion, either. Apparently, she hadn’t been shy about sharing it a thousand times now.
Hailey dismissed it with a wave.
“Why did the gazebo say you vibrated?”
“Because Ido.”
Hailey frowned. She figured she only had one more shot at this before her roommate clammed up for the rest of the night, and she tasked her every last brain cell to contemplation. Finally, and with only another minute or two before they reached Eureka Hall, Hailey’s gray matter came up with a humdinger.
She bit her lip, made a curt, confident nod, drew a breath, and said, “Wha—”
“Banshee,” Giselle burst out.
Hailey’s mouth fell open. No wonder she didn’t have any friends.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would you need to know? It has nothing to do with you!”
“Sorry,” she said quickly, her eyes wide. “Okay. No big deal. You’re a harbinger of death, that’s all.”
In trying to wrap her mind around it, Hailey imagined Uncle Pix’s reaction. He would never believe it. If he did, he’d probably blow a gasket. But Giselle wasn’t a murderer. Matter of fact, she could warn Hailey if there was a murderer lurking about…
Giselle frowned. “I can’t tell when someone’s going to die,” she snapped. “That’s why I’m here—my family’s ashamed of me, and this whole college thing is a huge joke to them.”
A silver string flew out of her eye.
“They told me to study medicine and—quote, ‘figure it out’.”
Another thread of silk let loose and blew away.
“That’s why I look like this.” She uncrossed her arms and threw her hands up then hugged herself again.
“Don’t all banshees look like you?”
“No!” Giselle yelled. “They only go ‘hag’ like this when they’re about to die!” She pulled a cobweb from her eye, balled it up and let it fall. “I’m just an ugly, useless abomination that nobody likes.” She cried softly as Hailey walked next to her.
