Hi guys
Well, the sequel to HAUNTED A.K.A. TOTALLY BUGGED is finally out!! Mind you…I took loads of time to sit and device a new plotline and I've worked super-hard on GHOSTS BOYFRIEND-STEALERS. So, if you guys don't review, I will certainly not update. So…if you want me to update, you know which button to press.
I would like to thank ANGEL-BY-DAY.DEVIL-BY-NIGHT for helping me out with this story…thanks for helping me Laura, this story wouldn't be possible without you.
--PGP
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CHAPTER ONE
TITANIC, POPCORN & PIZZA
Olivia's POV
You know what, I'm a freak. In a nice way. Okay…I'll just let you judge on your own my definition of a freak-in-a-nice way – a nearly-sixteen-year-old cheerleader who can see ghosts and speak to them (a 'gift' inherited from both parents). Convinced?
Okay…let me give you a more conventional introduction of me. My name is Olivia de Silva (I'm proud of my surname…I get it from my dad's Spanish roots). I'm fifteen (going to be sixteen in a week), I go to the Junipero Serra Mission Academy and am in the eleventh grade. But that's all usual stuff. What's special about me is that I have a 'gift' of being a mediator – a person who can see ghosts, speak to them and touch them, and is supposed to help them to figure out what's keeping them from moving on to where they are supposed to. Notice that I've put the word gift in inverted commas. That's because different mediators look at it in different ways. Like my dad thinks it is a gift to be able to help dead people, whereas my mom thinks it's just a major pain in the neck with hardly any plus-points (although I don't know how she can say this even when her being a mediator was the cause of Dad and Mom meeting in the first place). I don't know who I agree with more, Mom or Dad. It's just totally confusing. I guess both of them have their points.
I know that I should have my opinions sorted out by now and stuff since I've been a mediator for sixteen years and yadda yadda yadda, but it's not half as easy as it sounds, seriously. It takes a lot of maturity.
And okay, I'm sounding like a major grandma, but I don't care.
Anyway, I'll tell you about my social life (not care much for it, but whatever). My best pal's name is Jason Slater and he's exactly two and a half months elder to me – my birthday's on 18th April and his is on 3rd February. Jason is a mediator, too.
We've have been best friends since, like, I don't even remember how long. Circa since we roamed around in nappies, I think. This is because his dad Mr. Slater and my mom Susannah de Silva née Simon were friends in school, and so our parents are, like, totally tight friends.
Back to my social life. I'm a cheerleader at school (boy, did Mom give off steam or what when I told her that I'd tried for the squad and made it. Apparently something to do with a former schoolmate named Kelly Prescott). The captain of the squad, to be more precise. Jason is quarterback on the school football team. I know what you're thinking: "Jeez, that is, like, so totally cliché." But whatever. I can't help it now, can I? And cliché of all clichés – I'm majorly in love with Jason. We hang out so much – just like a cheerleader would with a female best friend, except, duh, for all the lip gloss and fashion talk – yet I can't tell if Jason likes me in that special way or not. I mean, sometimes he acts like there's definitely something brewing, and other times he acts as if we're total buddies. I mean, I know we're buddies, but still. It would be nice if he could give me a definite signal
Jason is basically every girl's only fantasy at school. He's your classic quarterback – six feet tall, blonde hair, great body (his six-pack is just…), hot. But the thing about him is that even though he's hot and a quarterback (a.k.a. lethal combination), Jason's totally down-to-earth and smart. He isn't like the typical quarterback at all when it comes to nature, behavior and personality – he's sweet, courteous, totally not judgmental, not arrogant, and most surprising, a brainiac. Seriously, he gets, like, A-pluses on every single report and test he gives. I, on the other hand, am not the typical cheerleading captain, either. Although I'm not Miss Straight-A, I always manage to get at least a B or a B-plus. And I'm not snooty and stuck up. Honest.
Okay, I think you might find it confusing to read information in the format I'm giving you, so here…
Name: Olivia de Silva
Age: 15 years and 357 days
Date of birth: 18th April
Zodiac Sign: Aries
Height: 5 feet 5 ½ inches
Appearance: Tall, slender and slim. Natural tan complexion, Spanish features, nice nose. Jet-black, wavy, shoulder-length hair.
