There were two minutes, six seconds left in the game. Darren drove toward the opposing team’s guard but kept one eye on Mike, his team’s power forward, to set up a screen for him. They moved in unison, and as Mike set the pick, Darren moved off to the left, forcing the guard to go around Mike and follow him. Mike rolled under the net, and Darren passed the ball to him. He put the ball in, easily bouncing it off the backboard. The crowd cheered excitedly, already on their feet, stomping. The sound of their enthusiasm increased to a roar as the ball dropped through the hoop. Mike waggled his fingertips with Darren as they headed back down court. That basket had put them four points in the lead.
Darren glanced at the stands. He knew better than to search for his parents; they wouldn’t be there. He caught a quick view of Andrea leading the cheers. Her dark hair bobbed up and down with the other cheerleaders as she jumped and clapped, rousing the spectators into an ecstatic frenzy. She turned just in time to wink at him, not faltering in her routine. A quick smile and Darren was back in the game.
One minute, forty-seven seconds remained as the Bear’s point guard, Ryan Eubanks, headed past center court with the ball. He was as tall as Darren, but thinner and more gangly looking and, through no fault of his own, had ears that stuck out, making him look like a car with its doors open. Darren could tell Eubanks had been worked hard and was running out of steam. But, suddenly, the gangly looking kid faked to the outside, charged past Darren, and drove straight down the center. Side-stepping Tony and Seth, he banked the ball off the backboard. Darren shared a surprised look with Mike. Where had that come from?
At least they were still up by two points and had the ball. With one minute thirty-one seconds remaining, Mike took off for the other side of the court as Darren dribbled slowly toward half-court. He caught up with Seth, the team’s center and said, “Keep on Eubanks. Someone slipped him a Redbull.” Seth nodded and trotted toward the bottom of the key.
With ball in hand, Darren examined his options. Mike was moving fast, giving his defender a work out. Seth was underneath, with Eubanks close on him. Off to his right, he saw T.J. ready to move in for a three-pointer if given the ball. That might be his best move. In any case, it would free Darren up to move underneath the basket.
As the wheels in his mind rotated at lightning-speed, preparing for the pass, a flicker of light, just over T.J.’s shoulder, like the sun reflecting off a mirror, caught his attention. It was a quick flash, barely noticeable, but was instantly replaced by a hazy image hovering over the stands.
At first, it appeared to be a sheer dark sheet flapping above the students, but it quickly resolved into a young girl with long blonde hair. She was wearing a dark gown and seemed to be sitting forward, floating in the air above the students, and in her hands, she gripped a wooden stick that disappeared beneath the folds of her flowing dress. A bright glow surrounded the girl as if someone had trained a spotlight on her. The bizarre sight shocked Darren, as he dribbled in place, staring in the air at the unbelievable sight.
This had to be a stunt, something designed to hype-up the student body. She had probably been suspended there the entire game, and he had somehow not noticed.
But, she was transparent… and there was no way he had missed seeing her floating above the bleachers the entire game.
What was going on?
She must be a projection! That’s it. Only, there was no projector and this image was three-dimensional and fifteen feet away from the opposite wall.
Darren quickly glanced at T.J. who couldn’t help but glance over his own shoulder to see what had caught Darren’s attention. Seeing nothing, he focused back on Darren, urging him to pass the ball.
Sweat broke out across Darren’s forehead, but unlike the sweat he’d accumulated during the game, this was cold and clammy. The ethereal image gazed curiously down at him like any other spectator, wondering why he was hesitating. Her eyes bore into him so intensely his breath caught. They were a luminous green, unlike any color he’d seen before, and as he dodged one of the opposing players and spun back around with the ball, he could have sworn there was a look of concern in them. Whoever or whatever she was, she was watching the game.
“Pass me the ball!” T.J. shouted. Darren looked blankly at T.J., as the basketball bounced mechanically off his fingers. He could see the dire expression in his teammate’s eyes. The roar of students and parents dropped in volume as they became aware that something was wrong on the court.
Darren, not sure if he was panicking over nothing or an actual specter, covered his momentary confusion by glancing down the lane at Mike, who appeared equally concerned and started up the key. Darren knew he had to focus on the game, but part of his mind couldn’t entirely shake the girl or those amazing green eyes and the strange thrill that rushed through him alongside his adrenaline.
