1. Whisper

“Oh, my God,” I said walking into school.
“What?” my best friend, Sammy, asked. Her voice was full of alarm.
“Are you serious?! Look around! Doesn’t anything seem different to you?!”
She looked at the scene, and finally got it. I watched as her face went from confused, to alarmed, to completely terrified as she saw what was happening.
How could she not have seen it? It was right at the front of the school!
Inside the school was complete and utter chaos! There was yellow tape saying, “DO NOT CROSS” surrounding the place, cops asking people questions. Outside police cars were blocking the school buses from coming in. Everyone was moving so fast, I couldn’t even see what they were all here for!
Even with all this excitement, the feeling in the atmosphere was . . . melancholy.
I walked forward to see what was up, and I felt my stomach jump and my heart stop.
It was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. I fell down and wanted to scream, but I couldn’t find my voice. The whole world went blurry, and all I could see was him on the ground.
“Chris,” I whispered, and kept whispering, hoping that he would say something, anything, back to me. I knew he wouldn’t, and I felt tears trickle down my cheeks, but didn’t bother to wipe them away.
“Claire,” I heard Sammy say in a shaky voice. She was right behind me, starring at him, a watery film covering her eyes. “No! No, no, no, no! NO! NO! NNNOOO! It’s not . . . it can’t be . . . it’s not Chris!”
She sank down beside me and started bawling.
Chris was on the floor in front of the stairs, his body twisted in ways it shouldn’t be. There was a pool of blood around his head, and it matted his dirty blond hair. His usual dark blue eyes were now white, all signs of his lively attitude vanished. He was paler then I, and his mouth was screaming though no sound came out.
“Ladies,” a cop who was standing right above us said.
He had little muscle and was very short with black hair, tan skin, and green eyes. He looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties. Not someone you would see as a cop, though his voice was hard and low, so he could fit the description a little bit.
“Yes, sir,” I said between sobs, as my friend and I looked at him.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stand up and walk outside the yellow tape, please,” he said, his voice was a little softer. Probably from seeing our tear stained cheeks, messed up hair, and sinister red eyes. I don’t blame him, we probably look like we had gone through Hell and back.
“Why?”
“This is a crime scene. You can’t be here,” he said, his voice still soft but his eyes were stone hard.
“Leave us alone,” Sammy said, her voice grave.
“Can someone please remove these girls?” the cop asked loudly.
A teacher came over and tried to get us up, and when we refused she threatened to expel us. We unwillingly got up and walked away at that point.
We walked into the bathroom and I called my mom.
“Mom,” I said, my voice was husky and cracking from all the crying.
“Claire, what’s wrong?” she asked, concern with a shade of confusion in her voice.
“Can you come pick me and Sammy up? Now?”
“Why?”
“Just please, Mom?”
“Why? Claire Sylvia Jason, you tell me what’s going on right now!” She wasn’t mad, but scared.
“The police . . . Chris . . . the yellow tape!” I cried.
“Honey, meet me in front of the school in five minutes.”
“Yes,” I couldn’t finish my sentence, because there was a sob caught in my throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
I put my phone away, and look at Sammy. I wanted to say something to her, but I didn’t know what to say.
I’m sorry, I thought.
My face must have given me away, because then she said, “There’s nothing you can say. It’s not like it was your fault. It’s just-” she started tearing up- “It’s just one of those things where saying ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t help. You don’t even need to apologize. There’s nothing you could have done to stop it.”
The way she said that last sentence made my spine tingle like a thousand bugs crawling all over on me. It was like there was a double meaning, a secret that she knew and by saying that it was her giving a hint.
We went back into the crime scene area, and that cop came up to us with a young, blond haired woman.
“Girls, this is inspector Cade, and I didn’t get to introduce myself before. I’m detective Lanther.”
Inspector Cade stepped up and said, “May I ask you two a few questions?”
When we nodded our heads, she continued. “You obviously knew the boy over there. Would you mind telling me the relationship you shared with him?”

I looked at Sammy, and she was completely in her own world, her eyes still watery and blood shot.
I guess I’ll talk to the inspector.
“Chris was my best friend, and her boyfriend,” I answered, my voice shaky and wary.
Cade took out a little notepad and wrote down my answer.
“When was the last time you saw him?
“The last time I saw him was,” I thought back, “Was yesterday. Yesterday when I left school. Sammy and I went to his house to study. I left at about six, because they had a date.”
She wrote that down, then looked at Sammy. “What time did your date end?”
Sammy looked startled. She opened her mouth, and her tone was somewhere between angry and depressed. “I got home at ten thirty.”
“What did you do on your date?”
“He took me to a restaurant, then to the park, then he took me home,” she said harshly.
“Sammy,” I whispered, shocked that she would use that tone with an inspector. Especially the inspector that was trying to solve Chris’ case.
“What, Claire? My boyfriend and your best friend just died, and they’re asking us questions about him! I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to talk about him!”
“Sammy, may I call you Sammy,” Inspector Cade asked softly.
“Samantha,” Sammy answered with poison.
“Alright, Samantha,” Cade said in the same tone. “If you would rather, we could ask you some other time.”
“Thanks,” she said, though her icy tone showed that she was not grateful at all.
“Claire, would you mind if we talked to you?”
“Uh, um, sure,” I said cautiously, looking at Sammy. “Could you tell me when my mom gets here?”
“Whatever.”
As Sammy stalked away, Inspector Cade asked me a few more questions like who were Chris’s friends, who were his enemies. She was surprised when I told her that he didn’t have enemies, and everyone loved him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am. He was the most liked guy in our entire school.”
She nodded her head and continued asking questions. She stopped talking when Sammy came back and told me my mom was there.
“Thank you for your time, Claire, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You’re welcome, and thank you.”
Sammy and I walked outside in silence. I saw my mom immediately when I walked out because she was running up the stairs to the school.
“Girls! What’s going on here?!”
Sammy and I looked at each other and burst into tears again.
“What is wrong?”
“Mom, it’s Chris! He’s . . . he’s . . . ”
“He’s what?”
I couldn’t answer.
“He’s what Claire?!”
“HE’S DEAD!” I wailed as I ran into her arms.
“WHAT?!”
“We got to school this morning and he was right there on the ground at the front of the school!”
My mom told me and Sammy to get in the car while she went inside to talk to the police about what happened. When she came out, she was crying and talking on the phone.
“I don’t know, they haven’t said anything yet,” my mom said as she got into the car. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I wish there was something I could do. We all cared about him like he was family. I’m taking the girls home, then I’ll come to see you. I,” she said, then was quiet. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. Call Rob.”
She hung the phone up and put her hands on the steering wheel, but did not drive.
“Mom?”
“I can’t believe it. He was only sixteen,” she said as new tears rolled down her cheeks and mine.
“Take me home, please,” Sammy said in the backseat.
“Only sixteen . . . ”
“Take me home,” Sammy demanded again.
“Can you give my mother a minute?!”
“No! I want to go home! Now!”
Without a word, my mother drove out of the busy parking lot, and down the road to Sammy’s house. When I asked Sammy if she wanted me to go inside with her, she turned to me, said no, and ran inside.
My mom took me home.
“Please don’t go, mom. I don’t want to be alone.”
“I was talking to Kim, Chris’s mom, and I have to go to her house. Would you like to come with?”
I nodded.

We drove to Chris’s house quietly. When we got there, Kim had unlocked the door already and was on the couch with her husband, Rob. She was balled up in his arms, face hidden in his chest, and she was shaking rapidly. His face was buried in her hair, and his shoulders were quivering.
My mom and I sat down at the end of the couch and watched them.
Why can’t I say anything?
“I’m . . . sorry,” Kim said as she lifted her head to show us her face. Her makeup was running down her cheeks, forced by the rivers of her tears.
“Why are you sorry, Kim?” my mom asked softly.
“I’m . . . being . . . rude!”
My mom rushed over to their end of the couch and knelt down next to Kim.
“No, you’re not. Shh. Take as long as you need,” my mother said, soothingly.
I walked away, unable to bear all the emotions in the room. I felt bad. I should be over there on the couch, too, crying my eyes out, or at least trying to soothe Mrs. Kim like my mom was. I never was able to stay emotional for long. It was sometimes a flaw, then sometimes it was a perk. This was a time where it was a flaw in my design. My best friend just died and I only cried for a minute. I felt like I was showing people that he didn’t mean much to me, but he did.
I walked into Chris’s-what was Chris’s-room. I looked around and wanted to cry, but the tears didn’t come.
“I hope you’re happy . . . wherever you are,” I said for some reason. I guess . . . well, I don’t know why I said it. Maybe just to make me feel better, knowing that, wishing that, he could hear me wherever he may be.
All the sudden, my body went cold, not just my body, but the whole room. I could see my breath, and I felt a presence with me. I don’t know how I knew there was a presence, but I could just feel that there was someone, or something, in the room with me, watching me.
“I’m not,” I heard someone whisper. It was very faint, and almost inaudible, but it was still a whisper, and I heard it.
I spun around, trying to see where the whisper came from, but there was no one in the room but me. I think.
“H-hello,” I stuttered, partly from being so cold, and partly from the fear that froze me in that spot.
No one answered.
“Mom? Mrs. Kim? Mr. Rob?”
Nothing.
It must be all in my head. I must have just imagined it.

I turned to leave, and froze. My body went so cold, I felt like I was going to get frostbite. I didn’t know a person could be so cold in Winston Salem, North Carolina in the middle of summer.
There, in the doorway, was a person. A boy, standing about six feet tall, with dirty blond hair, and dark blue eyes. He stared at me, looking more terrified then I felt. I tried to move my mouth, but it was frozen, too.
Then, he was gone.
Even though I saw him for only a split second, I knew instantly who it was.
Chris.


2. How?

“That’s impossible!”
“Mom, I swear! He was right in the doorway!”
We were in my living room, and I had just told my mom about seeing Chris.
I cringed when I thought of his name.
“Sweety, it . . . it’s just . . . ” She sighed. “It just can’t happen. We saw him at your school today . . . ”
“He was there! I know it sounds weird, but it’s the truth!”
My mom shook her head and looked down at the floor.
“Maybe, maybe it’s what you wanted to see.”
I gasped. “You think I’m a freak who imagines dead people!
My mother’s eyes almost popped out of her head in shock, then she calmed herself down as she explained her accusation. “No, no, no. Of course not. Chris was a very good friend to you, and you just lost him. Maybe, you thought about him, and saw a picture of him. Like your mind was playing a trick on you.”
There was anger building up in me, and my too-easy-to-read face gave me away again.
“It’s very common,” she said quickly.
“Oh, I see! Because it’s common, it has to be what happened to me, right?! Thanks for making me feel good, mom!”
I stormed out of the room, not knowing wether I should feel devastated, infuriated, or both. I should feel devastated because of the whole situation. I should feel infuriated because my mom basically called me a freak.
Think of as many excuses as you want, mom! Either way, it still means the same thing!
I plopped down on my bed and stared at my wall, not thinking about anything. I wanted to get away from all of this, the sorrow, the anger, the confusion. All of it.
The thing is, I don’t know how to do that.
I didn’t want to think about him at all, but I couldn’t help myself. There was a question that I wanted answered.
How?

