Camping with a Ghost

CHAPTER ONE

Nick closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He inhaled the sweet pine scent of the forest and took in the gentle sounds of birdsong. Ah…two glorious days with no ghosts. No avoiding spirits who desperately pleaded with him for help. No keeping his eyes down to avoid locking gazes with any spirits. No stomach lurches. And hopefully, no demons, specifically, no Leo. It was going to be heaven outside here in the woods.

He was stretched out on the ground with a bunched-up gray sweatshirt serving as a pillow tucked underneath his head. A soft, warm breeze lightly blew over him, lulling him into that blissful state between sleep and wakefulness, and he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper.

Is he napping again? Gabe asked. And he hasn’t done a lick of work yet today, either.

Nick’s eyes snapped open to meet his boyfriend’s gaze. The sunlight bounced off of Gabe’s short blond hair, and his blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nick said, once again closing his eyes. I’ve done plenty of work today.

Gabe harrumphed. Reading instructions for the tent does not constitute work.

Nick giggled. You have no idea how exhausting it was to watch you and Sam screw up such basic step-by-step directions. Finally, I couldn’t bear it any longer. I had to step in.

It would have helped if there wasn’t a pole missing.

Not my fault, said Nick, glancing up at Gabe. It was my dad’s tent. Somehow, he neglected to mention that it wasn’t quite complete. But you fellas did a fine job—though the roof is a tad saggy.

Gabe laughed shortly. We’ll just have to suffer through it for the next two days. Speaking of your dad, are you guys speaking yet?

Nick sat up. No, I’m still pissed at him. I can’t believe that he could see ghosts just like my uncle and I all this time. He lied to me—lied to all of us. And the worst part? He’s still lying.

Gabe raised an eyebrow. What do you mean, he’s still lying?

My dad made me promise I wouldn’t tell my mom. He still insists on keeping it a secret from her and the rest of the world. He told me it’s his secret to tell, not mine.

Did he give any indication as to why?

Nick shook his head and scooted up to a sitting position. Nope. He wouldn’t discuss it with me, nor would he answer any questions about it. He actually had the nerve to tell me it didn’t concern me and that it’s none of my business. Can you believe him? All this time, I thought like I was the weirdo in the family because I could see spooks, and as it turns out, he was the same as me.

Didn’t you tell me that your Mom chewed out your uncle when she found out about him? Maybe your dad’s afraid she’ll freak out and leave him.

Gabe was right, of course. His father had admitted that when he began dating Nick’s mom, she wasn’t very understanding of Nick’s Uncle Mitch—so much so that, once she found out Mitchell Michelson could see spirits, she didn’t allow him near the family for many years. So she wasn’t particularly overjoyed when she found out that her son Nick had the same abilities, but at least she didn’t cast him out.

Probably, Nick said. Who knows with him? I wish he’d talk to me about it. But if he wants to keep hiding it from everyone, what can I do? It’s doubtful he’ll change now. When I think about it, it’s not really surprising. He always tends to avoid any sort of confrontation. It’s usually my mom who has to deal with the unpleasant stuff in the family. She’s also the one who usually does the disciplining in the house.

"Your dad has a point. What I mean is that he simply chose a different path than you. Just because someone has a wonderful singing voice doesn’t mean they have to pursue a career as a singer. So just because he can see ghosts doesn’t mean he has to help them or get involved with them, especially if he’s someone who dislikes conflict. Yes, no doubt the path he chose was way easier than yours, but it was still his decision in the end. Gabe reached out and grabbed Nick’s hand. And if he had told your mother all those years ago, and she had left, you and I would never have known each other. So, in that way, I’m grateful your dad is a coward."

A pang of guilt tugged at Nick’s chest as he recalled the last fight he’d had with his dad. Nick had said some pretty terrible things to him at the time.

When you look at it like that, I guess it makes sense, Nick said. Nobody forced me to help all those ghosts. I chose to do it. I remember Katrina told me that I always have a choice—that if I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t have to. Ultimately, it was up to me.

Gabe brushed away a runaway light brown curl behind Nick’s ear. See? The same goes for your dad. Except he decided he didn’t want to risk losing his family.

I still wish he would have told me so I wouldn’t have felt like such a freak.

You’re right. He should’ve let you know you weren’t alone in this and explained to you why he chose a different path. He probably was afraid your mom would find out. I imagine she’d be mighty angry that he lied to her all these years.

