Avenging a Ghost

Chapter Five: If You Don't Remember

On Monday morning, the school is buzzing about Phoebe. There's a lot of debates on whether she really died---which I'm honestly wondering, as I haven't seen her ghost. Mrs. J. doesn't order anybody around today, instead being quiet and withdrawn. Aaron actually comes into school with me, mostly to make me feel better. He's honestly amazed to find out that Mr. Herman still teaches.

"That guy was, like, a million years old when I was here," he mutters under his breath. "How is he still alive?"

"I have no clue," I whisper, tugging my coat around me. It's the kind of coat that you might expect a vampire to wear---black on the outside, purple on the inside, and very old-fashioned (the description literally said "Victorian-style" when I bought it). I wear it every day except in summer.

"Maybe he's a ghost. Yeah, that makes sense. He died and he didn't want to stop teaching."

"He can't be a ghost, or otherwise nobody would be able to pay attention."

"Yeah, you're right."

The intercom crackles and Mr. Quinzy's voice comes on. "Everyone, I'm sorry to say that one of our freshmen, Phoebe Jefferson, took her own life this Saturday. She will be missed by..."

Nobody else is listening anymore. All they need is confirmation that, yes, the most popular girl in the school is dead, and they go bananas. I'm not even going to think about what they're saying.

I ask to go to the bathroom and go downstairs to see Mrs. Jefferson, who's staring into deep space.

"How're you holding up?" I say softly.

She startles slightly when she notices me. "Oh. Miss Maxwell. I... I don't know, to be honest."

I sit down next to her. "You want to talk about it?"

She sighs. "When you're a ghost, you think you would welcome the death of your loved ones, but it still hits you hard. And I never even dreamed... my own great-granddaughter... she was never the type..."

"Being a Depressed isn't really that big of a deal," I murmur. "You get to help others. Be forever young. Act like a kid for as long as you want. Make a difference in your own way."

Mrs. Jefferson gives me a look. "Well, you shouldn't be promoting suicide, should you?"

"You're right, I shouldn't. But you shouldn't tear yourself apart."

A hint of a smile flickers across her face. "No, I shouldn't. Thank you, Miss Maxwell." She rises and floats away.

Wow. One of my pep talks actually worked for once. I'm getting better at this "empathy" thing.

"You talking about Phoebe?"

I look over to see Damien Davis staring curiously at me. He's fairly tall, with brown skin, hair done in a fade, and casual clothing in soft shades of green. He's also pretty antisocial for a Depressed, only talking to ghosts he knows well. The one exception is Aaron, whom he flirts with at every opportunity. Ok, the more accurate praise would be fails at flirting. He's the opposite of smooth.

"Yeah," I say, brushing some hair out of my face. "What about her?"

"She's not here."

I raise an eyebrow. "Of course she isn't. She's going to hang around at the site of her death for a day, isn't she?"

"Well, yeah, but it's been over twenty-four hours since she died."

"Damien, not every Depressed works on the same clock. She's probably just waiting until it dies down."