How exactly did he die? The police hadn’t said anything about that. They just said that they were sorry for my loss, and if they ever needed me they would give me a call.
Let me think this through.
All right, Chris was on the floor in front of the stairs at the front of the school. I know that for certain. Another thing I know is that it was early this morning because I over heard the police talking about it, they guessed it happened about two hours before they got there at 6:30. The only other thing I know is that Chris’s spirit is alive, and he isn’t happy. He told me that.
I sat up, thinking of something.
I wonder if I can call his spirit. Summon him. Could I? Probably not. Should I try? Probably.
I opened my mouth to say his name, but a thought stopped me.
What if everything I saw and heard this morning was a trick of my mind, like my mom said . . . Oh no! I’m starting to think like her!
“Chris,” I whispered so softly, I barley heard myself.
Nothing.
“Chris,” I said a little louder.
Again, nothing.
Where was the cold air? The fear that I felt earlier? The feeling that there was another presence in the room with me?
“It probably was just my imagination.”
My mom was right. It was impossible. My mind was playing tricks on me.
It can’t be impossible. It just can’t! I want to see him, dead or alive. I don’t care!
But, it was impossible.
Yeah right.


3. Sanity Loss

“Hey, Sammy.”
“What’s up Claire?”
“Oh, the usual.” I sighed. “And, you?”
“Never better,” she half smiled.
We were at school. It was exactly one year ago that Chris died. I only saw him that day. It was the last time I saw his spirit. It was also the last time I talked to anyone but my mom and Sammy.
When Chris died, I sort of built a shell around my life. I never paid attention in school, I never talked to anybody, I started wearing more “covering” clothes. Jeans and
T-shirts all the time. I cut my hair to my chin because Chris always said I should cut it. I felt it was an honor to him, like it was his dying wish for me.
I knew that I wasn’t the only one who changed. Sammy was more quiet now, and she started to wear miniskirt, tank tops, and sun dresses every day. It was way different from her jeans and a T-shirt she used to wear.
It really was weird, we sort of exchanged looks. I used to be the one who wore miniskirts and everything, and Sammy was the one who always wore jeans. I used to have my long, light blond hair in a pony tail all the time, and she wore her short, auburn hair down. Even that has changed. She grew her hair out, and I cut mine and died it a dark brown, almost black color. My hair is worn down, and her hair is always up.
I walked next to her on my way to first period. We were quiet, as usual, as we made our way into the classroom.
“Thank you for joining us this morning Claire and Samantha,” Mr. Kastone said when we took our seats at the back of the room.
We were late.
“Claire, do you have your test back signed?”
“No,” I said, flatly.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have it.”
“Why don’t you have it?” he asked, looking a little more irritated.
“Because I didn’t show it to my mom,” I said with no emotion.
“Why not?!”

“Because I didn’t feel like it.”
“Okay, why didn’t you ‘feel like it’?”
“Because I wanted to see your reaction when I told you I didn’t feel like it. It’s a good thing, too. I pictured your expression just like this, your long face red, and your eyes bursting into flames. The whole evil look works for you, Mr. Kastone,” I said, smiling my sarcastic smile.
Everyone started laughing.
“EXCUSE ME!”
Everyone was silent. We’d never heard Mr. Kastone yell like that. We’d never heard him yell at all! He was usually pretty calm all the time.
“Ms. Jason, may I see you after class?”
“Do I have a choice?”
His face turned purple from all his frustration, but he didn’t say anything further. He continued on to his lesson.
I turned to Sammy and smirked.
“Ha, ha,” I whispered.
“Lightning,” she whispered, holding her hand up.
“Strikes,” I said, grabbing her hand.
“Again,” we said together, pulling our hands down and let go.
There were giggles from some people who were watching us, obviously too bored with the lesson so had nothing better to do then watch two outcasts interact with each other.
I turned back to the board and ignored Mr. Kastone’s lesson on . . . something dealing with numbers.
At the end of class, I tried to sneak out with Sammy, but Mr. Kastone caught me.
“Ms. Jason,” he said in a stern voice.
“Yeah,” I answered as I turned toward him.
“Come here.”
I walked over to the front of his desk. Sammy followed me.
“Samantha, go to your next class, please,” he said, but he kept his eyes on me.
“Why?”
“Now.”
“Whatever. See-ya later, Claire.”
She walked out of the room, turned back to look at me, then proceeded on down the hall.
“What do you want?” I demanded.

“What has gotten into you? I looked at your school records from last year, and, I was amazed that it was the same girl. You were a straight A student, and now you’re a straight D student. What happened?”
“You checked up on me?!”
“I’m your teacher! I have you right!”
“You, you looked at my record!”
“Yes. Now, I answered your question, you answer mine. What happened to you?”
“Ugh!” I looked up at the ceiling, then back at him.“Why do you care?”
“Because, as a teacher, it’s my job to protect you students and prepare you for the future. Right now, your future isn’t bright.”
“So you think I need to be? Bright like the future you try to shape for everyone?”
“Well, not an Einstein, but you should have a good education.”
I walked toward the door.
“Hey, I’m not done talking to you!”
“But I’m done talking to you.”
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?!”
I turned back to him. “To my next class, and to think about my not-bright future.”
I ran out of the door and down the hall to the front stairs. Whenever I need to think, I go there. It’s the one place in school that makes me feel . . . safe. Like someone close to me was watching over me, protecting me.
“Ugh,” I sighed, as I sat down at the bottom of the stairs. “My future’s not bright? Really? Those aren’t the most encouraging words to say to a kid. He is such a retard who needs to get a life.”
I thought about that for a minute, then my mind trailed off. I looked to the spot in front of the stairs, and thought back to the day I walked into school and my whole world was changed for the worse, just by looking at that spot.
I remember walking into school and seeing him there; I play it over in my head like a movie all the time. All other memories of him seemed to fade away until that was the only one I had of him. It kills me to know that the only memory I had of my best friend was the one that was the worst. The police had confirmed that his death was a suicide. I didn’t believe them, and still don’t. Even though I only have one memory of him, I knew him well enough to know that he would never commit suicide. I told them that, too.
They didn’t believe me, though.
I waited awhile, then got up to leave, but something made me freeze in my steps. Literally, I was frozen, too cold to move.
I remember feeling like this!
“Help me.”
“Chris!”
I turned to look for him, but I couldn’t see him.

“Help . . . me . . . ” His voice was fading.
I turned around, and almost screamed. He was right in front of me.
“Chris,” I whispered, half scared and half relieved.
“You know them.”
“Know who?”
“The . . . killer . . . ”
“What?”
“Help . . . me . . . help . . . me . . . ”
He vanished, and along with him, all my sanity.


4. Messages

“SAMMY!” I screamed as I burst through the cafeteria doors.
Everyone looked at me, some with concerned looks, others had looks of amazement. They were amazed at the fact they heard my voice. Told you I stopped talking.
“Claire,” Sammy said, standing up from our usual table on the far side of the room next to the outside doors.
I ran over to her and sat down across from her. Some people were still starring at me, but mostly everyone turned back to their friends or their meal.
“I...I...” I panted.
“You . . . you what, Claire?”
“I saw him. At the stairs. He was there.”
“Who was there?”
I looked at her. She got it.
“Claire, that’s im-”
“Don’t say impossible. I don’t want to hurt you. Anyway, it’s possible. He was there, in front of me. He talked to me. Isn’t that wonderful?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. She probably thought that, too, but was too afraid to say it. She probably thought I was in a ‘delicate state’ as my over protective mother worded it.
“It’s possible, I swear I saw him.”
“Have you talked to your doctor lately?”
My doctor. That’s what her reply was.
When I told my mom that I saw Chris that day, she took me to a therapist the next. I’ve been seeing him for the past year every Wednesday. I hate walking into his office. He treats me like I’m an idiot.
“Is school going good?” he would ask me.
“Well, it’s school. How could it be going good?” I always answered.
“Have you talked to Chris lately?” he would ask me at other times.
“No. He hasn’t shown up.”
“Okay. So have you seen him lately?”
“No! He hasn’t shown up!”
I looked back at my friend.
“I talked to him last night. He said I’m fine. I always knew I was fine, and I don’t need anyone, especially a shrink, telling me I’m not!”

“I never said you weren’t fine, I simply asked you if you’d talked to your doctor lately.”
“So, I tell you that I talked to our best friend who we haven’t seen in a year, and you ask me if I talked to my doctor?” I asked her, my voice raising an octave or so as I was fighting back tears.
How could she think I’m crazy? She’s my best friend, and I tell her everything! How could she call me crazy?!
“Look, why don’t you call your mom to come pick you up? I don’t think you should go to the rest of your classes. I’ll come with you,” then she added, “If you like.”
I stood up. “No thanks. I read somewhere that crazy people don’t talk to anybody, not even their old best friends.”
I walked away after I waited for her to say something and didn’t. I went out the back door and off the school campus. I’m used to doing this. I play hookie almost every day. The teachers are so used to people skipping, especially me, that they don’t even care anymore! When they call roll and someone isn’t there the teacher will ask if that person skipped. If they did, the teacher just puts the person down as taken out early!
After I got off the campus, I walked around the corner of Maple Street, the street the school was named after. I walked down Lemon Avenue for a few blocks when I came to Chris’s old house.
After he . . . went away(I refuse to say what really happened to him) his parents packed up and moved out. I remember seeing the big moving van parked outside their house the last day I saw them. They hadn’t told me they were moving, so I got scared. I didn’t know what was going on. I went up to the door and asked them what they were doing, and if they were moving. Kim had her blond hair up in a bun, and her blue eyes were still blood shot from crying(she cried almost every night.) Rob’s brown hair was messed up and his brown eyes were black with exhaustion.
“Sweetie,” Kim said in a husky voice, the voice that now replaced her light, airy voice. “We love you and your mother, but we feel that we should move on with our lives by moving away.”
“But before we left, we wanted to give you something,” Rob said, reaching into the box he was carrying. He had pulled out a small, engraved box that I recognized. It was the box that used to sit on Chris’s night stand.

I took it from his hand, and he told me to look at the engraving. For the first time I realized what the message was. It said in a very fancy cursive penmanship, “Claire and Chris are friends forever.” Rob motioned for me to open the small box, and inside I saw the necklace that he always wore. The chain was silver, and in the center of it was the weird, little charm that he held in his hand whenever something bad happened. It was a gold rattle snake that had its body made into a circle. The rattle completed the circle and was made up of three small diamonds, and the head of the snake stood up and its mouth was open exposing its fangs. He never took it off and when I asked him if it was special he freaked out and said that it was one of the most important things ever to him. I guessed it was some family heirloom.
“I can’t take this,” I said, giving it back to him.
Kim sat the box she was carrying down, came over to me, and took the necklace out of my hand. She motioned for me to turn around, and I did. She clipped it to my neck, and said that they couldn’t keep it. She said that she knew he would have wanted me to have it.
It had felt weird to me. I was just his friend, well his best friend, and he had a box with his and my name engraved on it. His parents were giving me a necklace that he always wore, no matter what. It just felt weird to me. I didn’t know why they hadn’t given it to Sammy, his girlfriend.
Now, I looked at the house, and I couldn’t get that memory out of my head. It wasn’t the most painful I had, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t cripple me. I wanted to fall to my knees and cry like I did when I saw him on the floor, but the tears didn’t come. They never came, not even at his . . . funeral. I hated thinking about it because I couldn’t stand the way everyone looked, but somehow, that was the last thought in my head before I went to sleep every night.
The ceremony was absolutely gorgeous. It matched his amazing personality and kindness. There were flowers everywhere, and the pews of the church had stands with cards on top of them that said things like, “We will never forget him,” or, “May he find happiness in his next, everlasting life.” The priest talked about Chris’s life and all the good deeds he did like watching the Sunday school kids, working in the soup kitchen, being a supervisor on trips the church sent some of the children on, and so much more. When the priest asked if anyone wanted to say a few words about Chris, I stood up.
I walked up to the stand and said, “Hi. Most of you know who I am, but for those of you who don’t, I’m Claire Jason, and Chris was my best friend.” My voice was shamefully calm and it didn’t look like I had any emotion at all. I was embarrassed and disappointed in myself. Embarrassed because I was the only person not crying or just looking like I was crying, and disappointed because I couldn’t. “What can I say about Chris but . . . ” I froze. I didn’t know what to say. I did a silent prayer to myself, asking God to help me think of something to say.

