The Magician's Assistant

[1] Poster Sighting

         James and I were both walking in sync down the crooked sidewalk when I noticed a large sign on one of the telephone poles.

       “James, look at this. There’s some sort of performance tonight,” I said, pointing at the piece of paper. A couple walking down the street gave me a strange look, wondering who the heck I was talking to.

          Crap, I thought to myself. I really need to get in the habit of not talking to him in public.

          That ‘strange look’ was given to me often. Being the only person that could see and communicate with James, people tended to think I was crazy. Especially when James would say something to make me laugh in the most awkward situation.

          I remember a time that we were at a funeral and he started telling me a joke that he saw somewhere. “When I’d go to weddings, my grandparents would always laugh and point, saying ‘You’re next’. So I started doing the same thing to them at funerals.”

          Of course it was the worst possible time to burst out laughing, but I did. The wife was in the middle of making a tear-filled speech about her husband’s successful life before he died. Disbelieving looks were cast upon me, and I turned an embarrassing shade of red. I could probably be mistaken for a fire hydrant. Guilt pretty much ate at me for the rest of the night. I hated upsetting people, just for the simple fact that you were left with remorse. Even though I didn’t particularly know the person that died, or the family for that matter, I still felt horrible.

          James was a ghost. I wasn’t sure why I could see him and others couldn’t, but I did. I didn’t have some freaky ability to see ghosts or anything – nothing like that. The only ghost that I could see was him.

          I once asked him why I could see him, but he became gauche and refused to answer. I’m not the type of person to press for answers, so I just shrugged it off. But I had never stopped wondering.

          James squinted his hazel eyes, trying to read the fine print on the paper. “And?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I always wished that I could do that – raise only one eyebrow. I wasn’t gifted with total capability of manipulating my facial expressions, I suppose.

          “Well, we should go see it. It should be fun,” I stated.

          “Where are you going to get the money to get tickets?” he asked.

          “I have some dollars saved up!” I defended myself. “And I’m planning on getting a job anyways; to pay for college and stuff. So a few dollars out of pocket shouldn’t be a big deal. Plus, you don’t even need a ticket. You can use your little ghostly powers and sneak in.” I put my hands on my hips, ignoring the confused stares of people passing by us on the sidewalk.

          “So you’re planning on going to college?” he asked, looking a little surprised.

          “Yeah, I mean, my parents haven’t really pushed me to go to college, but how can I do anything spectacular with my life if I don’t?”

          James bit his lip, obviously debating on whether or not to tell me something. He decided on the latter and pressed his lips together. I loved when he did that. He looked so vulnerable, like the sixteen year old he should be. His chocolate colored hair swooped into his eyes, and it made him look even more naive. Like he was hiding from the world.

          I couldn’t help but notice that we looked like complete opposites. He had the creamy brown hair, while I had the wavy blonde locks. His skin was dark and tanned, as if he had lived in the sun his entire life, while my skin was almost as white as printer paper. Don’t believe anything they say about ghosts – they’re not translucent. Though, to people that can’t see him (which is everyone besides me, I’m assuming) he’s transparent. They don’t even know he exists.