Half spirits

chapter 1: Birthdays suck

CHAPTER 1: Birthdays suck.

 

I’m sitting on Roy’s narrow, uncomfortable bed. It’s the same as every half-spirit teenage bed, narrow and uncomfortable.

“My parents want me to have an arranged marriage.” Roy says but I’m only half listening.

It’s David’s birthday today, he would be 25. I think about him all the time. Where did he go? What is he doing? Is he Human? Is he even alive?

I find myself asking these questions but never am able to find answers. Our family hasn’t contacted him since he ran away when I was nine.

“Alice are you even listening to me?” Roy snaps me out of my daydreaming. I look at him blankly. “I’ll take that as a no.”

 “My parents want me to have an arranged marriage.” He repeats, only this time he has my full attention.

It’s normal for half-spirits to have arranged marriages. My parents want me to have one too. They keep inviting guys over for dinner so I can “get to know them”.

“Mine do too”

We sit there in silence for a bit, staring at each other. But it isn’t awkward it’s almost comforting.  After a while I get up and explain I need to leave for dinner, which is at 5:00 for everybody. As I walk through the dirt tunnels to reach my section, I see a little light coming from the corner of the tunnel. I start digging in that area then find that the light wasn’t a light at all; it was the reflection of a plain sliver chain. Quickly I wipe it off and stuff it in my pocket. Hopefully nobody saw that, we have very high security, there’s surveillance cameras everywhere. We don’t want a human to find their way down here. It’s against the law

Finally I arrive at our family’s section in the dirt tunnels we call home. It doesn’t really feel like home though. I feel invisible, I don’t belong here, I never have.

“Alice, honey, is that you?” my mom calls from our living room.

“Yea, it’s me.”

 My mother is a typical half-spirit. She hates everything to do with the human world and keeps me locked down here. My father is a bit more carefree I guess you could say, but my mom is kind of controlling.

I walk into the living room where I find my mom sitting on our uncomfortable couch. Half-Spirits think if they can be more like ghost they’ll be less human even though it’s in their DNA. Ghosts don’t sit, eat, walk or sleep, so they make our stuff as uncomfortable as possible. It’s a pain in the ass, literally.

There is a boy sitting on the couch next to my mom, he’s staring at me. He’s probably just one of the half-spirit boys my mother keeps bringing to our house in hopes that I’ll like him and marry him on the spot. 

“I’m Grayson.” The boy puts out his hand for me to shake but instead I eye it till he pulls it away awkwardly.  

“Grayson this is Alice.” My mom says for me. Like I don’t like Grayson but he IS pretty cute. His strawberry blonde hair falls right beneath his eyebrows, almost covering his gray-green eyes. It’s rare to for half-spirits to have anything close to green eyes or red hair because those colors are so full of life. It’s usually bleach-blonde or black hair and gray eyes.

It’s takes a while for me to notice I’m staring at him. He looks uncomfortable. Oops. I blush and turn around explaining that I’m going to make dinner. I start boiling some water to make pasta, one of the only things we’re allowed to eat. Even though we aren’t allowed to use salt, pepper, sauce, oil or cheese I still love pasta. Soon the water’s boiling and I pour the pasta in. I go into the living room deciding that I’ll check on the pasta in a couple minutes.

Mom and Grayson are deep in a conversation about politics. I get the feeling that I shouldn’t interrupt their conversation so instead I quickly check on the pasta then go to my room to change. 

I mean I’m not doing this to impress Grayson or anything I’m just really uncomfortable in my sweatpants and tank top. That’s when I realized I really do want to impress Grayson. I don’t know what it is but I feel an attachment to him. I’m probably just being silly, according to half-spirit law we’re supposed to not think about ourselves because ghosts can’t think. They only have the first 25 years to think for themselves then they become mindless floating creatures that do nothing.

I look into my closet, I only have black clothes. They’re the only clothes we can wear. Apparently they remind us that we’re half dead because black’s the color of death and all. I choose a dress with spaghetti straps; the dress is tight around the waist then flows down to my knees.

I run downstairs and check on the pasta to make sure it’s not burning. It isn’t, good. Once the pasta’s done I strain it and serve it equally into four servings. I call my mother, father and Grayson to tell them that dinner is ready.

I’m ready to impress some boy.