"You're willingly asking to attend advanced Physics, correct?" asked the guidance counselor from the other side of the desk. If her tone didn't give it away, then the surprised look on the chick's face--she couldn't have been more than a few years out of college herself--definitely proved it was a pretty out there request.

Sarah nodded. "That's right," she said before pursing her lips in defiance. There were a few classes that she was determined to take advantage of, and after last night, this had recently shot to the top of her list.

"And you know that you're not constrained by the usual requirements since you'll be auditing all of the courses--"

"Yes, yes, I know. But I figure why not get exposure to a variety of subjects, am I right?" she pressed on, getting annoyed at the pushback. She'd have thought educators would be thrilled to have a student express interest in anything other than cheap beer and prom.

Ms. Yang-Mills (according to the etched placard in front of her) sighed and turned her attention to her computer. After tapping away at the keyboard for a while, she triumphantly hit one last key and the nearby printer roared to life.

"There you have it," she said when she handed the hot-off-the-presses document over to Sarah. "Our classes are scheduled to meet at the same time every day so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out. Classroom numbers that are in the one-hundreds range are located on the ground floor, and everything in the two hundreds is upstairs." She paused to look at her watch. "There's about twenty minutes left of third period right now, so you may just want to start with fourth after getting oriented."

Sarah looked down at the schedule of classes. Third period was Physics, room 205.

Bolting out of her chair, she grabbed her backpack off the floor and hoisted it over her shoulder. "No, I'm good. Thanks!" she exclaimed, already running to the door.

The closest stairwell was almost directly across from the administrative offices. Taking the risers two at a time, Sarah was up and already looking at the numbers above the doors probably before Ms. Yang-Mills had even realized that she'd gone.

"So that finishes our section on sound waves," said the teacher--David Arkani according to the printout in her hand--as Sarah opened the door. "We'll do a few practical demonstrations next week as soon as Principal Orr either finds the spare key to the science storage closet or hires a locksmith to pick the lock. Oh, hello. Are you a new student?" he asked as Sarah stepped further into the classroom.

She waved the paper in front of her. "Kind of, I guess?" she said, feeling every eye on her in spite of being too nervous to take a look around. "Uhm, I'm Sarah Corwin. Not sure if you got a heads up that I might come in to some classes--"

"Oh, yes!" he exclaimed, interrupting her stilted explanation. Pointing to an empty spot at a two-person desk on the front row, Mr. Arkani continued. "Forgive my surprise, but I didn't think anyone who had a choice would sit through my class for fun. Not that I'm not thrilled. Anyway, do sit down."

As she rounded the table and dropped her backpack at her feet, Sarah smiled. At least she wouldn't be the most awkward person in the class.

"Hey."

She looked to her left at the boy who'd just greeted her. With floppy, dark hair, studious glasses, and a welcoming smile, his casual reassurance was exactly what she needed. "Hi," she whispered back.

"I like your tattoo," he replied, and immediately Sarah's hand shot up to the spot on her shoulder directly above her collarbone.

Sure enough, her shirt had slipped, exposing the skin and the reminder she'd gotten during the summer of the main reason she needed to keep going: the word "love" written in scrolling cursive.

"Uhm, thanks," she muttered, pulling up the fabric.

He was unfazed. "I'm Bennett," he said, extending his arm toward her.

Happy that he moved on from asking about her ink, she shook his hand. "Sarah, but you probably just heard that," she said, realizing her mistake too late. Trying to save face, she added, "So, your mom's a fan of Jane Austin?"

The boy looked puzzled. "How did you know?"

Sarah tried not to laugh. For someone likely named after the family in arguably the Georgian-era author's most famous novel, he appeared clueless as to the connection. "Lucky guess," she deadpanned, instead.

"Did you just move here or--"

He didn't get to finish.

"Mr. Rigby, if you'd be so kind as to turn your attention back to the remainder of today's lesson," the teacher interrupted, causing the rest of the students to snicker.

Bennett faced forward and cleared his throat. "Uhm, yes, sir. Sorry."

"That's quite all right. It's not every day we see a new face in town, but please do make use of your time after school for socialization," Arkani added, making Sarah wonder whether coming to class to make friends was even worthwhile if every teacher insisted on her full engagement. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes: geometrical optics."

Turning his back to the class, Arkani began to write on the large whiteboard.

"This section of the lesson plan will be divided into four parts," he said as he began to spell out the accompanying list in red erasable marker. "Refraction, lenses, reflection, and mirrors will all be--"

That last topic struck Sarah's ear like a bolt of lightning, and while she'd been worried about how she could breach the subject without sounding completely nuts, it appeared that she might have had a way sooner than she had hoped.

"Mr. Arkani!" she interjected, shooting her hand in the air. "I have a question."

The Physics teacher lowered the marker, leaving only the "m" in mirrors written on the board before turning around. "Yes, Sarah. Go ahead."

"So . . . I was wondering . . . well, how do ghosts work?" she asked with increasing hesitation.

Some of the other kids giggled, but Sarah could see a couple of them lean in towards each other to quietly confer about something.

The teacher replaced the cap on the marker. "I'm impressed by your inquisitiveness, but that subject is more in line with quantum field theory, which we don't get into at the high school level. Ghost particles themselves are really fascinating though, so if you'd like, I could recommend some additional reading--"

"No, I don't think that's what I meant," Sarah said, cutting him off. Obviously the term had some type of formal usage beyond the spooky version that she had been thinking of.

Somebody else in the classroom did get her meaning. "Hmpf, Bloody Mary," mumbled a boy, hiding the word in a badly disguised cough.

The whole room erupted in raucous laughter.

"All right, all right. Settle down," Mr. Arkani chided once the noise lessened, using his hands to emphasize his point. Turning to Sarah, he asked, "Is that what you were referring to? The science behind the paranormal?"

Feeling her face burn, she nodded. The only reason she wanted to take this class is to get this answer, so no matter how stupid she felt, she wasn't backing down now.

The teacher's expression became stoic, as if he were grappling with how to proceed. "Well, how should I put this?" he wondered out loud, raking his fingers through his hair as he began to pace at the head of the room. "You see, although legends abound everywhere including sleepy New England towns like this one, and Hollywood loves to roll out its CGI filled fantasy fare around this time every year, the fact is that ghosts are nothing, but figments of the imagination."

Bennett shifted forward in his seat. "So you don't believe in ghosts, Mr. Arkani?" he asked.

The teacher shook his head. "No, I don't, Mr. Rigby. The paranormal is the explanation of the uneducated toward things that can and should be described through scientific inquiry," he said.

"What about all of those ghost hunter shows?" asked a girl from the back.

Arkani crossed his arms, leaned against his desk, and sighed. "Those either use actors to fool the gullible or more simply, they often just rely on our ingrained fear of both death and the unknown to trick our minds into thinking there's something there when there really isn't," he said.

"My grandma said that a ghost once sat at the foot of her bed," blurted out another boy. "She was so frightened, she couldn't speak or move."

The teacher smiled. "Tell your grandma that she should see a doctor because it sounds like she might be prone to sleep paralysis," he said to another round of light laughter. "You see, class, there is always a reasonable, scientific explanation for what we've been conditioned by media and oftentimes specific cultures as being preternatural. Quite simply, ghosts don't exist."