Jason's POVHi, I'm Jason Slater and I'm sixteen. I'm six feet tall, blonde and athletic, i.e. school quarterback. I'm head-over-heels in love with my best-friend-since-Diaper Times, Olivia de Silva. I mean…who wouldn't be in love with a girl like Olivia (I know Hunter Marten, our halfback, is)? She's nothing short of perfect – beautiful, sweet, smart, intelligent, down-to-earth, charitable, friendly… What more could a guy ask for?
I keep trying to confess my feelings to Ol, but I always end up chickening out. I mean, what if she doesn't like me (although I could swear what I saw in her eyes was burning jealousy when I told her about my first girlfriend when I was fourteen)? Then our friendship will be ruined. Seriously…I don't think I could handle being rejected by Olivia.
Anyway…Let me tell you a bit about me. I'm a mediator – a person who can see, touch and speak to ghosts. The job of a mediator is to help ghosts move on. Olivia's a mediator, too (that's another thing that would guarantee us being the perfect couple). Both of us are mediators since our parents our, too. Our parents are totally tight pals. Dad and Mrs. de Silva, and Dr. de Silva, in a way (although he wasn't in school with them), go back to school times.
16th April, Thursday night
Olivia's POVWhen I returned from cheerleading practice, I, to my intense horror, realized that I was supposed to be over at Jas's house for a movie at seven, and it was already six thirty.
I crashed into the shower and had the quickest shower of my life. Glancing at the digital clock on my bedside every two seconds, I hurriedly pulled on my favorite pair of dark blue Pepe jeans and a white three-quarter sleeved cotton shirt. Nearly falling over in my hurry, I pushed my feet into my Manolo Blahnik suede boots and fixed my hair as I ran down the stairs. "Bye Mom, bye Dad," I cried, tearing past Mom, who was reading this month's Vogue, and Dad, who was working on his laptop. "Bye sweetie," muttered Mom. "Olivia!" called Dad, just as I stepped foot out of the door. "Yes Dad?" I said, going back inside, chewing my lip. It was already six fifty. "Where are you off to?" "Jason's place, Daddy." "All right. What time will you be back?" "Curfew time, Dad," I said, rolling my eyes. "Which is?" Oh man. This is an everyday affair. "Eleven." "All right. Take care. Goodbye." "Bye Daddy." I said, leaning in and giving Dad a quick peck on the cheek.
I rushed out of the door and unlocked my midnight blue Chevrolette convertible and hopped into it. (P.S.: Although I have a car and a learner's license, Dad's forbidden me to drive for more than a distance of two miles after a certain incident involving trees and cars.) Jason's place is about a five-minute drive away from my house, so I reached there pretty fast. I parked it in the Slaters' driveway (which has space for four cars – they have a huge house, too), glanced at Jas's silver BMW, gave my hair one last pat, and then rang the doorbell. Mrs. Slater opened the door. "Oh, hello dear!" she said. "Come in. Jason's in his room. You can go right up." "Hi Mrs. S," I replied. "Thanks." I removed my boots and put them in the shoestand by the door. The Slaters have a weird custom that anyone in the house is not allowed to wear the same footwear they wear outside. Mrs. Slater went into the study-room, where I assume she was before I came in.
I ran up the stairs and burst into Jason's room. He has posters of bands like U2, Blink 182, Destiny's Child and Linkin Park plastered all over the wall the head of his four-poster bed is against. Seriously, that is the one wall which has about two-hundred posters plastered all over it, overlapping each other several times, but every single other wall is completely poster-free. But that's Jason for you – weird. Jason's room is never clean, just like mine. Both of us like to keep our rooms totally untidy.
Right now, Jas's room had dirty socks, tees and jeans littered everywhere, which is actually nothing new at all. He was sitting shirtless at his study table, listening to his iPod and doing his homework. That's another unusual thing about him. Jason always faithfully does his homework and fully. For a second, Jas's six-pack and chiseled features practically made my blood freeze.
I quickly shook off my fascination of Jas's appendages from my mind and crept up behind him and put my fingers over his eyes, making his earphones fall out of his ears. "Hi Ol," he said, automatically, catching hold of my hands and removing them. That's our usual form of welcome for each other – putting our fingers over each other's eyes. I looked back at me. "You're looking good today," he said. "Really?" I said, grinning and trying not to blush. "Thanks."
