Chapter 9: Teaching and screeching

It was my teacher, my spanish teacher. Mr. Gerow, he had stayed late, probably grading papers or something. He seemed harmless in his classroom, after hours. Not like somebody who...who...I can't quite remember what he did to me but...he was there. I remember him being there before I died.

Now that I think of it, he killed me didn't he. He did something to me...something else. That bastard. I wonder how he feels now, knowing I am out there dead becuase of him.

Or that was my distant memory of the night. I knew that's what happened though, I just had to. I had an instinct.

I walked up to the window to his classroom. Hate was filling up in me for some unknown reason. A memory.

"I hate you," I muttered," I HATE YOU!" I yelled as I threw a rock at the window, making a loud sound. Mr Gerow looked up startled. I had did something. I had did something! He noticed! I can do things and people can notice!!!

So I threw another rock, and that one he noticed too. So it wasn't a conicidence...

If I could only remember the night....I knew I would need to retrace my steps though. I knew I had come to the school for a reason, and if I had been drawn to the school tonight while driving with Simon. It's likely I was around that area the night too...right?

Chapter 8: The magic shoes

We had hit something, a pair of shoes. As I made my way around the car I noticed them, two yellowish golden shoes, maybe even brown. Either way I recognized them right away. They were mine. The night I disappeared, I'm surprised they were still there, it hadn't been long, but still, you'd think they would have been gone by now.

Simon went over and inspected them. They had blood speckled over them in different places. The images started flooding back to me like a knife piercing through me. Painful.

Obviously Simon thought this meant something because he put them in his car. I looked down at my feet, no shoes on, and my feet were pretty beaten up. From running. I remember now.

"This is what we need to solve this, more evidence," I muttered realizing what this meant, "We can find my-er- murderer! Or whoever it is!" I shouted happily.

"Hmmmm," Simon murmered putting the shoes in the backseat. I sat back in the passanger seat watching Simon carefully. He didn't know what this meant. I could help him though....If only I had a picture of me wearing the shoes....

The party pictures! But Marissa had them, or Jared or someone. That last night of my life I went to a party wearing those shoes! If I'm lucky they will be in one of the shots of me in them. If only one of them could confess to the party and show the pictures. Of course if they did that though they would get in trouble. If I could piece the night back together before though....

But it was all a blur. I could only remember so much, and I'm useless, I need a living and breathing person with memory of the night to confess to my murder.

Simon drove down the road calmly passing my high school at one point. The place I was supposed to still be going to. When we reached a stoplight, I got out of the car and walked up to it.

"Bye, Simon," I muttered as I left him and went up to the school. I knew it was a stupid thing to do but something was drawing me to it.

And as I walked up to the side of the school, I saw a classroom's lights on. My old class, with my old teacher...

Chapter 7: Following

Soon after my realization, Simon had decided to call it a night. But the thing was, I didn’t want it to be over. So I did the only reasonable thing for a dead person to do. I followed Simon home, I sat in the passenger seat of his car. On the way out though I noticed Simon slip something into his briefcase, my notebook. The battered old thing I had started when I was 10. He had taken it.
“Are you planning on taking that?” I joked as I got into the passenger seat of his car. Why would he even want to see that book. Would it even help solve the case? Of course I got no response, but I was used to it now.
Simon started up the car and groaned, soon his old Jetta car started up. Soon I got to experience his music. Elliot Smith.
“I really like his music,” I said lightly as I closed my eyes and started humming to Waltz #2 (XO). Apparently Simon really liked it too because he started singing along to it. Nothing too fancy, not to loud either.
“I feel calm around you ya’ know,” I started telling Simon, “I would really like to be your friend. I could be your guardian angel. I could protect you from all that’s bad. Save you from your nightmares. You can’t hear me but I can hear you. And to tell you the truth I think you are my only friend right now. You may not know me, and I don’t know you. But you don’t need to know people to be their friend. So…could you be my friend?” I stammered on babbling. One thing I couldn’t control was my habit of talking on and on. But now it didn’t matter because no one could hear me.
Then it happened. There was a thud. The car shook. We had hit something.
“Shit,” Simon cursed as he abruptly stopped his car and went around to look at what we had hit. We were taking a short cut through the woods so it might have been an animal.

