I, Jessica Chanel, had gotten addicted to a game. You might have heard of it. It’s that ghost hunting one, where you and a party of friends investigate locations trying to get to the bottom of mysterious going-ons caused by ghosts, demons, or other spectral baddies. I’m not normally one for horror, but I just found the game so fun. As someone studying psychology you’d expect me to analyze a possible reason I was so taken by this game. If so, you clearly haven’t heard the stereotype of psych as a degree you get if you don’t have any idea what you want to do in life. 

I’d dispute this stereotype if it wasn’t so god-damned accurate. Everyone expects you to go to college, but no guidance counselor in the world can help you pick a career if you’re completely clueless about what you want out of life. Not that anyone questioned my choice of major; I was smart enough to get into an Ivy League somehow, so I must know what I’m doing. Like directionless “gifted child” isn’t at the level of established cliché in this current year.

So, spring of my junior year of college and still directionless. The proper career progression would be to go to grad school, either for social work, a phd, or that fancy psy.d. Then I take hundreds of dollars per hour asking people on my couch to tell me about their mothers. Okay, that’s unfair. I’d most likely be walking them through workbooks on CBT, or Cognitive-behavioral therapy , by Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia to help them deal with the day to day struggles of a day to day life.

There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s respectable. Far more useful to the world and helpful than many other jobs. I could do much worse, like pre-med to become a psychiatrist. I know medications can help people, but my impression of big-pharma is less than stellar and selling my soul to become a glorified pill dispenser is quite frankly an option akin to death for me.

But this game, it got me thinking; why not parapsychology? Sure, it’s not “respectable,”but maybe it’d be exciting, like in the game. I don’t really have any other goals in life. They say parapsychology research is a career death sentence in academia, but who cares? Wasn’t Jung into the paranormal? Can I stop myself from asking rhetorical questions?

My friend Anna, a student at a nearby fashion school, thought it was a brilliant idea. Of course she would; those creative types are always free spirits. That said, how would I start? I figured the best way would be to try ghost hunting for real. I can try it as a hobby first and, if I liked it, I could try and pursue it in a more professional manner.

So off to the internet I went. Ghost hunting, while not a generally accepted profession, does have plenty of enthusiastic matures if nothing else. If anything, I needed to be careful not to get caught up with any that were too shady. Did you know that you can find reviews of different ghost hunting groups? I was initially surprised by that, but if you think about it it makes perfect sense. If you have weird stuff happening in your home or business the last thing you’d want is to invite weirdos to make things turn even more strange and unusual. 

After finding a few duds, I came across a group that seemed decently professional. A well-made website, with headshots of the founding members, two women and two men. They seemed young, all of them, but they gave off a professional no-nonsense sort of vibe. I know, judging books and covers and all that, but the testimonial all seemed to be in-order. 

They had one or two negative ones complaining because the culprits had been caught trying to hoax the group, but that honestly just made them seem more professional, and more scientific. Admitting stuff like that made them seem positive. They had a phone number at the bottom of the page, and other contact info, so after a bit of thought I shot them an email. Their site did say they were a volunteer organization, so it couldn’t hurt to volunteer.

I sipped my herbal tea, absentmindedly browsing through Amazon when a desktop notification popped up letting me know the head of the ghost-hunting group responded. That was fast. And no wonder.

Jessica,

Thank you for expressing interest in our

Organization. If you’d be willing, we can meet in-

person tomorrow at the coffee shop at 40th and

Walnut across from the Rotunda. I’ll meet you there

at 1300. See you then.

-Joan Everly

Founder and Chief Researcher

East PA Anomalous Research Society

It was a rather terse email, but straight and to the point is promising. If I remember correctly she was the mousy looking woman with glasses. She had looked to be in her late twenties which, although young for such a fancy title, did make sense given the volunteer nature of her group. And the meeting time was very convenient. It wasn’t too long after my physio-psych class, and a short walk to boot. I can easily imagine why they might want a face to face meeting; you don't want to get someone who’s a complete kook ruining their attempts at a serious investigation.

