My Dead Sister and The New Boy

Chapter One

My sister is watching me.

So, maybe she isn't, but it feels like she is. That's how it is every day. When I'm brushing my hair, she's there. When I'm walking to school, she's watching. When I'm eating lunch, I can feel her, there, watching.

Okay, she can't be. Everyone tells me that she isn't. My parents, my friends and the specialist I have to see. She's dead.

It sounds a bit morbid, but she's been dead for eight years. No one would think that I still remember her- I was almost seven when she died- and I don't really remember her. Except I do.

~~

"Here you go," my mother places a pile of clothes into my hands. It's heavy and almost covers my line of sight. I carry it down the hall and back to my room, dumping it at the end of my bed.

The clothes are a range of jeans, shorts and t-shirts. They were all my sisters, but now they're mine. I go through them briefly, smelling one of the hoodies. Her scent is long gone. I put the pile away in my closet, closing the doors and flicking a song on, on my iPod. I twirl around the room to the tune, before pausing at my set of drawers. I pick a box, opening it as I sit down on my bed. The scent floats up, it smells of daisies and vanilla. It was my sister's perfume and I love it so much.

They discontinued the perfume three years ago, so I can't buy anymore. I only use it on special occasions. I sniff the box that will probably smell of vanilla and daisies for all of eternity. I close it up, jumping to my feet and dancing back to my drawers, placing the box back where it came from.

I twirl over to the window, thinking about school tomorrow, dreading it more than anything. I pull it open, sticking my head out and breathing in the air of the night, looking up at the dark sky. The stars twinkle at me, as if promising a better tomorrow, something I know will never happen.

I've never really fit in at school very much. My mother says that I used to have lots of friends and be very bold and confident, but I can't believe that. It's almost impossible to imagine, me being the way I am now.

I sigh, looking down at our lawn, with weeds sticking up here and there from the weeks that my father has neglected them. A garden gnome that is missing the top point of its hat sits by the grave of my former cat, Pumpkin.

My eyes trail their way up the road, to the turning that goes onto the main road. I watch a few cars go past, a black one, a red one, a blue one. And then a truck. I squint, trying to read what it says in the light of the street lamps. 'Bill's moving', it reads, before it disappears around the corner. I wonder who is moving in, and where and how old they are. Perhaps they're my age? But that almost never happens. They're probably an elderly person moving here because this area is nice and quiet.

Most of the other kids from school live across the lake, in the richer suburb.

Suddenly I feel a cold wind blow through my window and the same old peace come over me. I can almost see my sister standing beside me. She's not there, I know she can't be, but I feel her there. I can almost see her long blonde hair, so different to mine, and her blue, beautiful eyes.

"Kacey," I can almost hear her say my name, I can almost see her lips move. She pulls me into a hug and she smells of vanilla and daisies. I close my eyes and it's almost how I remember it, except she hasn't aged a day since her fifteenth birthday and I'm almost upon mine.

When I open my eyes she's gone and I'm alone in the cold with my window open. My song has ended too, so the only sounds I can hear are the sounds of crickets and bats. I close the window and collapse onto my bed, wishing for that better tomorrow.