If you can't sleep ((OPEN))

[dimitri]

Dimitri had been failing at studying for at least an hour. His roommate was being loud and if his neighbor wasn't a sound manipulator he would eat his own shirt. The sounds coming out of that room had been going on for hours and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to focus. Finally he had grabbed everything and made a dash for the door, wandering for what seemed like ages and had in reality been about 30 minutes. He had ended up here. It was the only place in the entire school that seemed quiet this afternoon and he wanted to curl up with a book.

He wandered toward the center of the yard, glancing at the names on the stone and paying close attention to the year of death: 1943, 1865, 1829. He stopped at 1829. That was pretty old. He sat down, leaning against the back of it and tilted his head back against the cool stone. He rested like that a moment, muttering to himself quietly for a second. An outside observer might assume he was praying, but really he was just introducing himself. "Hello, sir. I just wanted to sit here. I'm Dimitri... I hope you don't mind." He knew they couldn't hear him, Mister Thomas Miller was long too dead for that, but it felt polite to at least feign asking.

After a moment he dug in his bag, pulling out a book and settling down. He looked around a little guiltily, then down at his unopened copy of The Girl With The Dragon tattoo, before opening the book as wide as he could to break in the spine. He just loved how that felt, even though it made him feel like a terrible book owner. He felt his face flush at what he saw as his own rule breaking, but he didn't regret it for a moment. He cracked the spine again, smiling just slightly.

[Jacquelyn King]

Jackie took a long drag of her cigarette as she walked up the slope to the small cemetery. Her eyes darted about to make sure that no one of authority would was around to confiscate her smokes. She’d been at the academy for a week now and already felt like an alien on a foreign planet. She hadn’t been expecting to make friends or anything, but there was something about the school that irked her. Maybe she wasn’t used to the sense of security and the fact that everyone was so open about their abilities. Some students wondered about hers. So long as she didn’t look like she was talking at open space, no one would know what she could do. And that’s how she liked it, completely anonymous, unpredictable.

The graveyard was the probably the most unlikely place where you’d find the teen, but also probably one of the most deserted places on campus; the perfect place for her to chill and enjoy a couple smokes. The gate to the small cemetery creaked as she pushed opened it and shut with a clang as she let it swing to a close. She could already see them, but Jackie learned that if she didn’t look directly at them, but didn’t try to avoid looking at them all together, they would be less likely to notice her. But that was only true in the cemeteries at home. Here they knew the students had gifts and it didn’t take them long to realize that the girl could see and hear them.

It always started with whispering, then soon enough one of them would rudely interrupt whatever she was doing and start with the questions and the nagging. Jackie just stood and pretended to stare at the clouds while smoking, hoping that they’d get the hint and leave her be.

“She can see us? And hear us?” A woman’s voice asked.
“Yes she’s a medium, can’t you tell?” This voice was that of a man, but he sounded bored and tired.
“Silas hasn’t had a medium in a few years, well go on, go talk to her,” the woman urged the man.

Before he could, another voice caught her attention, but it was different. It had life. This upset Jackie. Frowning, she threw her half-finished smoke into the grass before stomping her foot on it once. She walked straight through the ghosts that had been talking to her. It always bothered them when people did that, especially when it was done intentionally. It hadn’t taken her long to find the source of the voice that drew her attention. Her hazel eyes appraised the scene of the boy sitting on an old grave and a spark interest flickered through them. This could be fun.

Jackie casually strolled over to the boy until her form blocked out the sun’s rays and cast a dark shadow of him. “You.” She barked with a sharp tone before inclining her chin towards the headstone. “Old Thomas here says you’d better get your ass off of his resting place before he and the others come and pay you a visit when you’re trying to rest.” As she spoke she pulled the box of Marlboro Reds out from the pocket of her jacket as well as her favorite zippo lighter. “Hope you don’t mind,” her words were empty and it was obvious that she could care less whether or not the boy would be bothered by the smoke or not. As he took a drag, she could hear the voices and saw the ghosts drawing closer to her.

“Hey I never said that! The boy can sit there all he likes,” called the voice of Thomas Miller.
“What a truly rude girl, first harassing the poor boy and now subjecting him to her bad habits.” The woman from earlier said in a disapproving tone.

Jackie smirked as she pulled the cigarette from her mouth and blew a thick blast of smoke at the pale and transparent entities. “Shut up, you old fools talk too damn much. Ever heard of the phrase silent as the grave?”