I was rather pleased with myself. At worst I’d have a new hobby, at best I’d have a foot in the door to larger and greater opportunities. My motivation may have initially been “I wanna try the fun video game thing in real life,”but now that I started down this path I was excited. I’d be helping to bring the light of science to the darkness of the supernatural. What a time to be alive. 

I felt rather antsy during class the next day. How could I not? I might have a slight trend towards being dramatic, at least in the privacy of my own mind. I’m allowed a few unspoken quirks like that. This is relatively innocuous knowing how downright bizarre the human mind can get. I am taking abnormal psych, not that it makes me any sort of expert… Well, let’s get back on track. People can get weird and not in a “let's get freaky way.” Okay, in that way too, I think it’s filed under the heading of “paraphilias” in the DSM. 

Wow, weird tangent. Just ignore it. Cliff notes: I was antsy. How could I not be antsy? Repetition aside, warnings about melodrama aside, I have a meeting with the head of a ghost hunting organization. Sure, she’s probably a completely normal person, puts her pants on one leg at a time like all the rest of us. Too many video games and books are probably rotting my mind more than even school. “Ghost hunter” does have a gravitas to it. To me at least it does, most people probably think of them as weird con-artists. But I think it’s cool, and I value my opinion far more than I should.

What kind of person will they be? Terse, maybe. That email was straight, to the point, and spoke of…something. I couldn’t put words to the thought. That picture on the website was average. Almost too average. Think brown hair, glasses, kinda timid looking almost. You know what? It really doesn’t match her email. It was sparse on words, but not the kind of thing that matches with “timid.”So someone who acts differently from their appearance? It’s said that judging people by their appearance is rude and unfair but you can learn a lot about people by what efforts they put into how they present themselves to the world. 

Looks can be deceiving, but if taken in with a bit of discernment they can reveal a lot about a person. It’s all in the fine details. Take my friend Anna. Peak fashionista, that much is blatantly clear at first glance and is true. Often she has the website “fashionista” up on her phone even. A child of the 21st century, terminally online. But things peek through the gaps. A historical allusion here, an anachronistic accessory choice there, nothing the average person would think sticks out as more than experimenting with outfits. 

She’s a fashion student, after all. Imagine my surprise when I saw pictures she took at some event up in Valley Forge. Full-on living history buff. And not wearing a corset even. Okay you could argue a binder is slightly like a corset, but her Continental Army uniform looked pretty bad-ass if I may say so myself.

I guess that may seem to almost disprove my point; the average person wouldn’t tell from first glance that Miss “Bae Kawakubo”ran around in breeches and a cocked hat toting a musket for fun. But close enough observation could point you in the right direction. Or maybe I’m just too nervous and excited to focus in class so I’m pop-psych analyzing someone I’ve yet to meet. Sue me, what I do in the privacy of my own mind is my business alone. Still, I am very interested in who this Miss (Mrs.?) Joan Everly might be, as a person. What kind of person ends up founding a ghost-hunting group?

I was about to find out. Class ended, and with it ended my free time to brainstorm wild theories about the woman I was about to meet. It was a teensy bit rude of me to do so anyways. I’d have plenty of time to theorize to my heart's content after meeting with the “founder and head researcher.” To think the interview is with someone holding that impressive-sounding of a title…maybe this will be a bust. Title inflation is said to be a major issue in the modern workplace, maybe it’s even reached the realm of paranormal investigation. 

It was a short walk for me though. No reason to chicken out now. A few blocks away from class, how convenient. It was a small coffee shop, tucked away around the side of a grocery store that was far more sizable than you’d expect to find in the heart of a major city. It catered to the university students in the area, with notices of various arts events posted in the windows and on the bulletin board. I was maybe ten minutes early, but I was surprised to find the woman I had previously seen only as a thumbnail on a website there ahead of me, calmly sipping a cappuccino. 

