Invisible Strings

Chapter 5: Ghost Girl

Hannah lingered at the edge of the classroom long after the bell had rung, her journal clutched so tightly to her chest that her knuckles turned white. Students filed out in twos and threes, their chatter fading down the hall. She stayed rooted, half-hidden in the shadow of the doorway, debating with herself.

Isadora was at the piano, idly letting a soft chord draw out while stacking her notes into a neat pile. She didn't look up right away, but her voice carried easily across the room. Knowing Hannah stuck by as she always did, once in a while.

"You know," she said, casual, warm, "most people go home after class."

Hannah smiled a little and stepped closer. "I'm not most people."

That earned her a glance, curious but kind. "No. You're not."

She hesitated, then held the journal out like it was something fragile. "I... wrote something. Not much. Just... pieces. Random stuff to be honest." Her voice dropped lower, almost vanishing. "I thought maybe... you could look at it?"

Isadora's smile softened, and she reached out carefully, as if the little book were as delicate as Hannah herself.

Isadora didn't say anything, just flipped the journal open carefully, mindful of how Hannah's fingers lingered on the cover, reluctant to let go. Inside, the handwriting was uneven. Small, sharp letters scattered across the page as if Hannah hadn't expected anyone else to ever see them.

There were a few measures of music, tentative notes climbing and falling in delicate patterns. Beneath them, a line of words written almost like an afterthought:

things that stay always feel like ghosts.

Isadora's chest tightened. She glanced up, but Hannah had ducked her head, hair spilling forward to shield her face. Walking over to absentily look at a bookshelf, trying to distract her anxieties.

Turning another page, Isadora found a sketch... Not of a person, but of the piano keys, drawn in careful detail. Above it, scrawled in the corner: safe here, when no one is looking. Isadora looked down at the keys of her piano, seeing the same ink smudges and chipped pieces that were in Hannah's drawing.

Isadora closed the journal gently, not pushing further than Hannah had offered. She stood up and set it back into her hands with care, her voice quiet but certain. "It's beautiful, Hannah. You're beautiful in it."

Hannah froze, blinking at her, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and longing. A faint pink crossed her young cheeks that almost made Isadora's breath catch, but she didn't let it. Her fingers inched at her side, wanting to trace the shape of her cheekbone, but she kept herself anchored.

They left the classroom together, Hannah's journal pressed tightly to her chest. The courtyard was alive with chatter and movement, students soaking in the late afternoon sun.

A group of fellow seniors, some Vanishers, like Hannah, and some Sirens, lounged by the fountain, laughter spilling across the grass. One of them noticed Hannah trailing at Isadora's side, her outline already faint at the edges, like usual.

"Careful," the boy called with a smirk. "If you blink, she'll vanish. Like she's even here at all."

The others chuckled, not cruel so much as careless, but it didn't matter. The words hit their mark. Hannah's form flickered hard, first her shoulders, then her arms, until she was little more than a shimmer of air beside Isadora.

Another voice chimed in, laughing louder. "See? Told you. Ghost girl."

Isadora's jaw tightened. She knew students were ruthless, but Hannah didn't deserve any of this. Especially from her peers who shared the same outcast status as she did. She stepped forward smoothly, placing herself between Hannah and the group. "That's enough."