It’s not like it was hard to say something about Chris. It was just hard to put everything into words. Then, inspiration hit me and the words came flowing out of my mouth. “He was an amazing person, son, and friend. He was kind and sweet to anyone. He was loved by everyone, and shed light into everybody’s life he touched. He never said anything mean to anyone, and was always there for anyone who needed help. I will be one of people who will always remember him as a great leader because he always thought things through. He was smart, talented, and well, an all around good person, and that will be the thing I will remember him most by. Thank you for listening to me, and I hope that wherever he is, Chris heard me say that. I really will and do already miss him.”
My head went back to now, not wanting to think of the pain and suffering on Kim and Rob’s faces.
I walked up and reached into my pocket for the key. They didn’t want to sell the house, so they gave me the key to the place. I put the key into the hole and opened the door. I didn’t want to walk inside, but I didn’t want to stay outside because I live across the street and my mom’s off today. I took a step into the doorway and closed the door behind me.
Whenever I was in this house, I felt a burning sensation in the back of my throat, and a tingle in my eyes, as if the tears were trying to break through the mental barricade my brain set up. I looked around and felt like it was one hundred years ago that I was last here. There was dust on the kitchen counters, fireplace mantle, and the windows. There were mildew stains on the walls, and cockroaches everywhere. I walked into Kim and Rob’s room, and it wasn’t much different in there. I tried to flip the switch, but me being me, I forgot that the electricity was turned off. I walked out of there, and went into the room that was the real reason on why I was here. It hadn’t changed in over a year, except for the dust and bugs. Kim and Rob never took anything out of his room, they didn’t want to take the memories with them. His bed was still messed up like it was that day. His clothes were still in a pile over in the corner. Pictures of me, Sammy, and Chris tapped on the mirror. They were the only pictures I ever see of him smiling anymore.
Pain and suffering. Is that all I can remember my friend by?
That thought just exploded into my head, and I didn’t want it to. I regretted forgetting everything about my dearest friend, but I didn’t want to remember him as a person I once knew, but was now away.
I looked at my face in the pictures, then at my face in the mirror. The present mingling with the past, comparing the differences of appearance and state of mind. I’ve changed so much. Other then my hair is shorter and darker, and my eyes are different. In the past they were florescent blue, full of life, love, and joy. Now they’re dull, lifeless, slate gray. My face was different, but instead of it being matured to look like a teenager I looked like I was in my thirties. I actually had frown lines around my mouth and I just looked . . . worn. My face looked old, worn, and sad. Permanently. I’m an eighteen year old who looks so worn out she’s a thirty year old.
I walked out of the room and felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket.

Probably Sammy. She probably sent me a text trying to apologize.
I didn’t want to talk to her, but my phone kept vibrating, so I took it out and looked at the number.
“Ahh,” I screamed, as I saw the name. I wanted to drop my phone, but I was too curious. I opened the message.
It read:
You know the person. They are closer then you think.
The name of the person who sent the message was Chris. The same Chris that died one year ago, and the same Chris whose spirit is still walking around.


5. Chat Rooms

“Mom! Mom, where are you?! I have proof!” I yelled, running into my house. I ran into the living room, and she was sitting on the couch talking to somebody.
We had a visitor, and not one I liked.
“Hello, Ms. Jason,” Mr. Kastone said, sitting in the recliner across the room.
“Mr. Kastone, hello. Um, how are you?” I asked anxiously.
A teacher’s in the house! Repeat, a teacher is in the house! NO! Oh no!
“He did not come for you to ask him how he is doing, he came to talk to me about your grades. Mr. Kastone says that you have been skipping school, obviously,” she pointed at me as she said that, “not turning in assignments, failing tests. You’re back talking in class! I thought he had you confused with another girl, until he showed me your progress report and . . . ” Her voice trailed off. She rubbed her temples with her hands. A normal habit she does when she is either stressed, extremely frustrated, or both. From the scary look in her eyes, I’d say she was frustrated, but there was a hint of something else. Disappointment?
“I’m not here to make you upset, Claire, I’m here to try to help you. Your mother told me you had a very close friend that died last year and-”
I narrowed my blue eyes, which were probably ice by now(metaphorically because my eyes are the color of ice.) “He didn’t die. He went away for a while. He’s back though, and I need to talk to my mother alone.”
Mr. Kastone stood up and so did my mother.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kastone, my daughter has been seeing a doctor for the past year. She is getting the help she needs, but thank-you for the concern you have for her. Would you like me to show you to the door?”
He took his hard eyes off of me and they softened a little bit as he looked at her. “No, Mrs. Jason, but thank-you for being so kind.” He looked at me, his gray eyes stone again. “See you tomorrow, Claire.”
“Yes you will. Then we can talk about my future,” I said, watching him warily as he walked out of the room.
I waited until I heard the door close, and his car start. Then, he drove back to school. When he was gone, I told my mom about what happened at school and the text message. She didn’t believe me, and then I got my phone out.
“You’ll see! It’s all right here,” I said, opening my phone and going to my messages.
NO MESSAGES
I stared at those words. My mom put her hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.

“Mom, the text was right there! I read it! It said ‘You know the person. They are closer then you think.’ It was from Chris! I swear it!”
She put her head down and shook it. A sign that all hope was lost. I dropped my shoulders, and turned toward my room.
“Honey, it’s not that I don’t believe that you really think you saw it, it’s just . . . well, it’s impossible. I’m sorry, sweety. You know I want to believe you, but I can’t.”
I stared at her, my hurt obviously written on my face.
“You know what, mom? I would expect someone who really didn’t know me to not believe me. I thought that since you were my mother, you would. That’s another thing I’m apparently wrong about.”
I walked into my room and slammed the door shut. I walked over to my computer and turned it on. I went to the chat room that I spent most of my time at these days. I’ve made a friend there, and I always talk to him. My name in the chat room was SilentGirl, and his name was GhostBoy.
SilentGirl: Hey, GhostBoy, are you there?
I pressed send and waited. About a minute later I got a message back.
GhostBoy: Hey, SilentGirl, I thought you were at school. What are you doing home?
I sighed and typed an answer back.
SilentGirl: Yeah, I should be at school but I wanted to come home. You have no idea how hard my school is. . .
When I met GhostBoy, he was a sophomore like I was, and I met him two years ago. I was bored on the computer, and I had heard of this chat room and decided to try it out. As soon as I got on I met him. We talked for a few weeks, and he became a good friend. He would be going to my school, but he dropped out last year.
GhostBoy: Yeah I do! I went to that school for three and a half years!!! Anyway, you should get back to school.
He cared a lot about my education. In the two years I’ve talked to him, he was always talking about my time at school, and didn’t like when I skipped it.
SilentGirl: I don’t want to go back!!!!! I want to stay here . . . and talk to you about something.
GhostBoy: *sigh* Fine. What do you want to talk about?
SilentGirl: When you went to Maple High, did you know anybody named . . . Chris White?????
GhostBoy: Huh! I haven’t heard that name in about a year . . . Yeah, I did know him. He died didn’t he? Why do you want to talk about him???
I felt a sharp knife of pain stab my stomach as I read his comment. It took me a while to catch my breath because the pain knocked the wind out of me, and it felt like it was doing that again and again.

GhostBoy: SilentGirl, are you there? Are you okay?!?!?!
Come on! I need to recover! It was a year ago, and I need to tell GhostBoy about this! I can trust him. I know I can! Take slow, deep breaths and type.
I started typing.
SilentGirl: Yeah! I’m here! I was just thinking of how to word this to you . . . First of all, do you trust me?
GhostBoy: ....yeah . . . I trust you . . .
It took me a while to figure out a way to word this. After all, if he didn’t believe me, he might not want to talk to me again.
I got a message just then.
GhostBoy: Hey, wait . . . That Chris White guy . . . Promise me you won’t think I’m crazy?!
I was a little startled.
He has to tell me something about Chris, and he’s afraid I’ll think he’s crazy?!
SilentGirl: If you promise me you won’t think I’m crazy. But, you go ahead and tell me what you need to tell me.
GhostBoy: Deal. Alright . . . I’ve seen that Chris guy’s spirit!
What the HECK???!!! He’s seen Chris too!
SilentGirl: OMG!!! Are you serious??!!! Because if you’re lying, I will beat the crap out of you!!!
GhostBoy: Nope!! I’m telling the truth. Why did you react like that?
SilentGirl: Oh. Believe me! You’re lucky you couldn’t see my reaction . . . But, anyway . . . That was what I was going to tell you! That I’ve seen Chris’s spirit wondering around! OH! You have no idea how good it feels to know that I’m not the only one! People think I’m crazy! Even my own mother does!!! But, you believe me, don’t you?
GhostBoy: Yeah I believe you!!! This is so freaky!!! I mean, beyond freaky!!! This is . . . is . . . oh man!!!!!
I sat back in my chair and smiled in relief. It felt amazing knowing that someone in this world believed me, and has even seen Chris, too! I felt unbelievable, like nothing could burst my bubble.
Spoke to soon.


6. Respect

“Claire, you’ve barley touched your dinner,” my mother said as we were sitting at the table eating spaghetti.
“I am not hungry, mother,” I said as harshly as I could while getting up and putting my plate in the sink. I rinsed it off and tried not to say what I really wanted to say.
Because you are the worst mother in the history of worst mothers I have lost my appetite.
I was mad at her. No, far beyond mad. I was furious at her! Earlier while I was talking to GhostBoy, my mom came in to apologize and she saw me talking to him. She read the entire conversation we had and then told me I was never allowed to talk to him again!
“But, mom! He’s my best friend!” I had complained.
“What about Sammy,” she asked calmly.
“She’s not my friend anymore! I don’t like her! You can’t keep me from talking to him! He’s the only person who believes me! Listens to me! He’s even the only one who cares about me,” I had shrieked while I ran to the bathroom and locked the door.
Now that I look back at the sene, I laugh at myself for running into the bathroom. Why I ran in there I have no idea. I guess I was so angry I wasn’t thinking. But really! The bathroom? I guess I am a little crazy. If I wanted to get on her nerves I would have run into her room.
“You know my reasons Clair Sylvia,” my mother said, now getting up and rinsing her plate off as well.
“Oh no! You used my middle name too!” I pretended like I was scared though I wasn’t and it was pretty obvious that it was me being sarcastic.
She dropped her plate in the sink and turned to me. “I don’t expect you to exactly be in the best mood after all the . . . events that happened today.” She struggled to control her voice and her expression. “What I do expect is that you treat me with the respect I deserve.”
“Respect works both ways Mom. If I respect you, you have to respect me.”
She narrowed her eyes at my words.
My mother, oh bless that woman, was never one to look at things two ways. She only saw things her way, and if it wasn’t her way, she didn’t see it. But her way kept changing, so I never know what to say to make her happy. She could say that she liked shirts folded one way, and when I fold it that way she could tell me I was doing it wrong and make me do it over. She can be very indecisive. But, because she’s my mother, and only guardian at the moment, I can’t say anything to her.