I had described her as mousy before. Maybe that description still works at first glance? The heavy rims of her glasses gave off serious librarian vibes, which might fit with the rest of her conservative-looking outfit. Might. Her…aura, for lack of a better word. The hair that surrounded her, felt like musty books and a love for research. That much, at least, fit in with my initial impression of her. Remember my fashionista friend with a penchant for historical crossdressing. This was the reverse.

Her blue skirt-suit, with tasteful light pinstriping to break up the monotonous solid that was currently in vogue, was a simple, no-nonsense cut. So simple you’d give it not a single second thought if you didn’t have friends who were obsessed with this stuff. The fit was impeccable, minus a bit of weirdness around the bust on the left side. Furthermore, the drape of the fabric was far more lux than you’d expect to see in a campus coffee shop, and even a bit much for someone calling themselves a “head researcher.”

It was the kind of suit that would normally wear the wearer if they didn’t have the requisite amount of fashion je ne sais quoi. Combined with the silk blouse beneath her jacket, you’d think she was trying to emulate a model in a Dior prêt-à-porter collection. Honestly I was impressed. Not that she was dressed like a high-level  glass-ceiling crushing take-no-names business executive, possibly a certain editor in chief at Condé Nash. I was more impressed that her overwhelming aura of bookishness managed to transform the outfit, making it seem like the perfect one for discussing the latest new-releases in the sci-fi.fantasy section of the library.

Maybe I’m just being too mean-spirited. It’s just…funny. In a ha-ha sort of way. The incongruity between how she appears and how she dresses herself. Still, that outfit couldn’t have been cheap, either she’s aware of her weird aura and is trying to compensate for it, or someone with a lot of money and fashion sense is putting together her wardrobe. 

I went to the counter and ordered a latte before catching motion from the corner of my eye. I turned around. It was the researcher waving me over. I do have to wonder how she knew I was the one. Who knows, maybe she has ESP? That’d be peak stereotyping, assuming the head of a ghost hunting group feels they have ESP.. But in this case her guess was spot-on.

Compared to the excess of her outfit, I felt rather understated. Not that I dress poorly. More preppy than I like. I just tend to gravitate towards the style despite my interests in the occasional trashy fantasy novel. I do wish I had the guts to experiment like my friends but, well, even the most out there of them doesn't go completely over the top. Most of the time.

So little Miss Ivy League prep, AKA moi, found herself wandering over to the table currently holding the mustiest Dior shopper you’d find this side of the New Look. Scratch that, she actually has more of an Hermés scent. Very classy. Come to think of it, her scarf… Shit, pricey. I’m surprised she’s wearing flats with an outfit that’s at this level. Anyways, I should at least let her know she has the right person.

“Miss Everly, I presume?” I asked as I plopped my backpack down next to the chair across from her. I was asking purely from a position of showing good manners, she was clearly the one I was here to meet.

“Mrs. I’ve been told to be clear on that point.”She answered with a wry look. So an overprotective husband. Interesting. Or overly controlling? Stop it, Jess, you’re doing the overanalyzing thing again.

“Young for a ‘Mrs.’” I replied, skillfully inserting my foot in my mouth in a display of acrobatics entirely unfitting a public location had it not been purely metaphorical.

“I’m older than I look, Mrs. Chanel.”She grimaced as she took a sip of coffee. “My partner…nevermind.”

Partner, interesting choice of words. That certainly would explain the incongruity I felt with her outfit. The assumption is now that her partner dressed her. Her woman partner. Don't be too hard on me for my assumptions. These are just the rude thoughts of someone who thinks too much for her own good, not fit for publication. That’s one other reason this manuscript will never see the light of day. You’ve surely had similar- Wait, you haven’t? Well, then I guess I’m the asshole here.

“So, out of curiosity, how'd you know I’m the one you were supposed to meet?” Please say psychic powers, that’d be fun.

