Phantom [h.s]

Seven

"Hey! Jane, right?"

I turn at the sound of a soft voice, stopping to wait for Ria to catch up with me. She pushes a lock of jet black hair over her shoulder, lips curving into a friendly smile.

"Yeah," I say as we fall into step.

"Where're you headed?"

"Biology," I tell her my last class of the day.

"Hmm."

"You?"

"Art."

It's times like this that I wish I had any mild sense of social skills, to just keep a conversation going. But I don't, so Ria and I walk in silence.

I stop in front of my biology room, turning to force a smile at Ria.

"Hey, Nate's throwing a party this weekend," Ria says, flashing me a smile. "You should come."

I shift. "I don't know, I'm not a huge partier." I laugh nervously.

"Oh, come on," she says. "We'd love to have you there."

The bell rings and Ria looks over her shoulder. "Well, I've got to go," she says. "I hope you'll consider coming to the party." She smiles one last time before taking off down the hall.

Biology bores me, as usual. I rest my chin in my palm, letting out a sigh.

"I miss that."

"Miss what?"

"Breathing."

"...Geologic mysteries of this world continue to put scientists to work from all nations. Can anyone give me an example of a geologic mystery that is continuing to be studied?"

I tune out Ms. Monroe's lecturing with thoughts about Harry and what he's asking of me. Find his murderer? What am I getting myself into? Is it worth it?

I remember the look in his pale eyes as he watched me exhale air from my lungs. What must it feel like to not be able to do something as simple as breathe?

I decide that it's worth it. I'll help him.

"Miss Marx?"

I snap to attention and look up at Ms. Monroe.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Can you repeat the question?" I ask and a few people giggle.

"Give me an example of a geologic mystery still being studied." She purses her lips.

I blink.

"The Marianas Trench," I say and mentally thank my father for making dumb geology jokes.

Ms. Monroe looks at me, clearly surprised.

"Correct," she says, walking back to the front of the classroom. "The Marianas Trench is the deepest trench in the world, and..."

I tune her out for the rest of class.

After the final bell rings, I walk to my car, thinking of the party invitation Ria extended to me earlier. Should I go? Parties scare the shit out of me, personally. I mean, there's a bunch of sweaty people doing clueless things-anything could happen. And my experiences with parties thus far have not been pleasant, to say the least.

I shut my car door behind me and lean my head back, shutting my eyes briefly.

"My God, I'd forgotten how long school was. I've been waiting here for ages."

I whip around and narrow my eyes at Harry as he smiles innocently at me, as if he didn't just turn up in the back of my car.

"You need to stop that," I snap, pressing a hand to my chest.

"It's too much fun," he shrugs. "If I'm going to be dead, I'm going to have fun with it."

I roll my eyes. "Of course."

"Anyways," he says, leaning forward. "I'm here because I need to fill you in on some things."

"Why here?"

"Because," he says, reaching out and turning my chin to look forward at the steady flow of students walking back and forth across the front of the school. "I knew most of them. And any one of them could have killed me."

A hot jolt of fear shooting through me contrasts with the cold touch of Harry's fingertips on my skin. The thought of Harry's killer possibly attending school with me is unsettling.

"Your point?" I ask him.

"I went to school with most of them since kindergarten, and you haven't."

"Fair enough."

He leans forward further and rests an elbow on the center console.

"Tell me who you know," he says, and I feel his icy aura intensify as he turns to look at me.

I lean forward and squint, examining the quad for anyone I've met so far.

"I know Jenna," I say, nodding to the blonde speaking to another girl with darker blonde hair.

"Ah, Jenna," Harry says. "I made her eat glue in third grade." He laughs lightly. "She had it bad for me ever since."

"She liked you?"

"She loved me. And boy, did I bask in it."

"That's mean."

"It was fun." He shrugs, still smiling.

I catch sight of Max and Ria walking up to Jenna and look over at Harry.

"Did you know them?" I ask, gesturing to Ria and Max.

"Ria tutored me in math every Sunday for six years. She's really smart, and we were good friends."

"Max?"

A small smile crosses Harry's face. "Max and I were best friends since first grade. We did everything together, man. I miss having him around, if I'm honest."