Attempting to regain his composure, Darren quickly shifted his weight in Mike’s direction to set-up a fake before preparing to pass the ball to T.J. A forward from the other team broke free from his position and charged him, with Mike right behind him. Darren shifted back toward T.J., feinted, then bounce-passed the ball behind the charging player into the waiting hands of his best friend.
Mike turned, and two of the Bear’s players blocked his shot. He faked a jump, popping the ball up and over their outstretched arms into a little arc that came down through the hoop with a satisfying swish.
The students in the bleachers recovered from Darren’s momentary inaction and went crazy. Someone in the band let loose a wild squeaking note from a reed instrument that shrieked above the cacophony of the cheering crowd.
Relief now flooded Darren as he rushed down to the other end of the court. He’d never suffered a loss of concentration during a game like that before. His coach glared at him, bewildered, to which Darren just grinned and shrugged; after all, they had scored on the play.
Darren glanced back to where the floating phantom had been. It was gone. Nothing was suspended from the ceiling. No girl or dark cloth hung in the air. This was almost worse than seeing her. Dizziness made the room swim, but it stopped when he put his hand to his head. Moisture deserted his mouth, making it impossible to swallow.
“Dude, you look like a ghost. You okay?” Mike asked.
“Fine.” It came out of Darren like dust off the desert. A quick glance at the clock told him there were forty-six seconds left in the game.
This time Walker, one of the Bear’s forwards, bounced the ball to Eubanks, who was just outside the key. The tall point guard snatched the ball in the air, foiling Tony’s attempt to intercept the pass. Eubanks dribbled around to line up for a straight-on shot and jumped for a three-pointer. The ball hit the rim and bounced straight up toward the ceiling. It came back down right through the hoop. A disappointed groan filled the gymnasium, with the exception of the twenty or so visitors from the other side who were all on their feet screaming to the encouragement of their own cheerleaders.
We’re up by one point, thought Darren, as he took the pass in from T.J. He dribbled quickly down to their side of the court and surveyed the situation—the girl with the luminescent green eyes temporarily thrust from his mind. At the post, he had Seth, and Tony wasn’t far to Seth’s right. T.J. was still holding back just outside the key to the right of the foul line, and Mike moving in from the left, prepared to set another screen for him. If they did this right, not only would it be pretty, it would be an excellent way to finish the game. He gave Mike the signal. Mike planted himself, setting up another pick. Darren forced his defender to move away by charging toward Mike, who rolled behind his man. Darren passed to Mike and darted underneath the basket. In place, he turned to receive the ball from Mike and jumped, slamming the ball through the hoop.
The crowd came unglued. The sound of cheering crashed over Darren. Mike was on him, fingers at play with his, as they both jumped with joy.
The Bears traveled down court. The clock was ticking. Darren and his teammates hustled to cover their men. With only fourteen seconds remaining in the game, a whistle blew, somehow being heard above the din, and stopped the clock. The Bears were taking a time-out.
On his way to his team’s bench, Darren glanced at the stands. Nothing floated above them, no heat mirage, no girl, nothing. It was unnerving and confusing. He shook his head and told himself to stop being ridiculous.
“Okay, I don’t know where you went for a moment there, Stevens, but thankfully you remembered you were in the middle of a ballgame and managed to pull it out at the last moment.” Coach Hawthorne playfully smacked him upside the head, producing chuckles from the rest of the team. “Keep your head in the game. Now, expect them to be desperate. They’re going to rush hard. If they put in a three-pointer, the game will be tied. Stop them, even if you have to foul.”
Darren nodded with the rest of his teammates. If they won this game, they would be in the State Finals. They put their hands in the center and let out a Bobcat howl—trademark of their team. The whistle blew, and they rushed back out onto the court.
Everyone except Darren.
As he was backing away from the bench, the sunlight-flash hit his eyes again, and the misty image of the girl reappeared. This time she floated two rows above the Bobcat bench. She gazed down on him, her head askew. A puzzled expression spread across her pretty face.
Darren was jolted by the sudden apparition. Dizziness returned, and the clammy sweat broke out across his body.
Mike grabbed his arm. “Come on! Head in the game remember?”
“Yeah,” Darren said, blankly.
