Ghost Girl

Chapter 1

Hello.

This is the first chapter.

Yeah.

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I looked up at my ceiling, sprawled out on my bed, wishing myself out to do something useful with my remaining hours before I had to be back in timetabled routine. Reluctantly, I rolled onto my floor, layered in clothes, books and shoes, cleared a small space, and stretched. All the tension I had quickly loosened and I gained energy as I jumped up and got myself ready, putting on dark purple jeans and an orange tank top, with upbeat acoustic guitar flowing through my headphones; the product of my latest, likely quick lived, obsession. I went through artists like nobody else I know. Every five or so days, I will find some music source, quickly listen to all their songs at least twelve times each, then get bored of them and obsess over someone else.

"Emberly Williams! Your parcel has arrived" Yelled my mother from three floors down, accompanied by Leo's pattering footsteps running to come and find me. Opening the hatch in the corner of my room, I made my way down my ladder, pushing past fairy lights and a pair of stray leggings. Leo toddled all the way over to me from the stairs on the other end of the landing, so that he could tap my knee repeatedly and tell me "Doh! Daw!", guiding me towards the door, where a small-ish parcel waited for me. My mum smiled as she took Leo's hand and led him to his pile of brightly coloured plastic toys back from my childhood, and I followed.I looked up at my ceiling, sprawled out on my bed, wishing myself out to do something useful with my remaining hours before I had to be back in pre-timetabled routine. Reluctantly, I rolled onto my floor, layered in clothes, books and shoes, cleared a small space, and stretched. All the tension I had quickly loosened and I gained energy as I jumped up and got myself ready, putting on dark purple jeans and an orange tank top, with upbeat acoustic guitar flowing through my headphones; the product of my latest, likely quick lived, obsession. I went through artists like nobody else I know. Every five or so days, I will find some music source, quickly listen to all their songs at least twelve times each, then get bored of them and obsess over someone else.

For most of my life I had been an only child, but as I started high school and gained independence, my parents started talking about fostering. Two and a half years later, after all the paperwork, home visits, assessments and endless meetings, little Leo was brought into our life. He's been with us for eight months now, and I now couldn't imagine life without him and his wide, curious, golden eyes.

I sat down on the floor next to Leo, ripping off the brown tape, peeling back layers of bubble wrap, to reveal a beautiful pair of pale pink demi-pointe shoes, which i immediately put on, excited. I had ordered them a week ago, and had they come any later, I would of haft to have worn last years, very tired and almost falling apart, shoes, which took me through so much, though they were poorer quality. My new ones were leather, designed to last longer. I stood up and went into the kitchen, and tried them out, then, satisfied, I went upstairs to pack my bag for school the next day and procrastinate a little.

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Age 11, I was required to find a high school, having outgrown primary school, however the options that i was meant to consider were all boring, so I decided to find my own school. Half an hour away via train, there was a preforming arts school, which i fell in love with instantly. I bargained with my parents, telling them everything, and after an entire month of begging, they reluctantly agreed.

I still love my school, and would never choose to go anywhere else. I get professional ballet lessons every day, rehearsal space with my dance team three times a week, as well as high quality drama, music and art lessons regularly, all on top of English, maths, etc. I made strong friendships there too, with people I have my passions in common with.

Another great thing. I could wear whatever I wanted. So long as I could focus and be able to work hard in all my lessons, I could turn up in a princess dress for all they cared. Most of the time, however, I wore comfortable leggings and a tight fitted top; great for dancing in, showing my personality, and casual too. Today I had dark grey leggings and an orange tank top, my short ginger hair half up in a bun, secured with a purple scrunchy. My bag was dark grey as well, stuffed full with books, clothes, and many different dance shoes. I zipped it up, slung it over my shoulder, grabbed a banana from the kitchen, and headed out.

The train station was a two minute walk from my house, showing an ID proving me to be under 18, I was allowed in, courtesy of a wonderful council plan to "equip the youth". I sat on the least manky free seat, plugged in my headphones, and started people watching. I saw as a woman with a pushchair instruct four children under the age of six to sit down, stop running, stop touching things, hold her hand, get into the pushchair, get out of the pushchair and sit back down. An elderly couple were squabbled over who should get to sit nearest the window, and an man with the bright green suit seemed deeply engaged in an incredibly boring non-fiction. In my head, all these people had stories, the woman with the kids had quadruple booked herself and was babysitting four of her friends kids at once, the elderly couple met on a dating app two weeks ago, set up by their younger family members, and were trying to make it work for their sake, and the man with the bright green suit had a crush on the guy sitting in front of him, but he was to nervous to make conversation, so he was pretending to be reading.

As I laughed at my made up stories, the train pulled to a stop at my station, and I made my way up to school.

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Chapter 2 out now!

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