“Respect works one way.” She said each word with such a sourness I could taste it in my mouth. I didn’t like it. “You respect me because I am your mother and that is the way it works. When you get older and become a mother yourself you may say the same thing to your son and/or daughter. Until that day though, you respect me.”
I laughed. It was sarcastic, and there wasn’t even the slightest hint of humor in it(which is what I intended of course.) “If you want me to respect you as a mother, you need to respect my privacy, and my friends, and my interests . . . and most important, what I say. If I tell you something, even if you don’t believe me, or it’s impossible, you need to respect the fact that I think it’s true.”
She was momentarily stunned. The moment was so long that I was actually stupid enough to think she thought I was right. But too soon, that stunning and wonderful moment ended when everything I had said sunk in. It was six seconds.
“Privacy is a privilege. Time to see your friends is a privilege. What you are interested in has nothing to do with how I judge you because no matter what I’ll always love you.”
You sure have a funny way of showing it.
“I only have to listen to what you say. Yes, I believe that you believe all these things you say, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you this. I’m trying to help you realize that what you see is your mind playing tricks on you, and the only reason it’s playing tricks on you is because you are mourning the loss of your dearest friend.”
“Mom, if I wanted to be shrinked, I would have gone and seen one and not have talked to you! My mind is not playing tricks on me! The only trick that has been played around here is that you actually loved me!”
As soon as I said that I instantly regretted it. I watched her out raged face turn to a hurt one. But just because she was upset doesn’t mean it makes me feel so sorry that I’ll stop saying how I feel. I was sorry that I was hurting her, but she hurt me for a long time and I needed to let her know how I’ve felt.
“The fact that I love you is not a trick. You’re my daughter, and I have loved you from the day I found out I was pregnant with you, and I will love even when I am dead and have gone to heaven.”
“I don’t get the feeling that you love me! You never believe anything I say, you never let me have a private life, and you never even consider the fact that I may be right about a lot of things! You have never treated me like a regular person, and I am sick and tired of being treated like an idiot when I know I’m not one!”
I watched her eyes water up and felt mine water for totally different reasons. She was crying because she was hurt, and I was crying from anger and the relief I felt from getting all this off my chest.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She used the back of her hand to wipe away a tear that had fallen from her defeated and hurt eye. “Um, I’m going to go out to the grocery store. We need some stuff.”
I saw her leave, heard her car start and pull out of the driveway. I also heard the car go down the road. It went in the opposite direction of the grocery store. Even though I knew all these things had happened, I felt like the fight was a movie and it was playing over and over again. I saw my mom’s eyes again, this time without the anger blinding me, I really saw her.
I’d only ever seen my mother cry twice.
The first time was when I was four, and I barley remember the time, but I remember the reason very well. It was when my father died. He had died at his job. He was a chemical scientist. My mom had never liked the idea of him being one, but he apparently loved his job. One day while he was supposed to be at work, my mom got a phone call. I remembered her yelling and screaming and crying as she fell to her knees and dropped the phone. I ran to her and asked her what was wrong, but all she had done was sent me to my room. That night, my dad had not come home.
The second time she cried was when Chris died.
I am a terrible person! I hurt my mom so bad she’ll probably never talk to me again! I know what she has done to me was really painful, but I can’t imagine how hurt she’s feeling! I need to apologize to her as soon as she gets home. No, I’ll call her right now.
With my mind made up, I took out my cell phone and dialed her number. Her cell rang four times before she answered.
“Hello.” Her voice was quiet and controlled, but also strained.
“Hey, mom. I wanted to call you to tell you I was sorry. What I said was really mean and hateful and rude and disrespectful and . . .”
“Claire,” she interrupted.
“I’m so sorry. I know that an apology isn’t enough to make up for what I said, but-”
I was cut off mid-sentence by a horrifying scream. My mom’s horrifying scream! I heard some skid noises at first. Then, there was a huge noise that roared in my ear. It was like hearing the sound of thunder, but instead of being on the ground you were in between the two fighting clouds.
“Mom!” I shrieked, my voice going up thirty octaves in doing so.
There was no answer.
“Mom,” I whispered now.
The phone disconnected.
I dropped my phone and got my keys in one movement. My next move was flying to my car and down the street in the direction my mom had gone in.

7. Life Saver

All I had to do was follow the smoke that rose in the direction that my mom had driven her car. Then, I reached the sight.
My mom’s dark green Jaguar was crushed upside down into a light pole. There was a big, black truck on the other side of my mom’s car. It was not upside down, but it looked like it had flipped over a few times before my mother’s car stopped it. The hood of the black truck was on fire, and there was smoke coming up from my mom’s car. It was like that day at school last year with all the police men and yellow tape.
“MOM!”
I jumped out of my car and ran under the yellow tape toward my mom’s car. An officer stopped me though. He grabbed my hand and with strong grasp he pulled me away from my mom’s car. I was about four feet from it when he grabbed me.
“Get off of me!” I yelled it while punching his arm. I was scared for my mom though, so my punches were not filled with my strength.
“I’m sorry, Claire, but I can’t let you go to those cars right now. Especially since that truck is on fire. It’s going to explode any second now,” he said while pulling me out of the taped zone. I recognized his voice to be detective Lanther.
“Mr. Lanther, get my mom out of the car before that truck explodes! She may still be alive!”
He looked down into my eyes and there were so many words he wanted to say but he couldn’t and his eyes told me that. He said, “Claire, we’ve tried everything we can do. There isn’t a way to get your mother out of that car. Her door is pushed up against the truck, the passenger door is against the pole. It’s impossible. I’m sorry.”
“So you’re just going to sit here and tell me my mom is going to die and you’re not going to do a damn thing to stop it!” I screamed. I was so angry and scared that I didn’t care about what I said or did right then. “Well, I’m going to go try! It’s more then what you’re doing here!”
I went to go towards the tape, but his hand caught my arm and he held me in place.
“Let go of me! Let me go! Get off! I have to go save her!”
Just then, the truck blew up and the whole thing was on fire. My mom’s car was on fire, too.
“MOM!”

I ran to her car, under the tape, past all the police men who tried to stop me. No one could keep me from my mom. I got to her car and came up to her door. When the truck blew up it moved away from my mom’s car just enough so I could get through. I opened the door despite all the flames trying to reach me and engulf me in heat.
I saw her body. I only saw her body. Without thinking about what could happen to me, I reached into the car and tried to unbuckle her seat belt. But it was jammed. I thought fast and pulled my Swiss army knife out of my pocket. It was a gift from my dad when I was two, so I carried it with me everywhere I went because it makes me feel like he’s with me all the time. I took the scissors out and started to cut the seat belt. When I got it off of her I pulled her out, not caring about the burns I got from the flames everywhere.
When people talk about how you get a boost of adrenalin in near death experiences, they know what they’re talking about. I felt enough strength in me to carry my mom out of the car and over to detective Lanther.
Her body was burned everywhere and her skin was black. Her eyes were closed and I had guessed she was unconscious when the truck exploded. Her clothes were ripped because of the flames.
“Get her to the ambulance, she’s still alive.”
I looked up and I saw two men holding a stretcher and Lanther had just given them the orders.
She’s still alive?! Mom’s not dead?!
“My mom is okay?”
Mr. Lanther smiled a little reassuring smile and said, “She is still alive, but she is badly injured so they need to take her to the I.C. unit in the hospital. You can go ride with her if you’d like.”
I didn’t even answer. I ran to the ambulance and jumped in. I sat right next to her.
  

“Claire.”
Her voice was faint, and it was full of the pain she went through trying to say words.
“Mom!” I yelled, full of relief and joy.
The crash happened two weeks ago, and ever since then my mom has stayed in the hospital. I also stayed for a few days because I had a third degree burn on my right arm, a second degree burn on my right leg, and a small burn on my forehead. They let me go home, and ever since I came to the hospital everyday after school. I stayed in her room for as long as I could. I sometimes just watched her slowly breathe on her bed. I knew she was alive, but I couldn’t hear her voice so sometimes I had my doubts.
“Where...where am I?”
“You’re in a hospital unit in intensive care. Do you remember what happened?”

She shook her head, but not like she was saying no, but like she was clearing her thoughts. “I remember we had an argument, I drove to the stop sign on Orange Street, and then I heard someone scream...” Her voice trailed off and she looked at me. Her expression was full of amazement, pain, and...shame. “I’m sorry, Claire.”
“Why are you sorry? I was the one who was being unreasonable. The fight was my fault.”
“Oh, sweetie, I don’t mean the fight. Well, I am sorry about that, and you are fine. Don’t ever forget that I’ll always love you.” She gave me a strong but loving look and said, “No matter what. But that not’s what I wanted to talk about, well, not yet anyway. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about Chris.”
She’s apologizing about Chris?! Clearly she needs to get her priorities straightened out!
“Why,” I struggled to find words. “Why are you apologizing for not believing me about Chris?”
“Now, this is going to be hard for me to say, partly because I am in pain and partly because I still can not believe it my self. When I stopped at that stop sign, there was a moment where it felt like the whole world had stopped. Everything was in slow motion. I was talking to you before it happened, but when everything paused you were in mid sentence. You didn’t continue talking till after this.
I had looked over to the passenger seat because I felt an extremely cold air radiating from that area, and he was sitting there in the car with me! He looked over to me and talked to me! It was the most amazing thing! He talked for a long time, and it was really only a few seconds, but the world and time itself paused! Do you know what he said?” I shook my head and she continued. “He said, ‘You are about to crash into a black truck. I tell you this because if I had nothing to do with it you would die from the crash, but I will protect your life. You will be badly injured and will go through a lot of pain, but you will not die. I’m saving you because you need to help Claire find the guilty one. She’ll explain everything.’ And then he vanished, time started again and I saw the black truck spinning out of control. Then, I wake up here.”
Chris talked to my mom! He saved her life! He wanted her to help me find the guilty one?
That was the only thing that didn’t make sense.
My mother looked at me with the face that I hadn’t realized till then I missed so much. She was concerned for me. “What is it?”
“The guilty one. I don’t get it.”
“Well, guilty means-”
“I know what that means! I don’t get who that is or what it has to deal with him.”
“Think back, Claire. You saw him a few times before correct?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. She was back. “Did he talk to you?”

“Yeah. He said...” I gasped. “He said that I knew who the killer was! He texted me and the text read ‘You know the killer. They are closer then you think’! Mom, he wants us to find the person who murdered him!”
She looked skeptical at first, but then she really thought. “First degree murder is of course illegal. That would make the murderer a guilty person...” She gasped too. “Yes, of course! Of course he would want us to find his murderer! So they can’t hurt anyone else! Claire, my darling, you are a genius!”
I didn’t feel happy like she did. I felt the over whelming pain of talking about Chris, and murderers, and how they interact. The knife was stabbing me again, but not in my stomach. This time my heart was being tormented by the constant stabbing. I didn’t show my pain on the outside, but on the inside I was screaming in horror knowing that too many stabs at the heart would end my pain...and me.
“Mom, I can’t do that,” I whispered.
Her concerned look returned. “Why? Honey, we need to do this. We can’t be the cause of others dying.”
“Mom, you’re a lawyer! You can put together a search party and find that killer. I want no part in this. It’s too painful.”
“Claire.” She said my name softly, and I loved the way her softness felt warm across my cold skin. “I know Chris was very special to you, and I know how special you were to him. You two were so close you were like brother and sister. Sometimes bickered like siblings also,” she laughed. “But you have to help him so he can move on and be happy. He needs you right now.” She put her bandaged hand on mine.
“But I can’t let him move on, cause that means that he’ll be gone forever.”
“Sweety, when you really care about someone they never leave you. Chris is dead, he has been that way for a year, but that doesn’t mean he is gone and he left you. No, I can guarantee that he will watch over you and everyone else who cared about him.” She squeezed my hand slightly. “Now, go home and get some rest, but could you tell the nurse I need some pain killer before you leave?”
I smiled at her. “Of course I will. Do you think they could give me some pain killer too?”
The concern was back. “Are you in pain?”
Not yet.
“No ma’am. Just a joke.”
She smiled at me. “Come here.” She opened her arms and I hugged her gently. “Everything is going to be fine. It’ll work out, darling.”
I hope so. Mom, you almost died because of me being stubborn! I’m not sure we should do this...


