J
ackson hung up the phone and grinned. That was Jinx all right: abrupt, prickly (even before her transformation), and, though he’d never say this to her face, soft on the inside.
In middle school, no one knew who she was. Jackson remembered the hurt looks on her face when people forgot her name. A name that, admittedly, was incredibly plain. In fact, it even rhymed with plain—Jane.
The summer before freshman year, Jinx had unleashed her tough side. She turned, well, weird. All of a sudden, everyone knew who she was. Kids at school even gave her the nickname, Jinx. She loved it. She had wanted to be anyone else besides plain Jane. And she got her wish.
It took Jackson a while to get used to the change, but once he saw that Jinx loved her new nickname, he started calling her that too. It made her happy, so why wouldn’t he?
The website was what turned everything around. After eighth-grade graduation, after the fourth person simultaneously forgot Jane’s name and invited Jackson to a party (skipping her), she turned to Jackson and said, “I’m starting a webwsite.” In two weeks, the Paranormalists site was born, and so was the new Jane. And Jackson’s secret wish got louder in his head.
Sure, in one year, they’d only gone ghost hunting a few times. And those outings did nothing to help Jackson believe. But surely things would pick up?
“Jackson!” His mom’s shout interrupted his look back. “Help with dinner? I can never do the seasoning on the tacos right.”
“Coming!” He flipped off his computer and trotted down the stairs. He turned the corner to the kitchen and saw his mom crumbling beef in the skillet. Jackson took the wooden spoon from her, effortlessly slipping into kitchen mode.
“Hey, are Grant and Hamilton coming back tonight?”
His mom shook her head. “Nope. Too much schoolwork.” She looked at Jackson and winked. “Their type of schoolwork, I’m sure.”
Jackson smiled. “Studying German, you mean? Like, I don’t know...Jägermeister?”
His mom shuddered. “I hope when you start college drinking, you have the good sense to drink something less stupid-inducing. But then again, my straight-A boy will probably actually study.” She reached to tousle his hair and he ducked.
“Someone’s got to take care of you,” he said and then immediately wished he hadn’t. His mom was quiet for a second and then turned to him.
“Jackson, you know I can take care of myself, right? It’s not your job. Even your dad didn’t ‘take care of me’—we were partners. I miss him every day...but we took care of each other. OK?”
Jackson stared at the beef and stirred like his life depended on it. Even four years after his dad’s death, the wound still felt fresh.
He cleared his throat and tried to lighten the mood. “No worries, Mom. Anyway, I’m trying to talk Jinx into actually working with people through the website. You know, actual investigations. She wants to charge if we do that.”
His mom rummaged through the refrigerator, her voice light and airy. “Oh, really? She thinks there’s enough paranormal activity in Portland to get you some money?”
“Yep. And why not? I mean, who hasn’t had something weird happen to them, right? Some chairs moving...lightbulbs flickering...strange telepathic moments...maybe things are happening all the time, right in front of us. It would be cool to find out for sure.” He didn’t add out loud his secret wish: Like if Dad is watching us right now and trying to communicate.
His mom smiled at him as if she could read his thoughts, but said, “Well, I hope you can find some cases.”
He stirred the beef some more and added his own homemade taco seasoning. The smell in the kitchen bloomed and his stomach growled. “Yeah...but first I have to talk Jinx into, you know, trusting other people.”
His mom set the table with two plates and silverware. She chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think that will be too hard. She adores you, and let’s face it—beneath everything, Jinx is soft on the inside.”
Strange telepathic moments.