"Hey," I said, peering into his Geometry homework. We're in the same Geometry class. "Did you actually figure out that problem? It beats me." "Really?" said Jason, looking surprised. "It's pretty easy! Sister Loretta explained it pretty clearly. Look, you look at the hypotenuse of ––" "Jas," I interrupted him, laughing. "It's okay! I know the problem. I was pulling your leg." "Really." "Yes. Anyway. Which movie do you have for us tonight?" "Um," said Jason. "Nothing in particular. You can choose." See, that's another thing about Jason. Normally, no guy would let a girl choose the movie. Star Wars would probably be the immediate thing to be popped into the DVD player. But not Jason. He always lets me choose. Once he even watched The Devil Wears Prada with me without a word of complaint (okay, I agree that Anne Hathaway's hot in it and all, but still. She has a live-in boyfriend in the movie who she regularly hooks up with).
"Okay," I said. "Hope the popcorn's ready, though?" "Duh," said Jason. "Popcorn's in the kitchen, all popped. Pizza ordered. Extra peppers, just like you like it." "Just like we like it, you mean," I said. "Yeah," said Jason. "You go to the theater room and pick a DVD. I'll throw on a shirt and be there in two." "'Kay," I said. "Come soon."
I ran down the stairs and turned right from there. The Slaters have a huge home-theater room – it must be bigger than two of my bedrooms put together. I'm pretty used to it now, because pop over for movies so often. I did inky-pinky-ponky between the seven CD folders crammed with DVDs and picked out one. I flicked through it.
Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi, Revenge of the Sith, The Phantom Menace…basically every Star Wars title made by George Lucas. I made Jason buy them all so I could drool over Hayden Christensen, the guy who plays the elder Anakin Skywalker, and I know that the only reason he so willingly agreed to my demand was so he could look at Natalie Portman, who plays Senator Padmé Amidala (I'm sure you know all this stuff). Then there was a lot more…The Exorcism of Emily Rose, James Bond: Casino Royale, Die Hard, The Cat In The Hat, Freaky Friday (one of my favorite movies), The Republican, Ben Hur, Gone With The Wind (no comment), The Sound of Music (no comment again), After Sunset (Pierce Brosnan), Bring It On: All Or Nothing (the one with Hayden Panettiere and Solange Knowles, Beyoncé's younger sister in it), American Kids, Titanic…
I stopped at Titanic. I'd sorta been wanting to see this movie. Again. But then Titanic is something you can watch about fifty times at the least. I took it out and popped it into the DVD player. Just as I pressed pause on the remote, Jas walked in with a gigantic tub of popcorn under one arm and a tray with two cans of soda in it. Coke for him, Diet Dr. Pepper for me. He always knows what I want.
"I decided on Titanic," I said to him, as he put the popcorn on the table, handed me my soda, and plopped down on the couch next to me. "In the mood for a tragedy, eh?" asked Jas, with a twinkle in his eye. "Yeah," I said. "I guess."
Jason pressed play on the remote after we settled down with the popcorn and sodas.
Jason's POV Forty-five minutes later…The movie was great so far, and what made it greater was the fact that I got to cuddle up to Olivia. The movie was already getting to be quite sad, and Olivia is quite emotional, so she was giving big baby sobs. I thought she'd feel embarrassed later on, but it was okay. I was providing her with enough Kleenex, so this wouldn't turn into a snotty incident.
After about forty-five minutes into the movie, Mom called out to me that our pizza had come. So Olivia paused the movie and I went to the door and paid the pizza guy and got the pizza. The bill was $ 17.95 (not that I cared, but whatever).
I took the pizza from the delivery guy and took it to the theater room. We hogged on the entire pizza (extra-large pie) between the two of us. That's a thing about Olivia – she isn't like the other cheerleaders, going "Ohmigod!! Did you know that a single slice of pizza contains, like, a HUNDRED calories! I am so not touching it." She just eats whatever there is. In fact, she is a junk food freak, just like me. She's probably the only cheerleader who doesn't go around asking for a lunch of a cracker and a watercress leaf.
