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The first time someone felt my presence was when I accidentally brushed a girl’s shoulder. I was haunting my old school halls, searching for something there but not knowing what. I didn’t know how to move on from that place. Normally, I would try not to touch anyone just out of corporeal habit.
I realize “brushed” isn’t really the correct term when I said it earlier—my shoulder passed clean through the girl’s. I turned around because I had the feeling of growing pains burst through my own arm, like a hollow ache deep in my bones. The girl flinched her shoulder upwards into a half-shrug with a shiver.
From that moment on, I wasn’t haunting the school anymore—I was haunting her.
I’d passed through walls and some teachers before, throwing punches at the ones I didn’t like during my time here. My fists went right through their faces and ribs without any reaction from them or feeling from me.
This girl was different.
I followed her through the hallways, staying in her wake as she weaved through the crowds of people, fixated on how she’d felt my presence. I wanted to touch her arm again, to see if that was just a fluke, but I didn’t even know her name yet.
She sat in an unassuming spot in grade eleven physics—off to the right, close to the door, and right in the middle. There was enough space at her desk that I could sit on top of it. I hopped up beside her, facing forward and swinging my feet. I haven’t figured out why I can sit on tables and chairs and beds but pass through walls and people yet.
Now that we were sitting and the teacher, a slightly eccentric man with a passion for physics that shone through in how he talked about gravity, started rambling. I’d taken this class before I died, so I wasn’t pay attention to Mr. Sanchez. I was busy taking in what this girl I was haunting actually looked like.
Her dark hair was pulled back into two thick braids that followed the curve of her ears. She wore small silver hoop earrings, a matching nose ring on the side closest to me, and her green eyes popped from under her winged eyeliner. She wore a long-sleeved white blouse under a sage green sweater-vest and tucked into black jeans. From where I was perched to her left, I also noticed her light brown leather belt and her white Filas sticking out from under the desk.
I didn’t notice Mr. Sanchez was calling out attendance until it was too late.
“Here,” the girl said, her voice a bit deeper than I expected as she half-raised a hand from where they were crossed over her chest. I mentally kicked myself for missing her name. Now I had to sit through a whole hour of physics and follow her to her next class like a ghost creep to find out her name. I also made a vow to myself not to test out if this girl could actually feel when I touched her without knowing her name first.
Though, I wasn’t sure if I truly wanted to know. What if that was a fluke? What if she just got a gust of cold air when I walked past? I spent the whole time she was writing notes by hand contemplating whether or not I wanted to try again once I found out her name. As she packed up, I decided I didn’t want to test it. I was too new a ghost to be confident in anything yet.
~
During the break between classes, the green-eyed girl waved to people as she walked through the hallways I used to walk, but she didn’t seem to talk to anyone in particular. That was me—friendly to all, best friend to none.
She sat in the back of world history with Mr. Brown. He rambled a lot and didn’t notice when students slacked off. As the green-eyed girl’s hands hovered over her keyboard, waiting for her laptop to boot up, I noticed a few silver rings that matched her piercings and was a little bit impressed by her jewelry coordination.
Mr. Brown had already jumped into the shit show that was the start of World War One, but I could somehow tell from where I was sitting that the girl wasn’t paying attention at all.
“No attendance?” I said aloud. I was used to people not hearing me when I voiced my thoughts out loud.
So, when the green-eyed girl raised her hand and asked, “Are you going to take attendance, Mr. Brown?” I was surprised to say the least.
I jumped up from the desk, crouching beside her as she faced the front of the class. “Can you hear me?” I didn’t expect her to come out and say she could or anything. She flinched away from me, clutching her ear. “Who are you?” I asked.
Mr. Brown’s voice answered. “Sawyer?” The green-eyed girl raised her hand in response, still rubbing her ear like my voice hurt her.
I stood, splaying my hands on the desk so I was fully supported by them as I leaned forward. “Sawyer…Fitting.”
After ten minutes of hard-to-follow history talk, I got bored again. Looking over at Sawyer, I saw that she was typing away on her silver laptop. “What are you writing…” I came around behind her, leaning in to see her darkened computer screen.
The title at the top of her Word document read “The Rose House”, and it looked like she was building a scene and characters as I read what she was writing. I rested my hands on the table again, already engrossed in the small little world she’d created in the span of now fifteen minutes.
She shivered violently, shrugging her shoulders almost up to her ears. I straightened, realizing that my chest had been going through her back. That was the second time I touched a person. “It wasn’t a fluke,” I said, more to myself than anyone, but Sawyer still reacted, grabbing her ear again.
Then, without a word, she grabbed her phone from her bag and slipped out of the classroom. Obviously, like a good little puppy, I followed.
~
I still had some reservations about going into the stalls in the girls bathroom, but when Sawyer only stood by the sink and ran the hot water, I plopped myself on the counter beside her. She stared at herself in the mirror, looking rattled. “Did I scare you?” I asked earnestly. “I didn’t mean to. I mean, if you know I’m here or something, that would be a first and I’d love to actually talk to you, but I’m sorry if I scared you.” I was rambling, I knew, but it’s not like she could actually hear me.
“I think there’s a ghost following me around today,” Sawyer said to her reflection. I stiffened, startled. For a long moment, the only sound in the bathroom was the tap running water and starting to steam. Then, she continued. “It could just be that I’m cold today, but that doesn’t explain the thing with my ears,” she made a vague gesture with one hand. “So, I’m gonna fog up this mirror and, if there’s a ghost here, I want them to write their name.”
“This isn’t going to work,” I rolled my eyes.
“I need you to try this, okay? I have to know.” I knew she wasn’t responding to what I said, but that didn’t make her words any less eerie.
When the mirror wasn’t fogging up enough from the hot water, she breathed on it, making little splotches of translucence along the edge closest to me. I turned, crossing one knee so that I was sideways and could trace my name into the mirror.
I reached over, almost touching her but avoiding the would-be contact so I didn’t give her any more chills. Although, I’m sure she got as many chills as I did when my finger actually started making lines on the mirror.
She audibly gasped and jumped back as my full name appeared. Lachlan Davis ’16. I included my graduation year, hoping it would give her enough information to find out who I was.
“Um--Uh—Hi, Lachlan,” she stammered out. “I’m Sawyer. Nice to meet you.” There was a pause as she tried to figure out what else to ask me. “Why are you following me?” I didn’t write anything for a moment, and then she said, “No no no, that was a dumb question. Are you following me?”
I simply wrote a ‘Y’ on the mirror, already running out of space.
“Okay…” she said, drawing out the sound. “I’ll look you up, okay?” She didn’t wait for a reply as she wiped the mirror and headed back to class.
And, obviously, like the puppy, I followed.