Seeing Shane Gray ✓

thirty eight | ghost

November 30

*.*.*.*.*.*

It's still early when I get out of bed, pull on my favorite hoodie which had initially belonged to Carter, and make my way out of the room and down the stairs. The house is quiet and I don't have to worry about anyone seeing me leaving. It's not that I have anything to hide.

Nothing stirs and nobody calls after me as I walk out of the house and down the familiar street. I have a twenty-minute walk to take and have already decided not to get on a bus instead. The brisk morning air feels nice after the stuffy environment of the house and the soaring temper of its inhabitants.

I don't like walking too much but Carter died, and since today is for him, I decide to follow his routine. Even the clothes I'm wearing are in his favorite colors, my hair hanging open around my face exactly as he'd always liked. The music booming through my earbuds, too, is Carter's choice -- an Indie playlist by the most underrated artists on the planet. Unlike me, he was always a fan of music that held a message. While I preferred something I could bang my head to, Carter was more into the kind of songs that could take him to another place.

He was always the odd one out, the outcast in every situation, the loner at every party. He was always there, always right beside me or watching the crowd from the background while I stole the spotlight. Even back then, though, I knew he mostly only socialized so I wouldn't complain about his lack of 'life'. I could tell, smiling and talking, Carter was never a part of the masses even when he was there.

He hasn't always been like this. When we got into high school, he'd been active and hopeful. It wasn't until he was treated differently, not only because of his race but also his physique, that he started to backtrack. I didn't mind the racial slurs as much but he took them to heart. For me, they were a joke.

'How do you see through those small eyes?'

'Do you Chinese eat lizards too? I heard you eat snakes.'

'Why are you all so short?'

'You all look so similar. I can't tell Japanese from Chinese or Koreans. All Asians look so alike.'

I shrugged it off, countering a slur with a slur. Whether it was 'I can see what a jerk you are just fine', or 'yeah, I had a crocodile for breakfast. Want me to puke it out and show you?' or even 'I'm short so I can show you size doesn't determine how big I'll be one day'.

For Carter, though, it was different. He would smile and look away, usually avoiding conversation when the taller boys teased him for being too scrawny. He was only a couple of inches taller than me, and though 5'3 is okay for girls, 5'5 somehow automatically made him a target of bullying.

And while I went on with life as I would otherwise, Carter tried way too hard. He went out of his way to help people to be more likable, tried out for sports teams because that somehow made guys cool, and even tried hanging out with me and my friends. He stopped after a while, stopped trying even before he stopped living.

He gave up.

Turning down the last street, I finally spot the gate of the cemetery. I don't usually come to this place, always thrown off by how quiet and eerie it is. This early in the morning, though, the graveyard has a peaceful feel to it. It doesn't seem haunted. More like a dorm for the eternally sleeping.

I look around as I enter, at the trees swaying in the gentle breeze, the gravestones standing in even rows and columns. The overgrown grass tickled the exposed skin of my legs between my leggings and socks, and I take big steps through the stones, making my way over to the only one I'm familiar with. I reach his grave at last, my eyes fixing unblinkingly at the headstone.