But she knows about me, and she’s okay with it...for the most part.

Gabe bumped Nick’s shoulder with his. But you didn’t lie to her or keep your secret from her. He did.

That’s true. Knowing my mom, she’d be pissed as hell. She abhors lying.

Gabe turned so that he was facing Nick and brought his face in until their lips met. Nick felt himself sinking into the warmth and softness of Gabe’s lips, then Nick abruptly pulled away and looked around. Wait—where’s Sam?

He grabbed a book and meandered down to the river. I got the impression he wanted to be alone.

Still, I don’t think we should take chances like this. What if he had seen? Sam, who was more Gabe’s friend than his, knew that Nick could see ghosts because Nick had helped Sam’s mother cross over a few months back. Thankfully, Sam had kept Nick’s secret. Now that Nick thought about it, Sam had become a friend of Nick’s as well, and recently, the three of them had hung out more and more often. But Sam didn’t realize that Nick and Gabe were gay or were a couple.

I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Gabe’s voice was soft when he spoke. Sam knows.

About us? Nick asked in disbelief. His throat tightened and his stomach sunk. You told him?

I didn’t have to. Sam’s a smart fellow. He figured it out all on his own. We were talking about the camping trip the other day, and he went and asked me if there was anything I’d like to tell him about you. I said, ‘You already know about his ghost thing,’ and he says to me, ‘that’s not what I’m talking about. I am talking about you and Nick.’ It was pretty clear what he was referring to. So we talked about it.

Nick breathed a sigh of relief. And he was okay with it? He didn’t like—start acting all weird, did he?

Not in the least, Gabe said. Said that his cousin Ricky was gay, so it’s not like he doesn’t know any other gay folks.

Dammit! I really didn’t want anyone else to find out.

I get that, said Gabe. But you realize you don’t have to worry about Sam, right? He’s kept your ghost hunting a secret, so I’m sure he’ll keep this secret as well. He’s a good guy.

I’m not a ghost hunter. What I⁠—

Gabe cut him off, then flashed Nick a half-grin. I’m just messing with you, boy. But don’t worry. Sam’s cool.

An awkward silence stretched out before them. Nick felt a sudden jab of pain in his arm and noticed that a mosquito had just bitten him. But before he could swat it, it flew off. How maddening. Gabe, now that we’re talking about this, I wanna ask you something.

Gabe was fiddling with the strap on one of his sandals. Uh-oh. Sounds serious.

It is, Nick said, as evenly as he could. He tried to continue, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words. Nick had been holding on to too many secrets—something he’d promised himself he was going to remedy—and now was as good a time as any. He found that the more he hid things from people, the more he ended up getting in trouble. Though he told himself repeatedly that he kept things from everyone to protect them, it nearly always backfired on him.

So ask away.

The muscles in Nick’s chin twitched, and his throat jutted with a hard swallow. Since we’re talking about Sam knowing about us, I was wondering…what do you think about coming out? I mean, to our parents?

Gabe’s eyes grew wide, and he looked at Nick in a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding kind of way. Wow! I so did not see that coming!

I know. It’s just that I’m sick of lying to my parents and pretending that I’m not dating the most wonderful person in the world.

Gabe’s eyes glistened, and his expression was an odd mix of fear and joy. Now, Nick Michelson, aren’t you just the sweetest little ol’ thing? He swallowed. But telling our parents? That’s a mighty enormous step, one that I’m not sure if I’m ready for yet.

I’m not sure if I am either, Nick said. My mom has barely gotten used to the fact that her son’s a psychic medium, and I can’t even count the number of times I’ve promised her that I wouldn’t keep any secrets from her. I’m sick of worrying that they’ll find out. I mean, Sam figured it out. Ericka Spooner figured it out. What if someone else at school figures it out and word gets around? Our parents could hear it from someone else then. I’d much prefer if we were the ones who told them rather than them finding out about it through gossip.

Gabe looked stricken. He took in a big, chest-expanding inhalation. I get where you’re coming from. I’ve thought about this on and off for a while now. But we’re going to be seniors in the next school year. All we have to do is get through one more semester, so why not wait? Why stir the pot now? After we’re legal and away from home, it won’t matter a lick who knows.

You might be right. But we could still tell our parents about us and just be extra careful that it doesn’t get around at school.

