Ouija Bored
an excerpt

Ángel Hernandez, sat on the gold couch in Noelle's living room, channel surfing. In the hand that wasn't holding the remote control, was a pen. When he heard the door open, he turned off the T.V. and set the remote on the coffee table.
“Ángel,” Noel said, “Noelle's here.”
The young Latino stood up, and looked at the short girl entering the house. "That's Noelle?” he inquired in a mix of a Mexican and Brooklyn accent, “Isn't she a little, you know, young?”
“Well, yes,” the black haired man replied, “But, she knows her craft.”
Noelle rolled her eyes at her father, “Liar.”
Ángel looked the girl up and down. He picked up her dark brown French braid and raised an eyebrow, “Tú no parece una exorcist.”
“I speak Spanish you know.” Noelle said, insulted that Ángel had questioned her exorcising abilities. “And I respectfully resent that.”
“Shit,” Ángel sighed, “I'm trapped.”
“You're only safe inside your mind.” August stated, having been unusually quiet.
The two phantoms and the girl went up to her purple room. Noelle flopped over on her bed, and Ángel sat down beside her. August however, took his usual spot, standing at the foot of the bed, watching his assignment and her client. He hated Ángel immediately. Who did he think he was? Sitting next to Noelle like that?
“How did you die?” Noelle asked. The first standard question in what she did.
“Uh, let's see...” Ángel began, wrapping his curly black hair around his index finger while he recalled, “I was outside some building, looking for inspiration for my novel, and, I reached into my jacket pocket for a pen and some paper, and then some pig, he shouted something at me and shot me down.”
“And by pig, you mean cop, right?” Noelle inquired.
“Sí.” the boy answered.
“I can sort of relate.” Noelle said, in attempt to comfort Ángel, “I mean, I don't know anyone who has been gunned down--”
“I don't count?”
“You count, I just mean, people from here.” Noelle replied, “But, yeah, the cops around here, they really have some vendetta against the teenagers.” She laughed lightly, “I can't tell you how many times the cops had to escort me home on Halloween because some of my clients ran away and I had to go after them.”
“You're a rotten liar, Noelle.” August chimed in. “You're too big a coward to go after them at night, and they'd always be back by morning anyway.”
The phone began ringing, but Noelle was unaffected. He dad usually answered the telemarketers: 'Before you go any further, may I interest you in buying some condoms?' He would pause then add, 'We have new, and used.' Noel was known for his sick sense of humor, which was why he got along so well with teenagers.
The young exorcist glared at her guardian. Although for him to insult her, was not a terribly uncommon occurrence, he knew better than to do it in front of a client. “Regardless, that's more than you can say for yourself.”
“If I finish my novel, would you get it published for me?” Ángel asked from out of nowhere.
Noelle raised an eyebrow and then answered, “Uh, sure, why not?” being an all too agreeable person.
“Really?You will?” Ángel inquired, “Muchas gracías, Noelle.”
“Any time,” Noelle began to say, but was cut off by her father.
“Noelle, Caprice is on the phone!” He called up the stairs.
Noelle raced down the stairs, tripping on the third to last step and falling flat on her face. August heard his assignment crash on the floor, and bit his lip, something like that always happened when he chose not to follow her. He looked down the stairs and smirked at Noelle, “Don't trip.”
The young exorcist glared up at the phantom, “Get your butt down here. Now.”
August obeyed and sunk through the stairs, and stepped out of the hall closet. “Done.”
She stuck her tongue out at August and grabbed the phone out of her father's hand, “Caprice, darling, to what do I owe this lovely telephone visit?”
“Come over to my house and I'll tell you.” the teenage girl commanded.
“Give me two minutes.”
“Kay.”
“Love ya.”
“Bye.”
“Dad, I'm going over Caprice's house. I'll be back whenever.”
Ángel had just figured out how to sink into the stairs and exit through the hall closet as August did, and caught that last part about leaving. He tapped August on the shoulder, “Am I really last on her list of priorities?”
The guardian, pondered the question for a moment, before answering, “Let me put it this way, you are below her school work.”
“I'm so loved...” the phantom said with a roll of his eyes.
By the time that sentence had been uttered, August was behind Noelle, almost halfway down the block already. Ángel reluctantly followed, slugging along behind them.

A Puerto Rican girl with dark brown and pink hair threw herself into Noelle's arms. This was Caprice. “What's up lovey?”
“Oh you, know.” Noelle said half-heartedly, “The usual.”
“School?”
“Yeah mostly.” Noelle replied. Caprice didn't know about the ghosts, and according to Noelle, she didn't need to.
Noelle and Caprice, though the closest of friends, lived very separate lives. Noelle, was a full time student, getting straight A's in everything, and serving the community by helping the dead pass into Peaceful Eternity. Caprice, however, was a party girl, coming to school drunk, and serving the community as an object of lust for boys who couldn't get any.
They sat out on Caprice's front steps, watching more November snow fall from the clouds overhead. It would've been romantic if they were lovers, but Caprice had a boyfriend, and Noelle was too busy thinking of what to do with Ángel and what her grandmother was going to do about Peter.
They talked about whatever came to mind, somehow starting off with what a bastard Caprice's boyfriend was, and ending up talking about Frosted Flakes and how they needed a better slogan.
“Frosted Flakes, are more than good--”
“THEY'RE MAREVELOUS!”
“Elle, I think incredible sounded better than marvelous.” Caprice said, catching snowflakes on her tongue.
“Yeah,” the young exorcist admitted, “Even amazing sounded better.” She looked at her watch, “I think, I should go back home, it's getting late.”
“Want me to walk you home?” Caprice offered.
“Nah, it's just down the block. If any serial rapists pop out of the bushes, I'll scream for help and you call the police.” Noelle replied, only half joking. A few months ago, they had found a sex offender from Florida living in the horse stables, so Noelle had every right to be uneasy.