Wingspan(Paranormal, Young Adult) MAJOR EDITING**

Forty

I expected to find a barrier dividing the space in two halfs. 

When that never happened I still got uneasy whenever I had to cross her side of the room to get to my stuff. It felt like I was intruding in someone elses privacy. Stupid I know.

I put my backpack down on top of the matress and pull on the strings to reveal an open pocket filled with paperwork and other incidental items.

I sit on the middle of my bed with one leg straight and kept the other slightly bent that way I could be in one position for hours without getting cramped up. It was going to be a long night and I had to get comfy.

Humming in content because Rebecca wasn't around to suffocate me with her myriad of mood swings I grab a highlighter and outline notes that I'd accumilated over the last few weeks. 

There was a big test first thing in the morning and I wasn't too sure if the Professor was going to have multiple coice written down somewhere. You could never be too sure what stunt the headmistress was going to pull. So essentially I was covering my bases.

It was a Thursday night and so a few indwellers were having a pre-party as they usually did when it got dark on Thursdays. It was a celebration in honor of Friday being around the corner. 

The Powers That Were had rules set in place but that didn't prevent their students from being awesome and cool and having parties and hooking up whenever they wanted. 

While I studied some girls I had seen before but didn't know had come by my dorm on the way out and had asked me to join but I declined with explanation of last minute studying. After much clarification that I wasn't going to leave the room to party they left me alone for the rest of the night which had given me plenty time to concentrate on a series of focal points.

I was in my own trail of thoughts bent over a field of extensively detailed notes with my open book effectively cutting blood curculation off my leg. Suffice it to say my organizational skills were somewhat lacking.

"Is that all you do when I'm gone?" Chanel groans. "What a snore."

I look over my shoulder to make sure no one was standing close by. I was always cautious about no one finding out what I could do.

I just wish helping the dead find peace was as easy as the movies claimed it to be: no celestial dimension to look for, no way for them to move on and so they're taking up space they shouldn't. 

Again something felt familiar. There was a crucial piece of information that I forgot about that was on the tip of my tongue. Just when I was about to remember what that was it faded from my mind and got locked away in a distant corner of my brain right alongside all the other bad stuff I'd seen over the years.

What I called the ghostly plane; which was a subtle plane not rarely seen by most though some felt vibrations alter in certain places, that was a wasteland that was filled to capacity.

Once the coast was clear and I was certain that no one was in the hall I showed Chanel my multi-colored notes traced with marker to underscore what I presumesd necessary things to remember.

Each page had long bold lines going straight across to the edge of the paper. It resemled my grandmas word search booklet well.

"Please tell me your day is going better than mine." I beg her.

I move to the bed and put one leg under my butt and sit on it while I swing my other leg middle forward backward.

Chanel floats to my head board and straddles her tanned waxed legs over it like she were getting ready to bike around town. Today she wore a crop top and ripped shorts with white laced sneakers.

"I remember that day." 

"You were mortified when Thobias crashed the party your mother forbid you to have." Her party outfit brought happier times when life was more about doing whatever Chanel wanted parental consequences damned. 

I missed that.

Chanel picks at the prestine mid section of her white tube top. "Hence pre-slushie vomit."

"He ruined a perfectly good top." Chanel sighs whistfully tugging at the netted material

"Yes he did." I didn't buy it for myself but that didn't mean I never thought about borrowing it.

Thobias was a hot jerk who had invited himself over to Chanels house one night with a case of beer in his arm and tagged a couple of his buddies along even though Chanel didn't know who they were.

"I'm surprised he had the guts to keep coming to your parties after he threw himself on girls who clearly were taken and not intersted in having a threesome." I say thinking about what hapened that night.

Chanel always thought about other people when she was host. For most of the night she passed out a slew of spirit cups for her welcomed guests to keep from getting thirsty and staying sober.

I'd let Chanel take me against my will but I refused to be in the middle of the crowd where people could see me so I opted for a single sofa that way I didn't have to sit next to couples making out all night.

While I was sitting in my happy little buble away from everyone else Chanel made rounds as she gave drinks to open hands. Even though Thobias showed up drunk with a bundle of joints in his pocket Chanel let him stay, though I wasn't sure why.

But it was her party and if she said it was okay then who was I to think otherwise. Apparantly I'd missed a lot that night.

From what I'd been told and how people had recapped previous days later, Chanel was handing out cups of liquor when Thobias Johnson stumbled over his own large feet and collided with Chanel throwing up all over her as he collapsed.

I'd seen the puke the morning after when I'd helped Chanel clean up. Sadly nothing we'd tried removed the purple stain on Chanel's expensive top. She probably ended up throwing it away.

"His cousin was hot."

-and in college." I add. Lets not forget that part.

Chanel sighs deliriously. "Yes he was." She drops her leg over the head board and sat facing me.

I laugh. This felt good. Really good.

It had been too long since we talked about parties and cute boys and whether or not we'd be stuck together like two gummy worms on a hot sunny day. Just like old times.

"You should be partying, not studying. Its senior year baby! Live it up and have some fun."

It was the most obvious statement everyone liked to remind me of whenever I declined an offer to hang out for a couple of hours. Even though most of the invitations were from random people I knew they were right.

I guess I wasn't ready for that and the more I refused to do fun things with them the harder they tried convincing me how much I needed it.

I roll my eyes fed up with the tired implication. "Yeah because I really want to relive my experience thus far. Please, i'm not interested in talking about this. OK?"

I stack my papers in a constructive yet sloppy pile not caring that some flipped sideways or went upsidedown in reverse and cross my legs for added comfort. My foot was falling asleep and I had the unpleasant sensation of pins and needles tingling up and down my leg.

"SO. What have you learned?" I ask feeling a bit curious and bored.