You know, Nicky, Gabe stammered, it’s not the kids at school that I’m worried about.

What then?

Gabe closed his eyes for a long moment and then reopened them. Your parents are cool. They know you can see ghosts. Hell, your dad can see ghosts. But my parents? Um…not so cool. They've got that whole religion thing going on, and because of that, I don’t really see them being overly receptive to the idea of me being gay. So I don’t think it’d be wise to test them on it.

I didn’t think about that. I guess my folks are a lot more liberal than yours.

Moistening his lips, Gabe met Nick’s eyes. "I’ve heard my folks talk about ‘the gays’ many times and never in a positive light. They make no effort to hide their disdain for gay people. I don’t think telling them would be the wisest thing to do, at least not while I’m still living at home."

I get it. We can wait for as long as you want. There’s no rush to tell them.

Gabe breathed in a sigh of relief. If I told them, I have little doubt that they’d make my life a living hell and⁠—

Nick brushed his hand over Gabe’s cheek. Gabe, it’s fine. I understand.

Gabe met his eyes and nodded. Nick leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. He was about to kiss Gabe on the lips when the sound of someone clearing their throat startled him. Nick pulled back and looked up. Sam stood in front of them, book in hand, with a broad smile on his face.

Don’t stop on my account, gentlemen, Sam said.

Nick felt the redness creep up his face. Oh, shit. Hey Sam. We were just talking.

Riiiiiight, Sam said. Talking. He winked and then chuckled.

Gabe stood up. I don’t know about y’all, but I’m hungrier than a tic on a teddy bear. So what do you say we start fixing something to eat? Since Nicky here didn’t lend a hand with unpacking, I say he’s the one who can rattle us up some grub.

Hey! Nick said. What are you talking about? I helped set up the tent.

If I remember correctly, you only read the instructions, Sam said. Gabe and I did all the actual work.

Gabe crossed his arms over his chest. Exactly like I said it.

Fine, said Nick. He stood up and wiped the pieces of debris off the back of his pants. Hot dogs it is.

Nick, Gabe, and Sam sat in their camping chairs. They had just finished up the dishes and were now waiting for it to get dark so they could build a campfire.

So, how's the ghost business going? Sam asked. His chair squeaked as he adjusted his position. Have you run into any scary or interesting ones lately?

Not really, said Nick. It's been a while since I've crossed anyone over. Sam wasn't aware of the Shadow Demon that was killing psychic mediums. The only ones who knew were Gabe and his friend and mentor, Katrina. Nick also had not yet told Gabe that said Shadow Demon, whose name is supposedly Leo, has made himself known to Nick and is currently in Gallowspine Mountains. Nick wondered how such an evil, murderous entity could have such a common name.

Nick glanced over at Gabe, who flashed him a warm smile. Nick was going to have to come clean to Gabe at some point and tell him about his recent encounter with the demon—or whatever in the hell he was. This was part of Nick's promise to himself that he would no longer keep secrets from those he loved, and that included Gabe. Nick dreaded that conversation.

That's good, right? Sam asked. Not seeing any ghosts?

Nick nodded. It is good. The fewer ghosts there are, the less I have to deal with their families.

Now, Nick, Gabe drawled, that's not a very nice thing to say.

I didn't mean it like that, Nick responded. What I'm saying is, it’s not the ghosts who are the problem—it’s the humans I have to deal with. It’s the families that are the real challenge. He turned his gaze to Sam. Sam, do you remember your reaction when I first came to you and told you I had a message from your mom?

Sam slumped in his chair, and the color drained from his cheeks. I still feel bad about that, he stammered. I was super dickish to you.

Nick dismissed what he was saying with a wave of his hand. No problem. What I⁠—

I'm really sorry, Nick, that I acted that way. It was just⁠—

No, Sam, said Nick, interrupted him. I'm not saying this to make you feel bad or guilty. I'm just trying to make a point that your reaction? It's normal. This is pretty much how almost everyone reacts when I tell them I'm there to pass on a message from their deceased loved ones. Most people have no experience with ghosts and don't believe they exist. So when I tell them that Aunt Millie wants to tell them that she's sorry, they immediately think that I'm crazy, trying to scam them of money, or am being deliberately cruel.

I can second that, said Gabe. I've seen people go off on Nick, and it ain't pretty.

