EMMA
I plop myself down into the plastic chair three minutes after the bell for first class has rung with an exhausted sigh. My calves ache from running through the streets to school, after dad insisted on dropping me off four blocks away because he was running late to work.
Surprisingly, as I set my English folder and novel out on the desk before me, I find a ray of early morning sunshine streaming through the blinds of the classroom windows and splashing onto the wooden desk.The sight reminds me of a conversation I had with Ryden last night after we had 'introduced' ourselves. While talking about where he had lived, he suddenly mentioned to me how much he wished England could be a bit sunnier. When I'd asked him why, I had watched in his reflection as looked down at his hands and smiled to himself.
When he replied, he told me that the rain had no rewarding qualities about it, while sunshine always seemed to make everything better. I'd argued the point, telling him that the rain brought life. He'd laughed, persisting by reminding me, that without the sun there was no rain.
Before school, I had told Ryden not to worry about following me around during the day, but rather spend his time doing something he would enjoy. He had looked at me and given a small smile, telling me that he liked the idea of still being able to go to school, and in response, I had agreed to meet up with at lunchtime; but I had also warned him that I wouldn't respond to him in the classroom due to a need to pay attention.
It's odd, isn't it, that he has the ability to do whatever he likes and go wherever he may desire, but he chooses to stay with you, it's not very often that I come across a person who can stand me 24/7, I chuckle under my breath.
My inner monologue is interrupted though when, next to me, an even later, Melanie sits herself down, dropping her books loudly onto our shared desk. She runs her fingers through her short auburn hair and over the noise of our settling classmates, I hear her panting slightly, as if she, too, had ran to class. When she doesn't acknowledge me after a few seconds, I clear my throat.
"Slept in?" I ask her and her brow creases. She shrugs the question off and sets out her stationary before her.
"You don't know if you slept in or not?" I ask her, cracking a small smile in hope for a response.
When she stays hard faced and focused on her pens and colourful highlighters, I feel my smile disappear and I turn from her slightly, looking to the front of the classroom where our English teacher begins the class. It's abnormal for Melanie to be so quiet, usually I can't shut her up...
Throughout the rest of the class, I continue to attempt to make conversation with Melanie, but with no luck. She either gives me one word replies, turns to someone else around us or ignores me altogether. By about midway through the lesson, I give up on her and turn to my work, trying not to get too offended by it.
But even though I try to convince myself to stop worrying about why she isn't talking to me, I find myself scribbling in the corner of my page, with enough pressure and force from the red pen to break the thin sheet of paper.
When the bell for recess sounds, Melanie is packed up and out the classroom door before I even have the chance to bookmark and close my novel. I watch, with my mouth slightly ajar as she leaves the room hastily. Slowly, I begin to pack up my own things, still wondering what I've done to upset her.
Walking into the locker bay, I see her through the crowd standing at her locker. I quickly make my way through the hustle of students and to my locker beside hers. Before I open my locker, I lean against it and turn to her. She glances at before looking back into her locker, frowning again.
"Have I done something to upset you?" I ask her. She scoffs as she slams the locker door shut.
"Are you really going to play that game with me?" she replies.Her outburst shocks me, and I take a precautionary step back.
Melanie turns to me, making eye contact with me for the first time this morning. When she realises the confusion and fear in my eyes, she softens her features a little, before crossing her arms over her chest and sighing heavily with annoyance.
"You wanna know why I was late to class this morning? I was stuck in the principle's office receiving a lecture from her about my behaviour," she starts, "apparently your dad rang her up early this morning and complained that I'm a bad influence on you."
I feel my heart drop and my body go cold. So that's why he was running late, I realise. Slowly, I place my bandaged hand behind my back in response. I clear my throat.
"W-What? Bad influence how?" I ask. I know the stuttering gives me away, but I wait to see what she has to say anyway. Melanie looks away from me.
