Ghost (First Edition)

Chapter One

"Isn't he so hot?"

"So rich too!"

"Do you think if I ask Nathan out, he will say yes?"

This is what Nathan heard as he walked down the long corridors of Northwest High. His books were held lossy to his chest, his fancy black coat was open over a simple, but fancy white T-shirt tucked into designer jeans. He had a sharp angled, handsome face, his blonde hair was brushed neatly to one side, and his blue eyes guarded. He ignored the longing looks and mutters of the girls he passed and nodded to the boys who waved at him.

He didn't like being the most popular kid in the school or being rich. But it was the hand he had been dealt so he took it with a cold hand, hid it as much as he could, and smiled and chatted with every new person he met.

Taking his cold silver key out of his pocket, he unlocked his blank locker and slid his books onto the top shelve above the space where his bag rested on the floor. He shut the door with a clang and locked it. There was a tap on his shoulder—a clap more like—he turned.

A boy, about his age, was leaning on the lockers in front of him. He had messy brown hair and wore messily ironed clothes. He had bright green eyes and his hands causally in his pockets, grinning at Nathan.

"Hello, Andy," Nathan murmured, leaning on his cold locker door, and folding his arms over his chest.

"Wanna throw toilet paper at Mar's down the road this afternoon?" Andy asked in a way of greeting, grinning more, and showing a flash of white teeth.

Mar was an old woman who lived in an old, almost rundown house at the end of the quiet main road. Nathan sometimes helped her clean up the place. He got paid in out-of-date cookies, but he didn't mind. The smile on her face was the real reward.

"You know that is not what I do," Nathan murmured.

"Oh, C'mon, Nathan! She's old! Who cares?" Andy urged, pulling away from the locker and looking a little frustrated.

"Like you said, she's old. She won't be able to clean up the mess you will make. I'm not helping you make someone's life more difficult," Nathan said coldly, eyeing the other boy hard.

Andy shrugged. "Well, you miss out. We were going to get some drinks at the pub afterwards as well," he started to walk down the long linoleum floored hall towards the lunchroom.

"I don't drink," Nathan muttered as Andy passed, smelling strongly of cheap cologne.

"Suit yourself," Andy said, waving over his shoulder as he continued to walk away down the hall.

Nathan looked after him, shook his head and sighed. He headed off in the same direction, his stomach rumbling.

***

The brisk, chill hair blew the dead leaves from the trees across the front steps of the school. The sound of them crunching under students' rushing feet sounded like dry bones. Nathan did the buttons of his coat up as he trudged down the creaked steps, his hard-soled shoes clapping lightly on the stone.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs when he heard laughter and looked up, the wind blowing his hair across his forehead. Andy and his punky friends were heading down the street on the other side of the road, a black duffle bag held between them, Nathan saw a strip of toilet paper sticking out from the top of it and sighed. He would have to help Mar clean up the mess later.

A sleek black BMW pulled up in front of him, blocking his view of Andy and making the rest of the leaving students stare. Like always. Nathan paid them no mind as he opened the back passenger door and threw his limp, expensive black backpack into the car before slipping in after it.

"How was school?" His mother asked, looking at him in the review mirror.

His mother was a slim, pretty woman with elegant curves to her body. Her hair was bleached a yellow blonde, and blue contacts darkened her brown eyes. Her name was Mary.

"It was alright," Nathan said softly, looking out the window as they started to drive, he watched the two-story brick, ivy-covered school building recede into the distance.

"Got any homework?" Mary asked, looking at the road.

"History," Nathan muttered, eyeing his backpack with mild distaste.

It wasn't like his subjects were hard—on the contrary, they were easy... Almost too easy. His mother said he would fly through college when he got to it. This was because his father had decided to start schooling him at home when he was three. He already knew half of what was being taught.

"How long should that take you?" Mary asked, snapping Nathan from his thoughts.

"Half an hour."

"Good," Mary nodded then went silent.

Nathan continued to look out the dark-tinted window silently, watching the dull street and cottage-like houses go by in a blur. Sometimes he wished he had been born into what his parents called the "peasant" families. At least then he could walk the school halls without anyone trying to get his attention, he wouldn't be the most popular kid in the school. But no one ever got what they wished for.

"So..." Mary started as they pulled off the main road and onto a smooth dirt road lined with rose bushes, "have you picked a nice, pretty girl for the prom yet? You know it is only three weeks away..." She looked at Nathan hopefully in the review mirror.

"No, I have not," Nathan responded to the hundred-asked question almost unemotionally.

Mary sighed and said no more on the topic.

Around the next corner, their house—their mansion more like—came into view. The front was extravagant. Marble pillars held up the second-floor balcony, the steps were marble too and the windows were framed in ivory. The rest of the building was made of smooth stone and dark oak wood. Rose bushes bloomed everywhere, and oak trees held fresh, red apples, like drops of blood. Nathan was indifferent to it.

As soon as his mother pulled the car up, Nathan was out and up to the front double doors before Mary had even pulled the break. He flew through the front doors, ignoring the butler who offered to take his coat, and flew down the thick-carpeted hallways to his room on the ground floor, throwing open his door, slamming it, and locking it.

Nathan sighed and slumped his shoulders, glad for some peace and quiet. He dumped his backpack on the floor next to the door before fishing his history book, and study sheets, out. He looked around the familiar bedroom feeling relaxed and comfortably alone.

His room had thick, light blue carpet, the corners each a slim, marble pillar running up them, flowering out at the white roof. His bed was a king-size with a simple wooden frame, but the mattress was as soft as a cloud and the sheets as smooth as silk. There was a large, ivory-framed bay window in the middle of the far wall, and his elegantly carved study desk sat in front of it. On the left wall was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that ran the length of the seven-foot wall, full of all kinds of books. On the right was his walk-in wardrobe that led through to his ensuite bathroom.

Nathan kicked off his shoes and walked to his desk only in his socks, stripping off his coat as he did so. He dumped his book and study sheets onto the desk before pulling out the black leather chair and sitting down, opening a drawer, and taking out his pen. Time to do his homework and then repeat the cycle. The old, boring cycle that never changed, and never would.