My Ghost and I

Chapter 8

Spencer's breath hitched in her throat. She blinked a few times before turning to him.

"What?"

"Why do you hate me?," Billy asked again, waiting patiently for an answer.

Spencer wanted to roll her eyes, but she stopped herself from doing so when she saw the look in his eyes. In those midnight blue eyes of his were emotions of anger, confusion, and overall curiosity. But there was also that unmistakable sadness that Spencer herself memorized when she looked at herself in the mirror every morning.

Breaking eye contact, she turned back to the screen, seeing it but not really looking at it.

"I don't."

Billy's eyebrow rose.

"You DON'T?"

"I don't," she repeated.

Before Billy could question any further, she added, almost whisper-like, "I don't hate you. I hate myself."

At this, Billy's eyes popped out of his head. THATcertainly wasn't the answer he was expecting! He had a lot of critics, and he would usually just ignore them or give them the bird. Critics-the bad kind, anyway-were a lot like paparazzi. Annoying, rude, overall awful human beings who satisfied themselves by caring about what others think and want and make others THINK they know what they want when they don't. Not really. Sure, Billy knew he appealed to the masses, but he never had to work for that. Ever since he was a kid, he's been loved by all, and he didn't even have to do much. All he had to do was be himself, and everybody loved him! Point is, Billy was waiting for Spencer to tell him how awful he was, how cruel of a human he was. Anything mediocre, so he could treat her like he treated those critics-he made them wish they never said anything bad about The Cobra.

But this was new to him. He knew people who hated others, but he never met someone who hated themselves. Why would anyone hate themselves? That just didn't make sense to him, and yet this young girl said that she could care less about herself.

"Why would you hate yourself?," Billy managed to ask, struggling to get the words out.

Spencer only looked at him with disbelief. He didn't know what he did wrong.

Sighing, Spencer closed her laptop and turned the light out.

"Goodnight, Billy," was all she said.

Harsh sunlight peeked through the windowpane, the golden beams showering the now awakening girl on the bed.

Spencer squinted against the irritating beam, and turned over to the other side, away from her natural wake up call. Despite having perfect attendance for eight years straight(at least at her old school), Spencer Wright was SO not a morning person.

Turning over, she opened her eyes to something she was not used to seeing. Or rather, someone.

"Good morning, beautiful."

Here, lying right next to her was an insanely attractive ghost boy, who happened to be an ex-rockstar due to the fact that he was, well, dead. Smirking, Billy leaned on one hand, staring at the face of his biggest anti-fan. Heck, she was the only anti-fan he'd ever known!

Spencer's eyes practically bulged out of her head, causing the boy-man-dudeghost to chuckle. She was awake now. Her mouth formed into an 'O', ready to scream, she recalled the events of the day before. Shutting her mouth, she slammed her face into the pillow and screamed as loud as she could. Her family couldn't hear her, because her screams were muffled. Thankfully, they were, as Spencer's screams were louder than thunder.

Billy was less than amused.

In an attempt to torture her, he swooped up into the air and transformed into a one-man band. All at once, he played the drums, the saxophone, the trumpet, and some insane riffs on a killer guitar. He even changed outfits. He sported a 'KISS' t-shirt that was ripped at the sleeves, and some denim skinny jeans.

Spencer groaned at the sudden noise, holding her hands over her ears.

"Billy, STOP. PLEASE, just STOP," she groaned, glaring at the unfortunate wake up call.

"Hmm...should I stop bothering the poor girl? What was her name again?," Billy thought aloud.

He peeked at Spencer, who was breathing heavily with her hands balled into fists. Smirking, he returned back to his murmuring, though he fortunately stopped all and any 'music.'

Floating closer to Spencer, Billy circled around her in the air, finger tapping against his lip.

"Was it...Spinelli? Sparta? SPOON?"

"...It's Spencer."

"Oh, what was that? I couldn't quite catch it," Billy leaned near Spencer's face, his hand cupping his ear.

Spencer did everything she could not to spit at his smug, blue face. She didn't have TIME, for this, dang it!

"My name. Is. SPENCER," she bit out, holding her fury in.

The ghost floated up into the air quickly, a fake look of surprise on his face.

"Oh, of course! How could I POSSIBLY forget?! This Cobrahead's name is-!"

Right before Billy finished his proclamation, he swooped back onto the bed again, straddling Spencer's lap. He leaned forward, silently applauding himself when he caught the red on the girl's complexion, and he whispered her name into her ear.

"-Spencer."

Sensually.

Quick as lightning, Spencer pushed the ghost off, muttering under her breath about how stupid popstars were and how stupid boys were and DAMN THEM ALL. Finally pushing the sheets off, Spencer sprang out of bed, taking large steps into her personal bathroom.

"Aw, Spence, where ya' goin'?," the ghostboy whined.

She paused at the entrance of the bathroom.

"To take a shower."

She proceeded to slam the door, not before adding, "Also, I'm not a Cobrahead."

Finally, she was safe from the deranged maniac that was her cousin. She reminded herself that their relation was distant, and she thanked God for that, as there could have been no way in heck that she and that boy would have survived communication at Thanksgiving, which was for close relations ONLY.

Spencer was about to take off her tank top, when a thought pulsed through her. What if...what if Billy came in? He was a ghost, right? Like all ghosts, he should be able to walk through walls and shiz. Spencer was 90% sure that in the next minute or so, Billy would come in while she was showering, and she knew that if he could, he would.

And he could.

Tip-toeing to the shower, she turned the water on. Spencer didn't get inside the shower. No, she was going to test out her theory, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to be right.

She then tip-toed to the door, waiting for her theory to deem correct.

Unfortunately, it did.