The Guidance - By Marley Gibson Page 0,50

mashed potatoes and roast beef. Stephanie holds it out to Courtney. "Here's the food you wanted."

Courtney reaches out and begins scooping the food into her mouth, not even bothering to chew before she swallows. The fluffy white mixture smears all over her face, and gravy trickles down the front of her costume; she finishes and begins to lick the plate clean, like a starving dog.

I stare up at Celia, who shrugs in return. I wish I could tell everyone in the room what's going on, but it would only make them think I'm completely nuts, beans, and crackers.

"Do you want more?" Stephanie asks. Courtney tosses the plate at her and it breaks into ten pieces on the hardwood floor. "Crap! That's Wedgwood. My mom's gonna shit a brick."

"I think we have bigger problems," I say to Stephanie.

In front of me, Courtney begins to cry; mascara cascades down her porcelain cheeks, mixing with the remnants of food and totally ruining the perfect-little-princess effect she's been going for. A whimper escapes from her chest and I believe it's Courtney trying to break through.

"Come back to us," I instruct, hoping I'm doing the right thing.

The soldier is still present. His breath touches my neck. The stench of his life permeates my nostrils. His creepy mocking tone fills my head, bringing a deep-seated pain to my inner ear.

When Courtney peers at me, I see that her eyes aren't the normal gray color. Instead, they're dark and dilated and belong to the soldier inside. His laughter continues to knife away at my skull and I hear him whisper, "She invited me in."

"But she didn't understand what she was doing!"

Everyone in the room snaps around to look at me shout out to no one.

"Oh God, oh God," Courtney quivers out in her own voice. "Someone help me!"

Then the soldier takes over again. "I'm not going anywhere."

I want to take Courtney's hands, but Emily is suddenly fussing at me.

Never touch anyone who might be possessed by a spirit.

Not knowing what else to do, I start praying for her. Hard. The hardest I've ever prayed in my life. I ask God to take this spirit from her and make him leave her alone. I mean, Courtney's a holy terror to me and has been treating me like dog shit since I stepped foot onto the RHS campus, but not even she deserves to be controlled by a 150-year-old ghost who apparently has an ax to grind.

A hand moves to my shoulder and squeezes. I know right away that it's not Jason but Celia. Calming, yet concerned. "Is there anything I can do to help, Kendall?"

"I don't know, Cel."

In my head, I ask the spirit his name.

Wouldn't you like to know?

Yes, I would.

Courtney lunges forward at me and wraps an iron grip around my wrists. Jason moves in to stand up for me and restrain her, but she begins kicking her feet. Believe me, no one wants to get stabbed with those three-inch stilettos she's wielding. Next thing I know, I'm in a semi—wrestling match with Courtney and the Union soldier. I can't help but touch her now since she's trying to scratch my eyes out with her fresh manicure. It's not her at all though. The soldier is controlling her moves—although something tells me that inside Courtney, she's not doing much to fight him. Damn, he/she is strong.

"Cool, girl fight!" some guy shouts out.

"My money's on the chick from Chicago."

"Tillson, get in there and help your woman," another says.

There's laughter and cheering. These kids are sick. Or they think this is an act.

"What are you kids doing? Stop that!"

Evelyn Crawford moves in and tries to pull Courtney off of me. "I know it's Halloween, but there's no reason to act like hooligans."

"Mom, it's not Kendall's fault. Courtney's gone wack," Stephanie tries to explain. "She was doing this séance and then everything went crazy."

"A séance? In this house?" Miss Evelyn is not pleased.

Just then Taylor rushes in with Loreen in tow. Loreen's hair is all mussed and disheveled, like she just got out of bed. I wish I could appreciate the humor of her T-shirt, which reads "Jesus Is a Capricorn," but now is not the time.

"Did Taylor tell you what's going on?" I ask immediately.

Loreen nods. "Evelyn, these kids didn't know what they were doing. Let me help."

"Of course, Loreen." And Miss Evelyn stands aside.

Loreen brings out a small spray bottle from her purse— more than likely her magical blend of holy water and sage—and pulls me away