6The Ghost Of You
.chapter one.
The Beginning
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
The boy circled me, shamelessly checking me out. I stood still on the sidewalk, waiting for him to stop. My patience is seriously running out with this guy...
"Baby, it's no joke how smexy you are." Oh God, did he just say 'smexy'? Someone shoot me now.
He flashed his perfect teeth at me and growled playfully. I have to admit he's pretty hot – for a ghost.
"Go away, Matt. I'm not in the mood for you right now." I began walking again even though he had stopped circling me like a vulture circles its prey and was standing right before me. Good thing about ghosts: no touchy. I shivered as I passed through him; it's definitely not a pleasant experience.
"Come on, Lyssa. Don't be like that. I just want some love." He literally floated beside me, his feet hovering a few inches above the ground. I looked over to him and could barely see the house behind him through his head. Transparency, another aspect of a ghost.
I rolled my eyes, turning my gaze back to the cement below my feet. "Well you aren't getting any from me."
Matt was suddenly in front of me, his feet finally touching the ground as he walked backwards. I glared enviously at his see-through feet. I totally would have tripped doing that. "Jeez, who died?" He laughed at his own lame joke.
"Nobody," I snapped. "I'm just having a really bad day, okay?"
"Aw, but how could you be having a bad day when I'm around?" Matt grinned while I glared. Yes, this is all I needed to complete my day. An egotistical dead guy stalking me on my way home.
"Ugh! I wish I could figure out what's keeping you here already so you can go away!" Okay, I've officially broken. This unfortunate ghost is now on the receiving end of my anger-fueled venting. "You're only making this horrible day worse! I thought this would be a good day, but no. No, it couldn't be. You know why?!" Matt hesitated and shook his head, eyeing me warily. "Because some damn ghost – one of you – just had to drop in on me while I was in school and tag along behind me like some freakin' golden retriever! Now everyone thinks I'm crazy because I yelled at him in Chemistry! You know why I yelled at him in Chemistry?!" The now frightened spirit shook is head slowly. "Because he was about to set the Chem lab on fire! On freaking fire! I am so -"
"Um, excuse me, Miss?" A tentative voice spoke up to my left, interrupting the yelling-fest I was having. I groaned loudly, knowing what it must look like: me, a crazy-looking girl yelling at thin air. Whoever it is will probably direct me to the nearest insane asylum.
I turned reluctantly to face the person. It was a boy that looked to be my age, standing in the front yard of what I assumed was his home, looking worried and a little scared. God, I bet he is, considering what he just witnessed.
"Are you okay?" He asked after a few seconds of us staring at each other. Me blushing, him becoming less scared and more amused by the second. I could tell by the small smile starting to twitch at his lips.
"Yes, I'm fine." I sighed heavily, exasperated. This is the second time someone's asked me that today. First by Mr. Rockman, my Chem teacher after he saw me whisper-shouting at what he could infer was the wall when in actuality I was yelling at Joe – the 30-something year-old ghost who was about to turn on the Bunsen Burner and set chemicals to fire because I was ignoring him. The jerk. I gritted my teeth in annoyance at the thought of him. Fortunately I was able to tell him why he was still here so he could move on. Figures it would be his wife cheating on him, he's such a prick – I don't blame the woman.
"So..." He looked at the place I was yelling at moments before, where Matt is standing now, examining the boy like he's competition. "Who were you screaming at?"
"Nerd alert!" Matt whispered to me. Like there's a need; it's not like the guy can hear him. The boy in front of us is indeed pale and wearing glasses, but he isn't that scrawny or wimpy-looking. In fact, he's kind of cute in the geeky sorta way.
I rolled my eyes. "Shut up."
"What was that?"
I jumped. Whoops, almost forgot the dude was there. "Um, nothing. I'll just be going then." Insert awkward laugh here.
I turned on my heal, fully prepared to start running but the boy stopped me. "Wait!" I swiveled around again to face him. Here it comes... 'Maybe you should wait here while I... get some help'. Translation: Don't move, I'm calling the cops.
"What's your name?"
"No, look, I'll just – wait, what?" Did he just ask my name? My name? Who sees an insane – possibly dangerous – person yelling at the sidewalk and ask what their name is? This is what I have come to dub as a 'WTF?! Moment'.
"Your name?" The boy laughed outright at my expression. I probably look like a fish. "Mine is Luke Daniels."
"Uh..." My name? Wait, what's my name again? "Oh! Um, Alyssa Stone."
Luke smiled genuinely at me and walked over, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Alyssa."
I stared at him, bewildered. Either this guy is insane, or he's just really friendly. Finally I took his hand and shook hesitantly. "Nice to meet you... too?"
He laughed again. "Well, I got to go. I just came out for the mail..." I noticed the envelopes in his hand for the first time. "See ya around."
"Um. Yeah. Bye." I turned and walked away, confused by the whole situation still.
Matt appeared beside me. "Man, that guys a weirdo."
I sighed. "Actually, I think it's me who's the weirdo here. He's probably going inside to call the police right now."
"Probably."
