Cinderella's Ghost

Chapter 3: His Voice

Chapter 3

I took several steps back as I watched him appear out of thin air, the fact that he was transparent making me more confused and afraid. With my legs too weak to hold myself up, I ended up sitting on the edge of my bed, grateful I hadn't fallen on the floor.

Jarell's eyes widened at my reaction. Eagerly, he stepped forward. "Can you... can you see me?" He pointed to himself, looking hopeful and ecstatic. When he took another step forward, I started scrambling to stand on the other side of the bed. Jarell seemed to take that as a good sign though, because he grinned wider.

"You can see me!" He laughed, then raked both hands through his hair, a look of relief on his face. "Oh, my God, you have no idea how long I've been waiting."

I held my breath as I walked sideways towards the door, my eyes on him the whole time. I needed to be closer to my only route of escape if he became a threat.

Jarell dropped his smile. "Hey."

I stopped right by the door. It took all the courage I could muster to open my mouth. "Talk to me from there; don't you dare move. If you aren't going to tell me what you are, I'm going to run, and you'll never see me again," I ordered quickly.

He pressed his lips together, completely unamused. Really, he looked completely transparent, especially with the light coming from the windows behind him, but I could still see his expression clearly. How did this – whatever this was – work?

He looked bored as he said, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a ghost. You know, like Casper? The friendly one?"

I stared at him. What nerve, calling himself friendly. He'd been nothing but mean to me since the very beginning. I was too shocked to say otherwise, though. Instead, I was left completely speechless, hands covering my mouth. Jarell sighed as he fidgeted, probably not used to people being scared of him, and all of a sudden, he didn't seem to scare me anymore. All I saw was a seventeen-year-old boy (ghost), standing there, looking slightly lost, and that look of hope from before that brightened him was now gone.

Gathering my emotions, I let go a shuddering breath before stepping into my room again.

"Are you... dead? You can't be, right? No one mentioned anything about your funeral at school today."

"Of course I'm not dead, you idiot. I'm just in a real bad coma that caused my spirit to come out of my body. I did get hit by a cement truck, you know." He frowned, face guarded. "Which means I am more or less on the verge of death." His hands slipped into the pockets of his bermudas. "You didn't seem to be that affected though. I've been following you around since last night and saw how you reacted to the news of me getting into a car accident. I didn't know our little Ellynderella can be so sadistic."

I stopped in my tracks, clearly irritated. "First of all, don't call me Ellynderella. I hate it."

He grinned, his good spirits returning again, somehow finding this funny. "Why? I think it suits you."

I ignored him. "Secondly, since last night?"

He nodded. "I saw you pulling your blanket up when I first arrived." And then, very slowly, the dream of my parents trickled into my mind. He wasn't lying.

"And lastly, isn't it unfair to expect me to let your accident affect me so much? In case you've forgotten, we aren't exactly chummy. I think you're more of the sadistic one, what with you and your pranks." When he rolled his eyes, I looked away and added uncomfortably, "We may be nothing to each other, but I don't wish for your death. That's a nasty thing to do. My parents died, remember?" He didn't say anything, probably because the wall suddenly became interesting to look at.