Chapter 3: Haunted Roommates, Higher Stakes

I tried to sound mysterious, but really, I just needed to sneak back to the afterlife and dig through the archives.

[First time seeing a psychic who gives the answer the next day.]

[Last time was just luck. She’s still a scammer.]

[Is this a cash grab? 23333, what a lame trick.]

[If she runs, you can’t even find the bridge she lives under, LOL!]

[But ten bucks is too cheap, kinda sus...]

I thought for a moment and said:

“Believe it or not, up to you. It’s a small business, voluntary. If you’re worried, pay tomorrow when I give you the answer. Still want the reading?”

I shrugged for the camera. "I’m not here to scam anyone. Pay after you get your answer. Sound fair?"

The guy hesitated, then agreed.

He nodded slowly, like he was weighing his options. Ten bucks for hope didn’t seem so bad.

With that—and ten bucks a pop—more and more people joined in.

Suddenly, my chat was a whirlwind of questions, emojis, and Venmo notifications. I felt like a real entrepreneur.

I wrote down all their questions. Except for the prankster who asked me to guess his underwear color—I hung up on him—I had fifty questions.

I made a mental note: add "no creepy questions" to my FAQ. Fifty legit readings, though? Not bad for a night’s work.

Fifty readings, five hundred bucks. I did the math and felt pretty good about my shot at reincarnation.

I let myself daydream about what I’d do with that kind of money—maybe even upgrade to a real bed. Or at least a thicker blanket.

It wasn’t easy, but at least I was moving forward.

For the first time in centuries, I felt like I had a shot. The future didn’t look quite so bleak.

After the stream, I pulled out the penny and studied it. Didn’t look any different.

I turned it over, squinting in the dim light. Still the same old penny, but…

But it felt just a little heavier.

It was subtle, but I could swear there was a new heft to it, like hope had weight.

But so far, I’d only earned $200. That couldn’t possibly make the penny heavier.

I frowned, rolling it between my fingers. It was weird—was this thing magic, or just in my head?

Thinking it over, I realized: doing good deeds in the human world and racking up karma also made my penny heavier. Must be because I helped the cops catch a bad guy!

So it wasn’t just about cash. Good deeds counted, too. I grinned, feeling a little lighter myself. So, good deeds count? Guess I’m in the hero business now.

With that, I had a new goal.

If helping people sped things up, then I’d do as much as I could. Saving souls and saving up—two birds, one stone.

Tomorrow would be even brighter!

I curled up, hugging my backpack, and let the city’s noise fade into the background. For once, I was excited for morning.

That night, I slipped back to the afterlife to tell the Devil I’d found my path to cash and reincarnation was just around the corner!

I popped into his office, waving my notebook. He looked up, eyes rolling so hard I thought they’d stick.

He said, “Kid, finish checking the records and get lost. Don’t hang around.”

He shooed me away like I was a stray cat at the back door. Some things never change.

Still not welcome, as always.

I grinned and saluted before heading to the archives. Old habits die hard.

I checked the stream questions one by one, which took a while. The Book of Life records everyone’s fate, but most people’s questions were so detailed I had to consult the big Book of Karma. It was exhausting.

I spent hours flipping pages, cross-referencing dates, even bribing a few lesser ghosts with afterlife snacks to speed things up. Research is hard work, even for the dead. Ugh, bureaucracy.

By the time I finished, it was late.

I yawned—a ghost yawn, which is just a shiver—and trudged back to my bridge.

I went back under the bridge and took a nap, ready to keep streaming the next day.

I set an alarm on my phone, just in case. Didn’t want to miss my own comeback.

The golden sun rose, lighting up my arm—burning hot and uncomfortable.

Crap, I forgot I’m still a ghost—too much sunlight is rough on me. Ghost sunscreen, anyone?

My skin prickled, and I scrambled for shade. I made a mental note: "Add sunscreen to shopping list."

The last couple days had been cloudy, so I hadn’t noticed.

Lucky break, but today was blazing. I really needed to rethink my living situation.

But today was bright and sunny, and this poor ghost was exposed with nowhere to hide.

I pulled my hoodie tight and scuttled under the bridge, cursing my luck. City life, am I right?

I shuffled into the shade. Living under the bridge long-term was going to be a problem—I needed to fix my housing situation.

Maybe I could crash at a library or a 24-hour diner, at least until I got paid. The bridge wasn’t going to cut it much longer.

Turning on the stream, there was already a crowd waiting.

My notifications were blowing up—my phone buzzed so hard it nearly vibrated off the crate.

[Streamer’s finally on, I’ve been waiting!]

[Can you set a regular streaming time? The random schedule is killing me.]

[Here for the drama~]

[Here to watch the scammer get exposed~]

[I can’t wait!!]

[Don’t be mean, I believe the streamer’s legit.]

I aimed the camera at my face, tidied my hair, and flipped open my notebook.

I tried to look professional, but my hair was a mess and my hoodie had a ketchup stain from last night’s fries.

“Is the guy called ‘Gotta Pass Grad School’ here?”

The guy immediately video called in.

He looked more anxious than yesterday, eyes rimmed red.

“You’ll pass the exam, but don’t aim too high—pick your schools carefully.”

Last night, I’d seen in the Book of Karma that this exam was a turning point for him. His grades were solid, and if he applied for schools that matched his level, he’d do fine. But if he shot too high, pushed by his family, he’d fail, get depressed, and his luck would tank.

I tried to be gentle. "Don’t let anyone pressure you into applying somewhere that’s not right for you."

He frowned, then nodded:

“Got it. Thanks, streamer. How do I pay?”

He sounded genuinely grateful, and I smiled for real.

I sent him my Venmo. My phone chimed: “Venmo: $10 received.”

That sound was music to my ears. I did a little happy dance off-camera.

I moved on to the next callers, giving them their answers.

Each reading felt smoother than the last. I was finding my groove.

Some believed, some didn’t. But at ten bucks a reading, even for fun, nobody refused to pay.