Hey guys, if you haven't read the Prologue, you need to before reading this one otherwise it's confusing.
It was a week ago when Peter appeared, in my room whilst I was doing homework. I turned around to look for more pens when suddenly . . . there he was. Sitting casually on floor with his arms folded viewing all my other work that I left to dry on the floor, till he sensed me and looked up. We stopped there, transfixed to each other for a rather long time, he was just as surprised as I was shocked. And then he said: “You can see me?” that did it. And so I sat there, ninety degrees rotated, and began to froze up from the impact of abnormality. My arm aching like hell, thinking . . . what the hell.
Barely a quarter of a second later did I realise the boy had been and still is waving in my face, crying for attention.
You can see me right? Right?” he kept repeating. Closely up, he didn’t look any older than I did. Sixteen? Seventeen? But it was not really a time to be figuring that out. There a freaking guy in my room. And what’s more, he was a Ghost.
“Yeah, you could say that, but I would prefer Spirit. Ghost is a bit more . . . haunting.” He confirmed when I asked him. all of a sudden his eyes fixed seriously on me. “Do you remember me?”
“You don’t . . . do you?” he says when I gave no answer. What was he on about? There’s no way I would remember someone I‘ve never met, right? But, almost instantly, thousands of pictures and videos flicked one after the other. It’s as if my brain’s been forced to replay every memory of my entire life without me intending to. Then it come to me, it was impossible.
“Peter. . .Mcroft . . .?”
He smiles.
“You’re. . . dead.” I choked out that last word.
With his hands jabbed casually in his jean pockets and half of his body weight shifted to one side, he responded: “Mmm.” A matter-of-factly.
“When? How? Why?”
“Dunno,” he said, scratching his head as if he was racking his brain for an answer, then he went and sat on my bed. “Can’t remember.”
I’m shocked, but also angry. “Why are you here?”
He looked up at me puzzled. “I’m always here.” It took time before the sentence sank in.
“Always . . . here?” I pointed to the floor meaning this room.
He copied this. And repeated my question, only as answer. He repetition echoed in and out. But wait. wouldn’t that mean he had been here every second of every minute in twenty four hours a day for, God knows how long! When I’m eating, drinking and . . . changing. Just how long had he been here for?!
“Oh, I’ve been downstairs before.” he suddenly remembers. Worse . . . bathing. Equals . . .
I blushed angrily as my arms instinctively jump up to hid my chest. Peter reacted defensively at once as he realised the reasons for my actions and immediately jumps from the bed.
“Nothing happened, I know what you’re thinking. Nothing happened, OK?”
I was reluctant to believe him, who knows if he was lying. But the look on his caramel eyes told me he wasn’t. as vexed as I was, he was telling the truth. But that didn’t mean I can lower my guard. Then I remembered, he was dead . . . died . . . deceased. Sympathy surged through and all my anger dispersed.
I wanted to be supportive, but the guy himself didn’t seem to think it was such a big deal—being cut off from the physical world . . . forever.
“Serei, are you ok?” asks my Mum. “You haven’t touched your food.”
I look down at my full plate, and blink. I had been so deep in thought. So I start to chomp and chew.
“You really not going?” asks Ella, I’m confused and ask her what she was talking about.
“Marine Park of course.”
Oh, right. My Dad had, by chance won twenty tickets to go to the theme park Marine Park near the Airport, the tickets lasts a whole month. My whole family are going in the next two week. Except me.
“Yeah, I don’t feel like it.” How can I? With Peter and all.
“Really?” Ella asks hopefully, I really want to say I’ll go but once I decide on things, I don’t go back on it, unless it’s a matters of urgency.
After dinner I go back to my room and find Peter waiting.
“Smelled nice, what d’you have?” he asks
“You can’t eat.”
“Not anymore,” he says sadly, “I’m used to it. But you do miss it. What d’you have?”
“Pizza.”
“Cool,” He says. Pretending to lick his lips.
