My knees were wobbling even as I stood up, unable to form a coherent thought. "You… you can s-see me?"

"Duh," he replied flatly.

I collapsed back onto the chair and took a deep breath, too stunned to even sass back at him. "Well," I said after a moment's pause, "I… I didn't know."


I frowned at his curt response. "You don't have to be so mean about it."

"I am simply stating the obvious."

"Yes, but you don't have to be so mean about it."

"You just said that," he told me.


He glared at me in response. I smirked. Ha! Gotcha, Mr. Smartmouth.

A few seconds passed before the situation sunk in.

"Holy crap, you can see me!"

Ken winced at the volume of my voice. I guess it was a good thing that he sat on the isolated area of the cafeteria; no one could see him speaking to thin air. Then again, his mouth opened so little I was surprised his words weren't garbled.

"Yes," he murmured, "I can see you. Now will you keep your voice down?"

"What for? No one else can hear me anyway."

"But I can, and you're a foot away from me," he answered back, dark blue eyes darkening more. "I'd rather not blow out my eardrums because a ghost screamed into my ears."

I huffed. "I was not screaming. I was merely… enunciating," I retorted right back stubbornly.

"Hm," was his only remark to that, then he returned to his spaghetti.

Deliberately, I stuck my face in his line of view. "Am I missing something here, because you don't seem weirded out by the fact that you can see a freakin' ghost."

Call me odd, but when I am invisible, and someone just so happens to see me, I'd like to know how, why, when, where, what.

Ken sighed heavily and cast a remorseful look at his lunch. "I had the whole Lit and Accounting period to figure the situation out."

"So you've been able to see me the entire time? And you – just – why didn't you say anything?"

He half-grinned ruefully. Holy crap, this gorgeous guy has dimples. Dimples. On both sides. "Yes, I can see how me saying hi to nothing would go over well with the whole class."

"But – but – " He got me there. "Yeah, but I had to, like, tap dance with my fingers and annoy you before you even indicated that you can see me! Shouldn't you psychic people have some sort of innate sense of responsibility to help the restless dead, or something? Like Jennifer Love Hewitt in Ghost Whisperer."

"I'm not psychic."

"Then how come you can see me?" I demanded out of irritation and curiosity. "Do you have third eye or ESP or something?"

"Or something," he answered, his irritation returning. "You're the first and only ghost I've ever been able to see. Wish I never did," he added under his breath.

I glared at him. "I heard that."

He just shoved another mouthful of spaghetti down his throat, then picked up his drink to wash it down.

"You're so calm about everything, though," I said, voicing out what bugged me. "I mean, if I saw a ghost, I'd scream my lungs out and just, I dunno, cry or faint or something."

"I told you, I had two whole periods to calm myself down. Besides, I, unlike some people, don't scream every five minutes."

Insulted yet amused, I let him get away with that one, knowing that it was probably true. Granted, I'd never timed myself, but I knew I was a little… overenthusiastic at times. "Whatever," I chose to reply, grinning so he wouldn't take it the wrong way.

I didn't know whether he did or didn't; he didn't deem that sentence worthy enough to be answered, as he chugged down what was left of his drink and stood up.

"Wait, wait, wait – Ken!" I growled as he ignored me hurrying after him out the cafeteria. "What are we going to do now? Ken?"

He hunched his shoulders and kept walking towards… I didn't know, really, since he didn't have the courtesy to tell me.




Still nothing.


His step faltered.

I grinned. Nobody ever was able to ignore me for long. I knew just what would set him over the edge. "Kenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenkenken."

"Dammit! Shut up – argh – you – I don't even know your name!"

"Mina. Mina Lewis," I supplied helpfully as I smiled triumphantly. I probably should not have been irritating the only person who could see me, and probably help me, but it got him to ask for my name, anyway. "And you're Ken….?"

He cast a look at me.

"Nice to officially meet you, Ken With No Surname And Thinks He Can Scare Me With A Look."

He went on walking.



I sat beside Ken in his impressively neat living room. I haven't tried to sneak into the bedroom yet, since he was uncooperative enough without me actually giving him reason to.

"So, Ken," I started, wanting to get on with it. Also, he hadn't spoken in the last twenty minutes, and I was really restless. "What's the diagnosis?"

