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happened to be walking by and see me going in to the used bookstore<br />
for a ghost hunting class.<br />
<strong>The</strong> smell of old yellowed paper hung heavily in the toowarm<br />
air inside the shop. <strong>The</strong>re wasn’t much room to walk around.<br />
Books were stacked literally from floor to ceiling, some on shelves<br />
and others just piled on their own. I wondered how the place actually<br />
made any sales. If I wanted to grab that copy of Wuthering Heights,<br />
I would have created a complete book avalanche. And the ancientlooking<br />
Bible up near the top looked like it could definitely do some<br />
damage if it k<strong>no</strong>cked me in the head.<br />
Dad immediately made a beeline between the stacks for the<br />
back of the store, searching for exactly where the class was going to<br />
be held. He must have found someone to ask, because I heard him<br />
say, very proudly, “My daughter and I are here for the Ghost<br />
Hunting class. Where should we go?”<br />
I followed with less enthusiasm, taking my time gazing up<br />
and down the endless rows of books as I went. Man, this place had<br />
everything. <strong>The</strong>re were like, six copies of Twilight in one place, but<br />
across from it was what looked like the entire series of Animorphs.<br />
Talk about flashbacks to my childhood. It was almost comforting<br />
e<strong>no</strong>ugh to make me forget I was about to go learn about something<br />
that, quite frankly, made me want to pee my pants−almost.<br />
When I reached the sales counter, there was a young, pale<br />
guy with dark hair sitting behind it smiling warmly at my dad. If he<br />
thought it was weird that we were there to learn how to talk to<br />
something we couldn’t see, he definitely didn’t show it. He turned<br />
his smile in my direction as I stopped beside my dad, my hands in<br />
the pockets of my jeans so <strong>no</strong> one would see if they started shaking.<br />
I <strong>no</strong>ted, a bit judgmentally, that the t-shirt draped over his scrawny<br />
chest had a big number 22 wrapped up in a net. Haha, a book pun.<br />
<strong>The</strong> guy definitely fit the bill to work in a place like this.<br />
“Hey,” he greeted me. “You’re here for the class?”<br />
My dad answered for me. “This is my daughter. She’s a little<br />
scared of ghosts.”<br />
My cheeks flared with heat and I glared at my flip-flops.<br />
Thanks, Dad. Advertise to the whole world what a weenie I am. I<br />
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