Page 85 of Ghost
While I tried to consider my next steps, I walked toward the sinks, fluffing out my hair. Mr. Dungworth had stopped following me, and instead, pouted some feet away.
“Don’t you have to go change?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes as they roamed over my body. “Take off your shirt. You might be flat, but even you must have something worthwhile under there.”
I frowned at my reflection, paying particular attention to my chest. So he was a pervert, like I had thought. How long had he terrorized women in this school? If there were other mediums, where were they? And how could he never have gotten caught?
Besides, I wasn’t flat. There were ways of mustering up cleavage when the situation called for it.
“Do you always watch women undress in the locker room?” I asked, before my mouth snapped shut. That was a stupid move—accusations weren’t the best way to work together. It was my responsibility to peacefully get him to leave, somehow.
“Oh,” Mr. Dungworth perked up. “You’re one of those? I knew there was something odd going on. You must lack survival instincts.”
Since pretending ignorance wouldn’t work anymore, I turned to face him instead.
Generally coming face-to-face with anyone was enough to put my anxiety on edge. However, there was something less frightening about a spiritual confrontation. At least, when compared to live people.
Logically that made no sense. I knew a ghost could hurt me as much as someone who was alive. So I wasn’t safe one way or another. But, even so, it was impossible to control my fear.
“I have survival instincts,” I told him, fighting to separate my emotions from the waves of amusement radiating through the air. “But I’m here anyway, to help you. Don’t you want to move on? To not have to haunt a woman’s locker room for the rest of your afterlife?”
“Why in the world would I want to leave?” He raised an eyebrow, levelling a predatory gaze in my direction. “I can think of many perks of staying here.”
So… he was asuperpervert.
“If you don’t leave,” I recalled the conversation between Bryce and Damen. “Then you may end up being exorcised.”
Mr. Dungworth was giving me a doubtful look. “First of all, that is highly doubtful. Secondly, are you saying that you are here to save my soul?”
“No. I’m not doing this for you,” I informed him. “You are a grown man. You shouldn’t be spying on women just out of high school,” I paused then added, “or ever. Not without their consent.”
“Oh Lord,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re one of those typestoo. Reminds me of the sixties all over again; the beginning of the decline of our civilization.”
“Hey…” Why were there so many sexist old men here? “What are you—”
Mr. Dungworth stepped forward, hand outstretched toward my chest. And the movement caused my question to die on my lips. The anxiety I expected to feel earlier, now hit me in full force.
It was one thing totalkto a ghost. But it was entirely different to be touched by one.
“Stay away!” I slapped his hand away without a second thought. And a moment too late, I realized my mistake.
Mr. Dungworth stared at his hand, a strange expression overcoming his features. “You can touch me? It’s one thing formeto grope, even if it’s just recalling the sensations. But you’rereal.”
“Hold on.” I didn’t like this new emotion. “You need to leave before something happens to you. It’s not good that you hang out in a locker room, and you can’t…”
His mouth twisted into a smile, and my thoughts scattered. Even though they were both sexists jerks, the pervert ghost was definitely more of a threat than Mr. Weaver.
“Why are you haunting this place anyway?” I edged toward the door. “Don’t spirits haunt places that were important to them in life. Or even the place they died?”
“Why can’t it be both?” Mr. Dungworth side-stepped, blocking my entrance. He wasn’t an imposing figure, by any means. He was short, stocky, and bald. And his brown tweed suit looked almost ridiculous. But it still couldn’t stop the pounding of my heart, because I knew he was still stronger than me.
He continued speaking, “This was not only the first school for people of mixed abilities, but was also one of the earliest co-ed colleges in the country. I was a reputable professor in those days, but no one knows who I was. Not really. As far as anyone remembers, I was killed by a campus intruder.”
Why did I have a feeling that this was not the case?
“They would do anything to cover the truth.” Mr. Dungworth glowered. “To save face, and to ignore our true nature. They only sought to erase Joseph Williams from history.”
This did not bode well. “You’re Joseph Williams?”
Not that it mattered what his name was, I still had no idea who he was.But why would Bryce and Damen lie about his name? Or did they not know either?
