Search For a Ghost and Find One. Chapter 1.

That day, in fall of 2011, leg trips were at their most frequent, paper balls at their most bouncy and bullies at their toughest. Receiving those welcomes was Byron Hughes. 

Physically underdeveloped men such as himself are unable to counter a pump-up but that is one thing �" the latter are not the stronger. They customarily abuse strength. Another thing is that with those feeble individuals whose self-respect had gone down so low they remain irresponsive to any type of offence. When the disturbance over Byron’s arrival subsided, anyone who felt like it would still hound his every move. I knew that his abnormal patience would not bode well for him. I would keep letting things flow but one day, on class, assaulting my mind were pictures of a bully harassing Byron somewhere in the toilet. 

I rushed out of the room, down the stairs, across the hallway and into the restroom. Too busy to hear me enter, the bully was holding Byron down with his knee on Byron’s neck. 

‘You makin’ a big mistake, dickhead. This ain’t a good place to be a dickhead, ya know?’ 

There was a gurgling sound of a reply. 

‘Can’t hear ya! Speak louder, lapchop! 

I started sneaking over to them. 

‘I don’ wanna see you again ‘round here, ya got it? Who even let you BREATHE ‘ere?’ 

I maced the scoundrel. He screamed in agony, his hands over his face. I stepped up front and floored him with a harsh foot strike. Then I exposed his face to attack by delivering a blow into his crotch. 

Wheezing, he said: 
‘I’ll kill ya, you… 

My next hit knocked him out unconscious. 
I flipped Byron over onto his back. His face was grazed, the spot where it had been marked with a blood stain like a mask. 

I probed his pulse. It was weak. 
‘Hang on buddy, you’ll be okay!’ 

I ran out of the closet and bumped into a clean-up cart, knocking supplies out of it. 

‘Watch it kid, will ya!’ �" a custodian yelled at me. 
‘Sorry, you got to help me! There’s a man down!’ 

I dashed back into the toilet �" nobody in there. 
I felt dumbfounded. 

‘So where’s yer man down, huh?’ 
‘He was right here seconds ago, I swear!’ 

Standing in the doorway, his hands on his hips, the custodian looked furious. 
‘I don’t know how…’ 

‘Listen kiddo’, - he said, going towards me, pointing his finger at me - ‘You wanna play yer silly games, knock yourself out. But leave me out of this! Ok?’ 
Already up close with his finger inches away from my eyes, he bellowed: 

‘I GOTTA JOB TO DO! UNDERSTAND?!’ 

‘Yes, sir. Understand.’ �" was my meek reply. 

‘Good. Now quit screwin’ around, get yer butt over there and make yerself useful!’ 

On my way out, I made a mental note that not only did those two vanish, they did not leave behind so much as a bloodstain. 

Swiftly, I picked up the litter and hurried off. 

Running between lockers, I stopped dead the instant I had passed mine. 
I did a double check - the door was ajar but unbroken. 

To my infinite surprise, I found everything in place. The only out-of-place item 
was a green sticky note on the inside of the door. 

I unstuck it but did not have time to examine it as the bell rang, mobs of students flooded the hallway knocking the sheet out of my hand. 

It flew up to the ceiling and then along the hallway. 

I broke into a run, pushing my way through. 

The note kept going to the end of the hallway, then suddenly rounded the corner. It continued up the staircase, making me run like mad. Everybody shoved aside gave off angry shouts to which I paid zero attention. 
The green paper flew into the classroom and landed on top of my desk. I snatched it, trying to regain my breath. 

A small-lettered writing said: ‘Who searches, finds. It is your turn’, and below was the name of who had challenged me for such an indefinite quest after his mysterious disappearance. 

Motivated by nothing but curiosity, I went for it. I searched the town South and West and yet did not succeed - no trace of Byron anywhere. I could probably have more luck finding a needle in a haystack. 

The sky grew dusky and deeper had grown my desire to call it a day. My parents were away when I made it back home. No longer in need for the sheet I was chasing, I decided to trash it but thought better of it. Burning would be perfect. To me, there was always glory in such a way of disposal �" watching paper smolder soothed me. 

In the kitchen, I carried the note, slowly, to a burning candle. When it was close enough, starting to appear were brown figures, but the paper was already burning through in the middle. 

I used a glass bowl to extinguish the fire. Then I hit the switch. Two figures were gone but I could recall them �" 6 and 1. 

Carefully holding the sheet over the candle, I warmed up every inch until all figures came out. It looked like a phone number with only a plus missing �" 1580 615 1011. 

I dialed out. 

There was a voicemail speaking: 
‘The number you have dialed is incorrect.’ 
‘Been hectic time, hasn’t it?’ came the voice from behind. 

I startled, almost dropped my cell phone but, after several awkward juggles, managed to catch it. 

I turned briskly around to see the intruder. It was Byron, not a single mark on him. 
‘Evening, my friend’ �" he said, rather sadly. 
I took his greeting silently. He was in for questioning.