Invisible

Chapter 4

The next morning came quicker than I had expected, especially considering how emotional I had been the night before. I thought it must have something to do with my inability to feel any pain. Slowly, the school came back to life. The staff arrived, the lights came back, the doors were all unlocked, the teachers arrived, then finally the students. All while I sat in a corner of the lobby and observed silently. It feels strange to watch the routine that would normally just be part of my everyday life, when in reality I know I'm not actually a part of it. I picked myself up and made my way to homeroom.

While I sat there in the morning commotion of the lobby, I had decided I would attend each one of my classes, as if it were a normal school day. I was simply too curious to see what would happen with the news of my death. Would the teacher announce it? Or would the students who knew me spread the news?

The clock in the hallway read 7:37. I was exactly one minute late to homeroom. Not that it mattered anymore, of course. A few moments later, I arrived to homeroom and sat ( Yet another weird thing spirits can do, though it doesn't feel the same as it did in life. ) in an empty desk at the back of the room. It didnt really matter if I felt though I was sitting, standing, or lying down. I don't have any muscles that could be sore anymore, so it really didnt matter. I felt equally as comfortable in any position. After all, the only thing I can really physically feel anymore is a sense of my own presence and my presence in relation to the things around me (which feels very similar to feeling objects in life).

From what I could tell, most of the students around me had no idea what happened to me. I heard a few whispers of the death at the track among the morning murmur, but most people still had not recieved information on who had died. The one girl I knew who would have known was absent. She was on my track team, and an old friend.

The clock turned to 7:40 and the annoying morning announcements intro tune blared over the loud speakers. The whole class stood up, and the national anthem began to play. And I stood with them. The announcements rolled by as usual, and as usual, I paid no attention to them.

After the announcements, I noticed my history teacher awkwardly leaning his forearms on a dark wooden podium he uses during lessons. He let out a stressful sigh and put a hand on his forehead as if he had a headache.

"Alright" he said loudly to catch the chatty classes attention. "As some of you probably know, there was an incident at the track yesterday. Katie Harrison, who was in this class and many of you probably knew, had a sudden heart attack at yesterday's track practice. An ambulance was called, but it was already too late." He pauses for a second before continuing, "Katie is dead. It's awful, I know. I really feel for that family". He shook his head and put both hands on his face. Then he just stood there for a little while like that.

Most of the class reacted with some form of shock. It was surprising news, and it certainly became a popular topic of conversation. Other students reacted with compassionate pity. They got all emotional pitying me and my family and my friends. I heard things like "Oh my god, I feel horrible for her poor parents" And "She was so young" Or "I hope it wasn't painful".
Then, the class continued as normal, though some kids still seemed a bit depressed over my teacher's emotional announcement. I sat in the back of the room and watched my teacher give a lesson on Japanese history. I was the only student who didn't have to take notes.

The next few classes went similarly. The teacher would explain what would happen before sympathizing for me or my family. The kids would react with a mix of shock, sadness, and pity. Nobody ever got too rattled though. And then, class would continue normally as I watched from a back seat.

When I was alive, I used to go to my locker everyday between 3rd period, which was lunch, and 4th, which was lunch. Despite having no reason to go, and no means of opening it, I went to my locker that day. But as I arrived, I found that someone else was already there, as though they were waiting for me.

It was Daniel, one of my closest friends. He was standing silently at my locker with his head pressed against the cold metal. His long, curly, dirty-blond hair covered most of his face. His ears were covered up by his bulky blue playstation brand headphones. He would wear those around his neck at school often, though he rarely used them. I had always thought they were kinda funny, but I liked them. Everyday, he would stop by my locker to talk to me around this time.

I stood next to Daniel. I wished so hard that I could let him see me. To tell him that I was okay. We had been close friends that year. We always goofed off and chatted too much in class, but we also always got our work done on time somehow. We worked together at every possible oppurtunity. Then, when we saw each other in the hall, we always bumped fists. Even when I had just met him, Daniel and I always got along really well. He must have been really upset. "I'm sorry", I tried to say to him, though no matter how hard I willed it, I couldn't make a sound. Daniel pressed his clenched fist against the side of my locker and whispered, "I miss you", before abruptly leaving to go to fourth period, his head hanging pitifully low.

I didn't go to lunch. I didn't feel like putting up with all that noise and commotion. I have a theory that spirits don't like those kind of things. Instead, I slowly walked the quiet halls to get my thoughts together. Seeing Daniel in his depressed state made me depressed. However, I couldn't feel that aching in the chest or heaviness of body that most people associate with feelings of depression. What I feel, I simply am. There are no physical signs of my emotions anymore.

My next class was computer programming. This made me a bit uneasy, because I knew my best friend would be in this class. As far as I knew, she didn't know what had happened yet. Perhaps nobody was brave enough to tell her. Or maybe they simply wanted to spare her the pain for as long as possible. I did know, however, that I would be able to figure it all out the moment I could see her. Emily would be devastated if anything were to happen to me. When I walked into class, I saw my friend Emily sitting at a computer, seemingly bored as usual in this class. She didn't know yet. I sat down at an empty swivel chair next to her, the same chair I would normally sit in for that class.

Painfully I watched the shock and denial unfold on Emily's face as my teacher told everyone what had happened to me. My poor friend looked like a deer in headlights. She leapt out of her seat and dashed frantically out the classroom door. I followed close behind her. She rushed down the hall with her face in her hands, stomping along angrily before turning sharply into the girl's bathroom.

I caught up to Emily and found her in the corner of the biggest stall of the bathroom. She had pushed herself into a corner and was sobbing uncontrollably. I slipped into the stall from beneath the door. When I got into the stall, I immedately tried to hug my best friend. I knew she wouldn't feel anything, and it was hardly a proper hug, but it just felt right. Though I couldn't feel her warmth, I felt my friend shaking and crying beneath me. I hugged her tighter, though I knew it didn't make a difference.

I stayed with Emily for over an hour in that lonely bathroom while she was crying. I don't know if I was hers, but she was my best friend. She had always been there for me when I was depressed, confused, or just having a rough time. Even when I really messed up. We had some really great memories together and we just enjoyed each other's company so much.
The thing with Emily and I is that we simply clicked. Our personalities fit together perfectly.

I loved Emily, and I hated seeing her like this. Once again I wished desperately that I could show myself. I didn't want my friend to cry alone. I wished I could cry with her. I wished I could hug her for real. I'm so sorry, Emily. I'm sorry for leaving. I didn't want to.