Sort of Dead

20 - Theatricals Can Be Fun!

Marra's POV:-

Skimming through the next few days shouldn’t be too hard.

We – Aar, Bee and I – came up with a plan. To serve the Gabocks right.

Aar helped us break into his theatre props room, from where we borrowed stuff that we needed to execute our plan. Basically a few strings, a ghost costume, a skeleton costume, a fake scythe. Aar had a fog-generator in his house, so that was accounted for.

I didn’t go to school the next few days to underpin the fact that I was dead. Dad didn’t object because he was too pre-occupied with Mom's declining health. The docs didn’t think she had much time. Uncle said otherwise, but I knew he was buttering the cake (which is disgusting, by the way, so don’t ever do that).

Anyhow, Aar found through unconventional sources that the jocks who had been there during my manslaughter – and only those who were present at my manslaughter – were to meet at Gaba's place coming weekend since his parents were gone. To maybe sign a treaty of not ever telling anyone. Not that they would, but still.

Bee told me Gaba had been acting very distraught in class. Not even bullying anyone much except occasionally giving them a harsh pat or calling them names half-heartedly or sometimes stealing a lunch or two. She told me she saw something in his eyes she usually say in the prey's: fear. (She studies useless psychology books.)

Anyhow, we crashed their weekend. Played spooky sound effects on the radio. Put our borrowed theatre props and fog-generator to good use.

Our original anticipation had been that this would have no effect on the jocks. They would know they were being pranked and chase us to our deaths. But it was so valid, the risk, for what we actually saw.

Apparently, killing people makes you afraid of everything. Especially when you’re a sixteen-year-old bully.

The jocks were frantic with fear. Everyone went berserk. They were certain my ghost had come to exert revenge. One of the jocks slipped while running, and fell on another jock, who fell down harder (but he was so fat he almost bounced right back). One of the jocks – the one with deepest, gruffest voice – shouted shrilly like the frightened cat he was on the inside. Gaba did not react at all. He just froze, eyes ajar, mouth ajar. Mind on another planet.

All in all, it was fun.

Until Aar and I tried to sneakily return the props back to where they belonged, but got caught. So Aar was excommunicated from the Drama Club, and we both got a handful of detentions.
I felt bad for Aar – he loved his Club – but he said the look on Gaba's face had been worth it.

Plus, he says having an awesome supernatural friend is better than being in a stupid Drama Club with ordinary humans . . . so there’s that.

(P.S.: I am not an awesome supernatural friend. I am an okay supernatural friend. In case you’re looking for one.)

When I made a come-back to school, it was spectacular. No one else except the select few jocks had witnessed my killing and their faces lost all color as soon as they saw me enter the class with that ludicrous smile pasted on my face – and I don’t mean they turned pale; their faces just became colorless.

I intentionally took a seat beside Gaba, who looked aghast. When I said 'Hey, man' and touched his shoulder, he recoiled in a spate of shudders, collapsing off his chair and taking all his belongings to another one, one all the way across the room.

I tried my best to hold in a chuckle.

Other students roared in laughter at Gaba for his paranoia, and I was loving every second of it. He was acting like he'd seen a ghost – and he had.

He didn’t bully me after that day – and didn’t bully others much either. Three months later, he changed his school to that other {Undisclosed} school of {Undisclosed}, the one where future criminals study. I don’t think it was because of me, but I like to think that it was.

Aar and Bee and I were a golden trio. See and Es were our pallbearers (that’s not the right word to use here, is it? Dang it!).

Sometimes, I even forgot I wasn’t a normal kid. Sometimes, I even forgot my Mom was dying.

It was about time my life reminded me that “sometimes” don’t last forever.

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