Page 106 of Ghostly

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“Switch to anything. Please. Anything but chess.” Ida threw herself over the couch, a few inches away from Shawn. The new tenant’s name didn’tfit him at all: Ida imagined a Shawn to be cool, active—a baseball player, not a couch potato who spent nine hours a day watching chess matches and six hours (spread in between the matches) calling people to sell them his pyramid scheme.

Shawn wore the same mud-brown pants with a crease in the middle every day, and changed his knitted vests between a beige one with a green snowflake-like pattern, and an orange-brown striped one that eerily resembled the living room wallpaper.

Shawn liked to eat ready-made food, but not some nice piece of meat, a colorful Thai mix, or a salad that at least tried to look healthy. It was all weird and mushy and brown, and when Ida passed through one of the soups—maybe it looked bad, but it would be delicious!—the aftertaste of rotten eggs and sand stayed with her for three whole days.

“Come on,” she said, stretching out on the couch. “How about... billiards? Can we at least consider that?” She lifted her head.

Shawn continued to watch the chess match, though he had yet to show any enthusiasm expected of someone who spent so much time on chess.

“I won't even begin asking for an action flick then.”

No response.

Shawn went to sleep very early and woke up when there was barely light outside. He brushed his teeth only for one minute per day and so far, had showered once (not that she watched).

In conclusion: she hated Shawn.

But it wasn’t a true hate—the anger she used to feel once, one that bound her to this world, made her do terrible things, froze windows and plucked out nails from the furniture. Ever since she’d created the second locket, that anger was gone. Or maybe it wasn’t the locket—it was Gabriel, and all the kind words he said to her, all the reassurances and help he’d given her.

So maybe she didn’t hate Shawn. She only pitied him, and herself for being stuck with him.

Shawn turned off the TV (a rare occurrence) and walked to the bookshelf.

With some maneuvering, Ida composed herself back into a standing position. “Books? You want to read?”

Shawn checked out a few titles, but returned them all to the shelf.

“That’s okay. Most of them are pretty boring, otherwise people wouldn’t have left them here. But you can get more!” Ida floated around him. “There’s a library in town. Or you could buy e-books… although you don’t seem like a tech type.”

Shawn grumbled something, left the living room, and returned with a bag. “That’s right! To the library we go!” Ida pumped her fists in the air. “Or, well, you go. Bring me something nice, will you? But no romance, please.” Eh, he didn’t look like a romance type, anyway.

But instead of going out, Shawn came to the bookshelf and started sweeping books into the bag—just threw them in, like they didn’t matter, like he was—

He was going to throw them out.

“Oh, come on. All you give me is chess, and now you’re going to take the few books I still have?” But Ida forgot all about that problem as she glanced at the shelf. A yellow folder peeked out from a thin book, wrapped in purple leather.

The ghostly book. And the first contract. Gabriel had forgotten them here.

Or maybe just didn’t want to take them with him.

It didn’t matter which—Shawn was going to throw them into the trash! “No, no, no. Stop. Stop!” She passed a hand through his body.

Shawn shivered and rubbed his chest, spreading a stain—something like mustard—over his vest.

And then, unperturbed, continued with the book cleanse.

“No!” Ida ran to the hallway and knocked.

“Mmm?” Shawn only looked at first, then got his lazy legs in motion and walked toward her.

What else to distract him? She floated up the stairs and repeated the knocking there. Like a good—if slovenly—puppy, Shawn followed. She floated into the bathroom.

There!A pipe under the sink. She strained, gathered her energy, and burst it. Given how infrequently Shawn washed, this wouldn’t cause him a lot of problems; but it would distract him for a few minutes as he assessed the damage.

She waited for him to enter the bathroom and notice the mishap, then floated straight down. Carefully, she lifted the book and the contract off the shelf and carried them upstairs. Judging by the grumbling and clanking noises coming from the bathroom, Shawn was trying to fix the pipe.