8. Under The Cherry Tree

SilentGirl: She woke up today!
GhostBoy: She did??!! I’m happy for you, but I’m not sure we should be talking. I mean, I know we talk like everyday, but it still feels wrong knowing your mom said you weren’t aloud to anymore...
I sighed. I knew how he felt about talking behind my mom’s back, but I haven’t really been talking to Sammy in a while. I know I’m being a little dramatic about what happened two weeks ago, but she really hurt my feelings! She hasn’t even bothered texting me, calling me, or even talking to me at school. I mean, three days after that happened she sent me a text saying, ‘I’m sorry.’ That was the last time she tried to talk to me! So, I really haven’t had anyone but him to talk to, and it’s not like I’m going to go to a school counselor. I can already imagine what type of nut house they would send me to.
SilentGirl: I know how you feel, and I’m sorry but you’re the only one I can talk to. You’re the only one around any more or who understands. Wait, that reminds me! Guess what my mom said to me today????!!!!???!!! Go on! Just guess!!
GhostBoy: Ummm..... That.... you look really pretty and... she thanked you for saving her life?
SilentGirl: No! First of all, I’m not pretty I’m beautiful! Second of all, she doesn’t know that I’m the one who saved her. I didn’t think about that when she was talking to me.... Anyway, nope! That’s not it! Keep guessing!
GhostBoy: Wow! Somebody’s full of themself... Ha! Come on! Just tell me! I don’t like thinking! It makes my brain hurt! That’s why I dropped out of school....
I laughed. He had such a way with humor.
SilentGirl: Ha! Ha! Ha! So funny! Anyway, she was talking to me about the crash and she said that she saw Chris! Can you believe it??!!
I waited. I waited for a few seconds, but then those seconds turned to minutes. I waited five minutes before I decided to type another message.
SilentGirl: GB, are you there? Did you leave? The screen says you didn’t.... Are you okay?

Another five minutes.
Maybe telling him about what Mom said was a bad idea. I mean...well...I don’t get why it would be bad to tell him! He said two weeks ago that he also saw Chris’s spirit, so why would it be bad telling him that my mom saw Chris also?
I waited, and waited, and waited. Nothing happened. My screen still said that GhostBoy was logged on, so it wasn’t like he left. Maybe he was just typing back a long message! No. He would’ve typed back when he knew I was worried about him. What could be going on?
I was just about to give up when I got a message.
GhostBoy: We need to meet. Like, face to face.
WHAT?! He wants us to meet...in PERSON?! How could that happen? Why does he want to? Why do we have to? Should I meet him? Is he really a teenager? Could he be a predator? What if he’s lying about seeing Chris? Why am I thinking all these questions instead of asking him for the answers? Because I’m me. There’s one question answered.
SilentGirl: Why do we need to meet? Why can’t we be fine just talking over the internet? I mean, it’s enough for me. Why isn’t that enough for you???? Huh????
GhostBoy: It’s just not....*Growl* It’s just not the same!
SilentGirl: I don’t think that’s such a good idea....
GhostBoy: Why? We’re friends right?
SilentGirl: Well, yeah we are but that doesn’t mean we HAVE to meet face to face right?
GhostBoy: I’ll meet you in twenty minutes at the bench in the old park under the Japanese cherry tree. See ya then.
He logged off.
Under the Japanese cherry tree in the old park...that’s where Chris and I would go to talk. That was our spot! Why does he want to meet there? Why not somewhere with more people like the diner or the mall? Why in the old park? Well, I have to get going if I want to meet him there in twenty minutes. Do I really want to go though?
I didn’t think the answer to my question because I knew it would have stopped me. I grabbed my keys and walked out to my car.

On my way to the old park, which was on the other side of town, I didn’t think about what I was doing and how dangerous it could be. I thought about how I felt about actually meeting GhostBoy. I felt thrilled. I could see if he was a really cute popular guy who just went in the chat room to meet new people, or if he was a big looser who didn’t have any friends and knew that no one knew who anyone was in the chat room so he could meet people and actually talk to them. Was he really a teenage boy though? Or was he some forty year old man who could hurt or possibly kill me?
I shook that out of my head. I went back to thinking about him being really cute.
When I arrived at the old park I almost burst out laughing. I don’t know why I was about to laugh and not bawl because this was the place where Chris and I spent a lot of time together, but I guess just being back made me feel good.
The park was actually a memorial park for the man who founded our town, but we jut called it the old park because we didn’t pay attention in school whenever the teachers talked about him so we didn’t know his name. It wasn’t very big, but there was a stone pathway that went in two directions. One led to a fountain that was surrounded by a big walk-in garden. The other led to a statue of the man and a small grove where the cherry tree was. Obviously I walked down that one.
It wasn’t very long before I came upon the little bench under the small tree. I was prepared to see a tall teenage boy, but no one was there. I walked around the tree and found no one. I decided that he must be running late so I sat down on the bench.
When I sat down, I had a strange feeling like I was being watched. I looked around, but I was the only one in the entire park. Other people felt like spending their time at the bigger community park.
“Hello?”
No answer.
“Just my nerves,” I tried to say, but I didn’t sound convincing even to myself.
Then, it happened. I fell off of the bench.
I felt light, light as a feather as I rose up a second later. I was surprised, or really scared, when I looked down and saw me laying on the ground! I was uninjured, but my eyes where open and they were white! My mouth was curved into a satisfied smile. My body was laying perfectly straight, like Snow White when she’s in the glass coffin. I tried to scream, but no sound came out of my mouth.
Am I dead?
No. I didn’t ‘see the light’ and I wasn’t floating towards heaven. I was standing above my unconscious, paler then usual(and I’m pretty pale) body trying to scream but my voice wasn’t working.
I looked over at the bench for some reason. It was like there was a magnetic pull coming from the bench making me turn my head. I couldn’t move anything, not even my mouth when I tried to scream again.
I was watching a scene of me, Chris, and Sammy in the park three years ago. We were all sitting on the bench in that order, and we were laughing!

I remember this! This is when Chris and Sammy first got together! Chris thought it would be cool if we invited Sammy to show her our spot and they ended up liking each other! This is so weird! Why am I seeing this? What’s the purpose? I really am crazy!
I stopped thinking as I watched the scene, watched all of us laughing. Oh, Chris had the sweetest laugh! It was contagious too! Once you heard him laugh, you were compelled to laugh with him!
“This place is so pretty,” Sammy said.
“Yeah, we come here all the time, just to hang out,” I told her. My voice wasn’t as deep as it was now. I wasn’t as mature.
“Oh, really,” Sammy said with a suspicious tone in her voice. “All the time to ‘hang out’?”
Even now I could practically see the air quotes around her words.
“Yes! Just to hang out! There is nothing going on between me and Claire!”
The sound of is voice would have brought me to my knees if I could move. It was so soft and pure, I loved the way it moved over me. I miss him so much!
Then, the scene disappeared. I was ready for this weirdness to be over, but I wasn’t back in my body yet.
“Oh, come on,” I said before realizing I could move.
“What’s the matter, Claire?” I could recognize that voice anywhere.
“Chris! Where are you,” I asked turning around, trying to find him.
“What are you doing here Claire? Don’t you know never to meet anyone you know from a chat room outside of that chat room?”
I tried to trace his voice, but it was everywhere! It didn’t come from one point, it was surrounding me. I finally found him sitting on the bench under the cherry tree.
“How...why...what’s...” I couldn’t ask any of the questions that I wanted to. I was so confused.
“Right now you are in the spirit world. Don’t be afraid, you will be back in your body when we’re done talking. I brought you here so I could talk to you without losing energy and having to come back.”
I tried to process that, but it took me a few minutes. He was patient though. He just sat on the bench smiling at me.
“What do you mean you lose energy and you have to come back?”
“Well, there are only two ways you can see me. One way is if you come to the spirit world. I prefer that way more because I don’t lose any energy and you only wake up with a bad headache. The other way is if I come to your world, but I only have so much energy and I can’t stay there for long.”
“Why...why did you say it’s my world? It’s your world too.” My voice almost cracked, but that would have meant that I was about to cry, and of course I don’t cry. This is one of those times where I’m glad I don’t cry because I don’t want him to see me like that.

“Claire, I have been dead for a year now. I’ve come to accept that, your mom has accepted it; you’re the only one who hasn’t. Now, we need to talk about why you’re here.” I was about to say something, but he held his hand up dismissively. “You know about how I talked to your mom and how I saved her.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
“Wait, you brought me here...you know I know about what my mom said...” I gasped. “You’re GhostBoy!”
He looked at me like I was crazy, and I don’t blame him. “Yeah I am. Uh, I can’t believe it took you this long to figure that out. Anyway, you remember what I said to her right?”
I ignored his question because I was thinking of some myself. “How were you able to chat with me? Are there computers in the spirit world?”
He looked a little annoyed by my question, but then he laughed. “No. Alright, if I explain this will you listen to me tell you why you’re here?” I nodded so he continued. “Right, now you are a spirit, and you can see your body on the ground right there,” he pointed to my motionless body. “So, obviously, it’s not like we have our own world. It’s more like we live on different plains in one world.” He must have seen the confusion on my face because he then went into explaining what he said. “There are different parallel plains on the earth. You live on a plain where only living things and bodies are able to be seen without any cross overs. I live on a plain where we can see you and each other, but you can’t see us. A cross over is when a presence from one plain goes to another plain. Like some spirits, you refer to them as ghosts, cross over from our plain to yours. Right now you have crossed over from your plain to our plain. Do you get it now?”
“I get that, but you haven’t answered my question. How were you able to talk to me through the computer?”
“I crossed over and jumped into your computer. You know all those times where I wouldn’t talk for a while? I was back in the spirit world regaining my energy. Now do you understand?” I nodded slightly because it was really hard to follow but he went on to talk about something else anyway. “Now, you remember what your mother said about what I said right?”
“Yeah, she said you told her to help me find the ‘guilty one’. How did you manage to save her life in that car accident anyway?”
He looked really agitated. “I really can’t tell you. It’s a rule.”
“Rule? What? Do they give you a rule book when you become a ghost?”
I was really just joking, but the look on his face told me that I was right.
“When you become a ghost these people who call themselves ‘The Council’ tell you all these rules that you have to follow,” he explained.
“Or what?”

