Michael's Ghost Girl

Nightmare

It was three days before Michael went back to the skate park. As he'd expected, Short Round and Dewey were already there. Dewey greeted him and held up his fist in salute, but when Short Round saw him, he turned his head away. Michael responded by getting ready to leave, but Dewey shook his head.

Good old Dewey. He'd lost one friend, but one remained that he could count on. Dewey said he'd take care of Short Round, and Michael held on to the hope that maybe he could. Maybe things would be right between them again, he didn't want his friendship with Short Round to end. They'd all been friends since they were young boys, surely that must mean something. He knew how important it was to him.

He waited for his turn on the course, then jumped on his skateboard. The feeling of freedom he experienced when he skated replaced unhappiness. This was what he wanted, this feeling of freedom, that he could take flight, the joy he felt whenever he skated. He built as much speed as he could on the ramps, so that he could practice his tricks, ever mindful of that next competition. The natural talent that even he didn't understand enabled him to do his tricks almost effortlessly. He practiced hard and picked up tips from other skaters and by watching videos. Over time, he'd even developed tricks of his own. Skaters at the park were in awe of him and would even ask him for advice.

He was good, he knew he was good, and was only going to get better. He didn't need a college degree for this. He could see himself winning professional competitions; promoting his own skateboard line, t-shirts, knee-pads, and gloves; signing autographs. Maybe he would even create a game with his name for X-Box, Play Station, or Nintendo, like his idols Tony Hawk and Jay Adams.

He lost himself in the vision of his perfect dream world. He didn't realize that he'd leaned too far back as he was landing a jump and lost his balance. The exit out of the jump he'd visualized turned into a crash landing. He flew up in the air, and slammed down on his side. He landed hard on the side of his head, as his skateboard flipped into the air and fell, just missing his temple. The force of his landing slammed him against the ramp and he saw stars just before he lost consciousness.

"Michael, Michael?" Mariah's anxious face swam in front of him, only to morph into Dewey saying, "Mikey, Mikey, I've called the paramedics." Michael opened his eyes and try to move, but his head started spinning and he collapsed back on the ground. He closed his eyes, then threw up as he tried to push himself onto his feet. The stupid stars wouldn't go away; instead he was growing progressively dizzier and could not stand, no matter how hard he tried. He head was really hurting and he wanted to lay on the ramp and go to sleep, but Dewey kept shaking him, saying, "No, no, you've got to stay awake!"

He heard the sirens and for a moment wondered who had been hurt. Then, strong hands lifted him onto a stretcher as he began to fade. He was not only dizzy now, he was violently ill. He cooperated when the paramedics said to open his eyes, but it was hard to make the effort to respond to them. He just wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep, but they kept bothering him, telling him, "Come on Michael, stay with us."

"Michael, you've got to try." He could hear Mariah's urgent voice in his head. "You might have a really bad head injury, you have to cooperate with them and stay awake. Please Michael."

Hearing her voice soothed him, in spite of his hurting head and body. All he had to do was think and she seemed to hear him. Don't go, Mariah, he thought, and he heard her answer, "I won't". She'd answered and he hadn't said anything, had he? Could she hear his thoughts? Did he even need to speak? Maybe he didn't even have to stay awake either. He didn't realize he was delirious, and therefore gave no thought to the sudden telepathy that had appeared like a gift.

"Come on kid, don't pass out on us." He heard the paramedics again as they shook him out of his reverie. He heard someone in the background saying, "Why don't these idiot kids wear protective gear, anyway? They shouldn't be allowed to use the skate park without it."