[ WP ] A teenager from the 50s teams up with a modern-day teenager . Together , they fight crime .

“ So…that ’ s basically it, ” Thomas finished sheepishly. 
 
 “ Huh. ” It was all Alex could think of to say. “ So you…are dead. ” 
 
 “ More or less. ” 
 
 “ And like 70. ” 
 
 “ Sort of. A perpetually-sixteen-year-old seventy-year-old, ” Thomas quipped, then quickly sobered, sensing that the time wasn ’ t quite ripe for that kind of levity. He cleared his throat. “ Look, I realize this is…challenging, ” he settled on. “ But I ’ m still your friend. ” 
 
 Alex ’ s laughter was weak. “ My crime-fighting ghost friend, ” he mused shakily. “ That ’ s uh…that ’ s a new one. Are we sure I ’ m not just tripping balls here? Or schizophrenic? ” 
 
 Thomas shrugged, and his shoulders shimmered in the uneven illumination from Alex ’ s desk lamp. It was a trick of the light, he ’ d explained in the course of his confession, that made him seem whole most of the time. When he stuck to brightly-lit areas, he appeared as solid as the next teenager—although in hindsight, a little too mannerly and clean-cut to be from this era, Alex thought. It would actually make sense if it wasn ’ t so totally batshit. 
 
 “ I um…may need some time. To process. ” 
 
 Thomas nodded. “ That ’ s fair. But um…do you think you could do your processing later? I think we may have been followed here. ” 
 
 Alex looked up, startled. “ What? By who? ” 
 
 Thomas rubbed the back of his translucent head with an equally translucent hand, looking uncomfortable. “ Well, I haven ’ t quite resolved this latest case. And I may have pissed off some people. ” 
 
 “ What people? ” Alex pressed. 
 
 “ The armed and violent kind, ” Thomas explained apologetically. “ Not that it concerns *me* much, but you on the other hand… ” 
 
 “ WHAT? ” 
 
 The ghost boy ’ s eyes narrowed, and his voice turned petulant. “ Well if you hadn ’ t tried to follow me to the warehouse— “ 
 
 “ What do we do?! ” Alex looked around the room wildly, as if expecting gun-toting maniacs to start spilling out of his closet. Thomas reached out and placed a steadying hand on his arm, smiling that effervescent smile that had drawn Alex to him in the first place. 
 
 “ It ’ s okay, Alex. I got you into this, and I ’ m going to get you out. I promise, ” he added. He sounded confident, and in his panic Alex could do nothing but latch onto that for comfort. “ Okay. Okay, ” he repeated, trying to steady his breathing. “ What do we do? ” 
 
 Thomas grinned again, and this time there was a wicked tilt to it. He reached into his pocket and drew out a gun. “ Know how to use one of these? ” he asked, holding it out to the other boy. 
 
 Alex stared at it, hesitating. On the one hand, this was beyond crazy…but on the other, what choice did he have? Besides, he thought as he looked up at his supernatural friend smiling expectantly at him—he ’ d always kind of wanted to go on an adventure. 
 
 “ What the hell, ” Alex muttered, taking the gun and clicking the safety off before Thomas dragged him out the door. 

