Living Dead, More Like Loving Dead

Chapter 2

Here's the next chapter, revised. It was also revised on December 2.  I hope you like it! Comment, vote, and fan me!

                      Luckily, the last day was uneventful. Everyone was too busy squealing, fake crying, or hugging to pay attention to the lonely girl standing in the corner. Rena and I had said our goodbyes, but we didn’t make plans for the summer to see each other or cry and promise to call. Our relationship didn’t exist outside the school walls. I’m not sure if our relationship even existed at all.

            I rushed home, eager to escape my classmates and the cold, concrete school walls. When Upon arriving, my mom and grandma were in the living room holding a “journey to the other side,” as they put it. I called it a freaky séance. I threw my backpack down in the kitchen and ran upstairs to my room, hoping to escape my mother, but to no avail. My mom hollered at me from the bottom of the staircase.

            “Anne Elizabeth Monroe, if you do not begin packing your bags, I will—”

            “Okay mom! I get it!”  Christina was waiting for me. She had my closet doors open and was eyeing everything in my closet critically. “What is this?” she asked, pointing to a long skirt with huge orange flowers all over it.

            “Oh, that’s what mom and dad got me when they went to Hawaii.” She made a gagging noise in the back of her throat. I didn’t blame her. The skirt was absolutely hideous. She pulled a dress out from the depths of my closet.

            “Why don’t you bring this?” She held the dress up for me. It was short, blue, and did I mention it was a dress?

            “Are you kidding me?” I asked her. She was crazy if she ever thought I’d be caught dead in that. “There is no way I would be caught dead in that, no ghost joke intended. Put it back; you’re getting your ghostly ectoplasm all over it.” I didn’t wear dresses, ever. I wasn’t a tom boy; dresses just never entered my repertoire of outfits. I had two pairs of jeans that were faded and had holes in the knees, an endless amount of t-shirts, and a pair of worn white Keds. That was all that I needed. Christina was always making fun of my outfits, but I didn’t care. I believe comfort comes before style, but she thinks otherwise.

            “Ghostly ectoplasm, really? I don’t appreciate your stereotypical ghost jokes. Anyways, you’re always saying things like that, but seriously hold it up to yourself and look in the mirror. It will bring out your eyes.” She tossed the dress to me, and it crumpled on the floor, as I’d failed to catch it. “You’re such a klutz.” I stuck my tongue out to her and picked the ridiculous dress up off the floor. I looked in my mirror, holding the dress up to me. Christina was right, as usual. The dress somehow made my eyes look even greener and made my bargain haircut look more expensive and professional. It exaggerated the differences between my bright green eyes, pale skin, and dark hair, but there was still no way I was ever going to wear it.

            I threw the dress back at her. “There is no way I am going to wear that. Anyways, why would I need to where that?”

            “Annie, it looks fabulous on you, but you’re too stubborn to realize it. Anything might come up where you need that dress. Wear it.” She shoved the dress back in my arms.

            “No, I’m not too stubborn to realize it looks good on me; I’m too stubborn to wear it. Christina, that dress is not me. And what’s going to come up? It’s not like I’m ever going to have a reason to wear a dress anyways.” I threw it on my bed.

            “That’s exactly the point. It’s not you; therefore, it’s perfect. Do something different for once. Live a little.”

            “That was very deep and all,” she opened her mouth to say something, but I interrupted. “But no. There is no way I am ever wearing that dress. Besides, you’re the dead one, remember?”

            “Seriously, Annie? Wait to be mature. But what if you meet a cute gu-”

            “Christina, drop it. I’m not wearing it, end of story. Plus, no cute gu- will ever be interested in me.”

            “Will you at least pack it?” I sighed; she wasn’t going to give up on this one, and neither was I. Grabbing the blue dress of the bed, I walked over to the window, unlocked it, and slowly turned the crank, opening it up. Dangling the dress outside, I let it fall to the ground outside. I gave Christina a triumphant smile.

            “Fine.” She huffed. “But, what are we going to do about your hair?”

            “Enough! We are not doing anything with my hair, and I’m never going to wear that stupid blue dress. Christina, I’m not you. I never will be. I’m not the popular prom queen. I don’t want to be the popular prom queen. I don’t want to wear stupid dresses and go to stupid parties, okay? So just shut the hell up.”

            “Annie, you can be whoever you want to be.” I scowled at her. I was about to tell her to take her fake wisdom and shove it, but she apparently had more to say. “Yeah, I know it sounds like I’m spinning a load of crap, and I kind of am, but don’t let that stop you. I know you don’t want to be that shy girl who hides in the background. Don’t try to tell me you like it because I know you don’t, so live a little. Take some risks. Live outside the box. Do something that you’re scared of. This is the summer before your senior year; own it.”

            “Yeah, you are spinning a load of crap, and I’m still not wearing the dress.” She sighed.

            “This isn’t about the stupid dress.”

            “Good because I’m never wearing it.” She disappeared, and I was glad to finally be alone at last. My mom was probably right; packing was a priority. Too bad, I wasn’t actually alone. There were voices coming from everywhere, ghosts, asking me for help. I had learned how to tune them out, but sometimes there were too many. They didn’t actually show themselves to me until I offered to help, but they didn’t mind yelling at me, pleading for me to help them.

            “Shut up!” I screamed. I couldn’t handle it.  Everyone wanted something from me, even the dead. My dad wanted me to be interested in science, but I found it confusing and painful to learn. My mom desperately wanted me to see ghosts, which I could, but I would never reveal that to her. My grandma wanted me to find a nice young man and settle down; I didn’t really know how to take that when I was only seventeen. Christina wanted me to wear absurd dresses, and Austin wanted me to be outgoing and athletic; clumsy people don’t play sports. I couldn’t take it. Everyone was telling me what to do.

            “Annie,” My mom called. “Is everything alright up there?”

            “Yeah, just some annoying song on the radio that I hate.”

            “Okay!” Lying had become an easy task for me to handle. I had to lie all the time; talking to ghosts caused a lot of situations. Sometimes I felt as though I lied too much, maybe it was a disease, but I’d always consider the alternative, the truth, and realize lying was a much better option.

            I began searching my room for my suitcase. I knew it was in my room. My dad had gotten it for me two weeks ago, when my mom had originally told me to start packing. After searching every nook and cranny, I gave up; maybe it would turn up later. Grabbing handfuls of clothes, not bothering to look at what I was taking, I threw them on the bed to be shoved in a suit case later.