Drawing of hands clasping a medallion [https://em.wattpad.com/3097c6e7d26757f26e14be79507fdeb81f78d1e6/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f7837755f2d4745717051547472773d3d2d3735333131303432382e313562313733373639663830343934383638313832313230323833382e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

I sit at my desk and grade papers, heart pounding, as my students pack their things. The other professors tell me I'll get used to teaching in no time. The problem is I still feel like a college student, and lecturing a room of college students makes me feel like I'm playing dress-up.

It's worse that Theo enrolled in my class. Having a student who used to be my study buddy makes me feel even more like an impostor. As a grad student, he must be bored out of his mind in WRIT102; he sits in the back of every class, grinning as if my newly acquired authority is the funniest thing in the world.

As the rest of the class filters out, Theo slings his backpack over his shoulder and approaches. He puts his hands on my desk and tries to get a look at the paper I'm grading. I tilt the page away and he grins.

"We're starting at Moxxie for Raya's birthday," he says as if we were just talking about this. "Saturday, around 8 pm. It'll be me, and Lisa, and Paul, and all the other lowly grad students you used to hang out with. Come out with us."

He pounds the desk with his hands to emphasize each word. Come! Out! With! Us!

"Nah, it's weird," I tell him, filing the papers into my bag. "I can't go out drinking with students."

"It's not weird. You're barely a professor," Theo says, waving a hand, and my impostor syndrome flares up again. Then, just as suddenly as he began talking in the first place, Theo switches topics. He leans in close and whispers, "It's still there, by the way."

Theo is not the whispering type. I immediately know what he's referring to.

"Oh. Did you put out a bowl of salt water like I told you to?"

Theo pushes open the classroom door. "I was going to, but then Clara emailed me back."

"How do you have my step-sister's email?"

Theo gives me a look, and I realize my question is dumb. He got her email from the massive billboard of her face that she just purchased off the side of I-80. The whole city has my sister's email.

"Anyway," he continues, "I told her you recommended the salt water thing. She said 'that's an old trick.' She called me a luddite."

I roll my eyes. The bowl of salt water isn't an old trick, it's a classic, and ghost hunting is nothing if not a classic sport. Clara takes every opportunity to dunk on my extremely rusty ghost hunting skills.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"What did she have you do instead?" I ask, trailing behind students progressing toward their next classes.

"A thing with a gopher," Theo said, waving away the question. "Whatever, I couldn't even find a gopher; where does a person find a gopher? I went to a pet store and got a gerbil."

My mouth drops open. "What did you do to the gerbil!?"

"The gerbil is fine," he says flatly. "That's probably alright, though, isn't it? Gerbil? Gopher? Same thing?"

Probably not. Spellwork is extremely pedantic. I shake my head.

Theo throws up his arms. "I just want it out of my house. Raya can't sleep, which means I can't sleep. And she has her thesis defense next Thursday."

My hand reflexively moves to the warding coin I wear around my neck. It's nice not to have to worry about things like this anymore.

"Theo, you should probably not start a fight with a ghost. Let things run their course. Chances are, it'll move on in a few weeks. Only one in forty-"

"Don't give me that 'only one in forty hauntings turns violent' bs again."

"It's not bs, it's true!"

"It pushed all my potted plants out the window," he says. "This is war. Is there some intervention that doesn't require me to acquire a very specific rodent?"

"Why don't you stay at a friend's place and wait for it to blow over? Nine in ten hauntings resolve themselves-"

"Within three months, I know. God, Nitiya, are you made of statistics?"

"I am 65% made of statistics."

"We can't just crash at someone's place with two huskies," Theo says. "Do you know how loud huskies are? Almost as loud as a ghost pushing six succulents out a window. Come on, you've gotta have something."

"I don't really do this," I remind Theo, but I have a sinking feeling that I know what he's actually getting at.

Sure enough, he blurts out: "Can I borrow your ward?"

Oh, Nitiya. You should never tell Theo anything.

"Theo, it's a family heirloom," I say, feeling uncomfortable. And I'm too afraid to be alone without it, is what I don't say. Theo looks disappointed, so I change the subject. "My sister's going to be here in a few days. She'll be really busy, but-"

"Really? She didn't mention that."

"Oh, she'll be here," I say, following the line of students out into the quad. I draw my coat against the flush of cold. "That explosion downtown a few days ago, it's totally her style. It's actually disturbing how excited she gets when someone dies mysteriously."

Last weekend, an explosion took out the entire top floor of an apartment. Seven of its eight residents perished. The team of investigators hasn't found a cause. Which means, if I know my sister, I'll be getting a call from her any moment asking to crash on my couch. Clara is constantly chasing small domestic tragedies. She's convinced nothing terrible happens without paranormal influence.

"Can I stop it from destroying my stuff before she gets here?" Theo asks. His eyes flick to my hand, still fiddling with the warding coin around my neck. I tuck my jacket over it. He presses his lips together and exhales long and loud. "What's this bowl of salt water thing all about?"

Feeling relieved, I explain, "It's for tracking spirits throughout a house. Leave it in a well-trafficked area, best option is a doorway. In the morning, record the white streaks. If you don't see anything, move the bowl to another doorway the next night."

"Okay...?"

"Spirits fall into patterns, and from the patterns, you can diagnose what they're getting stuck on. Sometimes, dealing with a restless spirit is as simple as rearranging the living room. Bad feng shui."

"You're joking."

"You asked."

"Fine," he says. "I'll leave out a bowl of water. I'll put out some hummus and carrot sticks, too. Maybe we can sit down and have a nice friendly chat and I'll politely ask it to leave."

"Have you tried that?"

He looks at me like I'm making fun of him.

I shrug. "Sometimes it works."