Will's New Apartment (A Ghost and the Goth Short Story)

Chapter One

Alona Dare/Ally Turner

Being dead had its perks. And I missed them sometimes.

Don’t get me wrong: dying sucked. Being invisible to almost the entire living world had not been a whole lot of laughs either.

But the complete freedom to do whatever I wanted, go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted, with nothing standing in my way, not even physical structures? Yeah, I’d never fully appreciated those benefits until it was too late.

Like now, when the ability to take a hard left through the living room drywall and out onto the driveway would have been super helpful.

“But it’s a Tuesday,” Mrs. Turner—I had to start thinking of her as Mom—said, frowning at me as I kept watch at the big bay window at the front of the house.

“Yep. All day,” I said brightly, refusing to meet her gaze. She was a champion of the guilt-stare-down, and believe me, I had some experience in that arena. The only way to win with her, I’d found, was to simply not to engage. That was way easier said than done, though. I cared about the Turners, and I was trying to get used to them caring about me. But apparently being in a relatively healthy family unit meant NOT ignoring each other and doing whatever you wanted without consulting the others.

I knew it was too good to be true.     

“What I mean is that it’s a school night,” Mrs. Turner said pointedly.

“Technically, it’s a school afternoon, and I’ll be back by nine.” Nine, please. That curfew killed me. No pun intended. The good parties never got started until well after that, but since that wasn’t exactly a priority for me these days anyway, it didn’t really matter.

Well, except for the sheer ridiculousness of it. Nine!

Plus, Will had a class that ran from seven to nine on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, which meant between school, homework, and my stupid curfew, I wouldn’t get to see him those days at all.

And…I missed him. Not that I would ever say that to him so directly. Not that I’d even have a chance to. We’d been alone together every day for months when I was a spirit and he was a ghost-talker, but now? Our opportunities for private conversation were frustratingly limited. I had no car or car privileges, my cell phone time was still restricted, and using the house phone here was just asking for Tyler, my/Lily’s younger brother to listen in. Not to mention, I was stuck in school from 7:45 until 2:30. By the time I was done, Will was either in class or picking up a few hours at the diner. He’d gotten his busboy job back for now. The ghost-talker business was still a work-in-progress, but my considerable lack of freedom was severely curtailing any advancements.   

It was more than enough to make me long for the days when I’d wake up every morning at 7:03 wherever Will was. Including, once, in the shower.  

That had been pretty spectacular: his spluttering embarrassment as he wrapped the mostly see-through shower curtain around himself, pulling it off the rings, and my very rewarding glimpse of surprisingly nice abs.

Hey, it was his fault. He knew I was linked to him and what time I “arrived” every morning. It wasn’t like I could control it.

Okay, maybe I could have not looked. Or, walked out of the bathroom before he realized I was in there. But where was the fun in that? 

“And what exactly are your plans with Will?” Mrs. Turner persisted.

I swallowed a sigh of frustration. My new parents were having a little trouble letting go of me, of “us.” But I guess that’s what happens when you get your kid back from the brink of death after a horrible car accident. One that she caused herself, I might add.