Page 44 of Hot Ghost Summer

“Manners cost nothing, you know?”

I strut through to the kitchen without so much as a glance at the table or his laptop. This is my home, and the sooner he learns that he’s a guest here the better.

The microwave door still dangles awkwardly and the sharp edges of the unnatural spiral crack in the glass bite into my fingertips when I trace the impact. How do I make a cup of tea now? It’s too early to go the shop and buy a new one. Even if I could, I’d be spending money I don’t have because someone got me placed on leave.

I rake my fingers through my hair and my gaze lands on the frying pan still on the hob from when I cooked the chicken, and I realise that heat isn’t tied to the electrics; fire still obeys a match.

Setting a small pan of water on the hob, I pause when the ignition produces a loud series of clicks. This is electric, isn’t it?

I look back over my shoulder at Hollis’s phone and laptop on the table, then at the broken microwave door, then down at my hob. If he fucks with this in the same way, he could blow my whole flat up. Maybe even the whole building.

My nose wrinkles as I turn down the large yellow flame and drum my fingertips on the countertop. I literally just promised myself a cup of tea before dealing with him, but I can’t risk the whole building. When I’d searched online for things that could help a wee ghostie move on, it suggested sage for cleansing and salt for containment. And right now, containment sounds perfect.

The box of salt I bought at the big shop is pushed back on the counter beside a selection of glass jars that are waiting to go in the recycling. Choosing the largest jar, I pour a deep layer into the bottom.

A smile creeps across my face as I stalk over to the table with the jar of salt hidden behind my back. Funnelling all my best ninja skills into one swift movement, I snatch up Hollis’s phone and squish the stupidly large case through the mouth of the jar.

Screwing on the lid, I give it a little shake—for good luck—then tuck him away in the cupboard when I retrieve a cup for my tea. There.

The soft rolling boil of the water underscores my wild laughter.

I lick the tip of my finger and draw a straight line in mid-air with a hiss. Theo: one. Hollis: nil.

With a pep back in my step and feeling lighter than I have in days, I sway my hips from side to side and whistle a tune as I pour the water into my cup. Some splashes out, but that’s okay. Right now, everything’s okay.

This isn’t a permanent solution, but I have at least bought myself time to finish reading the ExorSquad handbook in peace. Traipsing over to Hollis’s box of possessions on the floor, I scoop up the spiral-bound manual discarded beside it.

The backs of my calves bump against the armchair I’d been sitting in to read the other day, but my eyes find Hollis’s precious laptop. Unguarded. On the table.

I suppose I could just sit in the armchair, it’s what any sane person would do.

Wisps of steam curl into the air from the water I just boiled in a pan.

It’s hard to keep the smile from my face. I’ve never been either of those things, though, and right now I think I’m going to make that a Hollis problem. Like how he made heating water without electricity a me problem.

I prop the handbook open against the screen as if it’s nothing more than a glorified bookstand. If he could see me now…

“Hey, Hollis, I’m sitting at your laptop and drinking tea. What if I spill it? You’d better come out and stop me,” I sing-song.

Nothing. Not the flicker of a light nor the buzz of static.

I bite back a snort.

With a contented sigh, I flick to a random page and read.

Rule 325: Consider Making The Entity Angry.

If you piss a powerful spirit off, it’s far more likely to present in its corporeal form.

“Oh, is it now?” I muse aloud.

Rocking the chair back onto two legs, I cradle my hot cup in my hands.

Yesterday, I thought some of Hollis’s issues might be because he’s permanently cooped up inside technology, and I wondered how to provide enrichment for him. Maybe with incense and crystals to help clear his chakras… or whatever blocks ghost energy. But after everything, I don’t think I will. I think I’ll just piss him off instead.

After all, if there’s one thing I excel at, it’s getting under people’s skin. Or under their ectoplasm… Or their mainframe…

However, for this plan to work, I need to set Hollis free from his jar of salt. Not immediately, though, because I’m enjoying my win, and my tea, and because the handbook says to be firm with ghosts. Also, the quiet.