I glared venomously at him. Too bad you can't punch ghosts. Matt – having learned where my anger leads – made a quick farewell and disappeared altogether.
Relieved at finally being left alone, I dragged myself the rest of the way home. Even though today would be considered abnormal for most, it was quite normal for me. Normal as it gets at least. The only thing interesting about today was Luke, and I doubt I'll ever see him again. Hopefully not, at least. You have no idea how embarrassing it is getting caught talking to yourself (supposedly).
But stuff like that happens a lot to me. What can I expect though...
...considering I can see ghosts.
"Mom! I'm home! Don't ask how my day went, 'cause you don't wanna know!" My voice echoed throughout my house and after a few seconds and no answer I realized I was all alone. Aw man, home alone again. How boring.
I shuffled into the kitchen for a drink. Deciding on water I got a glass and went to the freezer for ice. I noticed a post-it note stuck to the handle and peeled it off so I could read it. It was from Mom:
Alyssa,
I don't know if you remembered or not, but I'll be gone for a week with your brothers on their camping trip. I left enough meals to last you in the fridge, so no ordering take-out! (Ah, she knows me too well) Oh and there are some new neighbors a couple of houses down to the right. You should give them a proper welcome to the neighborhood! I know you don't want to, but at least try – for me. I left some cookies for you to bring them also. (Roll of the eyes.)
See you soon,
Mom
I crumbled the yellow paper and tossed it in the trash can across the room like a professional basketball player. It bounced off the wall and into the overflowing can. "Three points!" I shouted, doing a little victory dance while making a side note to take the trash out.
After getting my ice-cold water, I bounded up the stairs and into my room where I immediately turned my stereo on, threw my backpack down, and pulled out the homework I needed to do, all the while gulping my water like a parched man stranded in the desert for too long.
"Thirsty?"
I squeaked, startled and whirled around – amazingly not dropping my water. I sagged with relief when I saw it was just Paul. He's the closest thing to a friend I've ever had. He's a ghost, of course. Paul's spirit is tied to my house, but I haven't figured out why yet. Personally, I really don't want to. Doing that means him moving on and me losing my only friend. So I try not to think about it.
"Paul! You really need to stop doing that! One day I'm going to have a heart attack and die because of you!"
"My apologies, Lyssa." He's the only one who calls me that besides Matt, who actually picked it up from him.
Paul was born in the late 1700's and died at 16 – my age (Which makes it way harder to figure out why he's tied to my house considering it wasn't even built when he was around). His age, that's why he talks funny. But I love it. When I first met him at 12 (the time I first started noticing ghosts... what a scary period of my life) I used to make him talk just so I could hear his awesome English accent and his old-fashioned way of speaking. I had a little crush on him at first, but now he's just my best friend. Plus, there's no use crushing on a ghost: nothing can result from it.
"S'okay." I grinned, but then it faltered. "Oh my God, I had the worst day today!"
"Would you like to talk about it?" He remained standing while I plopped down on my bed. That's one thing about him. He's always ridiculously polite.
"Mm, nah." I yawned. All the yelling I did today has completely worn me out. "I've already vented."
We stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes and I finally decided to eat and then go to bed early. After a meal of delicious lasagna, an hour of doing my homework, and wrapping myself up in my blankets I rolled over to the side so I could face Paul who was sitting in the computer chair near my bed. He's usually always around when I'm at home. It's not like he's got much else to do.
"Paul?" My voice was muffled by my yawn.
"Yes, Alyssa?" He chuckled softly at me.
"Will you tell me story?"
"About what?" He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, still smiling.
"How about... your life when you were alive?" I wasn't afraid to mention stuff like this to him anymore. He assured me he was completely over being dead. He said he even liked talking about his life pre-death.
"Ah. Let's see. Before I died, as you know I worked with a shopkeeper so I could raise money to support my family. It wasn't easy back then as it is now to earn money. I had to do hard labor, but it was worth it. One day while I was cleaning the shop, a man walked in. He was a big man, about six feet and four inches tall. He had many scars on his face, like he had been in many battles. His clothes were dirty, and he wore a blood-read bandanna on his head. He also brandished a long sword at his hip and I was immediately afraid of him. I knew what he was... a pirate." I listened, gasping at all the right parts as he told his story about the pirate William McKoy. Very pirate-y name if I must say.
Eventually I couldn't keep my eyes open and I fell into a deep, easing sleep. At least no ghosts haunted me in my dreams.
A/N: What do you think so far? Good first chapter? Have I failed at life? . I want to know! :D I'll most likely write the 2nd chapter tomorrow, but if not – the next day :P. I know I have a few unfinished stories, but I think I must have ADD. Just jokin', it's just my writings changed, improved hopefully, and the stories I've had up for awhile are kinda crap (no matter what my 120-something reviewers say about N.S.T.A.V.) - was that a subtle gloat? Lol. Oh well, here's for change – the good kind. Cheers :P
Reviews are recommended and appreciated ;DD
Oh and tell me: Longer chapters or shorter chapters?
HAPPY NEW YEAR! :)