Life was easy for Shea German. She had it all. A dead mom. A spoiled dad. A caring aunt. Good grades. At 15, life seemed simple to her. Until, she started seeing things. Ghosts. Dead people. Only to learn, she was the last living of an ancient speci...
I stood, grabbing my binder and books, making my way out of Calculus. I took no time to get to my locker. I opened it, threw my stuff in, then shut it. Friday at last!
My happiness quickly faded when I felt a rough tap on my shoulder.
With no escape, I thought, from the rage of Daxson Faxx.
I sighed, turning to face the "popular boy", Daxson Faxx. My ex-boyfriend. From his record, the only reasons he dumped me was because I was too short for him, and because I haven't ever been on my period. Dumb standards, but, I could live without him. And yes, at 15, no period. It's sad, I know.
"What do you want, Dax?" I asked him, crossing my arms. "I don't have time for you. I forgot-"
"That it was about time you apologized to me?"
"What do I have to apologize to you for?"
"Dumping me."
"Sorry, sorry. You dumped me. Not vise-versa," I snapped. "Now, if you would excuse me, I need to get my bag out of my locker."
I turned back, taking my bag, then began to walk off. But, I didn't make it without getting kicked to the ground by Daxson. When he walked off laughing, I stood, feeling something strange between my legs.
Wait...
Yes!
I picked my bag up, running into the bathroom. Once I got there, I pulled a blonde dye out of my bag. I looked into the mirror at my plain, brown hair. We would fix that up.
Luckily, I knew how to dye hair. My mother had taught me when I was little. So, I took the blonde dye, and began adding some highlights into my hair.
After I finished, I walked outside, beginning my walk home.
***
Only, I wish that's how it actually happened. Here, let me explain what really went down.
***
The bell rang.
Ah, freedom at last.
I stood, grabbing my binder and books, making my way out of Calculus. I took no time to get to my locker. I opened it, threw my stuff in, then shut it. Friday at last!
My happiness quickly faded when I felt a rough tap on my shoulder.
With no escape, I thought, from the rage of Daxson Faxx.
I sighed, turning my face to the "popular boy", Daxson Faxx. My ex-boyfriend. From his record, the only reasons he dumped me was because I was too short for him, and because I haven't ever been on my period. Dumb standards, but, I could live without him. And yes, at 15, no period. It's sad, I know.
"What do you want, Dax?" I asked him, crossing my arms. "I don't have time for you. I forgot-"
"That is was about time you apologized to me?"
"What do I have to apologize to you for?"
"Dumping me."
"Sorry, sorry. You dumped me. Not vise-versa," I snapped. "Now if you would excuse me, I need to get my bag out of my locker."
I turned back, taking my bag, then began to walk off. But, I didn't make it without getting kicked to the ground by Daxson. When he walked off laughing, I stood, feeling something strange between my legs.
Wait...
Yes!
I picked my bag up, running to the bathroom. Once I got there, I pulled a blonde dye out of my bag. I looked into the mirror at my plain, brown hair. We would fix that up.
Luckily, I knew how to dye hair. My mother had taught me when I was little. So, I took the blonde dye, and began adding some highlights into my hair.
After I finished, I dried my hair, then sat for a second to admire the surprisingly good job I had done.
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Yeah, that looked cute.
I picked up my bag, making my way out of the bathroom. But when I stepped out, I saw my potbelly Geography teacher Mr. Kays standing there, staring at me.
"Uh, Mr. Kays? Can I... help you?"
"Yes, you can. You have to. It's your job, little necro! I need you to deliver a message."
Necro?
"I-I think I'm good." I swiveled past him, quickly walking. After about ten steps, I looked behind me to see him walking after me, but I could only hear my footsteps.
He grabbed at me, once he got close enough. I yelped when his arm outstretched, then screamed when his hand passed through me. I immediately lost balance, tripping over my own feet and collapsing on the ground.
Then I remembered, Mr. Kays had died two months ago in the middle of my class from a heart attack.
Mr. Kays began yelling at me as I heard footsteps running up. My breath had hitched from fear, and I was scrambling away on the floor from him, unable to find balance on my feet. I heard someone calling 9-1-1. I felt my heart beating so fast, I could've sworn somebody would notice. I couldn't hear myself talking aloud, even though I knew I was doing it by a teacher who had grasped my arm, trying to stop and silence me.
Mr. Kays did nothing but yell.
After a few minutes of the teachers trying to pin me down, they had accomplished it. Mr. Kays kept yelling and yelling, until a door opened behind him.
"Forget it, little necro. You're of no use to me." Then, he disappeared.
I lied there on the ground, now able to hear myself screaming, "Mr. Kays! Stop! I can't help! Go away!"
About ten paramedics rushed to my side, one getting out a small, portable heart monitor. The young lady set it on my chest, her eyes filling with worry. "Her heart is beating way too fast!"
"Check her breathing!"
Pause.
"Abnormalities in breathing!"
"Draw some blood!"
Pause.
A prick in my arm.
"Got it!"
Pause.
"She's still going! Drug her!"
That was the last thing I heard before it all went silent and black.
