Heather gone, I blew lightly on my knuckles. Ghosts have surprisingly bony jaws.

‘So,’ I said. ‘What were you saying, Father?’

Father Dominic, still staring at where Heather had been standing, remarked, pretty drily for a priest, ‘Interesting mediation techniques they’re teaching out east these days.’

‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Nobody calls me names and gets away with it. I don’t care how tortured he was in his past life. Or hers.’

‘I think,’ Father Dominic said, thoughtfully, ‘there are some things we need to discuss, you and I.’

Then he brought a finger to his lips. To one side of us a door opened and a large man, his face heavily bearded, looked out into the breezeway, having heard the crash of Heather’s astral body – funny how much the dead can weigh – hitting the row of lockers.

‘Everything all right, Dom?’ he asked, when he saw Father Dominic.

‘Everything’s fine, Carl,’ Father Dominic said. ‘Just fine. And look what I’ve brought you.’ Father Dominic placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Your newest pupil, Susannah Simon. Susannah, meet your homeroom teacher, Carl Walden.’

I stuck out the hand I’d just knocked Heather senseless with. ‘How do you do, Mr Walden?’

‘Just fine, Miss Simon. Just fine.’ Mr Walden’s enormous hand engulfed mine. He didn’t look much like a teacher to me. He looked more like a lumberjack. In fact, he practically had to flatten himself against the wall to give me room to slip past him into his classroom. ‘Nice to have you with us,’ he said, in his big, booming voice. ‘Thanks, Dom, for bringing her over.’

‘Not a problem,’ Father Dominic said. ‘We were just having a little difficulty with her locker. You probably heard it. Didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll have the custodian look into it. In the meantime, Susannah, I’ll expect you back in my office at three, to, um, fill out the rest of those forms.’

I smiled at him sweetly. ‘Oh, no can do, Father. My ride leaves at three.’

Father Dominic scowled at me. ‘Then I’ll send you a pass. Expect one around two.’

‘OK,’ I said, and waggled my fingers at him. ‘Buh-bye.’

I guess on the West Coast you aren’t supposed to say buh-bye to the principal, or waggle your fingers at him, since when I turned around to face my new classmates, they were all staring at me with their mouths hanging open.

Maybe it was my outfit. I had worn a little bit more black than usual, due to nerves. When in doubt, I always say, wear black. You can never go wrong with black.

Or maybe you can. Because as I looked around at the gaping faces, I didn’t see a single black garment in the lot. A lot of white, a few browns, and a heck of a lot of khaki, but no black.

Oops.

Mr Walden didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He introduced me to the class, and made me tell them where I came from. I told them, and they all stared at me blankly. I began to feel sweat pricking the back of my neck. I have to tell you, sometimes I prefer the company of the undead to the company of my peers. Sixteen-year-olds can be really scary.