That look in his eyes. They said that what would happen was worse then death itself. I didn’t expect an answer from him.
“So, one of the rules is not telling how you saved someone?”
His head turned away from me. “Sort of.”
Then, he was right next to me. His eyes darted everywhere, making sure no one was around I guessed. But no one was there, in this plain or my true plain.
“Truth is, saving your mom was against the rules. I was lucky enough not to get caught. So telling you how I saved her would hint to The Council that I broke a rule.”
He was on the bench in the next millisecond.
“Now, back to what I was saying. So you do remember what your mom said? Anything else you remember?”
Gosh Chris! Could you give me a second! A person who crosses over to another plain that co-exists with the plain they live on can only grasp things so fast!
“I remember. And I also remember that text you sent me and those other times you talked to me on my plain.”
“Okay, by the guilty one you know I mean the one who killed me. They were wrong when they said I committed suicide, Claire. Someone killed me.”
“I knew that all along, Chris. Now, do you know who it was?”
He had a guilty look in is eyes, but his face made it look like he was trying to remember his past when he was alive.
“No, I don’t.” That look was still in his eyes.
“Chris, you’re lying! Now, tell me the truth. Do you know who killed you?”
He sighed. “Okay, I do know.”
“Then tell me! We can take the case to the judge and then...”
“Then what? What Claire? Look, there are rules in our world like there are laws in your world. I can’t tell you who it was. And you can’t take this to a judge because you have no evidence. The only thing you’d be able to say is that your dead best friend told you! They’d send you to the nut house before you could even say case closed!”
I felt my face go hot with anger. “Then what am I supposed to do?! You can’t tell me who the person is, and I’m no detective and neither is my mom! How are we supposed to do this?!”
He answered calmly, “There aren’t any rules against me giving you clues to who did it. Will you help me?”
I thought. Well, he is...was my best friend and we always said we would do anything for each other because we were friends. And, I can’t let that killer continue to hurt people!
“Okay, give me what you have.”
“Well, you know the person. They are close to you, and they knew me.”

I waited, but he didn’t say anything else. “That’s it? That’s all you can tell me?! We both know about a thousand people! How am I supposed to narrow that down?!”
He was about to say something but there was a loud noise. It sounded like a moan, or a voice speaking a different language. Chris said something in a language I couldn’t understand, but I guessed it was the same language as the other voice was speaking in.
“Claire, you have to get back to your plain. You’ve been here to long and are starting to attract other spirits. I’m sorry I can’t say anything else, but I’ll be in touch. Just chat to GhostBoy. Don’t forget to take some ibuprofen. Bye.”
I was about to say, “But you are GhostBoy and why do I need to take medicine,” but I fell back into my body.


9. Inner Questions

I remember what Chris said about having a bad headache now! My head feels like it was just bashed with a hammer a hundred times! I could barely see the road on my way home and almost crashed twice. As soon as I got home I took four pills of ibuprofen, and have been taking two every hour now.
After making myself a small bowl of tomato soup(I would have done my favorite Italian wedding soup but I didn’t want to chew the meatballs or the celery) I walked into the living room and sat on the couch. I reached for the remote and flipped the T.V. on. I almost spilled my soup when I winced because it was up so loud that my head had a big burst of pain. I turned it down and then realized it was on the news station.
Um, the last time I watched T.V. I watched the cooking channel. Why is it on the news?
Then I remembered what Chris said about being able to jump into things and controlling the technology.
“Alright, Chris, I can take a hint. What is it that you want me to see?”
I watched the screen. It was that nice news reporter and she was apparently in front of a crime scene. A picture of a young, extremely familiar girl showed up in the top right corner.
The reporter said, “She was found in front of Maple High strangled to death. Our sources tell us she was a junior at the school and her name is Jessica Nelson. The police are looking into an investigation on her assumed homicide. This is Melanie Harte reporting from Maple High, see you next time. Now to Jeff for the weather.”
I turned the television off.
Jessica! Not her! Not Jessica!
Jessica Nelson was a girl I used to tutor. She was really sweet, but not the sharpest one of the bunch. She may not have been the smartest, but she was definitely one of the nicest girls at our school. She was real pretty too. She had shoulder length brown hair and big, hazel eyes. We were sort of friends before, but when Chris died I stopped talking to her. Now she’s dead too.
“Chris, why does it have to be her? She was so sweet.”
“It was the same person,” a whispered voice said.
“Same who?”
“GhostBoy...” the voice faded away.
“Okay, I’m really good at taking hints. Get your energy because we are in for a long, long conversation.” The house phone rang just then. “After I answer the phone.”

I went into the kitchen almost not thinking about my headache, but the ringing was so loud it pounded like that stupid hammer in my head.
“Hello,” I answered with a little bit of my overwhelming pain in my voice.
I cannot wait to talk to Chris so I can give him a piece of my mind for doing this to me!
“Claire! Oh my goodness I’m so sorry about Jessica! I know how close you guys used to be! I’m so, so, so sorry for you,” Sammy yelled into the phone.
“Ow! Sammy, A, I have a killer headache so please don’t yell. B, we weren’t that close, and C, how do you know about her?”
There was a moment where she wouldn’t answer. Then she said, “Well, you know Amanda Crest?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Amanda Crest was the junior’s class president. She was also Sammy’s next door neighbor. “She ran over to my house and told me just five minutes ago. I’m so sorry. This is just a horrible thing. I guess it’s a good thing you guys weren’t that close so it doesn’t hurt that much.” The tone of her voice in that last sentence was...sort of like anger. Like she was mad at something. Well, I’ve never done anything to her so it can’t be me.
“Sammy, why are you calling me?”
“Well, aren’t we like, best friends? I mean, we’ve been friends ever since kindergarten. Why wouldn’t I be calling you?”
“Because you haven’t tried to talk or call me in two weeks. You know, since that day at lunch, remember?”
“Oh yeah, the day you said I called you crazy.”
“Yeah, that day,” I said sourly. “I’m glad that’s how you remember that day.”
“Is there something wrong, Claire? You sound a little upset. Where’s your mom? You should probably go talk to her and calm down a little. Talking to someone while you’re upset like you are could make you say things that are hateful. If you talk to your mom you might feel a little more comfortable and not be as rude.”
That’s it! She is so going to get a piece of my mind!
“My mom is in the hospital and has been there for two weeks, Samantha! Now if you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you never called me, texted me, or talked to me again! I am sick and tired of you being so caught up in your world and thinking you’re the only perfect one and everyone else here is messed up! Well I’ve got news for you honey, believe it or not, you’re messed up like the rest of us! I know, it’s a lot to take in, so why don’t you take the rest of your life to think about it and while you’re thinking about it never contact me again! Do you understand?!”

“Claire, don’t say things like that. You almost made me feel like you meant those things.” She said her words sarcastically and I know that she’s only sarcastic when she’s hurt. Being someone’s best friend for as long as we were, you know things about that person and their habits.
“Good-bye, Samantha.” I hung the phone up.
I don’t know if I should have said the things I did, but when she talked about my mom, something just snapped. Like I didn’t want to hear this girl who hurt me badly talk about my mom. I know, I know, weird.
I walked into my room and noticed my computer was turned on. There was already a message from Chris.
GhostBoy: You did what you should have done, she needed to hear that. Trust me.
I sat down in my chair and typed back an answer. As I typed I thought, This is going to be a little weird because now I know that everything I tell and have told GhostBoy, Chris will know and has known. I don’t know if I can think of Chris being GhostBoy. I mean, it fits because they’re both my best friends, but with Chris being dead, I don’t want to think of them being the same person. I want to think of them as two different people.
SilentGirl: Well, I’m glad you think what I said was right. At least someone does. I mean, she hurt my feelings, but I don’t know if I should have said those mean things. But, the things I said are true, and she needed to hear them so she can work on herself. But maybe I was too stressed out and was taking it out on her. I’M CONFUSED!!!!
GhostBoy: Claire! Calm down! What you said was true, so you don’t need to feel bad about that. She needed to hear that. Trust me, it will help a little bit...sorry about Jessica.
I saw what he was doing, and he probably knew that I knew what he was trying to do. But it would not work today, or just not right now.
SilentGirl: Chris, I know what you’re doing, and don’t do it! Stop trying to change the subject! And P.S. Thanks for apologizing and the sympathy about Jessica. Now, what do you mean by “She needed to hear it. Trust me”?
GhostBoy: Hang on. I’ll be right back.
I waited. I knew he was just regaining his energy, and I also knew that he was probably standing right next to me doing that, but somewhere in my mind I pictured a boy half way across our small town going to the bathroom. I don’t know why, but that part of my mind refused to believe that Chris was GhostBoy.

I thought about my time at the cherry tree. I thought about the crossover, then about that scene. Questions: Why did Chris show me that scene? What was so special about that scene? How did he show it to me? I need to stop thinking about my questions and start asking them. After this: how does that scene fit in to everything?
GhostBoy: Alright, I’m back. Now, where were we?
SilentGirl: Well, we were talking about what you meant by what you said about what I said to Sammy.
GhostBoy: WHAT?!
SilentGirl: Just tell me what you meant! You know what I mean! Stop playing around! I’m being serious!
GhostBoy: That explains the smile...
I’m starting to get a little mad now. He’s not answering my questions and he keeps trying to change the subject. The smile that was apparently on my face now disappeared. I started to type something to let him now how I felt, but he probably read my face because he typed before I did.
GhostBoy: Alright, alright. Okay. Fine, I mean that she has been a little messed up since I died, and she needed to hear what you said to bring her back to Earth. You have no idea how she took my death....
I let his message sink in. He, of course, was patient and didn’t type anything back.
SilentGirl: .....Okay. I can handle that. That was all you had to say, you don’t need to try to avoid that. Now, next item on our list: the park. That vision. Why did you show me, why is it important, and how does it fit in to everything that is going on now?
GhostBoy: What vision? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Claire! You saw a vision at the park today? Was it while you were on my plain or yours?
I hate it when he says that. I mean, we live on the same world! There’s not “my plain” and “his plain”! There is my part of the world and his part of the world. If we can talk then my brain refuses to think of the different plains.
SilentGirl: It was when I crossed over, at the beginning. Before I saw you I saw a scene. It was when you, me, and Sammy were at the park a few years ago, remember? It was when you two got together. And you don’t know anything about that?
GhostBoy: I remember the time, but I don’t know how you saw it. I’m just as confused as you are.
Of course you are. Everybody is as confused as I am. These people are so not helping me, and I have another question. How did I see it? Well, if Chris can’t answer it I don’t know who can. I might have to find the answer myself. Yikes.
SilentGirl: Gotta go. Talk to you later. Bye.


10. Broken Barrier

I called my mom after I turned off the computer. The phone rang five times before her voicemail came on.
“Hello, this is Bethany Jason’s phone. I can’t take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number I will try to get back to you. Thank you for your call and good bye,” I heard my mother’s voice say.
“Hey mom,” I said after the beep. “I need to talk to you, but it’s late so you get your rest and I’ll call you tomorrow before I go to school. There is so much we need to talk about. I love you. Good night. Don’t call back tonight because I want to get to bed. Oh, and don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Bye.”
I put my cell phone on its charger that rests on my night stand. I went out to the living room to clean up my dishes and rinsed them out in the kitchen sink. I walked back into my room and sat down on my window seat.
I used to do this a lot when I was real little, just sit here and read a book on a rainy day. I didn’t watch a lot of T.V., but I read a whole lot. I stopped when I was ten. One day I was reading Things Hoped For and it was right at the end of the book. Gwen was at her Juilliard auditions and she’s talking about how she’s so happy that her dad is there with her. Now, I’m not really the musical type, except for a little piano, but she’s talking about her dad and I realized I’ll never be able to talk to my dad or have him go somewhere with me because I’m nervous. I’ll never be at home and have my dad walk in from work and me say, “Hey, Dad, what’s up?” I realized that I would never have the pleasure of being able to have my dad with me when I went to apply for my favorite college. Never. I threw the book down and never sat there and read again.
Now that I look back, I realize that until now, that was the last time I ever sat here. But, I can’t keep thinking about the past. I need to concentrate on now, but it’s so hard because I keep thinking about Jessica. I can only imagine how she looked when they found her.
Her brown hair all around her face, covering her brown, now lifeless eyes. The lips that were always in the sweetest smile now in a never ending scream, and her neck covered in bruises. Poor Jessica. Never to be sweet and perky in this world again. Never to walk around and shed light onto everyone. Never to even walk again.
The picture in my mind was so vivid, it scared me. I felt like I had actually seen it, like I was actually there when she was killed.
That weird feeling I had felt when I was holding Chris’ engraved box came back. That feeling that my subconscious knew something I didn’t.
For the first time in I don’t know how long, my barrier came down and I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I had so much pain and heartbreak locked up inside of me and this is the first time I’ve dealt with it in a long, long time. I guess that all the pain of my past was attacking at my mental wall and I just needed one more thing for it to fall.