“Who else could it be?”She seemed like she was scrambling for a good answer. Oh, she’s not psychic, just awkward. Good thing for her that her guess was right, that'd have been embarrassing for her otherwise. Wait, it currently is embarrassing her, she’s kinda stuttering a bit. Oh well. 

“You immediately set eyes on me when you walked in, taking great care to look at my outfit. Even after doing so you kept glancing back the whole time you were waiting in line to place your order. You’re not the most subtle, Ms. Chanel.” 

“Could you call me Jessica? I already have to deal with my friends calling me ‘Coco' all the time as a joke.” I get the impression this interview had already gotten off to a poor start. But maybe it’s my fault for choosing to hang out with a bunch of students from a fashion school? No, it’s everyone else's fault!

“Of course. Jessica. So you’re interested in paranormal research?” She sipped her coffee as she waited for my response, eyeing me with amusement.

“Well, I’ve always had an interest in the topic, although it's embarrassing to admit.” Putting on my best interview face, maybe I can drive away the memory of my previous slip-ups. Besides, I’m not exactly lying. “Getting into the latter half of my bachelors, I can’t help but be curious about the field from a more academic perspective. Despite mainstream academia looking down on the idea of the paranormal it’s been a mainstay of human cultures for as long as human cultures have been a thing.”

“The way you talk, you sound like you aspire to academia. That said, you do realize admitting an open interest in this is career suicide, right?” Was that concern I saw? 

“Is it? You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself.” I gestured towards her outfit that screamed affluence and a lack of employment blacklisting. 

“Touché. Though I just happened to luck into a very generous patron. You get the occasional moneybags willing to fund research. I do need to look presentable for meeting with those types.”She very pointedly took a sip of her cappuccino, pinky raised, in a pantomime of someone well-mannered. But oddly enough, it wasn’t a horrible fit. At the same time it drew attention to a different incongruence between appearance and attire. There was almost a hardness underneath it all. Like a… no, I’m not going to say it. I suppose paranormal research really does bring in the odd ones. 

“Even if it doesn’t pay well, doesn’t the thought of it fascinate you? The thought that secrets to a greater understanding of the world might lurk just out of reach of the average person, despite being well-attested to in the historical record going back to ancient Mesopotamia. It feels like there’s truths just waiting to be found, knowledge to be gained. That’s why you’re into it as well, right?”Maybe I might find the topic a bit interesting. But who wouldn’t?

“I wouldn’t exactly say I sought it out, but I can see where you’re coming from. A passion for pursuing knowledge. Hmmm”She looked into her empty cup, waving to the barista for another. “I would have personally preferred to be a bit more selective, but our patron has been insistent on having new blood in our organization. Who am I to go against the suggestions of someone who is, for all intents and purposes, my boss?”

“Didn’t your website say it was a volunteer thing?”That had nagged at me for a while. This sounds like an actual job.

“You did volunteer, right?”A raised eyebrow brought her point home.

“I assumed it’d be a more hobbyist thing. You seem a bit professional.”I wasn’t born yesterday.

“Yesterday's hobbyists are today’s professionals. There’s nothing wrong with your background, and if you really want we could consider this an internship opportunity. And your friend you mentioned, Anne, was it? She’s welcome too.”

“So you’re bringing us on-board?” Was it that simple? 

“How about a trial run? We have an investigation this weekend. You don’t even have to drive. One of our other ‘volunteers’ lives close enough to give you a ride. It’s a bit of a hike, and we probably won't find anything, but you’ll get a chance to cut your teeth on ghost-hunting. What do you say?”

That edge I felt earlier was back. But still. Ghost Hunting. And it’s not like she gave off any excessively bad feelings. I’ll ignore the hint of a bite that smile seemed to give off. Especially since the magical words “internship”were uttered. I would not have expected that from the beginning of the conversation. They need to rethink the use of the word “volunteer”on their website as well.

“How soon do I need to be ready?” I might as well take the plunge. 

The gin that greeted my question made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. This was the woman I had considered to be mousy?

“How fast can you and your friend pack?”