Lights flashed around me. I blinked slowly.
What was happening? Why did my head hurt? Heck, why did my whole body feel like it had just been through a grater?
I tried to raise my hand to rub the dryness out of my eyes, but it wouldn't move. I tried again, but to no avail. It was like I couldn't control it, like it wasn't a part of me anymore. I could feel my throat start to close up, the way it always did when I'd start hyperventilating.
Don't panic, don't panic. There must be an explanation for this. There has to be.
A voice above me spoke. "Ms. Lewis? Can you hear me? This is Dr. Garrigan, you're…" The sentence faded into a buzz as the lights blinded me. "Hang in there, Ms. Lewis, just hang in there… Don't give up."
The bright lights flashed again. I closed my eyes, unable to take the glare.
Don't worry, I won't give up. Not just yet.
Beautiful day, this was. Except for a few minor annoyances, such as people seeming to almost bump into me at every turn and me having to avoid getting hit, the sunny weather and gentle breeze were certainly uplifting. Exactly what I needed, after that horrific vacation with my stepmom. It gave me headaches – literally – whenever I thought about it.
Two periods later, I didn't think any amount of sunshine or wind was going to make me happy. So instead of letting my thoughts stray into particularly irritating ones, I focused on my studies.
I waved my hand to answer the World Literature professor's question. "The answer is – "
"Yes, Oscar?" she called the guy behind me.
Hey! I raised my hand first. This is so pissing me off. My previous profs had been doing the same thing, ignoring me even when I practically shouted the answers. Then, there were all the people who almost knocked me over and didn't even bother to look back; my friends who didn't acknowledge me after I screamed myself hoarse trying to get their attention, now this teacher who won't call me. Three straight times, she's looked past me. It's like she can't even see me or… hear me.
No one can see me.
No one talks to me.
No one even looked at me. They've all been looking through me.
I looked at my hands disbelievingly as I tried to get my head straight. Impossible. I must be going blind. For some reason, they were a pale shade, like they were washed-out. I stretched my hands farther into the light… and saw it go through. My hands were translucent. My hands were bloody freakin' translucent.
No, I shook my head wildly. My breathing started to get shallow. I took deep gulps of air, trying to prevent the oncoming major hyperventilation. This can't be. I can't – this cannot be happening… I can't be…
I'm – I'm dead.
I spent the next hour in a haze. I vaguely remembered that I stopped breathing for a few long seconds as I hyperventilated – not that it mattered –, cried, threw some things around (only to have them return to their original place), then cried some more.
The reality of my dead-ness sunk in when I tried to kick my ex-boyfriend in the balls and my feet just went through. Ugh. It frustrated me that even when I was dead, I couldn't get revenge. Yeah, the mindset was there.
Eventually, I calmed downed, hardly noticing the Lit professor leave, and the Accounting teaching assistant explain that he was going to teach the class because the regular professor was absent. That, of course, meant that no one would be listening or paying any attention to him, and within five minutes, the students were either sleeping, chatting, or doing something else.
I was glancing around in agitation when I noticed a new guy in class. Hm. Never even seen him in campus before. Intrigued yet unable to put my finger on it, I slid off my chair and walked over to the back where he was sitting alone. As I got closer, I realized he either had body odor or he was plain anti-social, because there was no other reason for somebody who looked like him to be left alone by the girls in this class.
That, and the fact that a handful of girls kept throwing covetous glances at him.
I took the empty seat to his left and observed him. He was writing on a spiral notebook, but for some reason, I didn't think it was study-related. So I got up to take a look, but just as I peered at his writings, he snapped his notebook shut.
I was invisible and I couldn't even invade other people's privacy. Great.
But that just got me interested even more. So I sat next to him for the rest of the very long period until it was time for lunch.
Lunch. Being not hungry was a feeling I had to get used to, and not eating was definitely a big thing to adjust to.
I followed Mr. Notebook to the cafeteria where he lined up for his food. While he was doing that, I perched on a table and took in the place. So familiar, this room. It almost made me lonely again that I was dead, but I remembered that this was school. It was probably just the smell of spaghetti that got to me.
I was smiling to myself when I sat beside Ken at one of the corner tables. Yes, Ken was indeed Mr. Notebook's name. I had found it out the same time I found out he really was anti-social. I'd noticed a bunch of people wave at him, ask him to sit with them. Some had said hi; a couple of girls were practically begging him to eat lunch with them, but all he did was nod, grunt, and shake his head.
Maybe he was a caveman.
He ate his spaghetti slowly, taking his time. I got bored watching him after his first three bites, so I focused on the neighboring table. No people. Okay, next table.
I did a double take when I saw my ex-crush, Nathan. He still had the same fixed-in-place hair; his smile was charming as ever, and apparently, it still worked on the ladies, seeing as how three were currently hanging off him.
Grinning to myself, I thought of how... immature all of these kids were. (Yeah, for some reason, dying can make a person very mature.)
So I turned my attention back to Ken. He couldn't have looked further from his doll counterpart. The man beside me had a mop of jet black hair that contrasted with his rather pale skin, bangs threatening to hide his deep blue eyes which were already behind a pair of black frames. He was saved from looking pansy by his muscular yet lean frame, and the scar that ran on the edge of his right eyebrow, leaving a blank trace through it.
He was every girl's brooding-artist-musician/smart-intellectual/bad-boy dream come true. Too bad I preferred guys like Nathan.
So what, exactly, was I doing by following Ken around? What was it about him that got me so interested?
Well, one was the obvious fact that I had never seen him before I died. But what else? Because he was gorgeous? Because he was anti-social?
I groaned, frustrated. I was dead and I couldn't even have that spiritual wisdom dead people seemed to have.
Sighing deeply, I rested my chin on my right hand, my other drumming mindlessly against the table. It was a bad and annoying habit that used to get me yelled at. Seeing as I was dead, though, I highly doubted I'd get yelled at for anything I did anytime soon, if ever.
My fingers were still tapping loudly on the table (to the tune of We Will Rock You, head-bobbing included) and my eyes were glazed over in boredom when Ken suddenly swivelled on his chair and looked at me – or rather, the space I was in.
Or so I thought.
"Would you stop that?" he hissed as his eyes met mine directly.
I promptly fell out of my chair.
A/N: I'm back! Obviously. lol. I actually wrote most of this way before I wrote Trick Finger, Hey Babe, and Oh Mandy. So I dunno, the writing style's probably different, but I sincerely hope not worse.
Anyway, I don't own We Will Rock You. I would be very, very rich if I did. Also, if anyone can guess whom I borrowed Mr. Garrigan's name from (hint: he's Scottish, both in the film where he plays Dr. Garrigan and in real life), then you are very good. Or you just have a crush on him like me; you have very good taste
Tell me what you think!