Through all the crying I figured out why I was crying. There was so much death in my life! My dad. Chris. Jessica. How much more could I take?
I cried for my dad, the person I barely new before he was taken away from me so suddenly. I cried for Chris, my best friend who left me unintentionally but who is back. I cried for Jessica, the girl who was willing to go out of her way to make someone, even me, happy. I cried for my mom, the woman who raised me and was now in the hospital because of me. And I cried for me, the girl who lost so many people in her life and who has dealt with so much pain in her life that she doesn’t know how much more she can take before she cracks. I cried and cried and cried until I fell asleep.
I woke to the sound of my phone vibrating. I looked over at my night stand and the big, green numbers said that it was a quarter past six. I walked over to the night stand and took my phone off of the charger. I had stayed asleep on the window seat all night.
“Hello,” I whispered, still groggy from being asleep for awhile.
“Hey, Sweetie, I got your message and figured that you might really need to sleep. Did you just wake up?”
“Yeah. Uh, mom, I don’t want to go to school today.”
“Claire,” she sighed. “You have to go to school. Have you even made up all the work you missed? You need to go to school.”
“Mom, do you remember that girl who I used to tutor? Jessica?”
It took her a minute to think. “Yeah, I do. Sweet girl. What does she have to do with anything?”
“They found her body yesterday in front of the school. She was strangled to death.”
She gasped. “Oh, Claire! I can’t believe...” Her voice trailed off. “Honey, I don’t think you should go to school. I mean, this is just tragic! Poor girl. This is terrible. She was so sweet and precious. I can’t imagine what her parents are going through.”
“Well, I’m just going to get back in bed and I’ll come by to see you later on. I still have more to talk to you about. Love you.”
“Love you too. Get some rest.”
“I will. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I tried to go back to sleep, I really did, but pictures of everyone I knew went through my head. Sammy, Mom, all my teachers, the people I used to hang out with, everyone who was alive. I wondered who would be next, and which one of them did it. Which one of them killed Chris and Jessica.

Mr. Kastone. He didn’t like me, but he didn’t know me last year, so he can’t be it. James, he was the guy I used to go out with, but I broke up with him when I realized I didn’t really like him. He had the motive, but he moved to Chicago a few years ago. Before Chris died.
Sammy. . .I don’t know why, but her name popped up in my head. I know she couldn’t have done it. She was dating Chris when he died and didn’t really know Jessica. Still, she had been acting really weird. . .and she was on a date with Chris the night he died. I haven’t been talking to her, so I don’t know what she did last night. . .Oh! Who am I kidding?! How could I even accuse Sammy! It couldn’t have been her.
I kept thinking of people, but everyone I thought of had an alibi without me even asking them if they did kill my friends! This is hard! I was so not born to be a detective!
I decided to try to go back to sleep and when I was rested enough I would try thinking again later.
6:45. 7:15. 8:00. 8:30. Those are the times I would wake up from my dream and look at the clock. I finally got out of bed at quarter till nine.
Even though I kept waking up, I had this dream.
I was sitting in the middle of a small field with Chris. I was surrounded by soft, green grass and flowers of all types and colors. There were trees on the outside of the field, waving to me and my friend. A stream ran beside me whispering unknown secrets in my ear as it coasted easily over smooth, every color stones that glistened in the afternoon sun.
Chris and I talked and laughed for what seemed like hours, but I know that dreams only last a few minutes, so it was really only seconds. Somewhere in my head I could sense a different presence in the field but it was far back in my brain, so I didn’t really pay attention to that feeling. I was so focused on talking to my best friend. It was like we were kids again, and the fact that he died a year ago wasn’t even known. It was like it never happened, and it was a dream of a dream. I looked up and squinted from the sunlight because I heard a noise. It was a person. They were wearing a black cloak so I couldn’t see who it was or even if it was a boy or girl. The face was covered by some kind of mask and their hands wore red gloves. Their shoes were the same color as the gloves.
All the sudden, the scene changed. We were sitting on the floor of a building. It was a tile floor, and there were many hallways that lead in many different directions. With sudden realization, I knew that we were sitting on the second floor of my high school! We were at the front where the stairs came up to this level, where there was an outlook of the front of the school. There was a railing that we could lean on and look down at all the students and teachers going through the traffic at the front entrance.
The figure walked slowly towards me and my equally confused and scared friend. We both stood up and stepped back until the railing stopped us.
“Why are you doing this,” Chris asked in a panicked voice.
“Because of Claire,” the person said in a voice that was unrecognizable. It was deep, like the voice announcing the release of a new movie.
“What does she have to do with anything?”
I tried to talk, but no sound came out of my mouth.
“Everything.”

The figure came forward and grabbed Chris’s arms. The scariest thing was that I felt its hands around my arms! The gloves were cold, but I could feel heat coming from its hands through the gloves. It held him, or us, firmly and it almost hurt.
“Goodbye.”
With that, they pushed Chris over the rail, and I followed.
I fell forever because the ground kept getting farther and farther away. It finally stopped moving, but that wasn’t good for me.
Wake up! Don’t hit the bottom! I don’t need to die! Wake up! Wake up!
I could actually feel the wind brushing over my body and tangling my hair. I almost hit the floor, but I woke up for the last time.
I was sweating when I finally decided that going back to sleep was not a good idea. I walked out into the living room and turned on the television. My cooking channel was back on.
“I’m sorry Sandra Lee, but I really don’t feel like watching people cook right now,” I said while flipping Semi-Homemade to SpongeBob.
After an hour of that funny little sponge, I went to the kitchen to find something to eat. The phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Good morning. I’m calling to inform you that Claire Jason is absent from school today.”
“May I ask who’s speaking,” I asked with my annoyed voice.
“Yes, my apologies. I’m Mrs. Greene, the secretary of Maple High School. May I ask who I’m speaking to?”
“Why, Mrs. Greene, I would have thought that you would recognize my voice. I mean, I’m at the office almost every day.”
She gasped very loudly. “Claire, why aren’t you at school?”
“I’m sick! Can’t you hear how rough my voice is? I’ve been throwing up ever since I came home yesterday. Plus I have this killer headache. I didn’t want to get anyone else sick. And I thought that school would have been canceled because of Jessica. Having school the day after a person dies is crazy!”
“I know,” she said, sounding more upset then I did. “I understand how you’re feeling. I feel that way also, but some students disagreed with the idea that school be let out today, and some of them are close to the principle so he kept school going.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, well, what’s done is done. I gather that you won’t be at school today right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright. You get some rest you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am. I will. Thank you. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”


11. Sammy Comes Back

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Hello,” I called from the other side of the door.
It was four o’clock, and I was about to go to the hospital to see my mom when someone knocked on the door.
“Claire, it’s me. Can I come in?” Sammy said from the outside.
I sighed, but still opened the door. “What do you want?”
She waltzed right in and sat down on my couch like it was her house.
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about some things.”
“I think I’m smart enough to realize that, Samantha,” I said coldly. How could she not expect that I would be upset with her? She just came strutting into my house like there was nothing wrong and that she lived here! Did she not remember that I’m not happy with her?!
“I know, I know. I’m not saying you’re stupid, Claire. I just don’t know how to word what I’m trying to say and I’m nervous.” She put her head down and took a deep breath.
I moved over to the recliner that sat on the other side of the room. There was no way I wanted to be any where near her. I might “accidentally” hit her. I tried to control my face to look natural, but I could feel my eyes narrow and my lips frown.
“So, how have you been?” she asked weakly.
“How have I been?” I tried to control my voice, but I knew that just like my trying to control my face, it wouldn’t work. “You come to my house, sit on my couch after I told you that I didn’t want to have you contact me, and you ask me how I’ve been!” I shrieked.
She put her hands up as if defending herself from an attack. It was probably good idea. “I told you I’m nervous and I just wanted to get a conversation going so it would easier to talk to you! So stop yelling at me! This is hard for me to say!”
“What do you have to tell me?! What is so important that you have to come to my house after I tell you specifically not to?! What Samantha?! What?!”
She was taken back. I’ve never yelled at her, and even though I was surprised at the fact I just did, I was too angry to pull back.
“I’m sorry about Jessica.”
I snapped. “Get out! Get out of my house! Now!”
“No, Claire. I have something else to say.”
“I don’t care!”
Sammy stood up and made her way to the door. “I’ll call you later.”
I grabbed a pillow from the couch and flung it at her. It hit her square in the face.

Direct hit! Yes! Maybe now she’ll get the fact that I never want to hear or see her again!
“Claire, I understand you’re going through a rough time right now, I really do. So, I’m going to do you a favor and look past all of this,” Sammy spat through her teeth.
“Why are you doing that? Don’t do me any favors!” I yelled, on the verge of hysteria.
Sammy looked like she was about to say something, but instead she walked out the door, and hopefully out of my life. I watched her walk down our outside stairs from the window. She turned to look at me one more time. Her expression wasn’t the hurt one that I expected. It was a satisfied smile that had another emotion paired with it in her eyes. Cruelty. Evilness. Hatred. I knew it was one of those, but I couldn’t tell which one it was. She got into her car and drove down the street in the direction of her house.
I wonder what it was that she needed to tell me. Maybe it was important... but I shouldn’t listen to her because she isn’t my friend. Well, that’s not a nice reason to not talk to somebody. But she hurt me really bad. She called me crazy, but a lot of people have for a while....
I could practically see the little devil and angle debating on my shoulders, telling me what I should do. I didn’t know which one was the right one to listen to, so I chose to ignore them. I grabbed m purse and went to my car.
“Mom, I don’t know what I should do. Can you tell me what I should do?” I asked my mom when I got to her room. I had told her everything. Everything that happened to me last night, the dream, and Sammy today. Her face seemed pretty calm as I gave her all the details. The only time I saw her loose her calm façade is when I told her about how my dream ended.
“Well, Claire, it seems like you’ve had quite the adventure while I was here. I’m so sorry you’ve had to endure it by yourself. I feel so bad about that, but I guess I can give you some advice.”
My face lit up at what she said. “Mom, that’s all I’m asking for.”
“Well, this is what I would do with the dream. You said the figure was cloaked? Try taking the cloak off in the dream. You’ll find out who the person is.”
“Confusion. How will I know if that’s the real person?”
“Sweetie, I think Chris made you have the dream. He’s allowed to give you hints, and technically this is a hint. It may borderline telling you who it was, but he’s not really telling you with his voice. You’ll have to break through your fear or whatever’s holding you back to be able to remove the cloak.”
I sighed. I wanted to say that that was easier said then done. I wanted to, but I needed to talk to her about other things so I dropped it and nodded. “What about Sammy?”

“She may have hurt your feelings darling, but I’m not so sure ignoring her is the best option. She was your best friend for a really long time; I think you should give her another chance. Best friends fight all the time, but they always make up.”
“Are you sure I should be friends with her again? I mean, she was so hurtful that
day at lunch.”
My mother gave me a stern look. “No. You put words in her mouth, Claire.” Her face softened into that ‘all knowing mother’ look. “It may have hurt your feelings, but she really didn’t say or imply anything. My advice to you is to talk it over with her, and then ask her about what she was trying to tell you. You said she said she was nervous about telling you?”
I nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Her face was unreadable, but I think she was trying to guess what Sammy was going to say to me. “Go home, Sweetie. I think you’ve had enough adventures to last a life time. But, sadly, we both have to wake up to more tomorrow. I love you.”
I bent down and kissed her cheek. “Love you too, mom. See you tomorrow. We can take these adventures one step at a time, together.”
I walked out of there with more questions then when I walked in.