Anyway, we finished the pizza, and the movie too. The movie was pretty intriguing for a romance. Olivia seriously went crazy with the Kleenex. I think she used up the entire packet (the large one). Whenever an EXTRA sad scene came, she would put her head on my shoulder and go, "Jason! Oh my gosh…that is so…SAD! (Tears)" But I didn't mind in the least. You know why.
Olivia's POV Monday morning…My alarm clock went off for the second time at six thirty. Crap. I had to get up fifteen minutes early to wash my hair. Great, now I'll have to go to school with my hair looking like an oil dump.
I grunted, turned over in bed a shut my alarm. That was it. I knew I had to get up, or I'd miss Assembly and get pulled up by bugging Sister Ernestine (When I told Mom about her, she gave a snort and murmured under her breath, "Oh. So that old fart-bucket is still teaching there, huh?" A/N: LOL!)
I tried to pry open my eyes by blinking them open and shut. After groggily having a shower, I pulled on a pair of white Capri pants and a hot pink top, paired with white Jimmy Choos (Mom hates them because they're Jimmy Choos…God knows why A/N: Wink, wink! If you've read the 5th book Haunted, you'll know!). I looked at my watch. Seven-fifteen. Just in time to have breakfast and then for Jason to pick me up.
I went down, swaying about sleepily. I knew I should have left from Jason's a little earlier. "Good morning Olivia," said Dad cheerfully, making pancakes. Mom was still asleep, as usual. "Morning, Dad," I said, giving a huge yawn. "Pancakes smell good." I bet Dad's tired of hearing that from Mom and me, but what to do…his pancakes really are heavenly. His secret is that he always mixes chocolate sauce in the batter.
"Nombre de Dios, Olivia," he said. "What happened to you? You look like you haven't slept in a week." I yawned again. "Sí, Daddy," I said. "I guess I didn't get enough sleep last night." "You didn't break your curfew, did you?" said Dad, suspiciously. "Gee Dad," I said impatiently. "I didn't, okay? I was in before curfew if you must know." "All right, but that is no way to talk to your father. Apologize right now." That's one annoying trait in my dad. Since he's a nineteenth century dude, he has some major manner issues which bug even Mom sometimes. So please do not find it odd that he doesn't sit down until Mom does, and stands up when she does and stuff. There's another whole bunch of such manners that I do not wish to bore you with. It's actually a wonder that he lets me roam around and hang out with Jason so freely and doesn't tell me "It's unethical for a young woman your age to have so much contact with a young man you are not related to." But I guess Mom's managed to drum into his mind 1 per cent of the fact that this is the TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY and NOT the nineteenth. But you can still see that he's pretty disgusted with the way we twenty-first-centuriers behave with so much liberty. Like that day, I saw him reading about a guy who broke into this 80-year-old woman's place and tied her up before robbing all her stuff. He was muttering "What? Only a ten year prison sentence? This man should be horsewhipped and hanged."
"I'm sorry, Dad," I said, sulking. "It's okay," he said, handing me the dripping-with-Hershey-chocolate-sauce-pancakes in a plate. "Yum," I said, before descending on the pancakes. They were superb, but what's new? Everything Dad cooks is superb-uh-licious. I got up and got the carton of OJ from the fridge and poured myself a glass.
When about half my pancake was still left, the doorbell rang. Crap, I thought. Jason's already here. I made an effort to hurry up and gobble up the pancakes, but to no avail. The pancake was just too big to do that. So, instead, I drained my glass of OJ quickly. Dad opened the door.
"Oh, hello Jason. Good morning," I heard Dad saying. "Olivia," he called out to me. "Jason's here. Hurry up and eat your breakfast quickly!" "Yeah, Dad," I replied, in between a mouthful of pancake. Jason walked in. "Hi sleepyhead," he said, when I looked up and said hi. Then his gaze went down to my plate. "Ooh," he said. "Your pancakes, sir!" he said to Dad. "Dee-ee-licious!" Dad laughed. "Would you like one?" "Oh, no thanks, sir," he said, rubbing his stomach. "I just ate a load of bacon and eggs!" "All right, then," said Dad. "Olivia," he scolded me. "Hurry up. You're going to be late for school. How similar to your mother you are!" I laughed, swallowing the last bite of my pancake. "That's about the zillionth time you're telling me that Daddy dear," I said, giving Dad a peck on the cheek. "Anyway, bye. I'll see you later!" "Goodbye children," said Dad.