"Well, that's where I'm confused. As she told me, your dad said that you told him that I dared you to smash a public mirror and consequently, you have got a huge shard of mirror stuck in your hand which you had to get stitched up. I told her that that was total load of bullshit and that just landed me with a detention, as well as having to write you and your dad a formal apology," Melanie explains. She looks back to me and I feel my heart beat rising as nerves begin to take over my body and little beads of sweat form on my brow.
"Please, tell me that it's all just a load of bollocks. Otherwise, you have some serious explaining to do," she says, now with a hand on her hip, and the other resting on her forehead. I inhale deeply through my nose, taking in the scents of the school. I try not to make eye contact with her as I go to speak.
"Well, you see, it's a funny story, because the parts where I smashed a public bathroom mirror, got a huge shard of glass stuck in my hand and had to get stitches are all true... It's just... I didn't want to tell my dad the truth... I-I never actually thought that he would go as far as to ring up the principle," I reply. Glancing up at her, I see the shock on her face and the disgust in her features.
"So what? You make a show of yourself and blame it all on me? What kind of friend does that?!" she exclaims, sounding hysterical.
"I-I wasn't thinking straight Melanie a-and your name was the first that came to mind when my dad asked about my hand and the whole mirror smashing ordeal. I just didn't want to tell him the truth," I try to reason with her.
Without thinking, I hold out my bandaged hand, palm towards her in a move of defence, while I hold my books with the other hand. She diverts her angry eyes down to my hand and draws in her brows as she looks at the bandage around the palm of my hand.
"And what the hell were you doing?" she then asks, meeting my eyes again.
A lump forms in my throat and I try to think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind. I could lie to her again, but what kind of friend did that make me? I couldn't have her get into trouble and then lie to her face all in the one morning, surely I was beyond the kind of person that could and would do that, right?
Instead of lying to her, I go with what I decide to be the easiest way out..
"I can't tell you. You just wouldn't understand," I reply. She glares at me, her lips pursed.
"Why can't you just talk to me?! Why does everything have to be so dam secretive with you lately?" she yells.
During our conversation, the majority of the school kids have disappeared from the hallway, leaving the two of us almost completely alone. In the empty space, her voice booms about, bouncing off the walls and echoing down the walkway.
I divert my eyes downwards and drop my arm back down to my side.
"You wouldn't understand," I repeat.
For a moment, there's complete silence from her and it's as if the world stands still while I wait for her response, whether it be a continuing argument, a punch to my stupid face or it just being her walking away and never talking to me again.
"Fine," she finally says, "If you aren't willing to help me understand, I'm not willing to waste my time with you. You can be by yourself in English and during lunch and keep as many secrets to yourself as you like."
Having nothing to respond with I stay silent and keep my head down as I listen to her shoes clacking against the linoleum floor as she walks away. I inhale sharply through my nose and turn my locker.
It takes all the strength I have left inside of me to not start crying as I put my books inside my locker. Once they're all put away and I close it back up, I stand still and lean forward, resting my head on the cool of the door.
I scrunch up my face and bite down hard on the inside of my lip as I smash the side of my fist against the locker beside me. My fist makes contact with the metal and the sound echoes about me, and I ignore the slight throb which surfaces where I hit the side of my hand.
The sudden sensation of a hand on my shoulder causes me to drop my hand and turn around on the spot. For some reason, I don't expect to find anyone standing there, or anyone I can see anyway. But to my surprise, it's Cameron who's there. He draws in his brows.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"Uh- yeah. I guess," I lie, running a hand through my hair. He nods in acknowledgement and shoves his hands into the pockets of his school trousers. I notice him look around the hallway before he goes on to speak.
"I was just coming over to see you," he starts, looking back to me and meeting my eyes, "I wanted to talk to you about... um... the ghost problem," he explains. I frown a little, curious as to what he has to say.
"Right. What about it?" I ask, realising that Cameron has no idea about what I've seen.
"Uh, well, do you reckon we could talk about it, someplace, I don't know, a bit more private?" he asks. I look around at the empty hallway.
"There's literally no one here," I tell him. He creases his brow and shakes his head.
