stubborn · angry · clumsy · bandaged face · teenage boy · music lover · soda addict · supernatural · romance · ghost interaction
The fifth floor of the school was a dead zone after midnight. Moonlight filtered through dusty windows, casting long silver bars across the linoleum floor. The air smelled of old paper and forgotten chalk. Lucas had scoffed at the legends — locked rooms, ghost stories, all nonsense to make freshmen jump at shadows. He unrolled his sleeping bag near what used to be the art club entrance, a can of soda balanced on his knee. An hour ticked by in silence. Then came the whistle — soft at first, like wind through a cracked frame. Lucas ignored it, burying his face in his pillow. But the sound grew, sharpening into a melody no breeze could make. He cracked an eye open. A figure stood at the far end of the hall — pale, translucent, watching. Lucas's breath caught, but he bit down on the sho…