"He's been really nice to me," I say.

"He's nice to everyone."

"Seems like it."

We watch Max, Ria, and Jenna talk amongst themselves, the other unknown girl turning enough so that her face is visible.

"Hmm."

I look over at Harry.

"That's Ava," he says.

I suddenly recognize her, my lips parting. "I know her!" I exclaim. "She asked about my-the necklace the first time I wore it." My fingers fumble for the skull charm that hangs around my neck.

"She was my girlfriend," he almost groans, rolling his eyes.

"Doesn't sound like it," I say, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Our parents set it up," he explains. "Her father is a successful entrepreneur from Massachusetts. My father expected me to date for money, and she's as rich and prestigious as they come." His tone turns distasteful. "She's hot. That's all I saw in her. Otherwise, she's vacuous and boring."

I watch as Ava tosses her hair, pulling a tube of lipstick from her Chanel purse. She looks bored with the conversation as she looks around the quad, coating her lips in red.

"Why would she ask me about the necklace?"

Harry furrows his brow. "The necklace was my grandmother's. She gave it to me on her deathbed, and I never showed it to anyone but my parents."

I chew on my lip.

"Ava's vindictive and nosy," Harry says. "And definitely the jealous type." He rolls his eyes.

"Anyone else I should know about?" I ask.

Harry's eyes scan the area, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.

We stay in the car for another half hour as Harry points out every girl he's kissed or every guy he's punched. I find myself increasingly wanting to have known what Harry was like when he was alive, although he seems like the type I would never hang around. From what I've gathered, he was one of the more popular kids, smothered with his parent's wealth and fortune. I wonder if death has changed him from that.

"I should be getting home," I say, glancing at the clock on the car.

"Yes, your father's home already."

"How do you know?"

"He was talking on the phone about it this morning when I got into your car."

"You know it's really creepy that you snuck into my car and stayed there all day while I was in school."

"Creepy," he repeats, a devilish smile taking over his features. "No, creepy is what I was planning for Halloween."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was going to just splatter some blood on your walls, maybe leave a beating heart on your pillow. Perhaps wake you up with murderous screams."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Kidding," he says, still smiling. "You know, ghosts can make jokes, too."

I snort, leaning forward and starting the car. "Shitty jokes."

He laughs, sitting back as I pull out of the school lot.

Harry talks mostly about how he doesn't have to wear a seatbelt on the ride home. I tell him that he's an annoying ghost boy and he laughs again.

I wonder what it must be like to not be able to physically feel things. What does it feel like to not feel?

I stop the car in my driveway, turning around.

"You should get out so my dad doesn't see you," I tell him.

He stares at me for a moment, strikingly green eyes trailing over my face.

"Why are you choosing me to help you?" I ask suddenly. "Out of anyone here or out of anyone you were close to when you were alive, why would you come to me?"

He runs his tongue over his lips, leaning forward slightly. He reaches down and takes my arm, pushing up my sleeve past my wrist. He runs his icy fingers over the fading scars that taint my smooth skin, sending shivers through me.

He knows. How could he possibly know?

"You've been through a hell of a lot more than anyone in this town that I knew in my lifetime," he says, his voice low.

My mouth hangs agape, shocked at this revelation. He knows about my scars, he knows why I moved here.

But how?

He removes his frigid touch from my wrist, pulling my sleeve back down. He shoots me a half smile before sliding across the seat, opening the back door.

"I'll see you soon," he tells me before stepping out and disappearing around the side of the house.

"You're home late," my father says when I walk into the kitchen.

I shrug and walk past him toward the door.

"Care to explain?"

"It's like five, Dad," I groan, turning back to him. "You're acting like I just dragged my drunk ass in at three a.m."

He raises an eyebrow. "Long day?"

I let out a long sigh. "Yes."

My father looks at me for a few moments, arms crossed over his chest.

I turn and walk out of the kitchen.

I throw my bag onto my bed angrily once I enter my room. I roll up my sleeves, sitting down and staring at my scars. They're not very noticeable unless you're looking up close. I mean, I haven't cut in months. I touch them lightly, the scar tissue smoother than my skin.

I hate them.

And I certainly hate that Harry knows about them.