12. Bad Dreams Haunt

I tried to move my arms, but I couldn’t feel them. They weren’t frozen cold, but frozen in time. I did whatever they did. Or rather, he did.
Let go of my fear.
But I wasn’t afraid. He was.
Let go of my fear.
I’m not afraid! Or am I? I don’t feel fear. I’m not scared of this person, because it’s someone I know. What was it my mom said? To get over my fear. What fear?
I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on, but I did when I realized I was falling to my death.
Wake up! Claire! Wake up! People who reach the bottom die! WAKE UP!
It took a too many seconds to wake up this time. I was an inch away from the ground. I was an inch away from hitting the ground and never waking up to tell somebody.
That was close. Too close. What if I had reached the bottom? I wouldn’t be thinking about this, because I wouldn’t have woken up. No. I would be dead. Dead from a heart attack...I would be dead like Chris, but not from a broken neck. Dead like Jessica, but not from being strangled. Dead like dad, but not from a chemical accident. Dead from a heart attack. Dead...
I walked into the bathroom and took a shower. I realized once I got in that I was already sweating so I turned the knob and took a twenty minute cold shower.
When I got out I went to see if anyone called me this morning. I hadn’t realized how late I had woken up. I wasn’t really thinking of the time...
There were two messages that I had to listen to.
The first was from my mom:
“Hey, Sweetie. It’s ten thirty in the morning, and you’re probably still asleep, but I just wanted to call you and see if you were alright. Come by and see me whenever you feel like, but if you’re tired of seeing me, you can just give me a call. Honey, I think you’ve been locked up in the house for too long, maybe you should go out tonight. Go ahead and call someone and go have some fun tonight. You don’t have to, but I think you should. Anyway, I love you. Bye.”
I laughed at the message. She has told me before that I’ve been cooped up in the house, but I never do anything about it. What’s the point? Everywhere I go there are always people from school, and that means that everywhere I go I’m avoided.
I listened to the second message.

“Claire?! Claire?! It’s me, Sammy! Someone’s here! I don’t know who it is, but there’s someone in my house! My mom’s at work and she’s not picking up her cell! Dad’s cell is turned off! Help me! I’m scared! AHH! What do you want?!” The line cut off.
My heart froze. My body froze. Time froze.
Time started.
I grabbed my keys and jumped out the door and into my car in one amazingly fast move, but that wasn’t what my mind was thinking of. I was thinking of Sammy, and wondering who it was that was in her house and if she’s. . .
No! She’s not dead! She fought the person off! She’s not dead!
It was only a two minute drive to Sammy’s house, but with the fear that racked my bones and my mind it could have been two days, or two weeks. Or two years. In these cases, it would be too late to save her.
I got to her house and knew I was too late. The police were already there. The cameras and the reporters were already there. I was the last one to the crazy, uncontrollable, morbid party.
  

I had been questioned by many people today.
The police wanted to know everything I knew about Sammy. Some of them followed me to my house so they could hear the message that she left for me this morning.
I went to the hospital and my mom wanted to ask me how I was doing. She cried when she heard about it. I wasn’t the one to tell her. She was watching the news through walls of water when I walked into her room. She told me she saw me on the news.
The reporters from local stations asked me about what I thought of Sammy, and how I felt about her death. They might not have believed we were close because I didn’t cry.
I questioned myself most of all. I wondered why I didn’t blame myself for what happened. Whenever someone dies in movies their friends always blame themselves. I don’t blame myself for her death. I don’t say to myself, “Oh, why was I so mean to her,” or, “Why couldn’t I have woken up when she called? She might still be alive.”
At least part of my brain knew I shouldn’t blame myself, but the smallest part of my brain thought something else. It was so small, and I thought unimportant, that I didn’t even know what it was thinking. All I know is that it was a happy thought and an ashamed thought.
For some reason, my mind keeps flashing back to the reoccurring dream that haunts me whenever I close my eyes and drift into the scariest, most wonderful part of my mind. My subconscious.
I keep seeing the cloaked figure, and whenever I do I feel scared, angry, and ashamed.

Why do I feel ashamed? I’m a victim of a dream! There is nothing to be ashamed of!
I had just gotten home when my cell phone rang. I read the caller I.D. It was my mom.
“Hey, Mom. Why are you calling me?”
“What? I can’t call my daughter while I’m sitting in the hospital and feeling worried about her?” Her voice was shattered and glued together with worry. I knew she wanted it to seem like she was joking with me, but her attempt failed. I wonder if she knew that.
“Oh, well I’m fine. Mom, that dream. . .” I wanted to tell her what had been going on with me mentally that day, but something stopped me. Some part of my brain. My subconscious? For something that I’m not supposed to feel, it’s been interrupting my thoughts for a while now. How long will it be until I can think without a shadow following everything that goes through my mind.
“You still haven’t uncloaked the figure.” It was a statement.
“Yes! I tried to let go of fear like you said, but in the dream I’m not scared! I have this feeling that I don’t have to be! But, I feel something else.”
“Claire, what I said was to let go of your fear or anything else that you’re feeling. What is this other feeling you have?”
“It’s hard to explain. The best way I could explain it is to say that I have this feeling of being ashamed. But why would I feel ashamed? It doesn’t make sense! It’s not like I blame myself for anything that’s happened!” I lied. I didn’t want to tell her about that tiny feeling telling me that I’m to blame for everything.
“Calm down, honey. Look, you’ve had a trying day. Why don’t you order some pizza and then go to bed? You’re off school tomorrow anyway. I was watching the news and it said that you guys have two weeks off. Take advantage of that and rest. I love you so much. Don’t forget, I’m coming home next week. Get the house ready for my home coming.”
“I will, Mom. Love you too. Bye.” I hung up.
Forty minutes later I was throwing the delivery boy a two dollar tip. He was a guy in my History class.
“See-ya, Claire.”
“Bye, Trevor.”
I closed the door and set the box of delicious smelling pizza on the coffee table. I ate slowly, not thinking, just chewing. I didn’t turn the television on, I didn’t want to be bothered mentally more by the outside world that had already broken me into a thousand confused and painful pieces.
When I was done I went into my room to go to sleep.

I guess now that all the excitement is over, I realize how totally exhausted I am, I thought as I laid down on my bed.
I closed my eyes and fell deep into my subconscious. I had the dream again. I was getting used to the feeling that took over me as the masked figure came closer, but then I started thinking about that feeling.
I am not ashamed. I am not ashamed. I am not ashamed! I kept saying this to myself and then I moved my arm!
I could move my whole body! Without even thinking about it, I lunged forward and tackled the figure over before it could push me and Chris over the railing.
Then, the scene changed again. It was just me and the murderer in a white space that reached every corner of the world. My brain. My world.
They threw me off and started running away, but I got up and was on top of them again. This way and that, we wrestled for what seemed hours and hours. Finally, they fell down defeated. I got on top of them and, holding their legs and arms down, I stared hard at the mask, wishing that for once in my life I had x-ray vision.
“Who are you?” I asked, just now realizing I could make a sound.
“Oh, Claire, don’t you recognize me?” The voice was no longer a disguised one, but one that sounded so familiar, it scared me to think of who it was behind that mask.
I got off and backed away. I was scared of this person. I was scared of this place. I was scared of the truth. The truth could have killed me if it were a blade. It wasn’t small and blunt, but large and razor sharp, piercing through the softest parts of my body and heart.
“No,” I mouthed. I knew I could speak, but I didn’t want to.
They got up and walked over to me. It was a slow walk, like they were trying to keep up the suspense. When they were a foot away from me, they took the mask off.
I screamed. I fell. I shook wildly from confusion, hurt, and anger. I didn’t want to look at the face anymore. It was the face of a killer, a ruthless killer, who killed people I cared about. It was the face of someone who didn’t stop at pain. They went all the way to murder. It was the last face my friends saw until they unjustly died. It was the face that all my friends looked into and asked questions like, “Why are you doing this,” or, “Why is this happening?”
It was my face.


13. Let Truth Be Known

“Hey, Mom. How are you today?” I asked nervously as I walked into my mother’s room in the hospital. I said it nervously because I had to tell her the truth. The person who was in the mask. I had to tell her.
“Hi, Sweetie. What are you doing here so early? It’s only nine o’clock.” She studied my face. She knew something was wrong. “What is it Claire?”
“Uh, Mom, I found out something that,” I tried to search for words that wouldn’t make what I had to tell her obvious. “That is bad. Really bad.”
“Claire, nothing you say can’t have a solution. Just tell me what you came here to tell me, and we’ll get on with it. Now, let me see. Did you figure out who was behind the mask in your dream?”
Why does she have to do that to me?! Always being right!
I nodded.
She smiled. “Good! Honey, that’s great!” Her face became serious. “Now, tell me who it was.”
Do I tell her the truth? She’ll hate me for it! She’ll turn me in to the police! She’ll disown me! I have to tell her though. She’s my mom. She’ll try to help me. But her way of help is that stupid therapist! Maybe now she’ll send me to an asylum!
Stupid angel and devil.
“Claire, tell me who it was,” she said in a stern voice.
“Mom, it was my face. I was behind the mask.”
She didn’t say anything. Her face was frozen. There was no angry, terrified, heartbroken look. That was the look I expected, but it didn’t come. She just sat there, starring, not at me but at the air in between us. Her face had turned white though. Snow white.
“Mom?”
Nothing. She didn’t, or maybe even couldn’t, speak. Just starred.
“Mom, come on. It doesn’t mean anything does it?”
“Claire, Claire, Claire. Why would you do this? To all those kids? To me? Why do this to yourself? I don’t get it.”
So that was it. She thought I really did kill them. She’s accusing me for their deaths. But I didn’t! I couldn’t have! Could I? Could I really have killed all my friends?
“Mom, it wasn’t me. How could I have done it? They were friends of mine, I couldn’t kill them. Besides, I was asleep every time one of them died. And, why would I kill my friends? I can’t believe you’re accusing me for the ultimate crime!”

My mom stopped looking at me. She looked away from me, but she talked.
“Claire, Chris told you that the person who killed him was someone you both knew, and that this person was close to you. In your dream the person said that you had to do with everything in dealing with Chris’ death. When he saved me he told me that I needed to help you find this person. I have done that. It all makes perfect sense.” Her voice was cracking. “You did all of it, whether you know you did or not. Maybe an alter ego that you don’t know you have, I don’t know, but I do know that Chris was trying to tell you all along that you were the killer. I’m sorry Claire, but I have only two choices. One is to turn you into the police, which I will never do. The other is to make sure I have nothing to do with you ever again.”
Her words crushed me. My barrier was defeated. I started to cry. The things she was saying to me made sense, but I didn’t want them to. She knew the truth, and so did I. She dealt with it by saying she never wanted to see me again. I felt as if she had just killed me. Ironic.
“Mom! Please! Don’t say you don’t want anything to do with me!” I screamed in fear and rage.
“Claire, I don’t want to hear this. It only makes this harder. I want you to go home and get your things, including the money I saved up for you since you were six. You know where it is. Then, I want you to leave my house and never come back. Keeping you with me is endangering both of us and this entire town. Now, leave.”
I ran out of her room screaming and crying. I ran to my car. Got to my house. Gathered my things, and left. I drove, and drove, and drove. Driving, driving, and driving.
Forever.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 25.05.2011

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