Wingspan(Paranormal, Young Adult) MAJOR EDITING**

thirty three

If it bothered Chanel that she couldn't smell the perfume that clung in the air, she hadn't mentioned it by way of extreme hand gestures or doing the crying thing. Yeah, that freaked me out at first too. Ghosts could cry; somebody help them.

"Do you have any idea what I would do if I had your undamaged hair?" Chanel gushes to me reminiscently.

When Chanel first found out that I could see her new ghost form it freaked her out more.

All in all, she looked relatively good for being dead.

I had asked Chanel how she did it. She'd explained that if she went back to any distant memory from her previous life then she could mimic whatever outfit she had worn on that given day.

Unfortunately, nothing could be done of her ill-advised maroon highlights.

I speculated it had everything to do with how she died. The night of the accident she didn't have platinum hair, so it would make sense that in this form it was brown.

Thanks to Chanel's latest strike against her then boyfriend Gregory, she decided to go brunette when he had made a mean comment about blondes having loose morals and, so to teach him a lesson, she had decided that maroon colored highlights would go well with her new 'this is me' style. It was her hair. And at the time she was feeling it.

Personally, I thought she looked nice with the new hairdo. I told her so myself, on several occasions if I'd remembered correctly.

I certainly never had the guts to pull something like that off.

Not that I cared to alter my looks because there was nothing I wanted to change that I thought needed fixing. My body with its milky complexion and countless brown freckles was hereditary and yet I wouldn't have asked to be any other way....

Sure I circumnavigated around the enormous campus mostly in sweatpants or faded jeans but that was out of comfort not because I was embarrassed of what I looked like with slim fitting material.

The size of my moderately small waist and rounded hips had never propelled me to a delirious state of gym excursions.

I embraced my curvy figure long ago and never saw myself in the mirror and compared what I looked like to other girls, imagining unrealistic body ideals in order to belong.

I was me and I was weird and that was that.

My life was so different now that I was at Starkhouse, and there wasn't much I missed about my old one. That girl was gone so far as I was concerned and in place of her was me and I was doing everything in my power to change. But change didn't come easy. I kept to myself, only talking when I absolutely had to otherwise people would start to ask what was wrong with me, and I didn't want people here to think of me like that.

I tried to keep emotionally detached because not caring about people was easier. Against my will always worry what they say about me when I'm gone and if they really like me. I'm not particularly clingy with my new friends because I feel like that will throw them off.

Because of my background I grew up untrusting of others. It was Chanel who had decided she wanted to go over to my house and had solidified herself in my world by her choosing. On paper in the main interest column our friendship hadn't seemed like we were compatible for many reasons but it lasted despite the odds.

Since I hadn't been the one to pursue the friendship it had been irritating at first but as I got used to Chanel always being there I had started to rely on her for support.

Using the heel of my foot I sink my body under the water, rest my head on the edge of the tub, and let the tips of my hair twist and turn like serpentine snakes in the water and float on my chin.

Thanks to the full body soak I was quiet and composed. I couldn't say the same for poor Chanel.

"Do you remember the look on Cecily Tomsan's face?" I ask her, trying hard not to laugh.

Chanel laughs uncontrollably. "How could I not? It was singlehandedly the most fun I had all year."

Last school year Mr. Tafft, our history teacher, set up a two body podium. Chanel had been given the title of democrat during finals and went up against her republican counterpart, Cecily, who'd ended up losing the argument and fostered a grudge against Chanel because of it.

Cecily was one of those bitchy mean girls that had the looks to boot. I didn't hate her, per say, I merely disliked the way she'd tried to make Chanel miserable for no reason. Being captain of the high school cheerleading squad hadn't been enough for Cecily, so she stooped low and had picked on the next prettiest girl on the team.

"I think we should talk about what happened." Chanel looks at me with a somber face and just like that the gloves came off.

Instead of articulating words like a functional human being, I used my legs to slide down the vat of water, covering my face with the water, the back of my head resting on the bottom of the white porcelain tub.

"I cant heeeaar yyyooouuu."

"I mean it. Its not healthy that you never want to talk about it." Unfortunately, Chanel's voice rang loud and clear even if my head was submerged under tons of now luke-warm water. "Fine. Keep dodging me all you want. Sooner or later its going to come out." Chanel sang in a do-re-mi-do viva voice.