School Spirits | I Don't Do Friends

13- Selfish When It Comes to You

She slept in her old bed that night, with her father's jacket.

Caroline knew couldn't stay there. The walls were shrinking in on her, it was empty and cold.

She couldn't stand being in that old house, but she was sad to go.

She looked through the garage, it was a building a few yards from the back of the house. It had a number of old projects her father worked on, they were left abandoned. He had been too sick to do what he loved most. Take things apart and put them back together.

Sometimes she felt like he did that to her. He was a complicated man, yelling and causing a scene one moment, then another he was kind and supportive, and quiet.

Sometimes it would break her down, carrying the weight of her father on her back. He would make up for it, no matter how badly he screwed up.

She started the trek back to the school. It was the hardest thing she's ever had to do, going back to the place she died, to the place she's been stuck for almost a decade.

But everyone she loved was there. Everyone left at least.
She thought about what it would be like when she got back. It was early morning, the sun was barely peaking out over the trees.
Homecoming was later that night. She seriously considered not going, but her father would have wanted her to.

He would never make her, he would try to be slick about it. Always leaving the keys and some cash out on a Friday night, telling her she should buy some clothes she could go out on the town, introducing her to his friends' kids.

Her mother used to make her go to all sorts of dances, she'd pull out one of her old frilly dresses, accidentally burn her with a curling iron a few times, then leave her outside the school. When Hank realized Caroline hated those things he put a stop to it, he'd never make her do anything she didn't want to do.

Now she was going to that damn dance.

It's a horrible feeling, when what you want to do contradicts with what you know is right.

She had brought a few things with her. When Caroline's father donated her things he left a few. Her jewelry was still placed in an oriental box she inherited from her grandmother. Her childhood blanket still folded on her bed, she brought that with her. She had a picture of them, she was young, around 8 or 9. She was behind the wheel of the truck, it was newer, the red paint was still shiny, he was grinning from the passenger side.

The few possessions she would find useful or comforting in the afterlife was hanging by her shoulder in an old bag she found in the back of her closet, The shades of purple faded over time and wear.

She wondered into the building, dead eyed, and slipped quietly into the school library. She had made that place a 'home base' of sorts. Had a couch to sleep on, plenty of music, movies, and books to keep her occupied. It was nothing like home and that was the point.

She expected to see it empty, it was a Saturday morning after all. But when she entered she heard soft snores.

Wally was on the couch, sleeping. He was still wearing eye-black from the game.

That night, Wally wasn't sure if she'd come back. He knew how tempting it would be to run off and never look back if he got the chance.
He knew if she was gonna show up, he'd be waiting for her.