He turned his back on the ghost and moved down court to the middle of the key. Determined to ignore what was floating in the air behind him, he stared straight at Walker, who was poised to throw the ball in. Tony and T.J. blocked their players from receiving the ball. Seth hung back under the basket, and Mike was keeping an eye on two other players, Eubanks foremost. Darren watched, unable to take a step and afraid to let his eyes move beyond the play in front of him.
With a quick pass, the ball bounced below Tony’s arm and came up in Eubank’s hands. The tall point guard pivoted and dribbled around Mike to the arc of the three-point line. Five seconds remained on the clock.
Darren stood in place like he’d been flash-frozen. Mike and Tony closed in on Eubanks, who was lining up his jump shot. Darren made a fumbling move in that direction, but as he did, he glimpsed the floating girl back above his home bench. He swallowed hard and focused on Eubanks who threw the ball up and over Mike. It sailed in a faultless arc, lined up perfectly and heading to the hoop.
A fearful hush filled the gymnasium. The ball rushed toward the basket. It was going to be a swish. It flew through the hoop and into the net and then...
It bounced out!
There was no way that it could, but it did. The ball bounced out of the net as if it had ricocheted off something solid. It flew in the exact same arc across the court and back to Eubanks, who numbly caught it, standing there dumbfounded. He held the ball as if he’d never thrown it.
Darren stared in amazement, no longer thinking of the hovering ghost and barely aware of the shiver that had shot up his spine and left him feeling like he’d just stepped out of a freezer.
The entire room was momentarily stunned into silence, confused by what it had witnessed. Then, all at once, the gymnasium erupted into cheering and yelling.
A whistle blew long and loud, just enough to top the volume of the crowd; and Eubanks let fly an expletive that was drowned out by all the other noise.
The final buzzer rang loudly, officially ending the game.
Mike’s hand was suddenly on Darren’s shoulder. “I think we just won.” Mike’s voice had all the sound of bewilderment Darren felt.
The shocked fans no longer cared how it had come about. They knew only one thing: they had won!
Darren and Mike made their way over to the bench. Their coach was listening to the Bears’ coach who was yelling at the referee. “What kind of call was that? You’ve got to count that! That was goal tending or something!”
“I don’t know how it happened, but the ball bounced out on its own. No points.” The referee didn’t really know what else to say.
“Why didn’t it go through the net? Tell me that!” The burley coach was red in the face with indignation.
The ref looked back at Coach Hawthorne, who shrugged at him. However, his eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head at the mystery. Suddenly he barked at his team, which had gathered round him, “Go congratulate them.” He shook his head again. “You know what I mean.”
The Bobcats shook hands or high-fived the Bears, who all appeared shell-shocked. They knew it had happened, but knew it couldn’t have happened. Darren and his teammates said, “Sorry man! That was bad luck. You played a great game. I don’t know what happened there at the end.”
When he got to Eubanks, Darren said, “Weird.”
Eubanks just muttered, “Yeah, weird.”
The crowd poured out of the bleachers, filling up the court. The Bears had disappeared into the showers. Andrea was at Darren’s side, jumping up and down with excitement—excitement Darren knew he should’ve been feeling himself. He kept glancing back at the bench, but there was no apparition.
“You were great!” Andrea gushed. “You scored twenty-eight points. You were the high scorer.” She embraced him, and they kissed. Afterwards, she winked at him as she bumped him with her hip. Darren gave her a wan smile.
After showering, and as they changed into street clothes, Darren was unusually quiet.
“I thought you were going to have a seizure back there, Darren,” T.J. said, his wet dirty-blonde hair clinging to the sides of his head. He shook it like a dog, water spattering all about him. “You looked pale and sweaty like you were about to puke or something.”
Seth, walking past on his way to the door, said in his booming bass voice, “He was just trying to psych out the other guys with some voodoo he learned from his grandpa.”
Darren didn’t say anything but growled under his breath, irritated at the slight against his grandfather.
Tony stopped on his way to the door. “I don’t know what you were thinking, maybe you were running the clock, but I sure am glad you put it together in time. T.J., do you still want a ride?”
“Yeah, let’s go,” T.J. replied, and they left the locker room.
Once Mike and Darren were alone, Mike said, “So, you froze up out there.”
