MAX

1

Max drummed his leg repeatedly as he waited for the school bell to ring. His teacher was lecturing in a monotonous voice that made half the class fall asleep, and Max spotted at least three of his classmates drooling on their desks. He took a long, deep breath and blinked slowly. A paper ball landed on his desk and Max glanced around the classroom. He found one of his friends, who was sitting across the room, point to the teacher. Then his friend formed a gun with his fingers and pointed it at the back of the teacher's head. He pulled the trigger.

Max smiled. He formed a gun from his own fingers and pulled the trigger at his own head. His friend snorted. Max glanced up at the clock and took another deep breath. Thirty minutes until school was out for the day. Middle school was sucking the soul out of him. He had his sleeping classmates to prove that. He didn't understand why he needed to be in that class. He didn't need to learn about different biomes to live. He already knew that forests and deserts existed. His teacher didn't need to lecture on for an hour about them.

A loud noise rang out in the hallway. The fire alarm was going off. Max silently celebrated as students woke up abruptly and stood to their feet. He smiled. Finally, something was going on that was exciting.

The teacher grabbed a clipboard by the door. "Alright everyone! Single file! You know where to go!"

There were no doors or windows in the classroom that they were in. It was an old school that they occupied, which meant it was poorly planned out. The school didn't have the budget to add in safety to the equation, so whenever the fire alarm was pulled, students would have to file out of their classrooms and head to the nearest exit.

The students got into a single filed line and pulled out the door. Max looked over his shoulder at his friend, who had a pleased look on his face. Max followed the line out the door. As they neared the exit doors, a louder noise rang out over the alarm. It sounded like fireworks. Max quickly realized that they were not fireworks. Those were gunshots.

Max turned just in time to see a man fire a bullet straight at him. A shooting pain burst through Max's stomach, and he crumpled to the ground. All of the screaming and chaos around him turned into a muffled blur as blood seeped between his fingers. He had been shot. His mind was numb. All he felt was pain.

Max opened his eyes and saw the shooter fire at innocent students. A few fell to the ground. A large force of men wearing black swarmed through the entryway to the school and quickly trapped the gunman. Max could see their mouths moving, but he could not hear them. The gunman raised his weapon to his head. He pulled the trigger.

Max saw his friend kneeling before him. Tears stained his face, and his hands were coated with Max's blood. His vision started to blur. He was going to miss his friend. That was how Max was going to die. For a boring start, it was an exciting and horrible end. He recognized his mistake. It was a mistake to wish for some excitement.

His world turned black.

-------------------

Emily shivered even through the multiple blankets that lie on her bed. Her room was dark, and so cluttered that she could barely walk inside without tripping. Yellow and orange stripes dated her wall, and a large mirror sat to the side of the room next to the door. Her room was old, but her family couldn't afford any new upgrades. Her father was somewhere in the living room watching a movie that she could hear all the way from her living room. Her siblings were out someplace she didn't know, and so she was technically alone. She took a deep breath, clutching her blankets harder so that her knuckles turned white. The ghosts were there.

Her door slightly pushed open, and Emily's heart beat harder in her chest. One of them was coming in.

No one was stepping into the room. Emily knew she would have to get up to make the ghost leave. Hesitantly she slipped out of her comforting blankets and tiptoed over her cluttered mess on the ground. Emily was now standing at her door. She peered through the crack of the door. She could see nothing but the darkness of the hallway and the faint glow of whatever movie her father was watching. Emily opened the door a little and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the ghost. A boy not much shorter than her was standing at the base of the doorway, staring at her with curious eyes. He didn't look like one of the harmful ghosts, but she knew she couldn't go off of appearances.

The boy continued to stare at her until he took a step back further down the hallway.

Emily began to quickly shut her door when he held out his hand and stopped her from doing so. Goosebumps ran down Emily's spine.

"I'm not going to hurt you." The boy said too calmly.

Emily bit her lip as she felt tears of fear sting her eyes. Usually the ghosts didn't say much, but this was the first one who said he came in peace. She knew she could always force him out of the house if she needed to. She saw fear in the boy's eyes and felt sympathy for him.

Emily opened the door just enough so the boy could slip inside. She shut the door closed and turned on a lamp that sat next to her mirror. The boy was sitting on her bed, eyeing her curiously.

Emily cleared her throat, though her hands were shaking. "M-My name is Emily. What's... What's yours?" She had only ever spoken to a ghost one other time, and it hadn't gone well before.

The boy cocked his head to the side. "You aren't a ghost." He said.

Emily shook her head. "No. This is my home." As she looked at the boy, he saw him look at the ground, as if he was shy. "I'm sixteen." Emily said. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen." The boy said. Emily frowned. He seemed so innocent.

"Okay." Emily said, trying to keep her composure. She glanced back at the door to make sure it was closed. "What's your name?" She asked again.

The boy looked up at her with sad eyes. "Max." He said. "My name is Max."

Emily felt bad for the boy. He was young. He didn't deserve to be dead. Her eyes widened. Usually she could see the wounds of how these ghosts died. She couldn't see a wound on Max. Maybe it was because he was sitting. He was covering it up. "Max, do you know why you are here?"

Max visibly shivered. He stood up slowly, allowing Emily to see what had happened to him. Blood seeped from his stomach and stained his blue shirt. His fingers were stained red. "I was shot." He whispered.

Emily fought back her tears. This boy wasn't going to hurt her. "I'm so sorry." She whispered back.

Max perked his head up at her. "Do you know why you're here?"

Emily cocked her head to the side. "I live here."

Max looked back down at the cluttered mess on the ground. "No, you don't. We do."