Jason's POV"So," I said, as Olivia and I got into my silver BMW. "How come you got late today?" I started the ignition. "Oh," said Olivia. "I, um, overslept." "Figures," I commented. "Huh?" "Your eyes. They look like you haven't slept in a week." "That's exactly what Dad said." "Oh."
We drove the rest of the way to school listening to a McFly CD and chatting about school. Suddenly, as I stopped for a red light, I heard a little sniffle from the backseat. I guess Olivia heard it too, since we both whirled around to see.
There it was, plain as day, a ghost girl sitting in the backseat, sobbing. She had long silky blonde hair, halfway down her back, and a short red party dress, and must have been around nineteen or twenty. She was quite pretty, but nothing compared to Olivia, of course. "Um," said Olivia, apparently thinking of something to say. "Hey?" But the girl was still sobbing. After a couple of seconds, though, she finally looked up with bloodshot, tear-filled eyes. I noticed they were an unusual bluish-green color. "H…Hi," she said in a watery voice. "Can you see me?" "Yes," said Olivia. "We're both mediators, people who help dead people to move on to their next lives. "Oh," she said, looking confused. "I'm…my name's Andrea." I heard the driver behind me honking furiously. Oops, green light. I looked in front and accelerated.
Olivia was still talking to Andrea. "Hey," she said, again. "Did you just die?" "Olivia!" I hissed, giving her poke. Olivia has a nasty habit of being too upfront sometimes. Not a good quality for a mediator – ghosts tend to dislike it. But surprisingly, Andrea calmly said, "Yeah. How did you know?" "I'm a mediator," Olivia reminded her. "Since sixteen years. I can recognize a new ghost when I see one. And they're mostly upset. About dying, I mean." I rolled my eyes. Olivia was going to nearly get creamed by a ghost sooner or later if she didn't watch it. Nearly, because I would cream the ghost before that, obviously. Unexpectedly, Andrea surprised me with her answer again. "Okay."
Olivia's POV"Soo…" I said, trying to get Andrea to speak more than one word at a time. "Do you want our help?" She looked at me severely. "Well, why the hell do you think I'm here, you moron?" Okay. She didn't need to be so rude. "Okay! Chill!" I said. "Ol," said Jason. I looked at him. "Yeah?" "We've reached school." That's when I noticed we'd reached school. "Look," I turned back to Andrea again. "We've got to go to school right now. But I'll call you after school. You can come then." "Hello." Andrea gave a huge eye-roll. "Ghosts do not have phones? You're so dumb. I seriously cannot believe you call yourself a mediator or whatever it is." "Um," I said, surprised and taken aback at Andrea's sudden animosity and attitude. "I'm not talking about phones, Andrea. You might not know right now, but when a mediator thinks of a ghost strongly enough, the ghost gets the call. You'll know when I call. Now go away." Andrea's eyes gave another loop-the-loop. "Whatever. Bye." Saying this, she shimmered and vanished.
Jason's POVAfter Andrea dematerialized, I parked my car and we both got out.
As we walked to school, Olivia said to me, with a hint of anger in her voice, "Seriously, you know, Jas. I'm tired of being treated like shit by these ghosts. I'm tired of being a mediator! I'm gonna speak to Father D." I laughed. "Jas!" she cried. "I'm serious! I'm going to speak to Father D!" "Okay, okay," I said. "But you know exactly what his reaction is going to be – 'Olivia de Silva, this is a given to you by God. Use it rightfully and help the spirits –' " " –move on to their heavenly abode.' " finished Olivia. We both laughed. "But how does he know that they go to heaven? They might be going to another life, or to hell, to suffer for their misdeeds!" "You know what he means," I said. "Yeah. Whatever."
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Helloo…I made this chapter extra-long as it is the first, so do not get your hopes up of having such a long chapter every time.
OK guys, I had put in PRETTY WOMAN as the sad story initially, seeing as I hadn't watched it myself. But I got the DVD & saw it…and felt like a fool putting it in as a sad movie. So I changed it to TITANIC…which I assure you I have seen.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and if you want s'more, then I recommend you press that little lavender-colored button down there, type out your review & send it to me.
Adios until then…
--PGP