Darren pursed his lips. “I didn’t freeze up. I just…”
“You just what?”
“I… I think something’s wrong with me. I, uh… I saw something.”
“What do you mean you saw something?”
He sighed. “I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll think I’m crazy. And I might be.”
“You can tell me. Come on, I’ve known you since kindergarten. If you can’t trust me, who can you trust?”
Darren weighed that for a second, afraid if he told him he’d lose that trust. “Well, near the end of the game, right after Eubanks charged down the center, I had the ball, and I was getting ready to pass it off to T.J., when…”
“What?”
“It sounds crazy when I think about it. It’s going to sound insane when I finally say it. Alright, right above the bleachers, I saw this, mirage, I guess. It was this girl, floating in the air, watching the game.” He watched for Mike’s response.
“A girl? Was she cute?”
“What?”
“This girl you saw floating in the air, was she hot?” Mike smiled his toothy grin at him.
“I hadn’t thought about it. Yeah, yeah, actually, I think she was. But are you listening to me? She was floating, and she was see-through.”
“Her clothes were see-through?”
“No,” Darren snapped. “She was see-through. Well, I guess her clothes were see-through, too. I could see the wall behind her. It was like a light was on her and made her transparent. Does that make sense?”
Mike clapped him on the shoulder again. “Man, you must have been missing some serious electrolytes out there.” He chuckled. “You weren’t crazy, you were dehydrated. You ought to go home and get some rest. Don’t tell Atavus. He’ll think it was a ghost that’s been haunting your family for years.”
Darren threw a towel at his friend. “Hey, don’t rip on Atavus.”
“Hey, Dare, I love the old guy too, but his reality is a chapter short of a fantasy novel, if you know what I mean.”
Darren laughed. Though the comparison was apt, he was instinctively protective of the old man and wanted to say something in his defense.
But he didn’t.
***
As the two young men left the building, off a hallway to the right where it dead-ended, four people were whispering among themselves. They found the ball jumping back out of the net a little too strange, and they had a good idea what had caused it. That knowledge, however, did not give them any pleasure.
Someone would have to tell Julander.
From a dark corner, leaning against a bank of lockers, an anxious male voice said, “I felt the vibration of the spell and heard the chime.”
A cultured male, standing with his back against the dim light of the window so that his form was in dark-relief, asked for the third time, “But you didn’t see anyone new? No casting gesture from a student?”
“No,” replied the first man, irritated at having to give this answer again. “But a spell was cast. Either one of the students is a witch, or someone was among us using a blind-man’s spell.”
A female voice broke-in from farther down the dark corridor. “The Warder’s grandson acted erratic on the court tonight. Somehow his behavior is related.”
“He doesn’t even know who he is. His grandfather is on his deathbed and has told him nothing.” This voice belonged to a young man, a student. “I’ve kept a careful eye on him. His whole life revolves around basketball and that girlfriend of his.” He spat these last words as if admitting it was something unpleasant. “But there’s nothing else. I told you about his little escapade into the school last night. They were messing around. There was no witchcraft. And he’s showed no signs of being a Warder. If anything changes, I’ll inform you.”
The woman from the dark hallway replied, “Yes, but perhaps today something did just change.”
***
Darren’s father was certain Atavus was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s. Like all old men, Atavus reminisced about his life. Unlike other old men, Atavus’s stories entered into the realm of the fantastic. This propensity of Darren’s grandfather to remember the past as a fantasy had split those who knew him down the middle. There were those who feared Atavus was suffering from Alzheimer’s and that it was progressively growing worse. The rest found it to be an endearing quirk of the old man. Darren’s mother fell into this category.
There was no doubt, however, that at the age of eighty-six, Atavus was suffering from old age. He spent most of his time in bed, struggling with the last stages of emphysema. He had never smoked a day in his life, nor had he ever been in a mine or worked around asbestos. Nevertheless, he suffered from this chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, or C.O.P.D, as the doctors referred to it. These physicians concluded that at some point in his life, Atavus must have been exposed to a dense concentration of carcinogenic particles. Matt believed it was due to barbecuing. The man loved to grill and always had. It seemed to Darren as if Atavus had a special way with fire.