His eyes didn't leave the television. "Diagnosis?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with me?"

"You're dead."

Impulsively, I slapped his arm. And actually hit it.

"Holy freakin' heck, I can touch you!" My shocked exclamation reflected exactly what he was thinking, as the remote dropped from his fingers and he actually turned to look at me.

"What – is this for real?" He half-murmured, eyes wide.

I socked him on the shoulder.

"What the hell was that for?" he complained, rubbing the affected spot.

Shrugging, I grinned. "This is for real. And now, you can't possibly ignore me." I did not care about other people's personal space at all, if it hadn't been obvious yet.

My creepy smile was getting to him, since he finally acquiesced. "Alright, fine. What do you want?"

"What do you mean, what do I – " I stopped my tirade, taking a steadying breath before I exploded. Was this the millionth time I'd talk about this? "Okay. I'm a ghost. But I'm not in heaven."

"Or hell."

I glared at him and said loudly, "Instead, I'm still on Earth. We gotta find out what's keeping this soul of mine from finding the afterlife peace. Isn't that what happens in movies?"

The television was clicked off by him as he released a sigh. "Okay. And since I'm the only one whom we know can see you, I have this privilege."

"Duh," I replied as flatly as he had before, ignoring the fact that he was being sarcastic about the 'privilege' part.

"But just so you know, I will not spend my whole day just helping you out. I do have a life of my own," he said.

My sneer could barely be contained. "Uh-huh," I replied noncommittally. He didn't have a social life; of that I was a thousand percent sure. He was new, he didn't take people up on their invites, and he didn't even have actual friends, as far as I observed.

He either missed or chose to overlook my reaction. "Okay. Now go away. I have to study."

"What? What happened to helping me?" My hand slapped his as he reached for his lecture notebook.

"Later. Tomorrow," he glowered at me, probably unused to having anybody smack him like that. "You have a lot of time; there is no deadline. My test, on the other hand, is tomorrow."

Sputtering, my brain tried to come up with something. "Excuse me, how'd you know I don't have a deadline? What if I just go poof one day, huh? What'll happen then?"

His deep blue eyes met mine, and I had to remind myself to breathe. Or not, really, since I didn't need to, but whatever. "Then your problem will be solved. You'll be off in afterlife."

"But what if it's the wrong afterlife?" I countered, then my horrible imagination started working. "Like, what if I end up in the... the place with all those crying babies? Oh, please no, I hate crying babies – what if I go to hell because I didn't do my last good deed here, and I get stuck with that dude who keeps reaching for food and water but never can?" My voice had risen exponentially by this time. I was panicking. "I don't want to be hungry for eternity! I don't want to be in hell! I don't want to see the Devil! Satan scares me!"

I was actually hysterical at this point. The thought of going to hell freaked the bloody crap out of me, and it was all I could do not to wail at the top of my lungs and cry for hours.

"Mina," Ken's calm voice snapped me out of my dilemma. "Mina," he repeated, then slowly took my shoulders and gave me a shake. "Relax. You're not going to limbo. The Church says there isn't one."

My sniffling stopped. "Really?"

"Really," he nodded, still gripping me, "I read it somewhere. And second, the dude who cannot eat is in mythologies. Or in Dante's book, I can't remember, but Mina, it's highly unlikely."

"Even highly unlikely things happen. Nobody thought a black man would want to turn into a white clown with a different nose, but it still happened."

A reluctant laugh escaped Ken and he actually pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's true, but that's one of the very, very, very rare exceptions. Furthermore," he continued before I could speak, "if Satan will personally meet anybody, it will be Michael Jackson and not you."

My breathing had returned to normal now, and I felt embarrassed for having freaked out like that. "Of course, okay," I said, half-thinking of how to get Ken to not take his hands off. Human contact, I told myself, real human contact.

But just as I was thinking that, he removed them and ran them through his hair. "Okay," he said. "You're really not going to go away unless we do something, so... let's do some research, shall we?"

"Really?" I asked, totally confused but ecstatic at his reversal of attitude. Ken, actually being nice?



A/N: Ken is so mean, no?XP To state another obvious, I disclaim Ghost Whisperer and Jennifer Love Hewitt. And all other recognizable names up there.

AlMaMo: YES it is James McAvoy! Good joooob. lol:P