Lunchtime at Apple Valley High was a catch-22. Either you sat through the ridiculousness of gossip and petty pranks, or you learned to go hungry.

I'd only been a student there for a few weeks, after Mom and I packed up our belongings to start fresh in a new town, but already I understood the annoying peer politics -- they didn't vary much from school to school. As nerve-wracking as it could be as the new kid, suffering through lunchtime was the worst, whether you had friends to sit with or not. Luckily for me, I'd fallen in with a pretty good clique that made dealing with the mystery-meat-of-the-day somewhat tolerable.

This wasn't the first time we had "started over". Mom wasn't the greatest when it came to romantic commitments and her recent break-up had prompted yet another address change. But I had it better than a lot of kids in my situation. Each time I started a new school -- Apple Valley being the sixth since Kindergarten -- I'd always managed to quickly slide in with a group. When you move around a lot, you learn to roll with the punches, and I had the Miss Friendly and Outgoing act down to a T. Really, I had no choice. It was either that or become a social pariah.

Lunch on this particular day started out the same as the rest. The girls at the large circular table where I sat were involved in a deep conversation discrediting different members of the student body, while the boys participated in a series of pranks, each one trying to out-trick the next. It was in the middle of these antics when the bright LED lights overhead began to flicker erratically. I didn't think much of it -- I mean, lights quiver sometimes -- but when I looked around at the wide-eyed faces in the packed cafeteria, I discovered they'd all stopped mid-sentence to gape at the unstable bulbs. After a moment, the activity ceased and the cafeteria resumed its noisy, mid-day routine.

"This is the third time this week I've seen that happen," Jasmine announced, her gaze fixed to the lights on the ceiling. She stuffed the last of the carrot she'd been nibbling on into her mouth. "Rose must be pissed off. She's been showing up more than usual these days."

"That's nothing. Last week I walked into History and the place reeked of flowers. The smell was so overwhelming we ended up having class in the senior courtyard." The look on Elliott's face as he recounted the incident was a mixture of excitement and disbelief. He shoved a nail-bitten hand through his shaggy blonde hair. "I wanted to hurl! Ms. Carmichael blamed it on the Horticulture class, but I'm taking Horticulture this semester, and we're growing tomatoes, not roses."

The rest of the table began to speak at once, their animated tales crashing over one another. It seemed everyone had a story about flickering light bulbs or phantom scents. "Wait a minute," I began, holding up my hands to slow them down. "I'm the new girl in school, remember? What're you guys talking about?"

"That's right!" Erica exclaimed. She leaned closer and threw an arm around my neck. "Chloe's never heard the story of Rose Marie Foster." She drug out the name in an eerie sing-song tone, making it as creepy-sounding as she could.

Ben snickered from across the table. "Fresh meat." He rammed his shoulder into Elliott's and they broke out into full-blown laughter.

"Well, is someone going to tell me about her, or are you just going to sit there and laugh?" I stuck my tongue out and threw an empty chip bag into Ben's face. He responded by puffing air into it and then smacking it against his hand, blowing out the side. The loud noise made the girl sitting behind him jump a mile high, and she gave him a nasty look before leaving the table to return her lunch tray.

Jasmine turned to me, her face an earnest mask. "Rose Foster went to school here about forty years ago. Rumor has it, she died after an explosion in the science lab. The fire spread quickly and she was trapped. No one was able to save her." Her brown eyes widened and she lowered her voice, as if she didn't want the tables nearby to overhear. "Apparently, everyone in the lab watched in horror as she burned to death right in front of them."

"That story gives me the creeps every time I hear it." Rachel cringed. "And the weird shit that's been going on lately doesn't help!"

I turned back to Jasmine, anxious for her to continue.

"They say her ghost still wanders the halls. Sometimes you'll walk through an unexplained cold spot or the electricity will act up, making the lights flicker on and off. Some kids will even smell roses -- just like her first name. Everyone thinks she makes her presence known so no one will forget her, but for some reason she's been more active lately."

"Yeah, it's like she's trying to tell us something," added Teddy. "I've heard so many weird stories these past few weeks. This isn't the first incident," he said, nodding his dark blonde waves toward the lights overhead.

Truth be told, I didn't need my new friends to tell me the school was haunted, I already knew. Since my first day at Apple Valley High, I could feel the presence of a ghost -- it was the details I was still a little sketchy on. I didn't know who she was or how she had died, I just knew she was there. And every day her presence grew stronger and stronger, which made me wonder if my presence had something to do with that.

From the time I was a child, I could see ghosts. Well, I didn't always see them. Sometimes I could just sense them close by. When they were around, a tingly sensation makes its way up my back and moves across my shoulders. Sort of like that feeling you get when you're holding a sparkler in your hand on the Fourth of July -- you know, when the shower of tiny flames inch closer and closer toward your fingers? When the slivers of fire finally touch your skin they sting a little. That's how it feels when there's a spirit nearby -- or at least, that's how it's always felt for me. It didn't hurt exactly, but the feeling was unwelcome all the same. As frequently as the apparitions made themselves known, I could never get used to their visits. Images of them existed as stains on my mind, memories I couldn't escape no matter how hard I tried to forget.

Ben leaned closer. "I think Rose stuck around because she's seeking revenge. She's pissed no one saved her; they all just watched as she burned to death!"