"Just, come for a walk with me," he says. He takes the leading step, gesturing for me to follow. I look from him to the end of the hallway that leads to the Cafeteria: where Melanie would be right now. Conflicted, I decide to try and reason with her later on and turn back to Cameron.
We walk down the hallway together and he leads me down to the corridor leading to the sports change rooms. He stops and stands against the brick wall.
"I... Well, have you been talking with him again?" he asks me.
"Uh- yeah. It's kind of hard not to... I mean, it's easier to interact with him rather than pretend that he isn't there," I reply. He nods his head.
"And... is he here now?"
"No."
"Good. Now, don't get angry at me for what I'm about to say," Cameron begins, looking me in the eye, "But, I don't think that it's in your best interest should you continue conversing with him. He... I know Ryden, I know him like the back of my hand... and I watched him change. He... he's unstable, he's not right in the mind," he continues. I stare at Cameron as he stumbles over his own words.
"Cameron. He's dead. I think that he's allowed to have his unstable momen-"
"No. That's not what I mean... well it is... sort of... but," he continues. I know that he's trying to get something out, so I try to urge him to just get it out into the open without having to find a way to cover it up.
"Just tell me for Chrissake Cameron."
"Lucy. He's going to tell you things about me. A-And they aren't true. You can't believe him. I mean, he was in such a bad place when he died: he'd lost most of his friends and his respect. And now, that he's... back, in a sense, he's probably going to want to... turn you against me," Cameron finally explains.
I stand across from Cameron and stare into his eyes.
"Cameron. I need to tell you something," I say and the colour drains from his face.
"Oh fuck. He's already told you, hasn't he?"
"No. I've seen what you did to him. Ryden, somehow, showed me his memories and I've seen and experienced the two of you's story," I start to explain.
"How the hell did you see his memories?" Cameron asks, confusion etched onto his face. I look away from eyes and walk around in a little circle.
"I have no idea how he did it. We just... connected through a mirror and... well, I saw it all happen before my very own eyes," I try to explain, stopping in front of Cameron.
"Bullshit." I look up to him, frowning.
"That's the biggest the load of shit I've ever heard," he continues. To prove to him that I'l telling the truth, I hold out my bandaged hand for him.
"Yeah? Well after I'd seen all the memories, the mirror shattered and a huge ass shard got stuck in my hand and I had to get stitches," I tell him. He looks between me and the hand I hold out in front of him, and I can see him competing with himself.
"Lucy, that's not possible," he says, shaking his head after a moment's silence.
"This doesn't happen! People can't see other people's memories an-and people don't see ghosts because they don't exist. Look, I know what I said yesterday: but I've thought about everything and... and I just cannot bring myself to believe in this!"
After his little outburst, I glare at Cameron. When he doesn't apologise immediately, I step closer to him and shove my index finger into the middle of his chest.
"I've stuck by you and gone along with your crazy ideas in the past. You told me that you would stick by me yesterday!" I yell at his face. He diverts his eyes from me and draws in his brows and when he still doesn't say anything, I take it a step further.
"You already ruined one person's life, I don't think making that move twice in your lifetime will do you any good," I say, keeping my voice stern and low. This grabs his attention and he snaps his head to face me.
"I don't care what you think you saw, but you never mention that again," he says, moving in closer to me and his voice gruff.
I can't lie, I do feel a little frightened of him as he moves in closer and his eyebrows turn inwards with the anger on his face, but I tell myself to keep my stance and I push my index finger harder into his chest.
"I know what I saw, and I'll mention it time and time again until you make up for what you did to him," I spit. Without warning, Cameron suddenly reaches up and grabs my wrist tightly.
"Why are you so defensive over him? Huh? You don't even know the guy!" he yells at me. Even though Cameron's grip around my wrist tightens the louder his voice booms, I ignore the heightening pain.
"That doesn't matter! He's just like any other kid at this school!" I yell back at him.