“What else can you do? Besides floating around at will.” The week before, Peter had introduced to me, all the kind of special, impressive abilities Spirits can do. Which includes hovering, not touching the ground and floating (it’s basically all the same things).
“It’s flying!” protests Peter. And he goes to think, “What else? . . .”
“Can you go through walls?” I ask excited.
“Well yeah, that too, you didn’t think I came through the front door did you?” he chuckles. “What else?” he’s asking me this time.
“If you’re a—” I was about to say Ghost then, “—Spirit. Why can I see you?”
“That, I haven’t figured out yet. Really . . . why? Maybe cause I’m letting you see?”
“Did you wanted me to see you before I did?”
“Course I did! No one really fancies being ignored, going unnoticed, would you?”
I know how he feels, I’m thinking of Kyle, how I wanted him to see me, notice me, talk to me. but there was never really a proper chance till that other day when I plucked up every single ounce of courage I had stored up waiting for this moment. But I’m different, even if he can’t see me, others can. Peter however, must’ve had a terribly hard time, coping with the unintentional silent treatment.
“Oh, guess what else I can do!” he suddenly says, I’m attentive once again. He’s doing something with his fingers like ET, and we’re waiting, waiting. Then suddenly something shoots out, I can see a small, wild, zapping string bouncing constantly, it’s connected the two index finger Peter holds out, he smiles satisfyingly and begins to pull it. To my amazement, the string is getting longer and crazier. Peter’s stretching it back and forth, before getting bored and separates them. The one still connected heads straight for the TV, I’m certain it’s going to blast but it doesn’t, instead it makes this crack noise that I hear almost every night.
“So it was you!” he rolls his eyes, “What was that?” I ask instantly.
“Lighting.”
“It was?! The TV could’ve blown up!”
“Well, it didn’t. Cause I didn’t make it,” he folds his arm with content. I’m certainly blown away, what else can he do? And the fact that I hear his cracking noise almost every night means he’s been here for some time. I’m in my thoughts again.
“The last time I saw you was when we finished Junior school. Remember how I cried at the end.” I smile despite myself, and he joins in.
“Yeah, you were terrible. Hey, remember how Erin Mekins wet herself?” he burst out laughing and I can’t help but join too. “Oh yeah! I remember! And she was mumbling something undetectable too.”
“I think it was orange.” He smiles brightly
“Why orange?” I ask wiping my tear from too much laughing.
“Dunno, probably cause she thinks it’ll stop it.” he laughs again. “Oh, and remember the chocolates?” he points at me.
“Ah . . . the chocolates,” I reply dreamily, I do remember. The box of Malteaser wrapped in gift paper that Peter gave me at the last day of school. He was really one of the few boys whom I trust at school.
“I finished it right after I got home.”
“Well I didn’t expect it to last long.”
“I was so excited when I got it, and when I got home I told every single person I could find.”
“I can imagine that being . . . annoying.” He supresses another smile, but fails.
“But it was the first time I had anything from a boy.”
“Funny, I never knew it was my last gift to you.” He laughs, but I stop. The words he means to be a joke sink in seriously in me and I lose all my humour completely. Before I know it my eyes widen and I’m regretting that I threw the Malteaser box away right when it became empty. I should’ve kept it.
“I should’ve kept it.” Peter has stopped laughing, he is beside me when I say, “I should’ve kept the box. I shouldn’t have chucked it, I didn’t know.”
“It’s alright,” he says, “it’s alright.” He wants to hold me, to comfort me, but he can’t. and he’s deeply sadden. I’m left here slowly crying, with only his words of comfort for company, nothing to secure them.
That night when I’m bed, I faintly hear Peter whisper. “Surely it not that hard to figure out. Is it?” I ponder on this till I drift asleep.
The next day I’m on my way to the shops when I see him. I look ahead and stop in my tracks.
Hey guys, thanks for checking this out, if your more interested Chapter Two's on it's way tomorrow, and pls comment, it means a lot. ^^ bye for now.