"You can see me, can't you?" An old man in an outdated milkman delivery uniform gasps in front of me as I walk down the street. I do what I do best, act like no one is there, and I walk right through him. Passing through him feels like dunking your head in a tub of ice water. Stifling a shudder, I force my muscles to stay still in my body. I can't shiver, I can't twitch, I can't move or else he'll know I can see him.
"You can hear me!" This ghost is a stubborn one, but most of them are. I continue my walk down the street, struggling to keep my face blank. If I ignore him long enough he'll vanish, all of them eventually do. I just have to wait them out.
"I know you're a necromancer, you looked me right in the eyes a block ago!" The ghost exclaims, and I beat myself up for it. I know better than to even in look in the direction of a ghost. I just accidentally glanced at him and he's been following me since.
Go away, go away, go away, go away I chant silently.
"You know it's rude to ignore people!" The ghost shouts, I don't flinch, I don't wince, I don't move a muscle. Focusing on keeping my breathing even and my steps in rhythm I pretend he isn't here.
"Help me!" The ghost pops in front of my path again. Without hesitation, or a flicker of movement I force my legs to keep moving, and walk right through him again.
"I could have sworn..." I hear the ghost mumble before vanishing. I count to thirty before finally releasing the breath I've been holding.
Thank goodness he's gone.
I make it another block before hearing something grind against the pavement softly.
"Hey," I don't turn around at the sound of the voice, I just keep walking.
"I said hey there." A boy towering over me on a skateboard rolls up next to me at a leisurely speed. He has a head of dirty blonde hair I just want to run my fingers through. A button nose sits below his brown eyes, and a grin stretches across his fair face.
I don't even look at him.
"I'm in your geography class." The boy says. "And I sit behind you in European history. And we have environmental science together." The boy adds, gently kicking off the ground to keep up with me. He gazes at me patiently, and it makes my throat itch. I'm not looked at like that.
"Well," He starts. "I don't think you're a freak." I almost stop dead in my tracks at his words. Looking down at my converses, my throat bubbles over.
"Thanks." I mumble, speaking up the first time in weeks. The dirty blonde beams at me, and for the first time in years I'm actually glad I spoke.
"She speaks!" The boy says, still rolling next to me.
"I imagined what your voice sounded like, but the actual sound is much better than the one I pictured." I feel my toes curl up in my converses, and my brown eyes shine with curiosity. What did he have pictured? Bells?
"For some reason I thought you sounded like Alvin from the Chipmunks." The boy laughs, and I stifle a sigh.
"I like your voice, you should talk more." The boy says, and I feel my heart clench. I'd love to talk more, but I can't. One measly word and I'll be haunted by ghost after ghost till I die.
"At least I'd like to hear you talk more." The boy says, and I press my lips down into a firm line. I stop walking, the boy coming to a short stop next to me on his board. I wave at him, earning a look of pleasant surprise.
"See you tomorrow." He says, as I walk up to my house.
"Daisy?" My mom asks, swinging open the door, not even giving me a chance to fish my keys out.
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"Did that boy just walk you home?" She asks with tinge of hope. My stomach knots up nervously at my mom's question. Did he? I shrug at her, looking down at my shoes to hide an embarrassed tinge of pink rising to my freckled cheeks.
"What's his name?" She asks, and I realize I didn't even know his name.