Yeah, the first time you told me about my mom, I thought you were being mean to me on purpose, said Sam. But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why. I had never done anything hurtful to you—at least to my knowledge—and we'd even hung a few times. Hell, you were always nice to me at school and when we hung. I should have thought about those things instead of attacking you like I did.

Now you understand why I'm happy that there aren't a lot of ghosts about, Nick replied. And as I said, it's not the dead who are the problem; it's the living. Nick felt terrible that he was lying to Sam, but he didn't want to get into the entire demon story with him, feeling that doing so would only endanger him. It was bad enough that Nick constantly feared for the safety of his parents and Gabe. The fewer people he brought into the fold, the better.

Gabe rose, walked over to the picnic table, and retrieved his dark red hoodie.

Can you grab mine, too? Nick asked. The temperature had noticeably dropped over the past half hour, and it was starting to feel chilly. The brisk breeze had raised goosebumps on Nick's arms.

Gabe tossed Nick his gray hoodie. Here you go—a gray hoodie to match your gray sweatshirt. I think we should start calling you Mr. Gray.

I was smart, said Sam, tapping an index finger to his forehead. I knew it was gonna cool off this evening, so I threw on this sweatshirt earlier. Nick glanced over at Sam and chuckled when he once again read the lettering on it: 'I don't like morning people. Or mornings. Or people.'

Nick pointed to Sam's sweatshirt. Where'd you get that, anyway? I want one—but only if they have it in gray.

Sam looked down as though he had forgotten which shirt he was wearing. Oh, I found it online. Unfortunately, I can't remember the name of the site off-hand. I'll forward the link to you when we get back home, given that there's no friggin' service out here.

I know, right? Gabe said, a wicked grin on his face. Ol' Nicky here is going to lose his mind not being able to use his phone for two entire days. I imagine the withdrawals should start any moment now. First, there will be shaking, then profuse sweating, followed by ungodly shrieking and finally uncontrollable sobbing.

Nick looked down and noticed a small stick near his chair. He scooped it up and threw it at Gabe.

Hey! Gabe exclaimed. What was that for?

For being mean, Nick said. He launched a fake scowl at Gabe. Sam laughed.

I wasn't being mean. I was being truthful.

Lies, lies, and more lies. I am not addicted to my phone.

Then why is it sitting on the arm of your chair, even though there's no signal out here? Gabe asked with a wry smirk.

Nick snatched up the phone and crammed it into his pocket. There? Nick choked out. Happy now?

Gabe eyed him, a dimple appearing at the edge of his mouth. I expect the sweating and shaking to begin in 5-4-3-2-1.

Ha-ha! Nick said. He held out both his hands. See? Steady as a rock. No tremors, no sweating, and my eyes are dry. So sorry to disappoint.

Gabe and Sam looked at each other, and they both cracked up laughing. Nick joined in.

Damn, said Sam. It's beginning to get dark. We're doing a campfire tonight, aren't we?

Definitely, Gabe said. I figure it's about time we get one going, as it'll be dark in no time. So who's the master fire maker here?

I'll do the fire, Nick said.

Gabe flashed him a wide smile. Ah, that's right. I forgot you were a Boy Scout.

How about you, Sam? Nick asked. Did your parents force you to join the Boy Scouts as well?

Sam shook his head. It was just my mom and me, but luckily, no. I don't think it ever came up. I'm not much of a joiner.

Gabe shuddered. I thank the heavens that my parents didn't make me join. They asked me when I was little, though it was for the Cub Scouts, if I remember correctly. I joined Little League baseball instead, but after one practice, I quit, lickety-split. I absolutely hated it. They never pushed it with the Scouts or any other group ever again.

You both make it sound as though it's something horrible, said Nick. It was actually a lot of fun—and learning some survival skills was an extra plus.

Well, why don't you use some of those shiny skills of yours and get our little ol' fire going? Gabe said. I'm getting a might chilly.

I agree, said Sam. It's getting dark. I think it's about time we start a fire. Plus, I brought fixings for S'mores.

Gabe creased his brow. What on earth are S'mores? It sounds scary.

Nick zipped up his hoodie. If you've never had S'mores, then you're in for a treat — melted marshmallow and chocolate goodness.

There was a glint in Gabe's eyes. I'll take your word for it. Now about that fire⁠—

I'm going, I'm going, Nick said and stood up. His