That was years ago, however. Now his grandfather had difficulty breathing and had to have oxygen always at the ready. When he did get out of bed, which was almost never, it was with the aid of an aluminum walker, and even then, he moved at a very slow pace. When he spoke, he would draw deep breaths and wheeze. And if he ever caught a cold, he was immediately taken to the hospital for observation and antibiotics to ensure it didn’t develop into pneumonia.
One thing Atavus loved was to hear about the basketball games he wasn’t able to attend. He used to be Ethan’s greatest fan, and he’d even attended some of Ethan’s games before the emphysema had become too acute to allow it. Now, he was the only one in Darren’s family that cared about his successes on the court. His parents kept their distance from anything basketball related. It was too painful a reminder of Ethan. They simply ignored the fact that when Darren was gone it was to play basketball.
When Darren arrived home that night, he went immediately to his grandfather’s room. He found the old man in his bed. His white hair lay unruly on the pillow. His face was gaunt, with evidence of once rugged features in the strong cheekbones and prominent jawline. Liver spots speckled his hands and face, and the rest of his skin was fading to thin transparency. Most prominent was a beak-like nose jutting up from the center of his face. This was the man everyone said Darren looked like—when he was younger, of course.
“Atavus,” Darren said, gently waking him.
“Darren,” Atavus wheezed. “I’m not sleeping, just thinking. How are you, my boy? How was the game? Did you win?” He finished by inhaling deeply. The air sounded as if it were being strained through a small reedy pipe.
“Not so much, Atavus. Take it easy.” Darren rarely called the old man ‘Grandpa’. He preferred being called ‘Atavus.’ “Yeah, we won. It was a hard game; the Bears are a good team. As a matter of fact, they almost tied it up at the end.”
“But they didn’t.” This comment was a wispy exhale. “That’s what counts.”
“I guess so. That’s what everyone else thinks. But, Atavus, it was weird. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Their point guard sent up a three-pointer that went through the hoop and almost through the net, but at the last second, bounced out. Doesn’t that seem strange?”
The old man frowned thoughtfully. At length he said, “Did you feel anything when it happened? In your stomach, up your spine or in your head?”
“What?” Though puzzling, it was the kind of question Darren expected from the old man. “No, and I wasn’t the only one to see it. Everyone was talking about it. Their coach yelled at the ref.”
“Hmm,” Atavus said. “You didn’t feel anything?”
“I don’t think so.” There was so much going on at that moment, he wasn’t sure. Had he felt something when the ball flew back up through the hoop? He might have. He’d been pretty distracted by the ghostly-girl floating over the game.
“Well then,” Atavus drew a long breath. “It must have just been one of those things. Life is like that. You think you’ve seen magic, but really, you’ve only seen something that doesn’t make sense from your point-of-view.” He wheezed heavily. “But under different circumstances, it makes perfect sense.”
“I guess.” Darren was oddly comforted by what his grandfather said. He had to be right. Something normal had caused the ball to bounce out; it had somehow bounced against something, even if they couldn’t see it. It seemed incredible to everyone, but it was probably a very normal physical phenomenon. As a matter of fact, at school tomorrow, someone would have probably figured it out.
“Thanks, Atavus.” He patted the old man’s hand. “I’m sure you’re right. It just looked so incredible.”
“I’m glad you won.” Atavus grabbed his grandson’s hand. He suddenly perked up. “This means you go to State, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. It will be us against the Titans next week.”
“Excellent! Excellent! You know, Ethan would be proud of you.” Atavus settled back against his pillows. His hand shook and struggled with the oxygen mask at the side of his bed. He managed to put the cup over his mouth and breathe. His body visibly relaxed as his eyes closed.
Darren took the oxygen cup and set it back to the side of the bed; it was obvious his grandfather had drifted off to sleep. He had wanted to tell his grandfather about the floating girl above the bleachers. If anyone was going to believe a story like that, it would be Atavus. He sat back in his chair at the side of the bed and watched the feeble rise and fall of his grandfather’s chest.
“He probably wouldn’t believe it either,” Darren said aloud. “A ghost at a basketball game?”
He prepared to stand up, when his grandfather’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm. His grip was surprisingly strong.
“A ghost?” he wheezed. “A transparent image, floating in the air?” Each word was a struggle. His eyes were opened wide and riveted on his grandson.