"No he's not! He's dead! His life is over, Lucy! There is nothing you or I can do to make the end of his life any less worse than it was!" he persists. I wince a little at the tightening grasp on my wrist.
"That's not what I'm trying to do!" I shout.
"Then what are you doing? Are you trying to make me feel guilty for what I did? Do you really not think I don't already feel responsible for his death? I'm the one who destroyed our friendship! I'm the one who took the girl he loved away from him! It's because of me that he got in that car with fucking Dave Jenston! It's all my fault Lucy!" Cameron roars.
He stares into my eyes before the look in them changes from one of anger to one of sorrow. He drops his head, breathless, and removes his hand from around my wrist. I step back from him as he squeezes his eyes shut and laces his fingers behind his neck.
"I already have enough guilt weighing me down, I don't need to you to lecture me and tell me that what I did was wrong," he goes onto say a moment later. He looks up to me, his eyes glassy, "I know what I did was horrible... A-and when I heard last Wednesday of what had happened to him... Well," he begins before sighing.
"You aren't the only one who has been traumatized by his death."
***
At lunchtime, I find myself sitting in Cafeteria at a table in the corner all on my own waiting for Ryden. From across the room, I can't help myself from watching Melanie as she talks with our other friends. By now, they probably all know about our little incident this morning and have probably been gossiping about me like mad to make Melanie feel better. I'd sat with the group for enough lunches to know how it all unfolded.
Picking at my "garden" salad, I can only imagine the kinds of things that they would say about me. All she ever thinks about is herself... What's with her that Cameron kid anyway? Are they really just friends?... She's such a try hard, I mean, who needs to be wearing make up at school?
Whether or not these were the topics of their conversation or not, I didn't really want to find out.
Shoving my full container of salad away, I place my head in my hands, leaning against the table surface with my elbows. I should probably start thinking of a good way to apologise to Melanie: but now there's also Cameron I'll have to apologise to as well, I think to myself. I had only made Melanie angry: but I'm sure that I had actually made Cameron tear up. His apology was going to have be something spectacular.
"Sorry, but could I sit here?"
My thoughts are interrupted by a small voice. I look up from my hands and meet the blue eyes of the girl before me. I notice that her strawberry blonde hair is back in a long, straight, ponytail and that she looks a little chubby compared to most girls our age, although she isn't exactly verging on overweight either. While staring at her, somewhere in the back of my mind, I can't help but wonder if I know her.
I shake my head to clear my mind before gesturing to the three spare chairs with my hand.
"Um, sure. Take your pick," I tell her.
She smiles at me and pulls out the seat directly across from me. I watch as she sits down with her tray of food which includes a bottle of water and some soggy looking fries, along with a slice of pizza. She notices me staring and clears her throat.
"I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you in any way: it's just this usually where I sit and I didn't exactly want to have to eat outside where the guys are playing cricket," she tells me. The sudden mention of cricket reminds me of Cameron and I look down from the girl and pick at my salad some more.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realise anyone sat here," I murmur. I hear he sigh across from me.
"Having one of those days, are you?" she asks. I look up from my wilting salad.
"One of those days?" I ask. She sighs again, licking her lips before she speaks.
"Yeah. The days where you choose to sit in the back corner of the Cafeteria so that you can spy on your so called 'friends' having a marvellous time without you," she replies, sounding very melancholy.
"I... I guess so," I say and she nods her head.
"I've had more of those kind of days than I would to admit to," she murmurs under her breath, but loud enough for me to hear. I take a moment to wonder what kind of things she must have been through to sound so gloomy and low.
Pushing aside my salad once more, I sit up straight and look to her.
"I don't think I've ever seen you around the school before, but your face looks really familiar to me," I tell her. She looks up from her greasy and cheesy slice of pizza and raises her eyebrows. She makes a little 'huff'.
"Funny, I thought that most people would know who I am by now, but I guess there's still a handful who never heard... I'm Emma," she explains and I feel my heart skip a beat and my body go frigid.
"Emma Jeannies," she finishes.
Rewritten 17/11/2014