"They did try to save her, but they couldn't," Jasmine scolded as she stood up from her chair. She pushed it tight against the table and turned to me with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, Chloe. I can't walk with you today, I have to get to class early. Mr. Snell wants to have a chat, most likely about that biology test I flunked." Jasmine rolled her almond-shaped eyes and gave her head a toss, flinging wispy black bangs away from her forehead. "As if that's gonna help my grade any."

"It's okay, I need to stop by the restroom first anyway. See you next period." I gave her a small wave before standing up from my seat. "Catch you guys later," I said to the rest of the table, then made a quick exit out the door.

Climbing the stairway to the third floor, I followed the long hallway to the end, stopping briefly in front of the restroom. Most of the students were still in the cafeteria and the unusual silence that hung in the air felt a bit unnerving. The entrance to the lavatory was shrouded in shadows and the faint smell of tobacco seeped out, telling me someone had recently ignored the school's "no smoking" policy. Walking into the empty room, I went straight for the large mirror positioned above the sinks.

Thanks to my father, I'd been cursed with an abundance of tight copper curls. At least that's what I've always been told. I'd never actually met him in person or even seen a picture, so I had no choice but to believe what little information Mom would occasionally share. 

My eyes narrowed as I considered the reflection staring back at me. Layers upon layers of untamed ringlets twisted this way and that, and no matter how much fancy goop I applied I just couldn't curb their relentless enthusiasm. The only thing more annoying than my out-of-control fro, were the smattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose and the white-blonde lashes framing my blue eyes. I'd gotten into the habit of wearing cover-up and mascara every day without fail. I would rather die than let anyone catch me rocking the natural look.

So there I stood, checking my makeup for the millionth time since breakfast, making sure my secret weapons were firmly in place. Leaning closer to the mirror, I gave my lashes a quick once-over before letting out a disgruntled groan. Just as I thought, I was in need of a midday touch up. I began to fumble with the purse I'd recently found at a second hand shop. Since Mom couldn't afford to buy me the kind of bags most girls at my new school were carrying, it was important that mine had a unique, vintage-style charm that made even the most brand-conscious female desperate to find one just like it.

This particular purse had a zipper on it that liked to stick half-way up the track, making it impossible to open at times. But its Art Deco design made it a super cool find, so I decided to just deal with the minor inconvenience. After a moment of tugging, the link finally gave-way and I pulled out the tube of Blacker Than Black Mascara nestled inside.

I lifted my gaze back to the mirror and my eyes locked with the luminous green eyes of a girl standing behind me. I never even heard her approach. She wore her brown hair very long and parted down the center, and her skin was the color of alabaster, pale and translucent, which defined her delicate features in a most unusual fashion. She was pretty, in a retro sort of way, but there was something off about her.

She was dead.

The familiar rush of goose bumps made their way up my arms, just as they always did when I received a visit from someone no longer alive. If I'd been paying closer attention, I should have picked up on the electric sensation that accompanied her presence, but I'd been too preoccupied by my embarrassing lashes to notice. The girl continued to stare with an expression I couldn't quite understand. Was it apprehension? Fear? Confusion? 

As hard as I tried, I couldn't look away, which is what I normally did when a ghost made it's unwelcome appearance. If I ignored them long enough, they would eventually disappear. For a little while, anyway. But it would never take long before they, or another entity entirely, found its way back. As far as I was concerned, this otherworldly gift bestowed upon me from God knew where was not a blessing, and I would've been more than happy to have unloaded it onto someone else.

"Please help me..."

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I could feel my breathing grow ragged. The spirits ... they didn't normally speak. They just watched, until finally dissolving into nothingness. Terrified, my eyes grew wide, and I had no choice but to turn around and face her. She was blocking the exit. I did a slow one-eighty, only to be met by an empty space.

She was gone.

Could it be that I had imagined her? No. Definitely not. The chilled air and scent of roses that dominated the small restroom proved I hadn't been alone. Someone -- or something -- had been in there with me.

Scanning the space, I searched for any sign of the apparition. 

Nothing.

Just then, two freshmen I recognized from lunch entered the lavatory, chatting amicably about upcoming plans. They froze dead in their tracks when they saw my expression.

"What's going on?" one girl asked, scrutinizing my face carefully.

"Do you smell that?" mumbled the other girl, turning to her friend with a wide eyes.

"Roses! I smell roses! Oh my God, I told you that ghost was around!" the first girl shrieked, tugging at her friend's arm. "She just made the lights flicker in the cafeteria, and now she's here in the restroom!"

"Do you think if I start taking pictures, maybe I'll catch something? Like a misty figure or an orb?" The second girl reached for a cell phone stuffed into the back pocket of her jeggins and opened the camera app, ready to play ghost-buster.

I cleared my throat and hid my shaking hands from their view. "Sorry girls. I just sprayed some body spray, that's all. No ghost in here."

Simultaneously, their faces fell, as if I'd just crushed their dreams of attaining guest spots on the next Ghost Adventures episode.

"Are you sure?" the first girl persisted suspiciously. "Then what's got you so freaked out?"

I shrugged, trying my best to play it off. "I just remembered I have an Algebra 2 test this afternoon I forgot to study for," I lied. "Sorry to get your hopes up."

Quickly, I brushed past them and dashed into the hallway, forgetting all about adding another layer of mascara. With my heart pounding in my chest, I didn't stop running until I'd made it to Biology. 

As I sat through class, unable to concentrate on Mr. Snell's monotonous lecture of electrochemical principles, I couldn't shake the image of the dead girl I'd seen. It had to be Rose Foster. It had to be. And she'd actually spoken to me.

But why?

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