“Atavus, calm down.” He stood and tried to comfort his grandfather. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“What did you see, boy? What did you feel?” His face grew chalkier than normal, but his grip remained firm on Darren’s arm. “Did it speak to you? Tell me!”
Darren was startled by the old man’s passion. Suddenly Atavus released his arm and doubled over with a stream of racking coughs. Their violence shook his entire body as he struggled to breathe.
“Mom! Dad!” Darren yelled, but they were both rushing in through the door before he finished.
Matt moved for the oxygen and adjusted the flow. Amy went to Atavus, trying to soothe him. “Calm down, Atavus.” She rubbed his back. “Try to relax while I get your nebulizer.”
Darren backed away. Why had Atavus gotten so upset?
“What set him off?” Darren’s father demanded. “What upset him?”
“I was just telling him about the game,” Darren lamely replied. He couldn’t tell his father about the ghost.
“Sit back, Atavus.” Amy had the nebulizer in her hand and was trying to put it up to Atavus’s face. “Inhale this,” she instructed. Atavus continued to cough so hard it seemed as though he’d split in two.
Matt brought the oxygen up to Atavus’s mouth, but Amy shooed it away.
“He needs to clear his airway, give the nebulizer time to work.” She knew what to do, and the first thing was to get his airways cleared of the mucus. Right now he was panicking, which was causing his airway to constrict, preventing air from entering his lungs. Amy worked with him, let him cough, and after about five very long minutes, Atavus was breathing normally again. At last, Amy allowed Matt to hand Atavus the oxygen mask. He drew in the pure oxygen and lay back against his pillow, completely drained.
Darren’s parents ushered him out of the room. Their grave expression served to make Darren feel guilty somehow, but with the emergency now averted, neither paid much attention to him. This was okay with Darren. He didn’t want them delving any deeper into what had upset his grandfather.
Normally after a game, Darren would’ve headed over to Andrea’s house, or at least called her. Instead, his mind was too full of the happenings of the day. A nook off the kitchen housed some pantry items and a small desk with the family computer. Darren settled in and Googled the topic ghost.
At first, the search returned images of “ghosts.” But the images didn’t resemble what he had seen. They were translucent, and whitish in color, and very vague in facial details. There was the confederate ghost that hovered to the right of a man in a cemetery; but it was very indistinct, with barely the form that suggested it was human. He checked out the Toys R Us Ghost, which had been featured on a television show. It was an infrared image of a young man leaning against some lockers. But this image had lighting behind it so that, though the image was clearly a young man, there were no distinctive facial features. The girl Darren had seen was very distinct and had been normal in color. Granted she wore a black dress, but she had normal skin tone, and her hair was obviously blonde. And her eyes were a very vivid green.
As the night wore on, Darren read articles about ghost sightings and saw “real ghost” images. But nothing satisfied him. There was even a site for the movie “Ghost” with Patrick Swayze. He remembered seeing that movie and thought it portrayed what ghosts looked like better than these supposed ‘real’ ghosts. Of course, it was only a movie.
Around eleven, he’d had enough and headed to bed. He stopped by Atavus’s room, thinking, now that his grandfather was calmer, perhaps he could ask what had upset him earlier. He also wondered what Atavus might know about what he’d experienced. Maybe Mike was right. Perhaps their family did have a ghost, and that’s what had agitated the old man. In any case, when he glanced in his grandfather’s room, Darren could hear him snoring. He sighed and headed up the stairs to his bedroom.
Despite the lateness of the hour, he had a hard time getting to sleep. He wanted to believe it really was dehydration that had led to him seeing things, just as Mike had suggested. But she was so distinct, so clear. She even looked at him like he was crazy for not moving with the ball. Would a mirage do that? But then, what was the alternative to that belief? That he’d actually seen a real live—well not live, perhaps—but a real ghost hovering in the school gym?
He wished Ethan were still alive. He’d always been able to talk to Ethan. Ethan used to listen to everyone, especially Atavus. He was among the few who didn’t think his grandfather was going senile. The two of them had often had long talks Darren wished he’d been part of.
The idea of senility brought a disturbing alternative to mind. If he hadn’t seen a real ghost, perhaps it was because something was seriously wrong inside his head. What if there was something in the genes? What if something inside him was broken, or breaking? What if he was becoming delusional like his grandfather?