Chapter 6: Bonding

Watching Simon work made me feel calm. Better about myself. Knowing someone cared, if only I could show him how much I appreciated everything he is doing. My parents much rather just nip this case in the bud and not find me. I was always a disappointment to them anyways. I guess it is for the best that I am gone.
It was about midnight now and Simon was still going over my files. My dental records, even old pictures my parents had sent him. But some of the strangest things they had sent over were my Ipod (yes my Ipod) and my journal.
Simon kept eying my journal all night, as if all he wanted to do was read it.
“Go on, I don’t mind,” I whispered, watching over his shoulder as he looked over my child hood pictures. The one he was looking at was when I was 5, I was sitting next to Thomas and my parents my little brother and sister hadn’t been born yet. I remember sitting on the creaky bench, stubbornly waiting to get off and play. I looked so silly, wearing the puffy flower dress my parents had bought just for the occasion. I could still remember the horrible rash it gave me. Simon chuckled as he put that picture down.
He picked up the next one, I was 7 in that one. It was my school picture, I wasn’t as squirmy that day, but I wasn’t quite excited either. I had sat there, waiting for my picture to be taken. I was a little annoyed, the photographer kept on telling me to tilt my head and move around (he even messed around with my hair and outfit). By the time he was done he had told me to smile mouth closed and ever so slightly. Of course as soon as he was ready I showed my crooked teeth and beamed widely, actually happy at that moment. Just looking at that picture made me smile. The photographer wasn’t allowed to do re-dos so I was stuck with that picture (thankfully).
The next picture in the pile was me when I was twelve. Awkward as ever. I was at the beach with my family building a sand castle. That day I had gotten a sun burn. There I was kneeling over the castle ever so slightly, in that picture my teeth weren’t as bad but I had some small blemishes and that didn’t make me feel anymore confident than I already was.
Simon then went to the next picture, a recent one where I was 17 (my current age I guess you could say). I was standing next to Thomas in the doorway. It had been the first day of school. My parents were always obsessed with taking pictures of the family. I was leaning one arm on Thomas and tilting my head smiling happily. Thomas was smiling too, but he still had his hands in his pockets and he looked pretty stiff. I remember why were actually smiling that day, we had made some joke about how screwed up our family was and how we should just both run away to Gigi’s house. Gigi is what we had called our great-grandmother when we were little. We had always went to her house when we were little up to the age of 4 when she passed away. It was tragic for us, we had grown up in that house. Our parents owned that house but never visited or cleaned out the house, it was in the same condition. Good enough to live in still.
Thinking back at all these memories made me want to cry. This was it. It was over. Even though I have quite a few memories that I am happy I have experienced, I wish I could live a little bit longer. Make a few more.
I could tell Simon felt awkward about all of this too because he stopped looking at the pictures and picked up my Ipod. He went over to some drawer and pulled out an Ihome. He then put the Ipod in and turned it on. He hit shuffle and the light sounds of Sufjan Stevens came on. Simon had a stern look on his face that soon evaporated when he heard this song.
“To be Alone With You,” Simon murmured in deep thought.
“You already are,” I spoke up as I held back some laughs.
“Well then,” Simon said to himself, “Let’s see what Natalie listens to,” Simon then went through the artists and started clicking on certain songs.
You Never Give Me my Money by the Beatles soon came on.
“Wow, she’s a Beatles fan,” Simon laughed. As he lounged back and closed his eyes. Soon enough he was humming along to it. I couldn’t help but laugh at this. What was he doing?
Next he put on Self-Taught Learner by Lissy Trullie. He started air-guitaring the song.
“Are you serious!” I giggled trying to stifle back the happiness in me. What was he doing?
“Oh no!” Simon said grinning widely. Soon Otis Redding’s Try a Little Tenderness came spilling through the speakers and I couldn’t help but blush. Back when I was 13 I had an obsession with the movie Pretty in Pink, and in one scene a character dances to this song. I don’t care how this song is though, because when I heard it, I fell in love with it. Now it is my guilty pleasure to listen to it.
“Didn’t peg me for Otis did you?” I joked for the first time in awhile. Being in that room with Simon late at night listening to Otis Redding made me forget the bad for a second and enjoy the moment. But still, I had this dying urge to take Simon by the hand and dance with him in the middle of the room. But then reality set in that I couldn’t do that, and Simon couldn’t hear me.

Chapter 5: I'm right here!

"When is the last time you've seen Natalie?" Simon Withers, the man assigned to my case asked my parents. They were going to finally look for me, and I was right next to them, waiting.
"Well, she comes and goes pretty regularly," my mother said sniffling. Such an actress.
"And you probably don't remember or care do you?" I said crossing my arms. As soon as she starts to look bad she cares, but either than that I was always the "other" child. The "mistake".
"Mrs. Barnes," Simon said narrowing his gaze at her, "Do you or do you not know the date you last saw your daughter?"
"Go on mom, tell him," I said nudging her.
"Two days, maybe three, it's hard to remember," my mother said straightening up and looking at my father for help.
"Two days," my father nodded in agreement.
"Well finally you two can agree on something," Simon stared on coldly. I smiled. Someone was finally here to help.
"Thank you Simon, or Mr. Withers. What would you prefer?" I joked walking over to his side and leaning on his desk. I knew he could find me, even I didn't know where my body was.
"Do you have a healthy relationship with Natalie? Why does she 'come and go'?" Simon tried to dig deeper.
"No," I said but at the same time my parents said "yes," in unison. I shot a dirty look at them. What were they talking about?
"Would you say that her coming and going has to do with you two?" Simon leaned forward as I copied him.
"Mom and Dad, would you like to tell the good man the truth now?" I asked cocking my head.
"No," my father said rubbing my mother's shoulders, I could tell they were both tense.
"Must I remind you, you should probably be honest with me. You are an essential piece to finding your daughter, you are holding us back," Simon said jotting down notes.
"Yes, yes, why don't you tell him the truth?" I said laughing, there was no response, "No! No! Of course you won't though! Because you don't care about your daughter!" I was laughing hysterically now. Looking at them tense up. I got up and went right up to them and looked them in the eyes, "You cowards," I hissed smiling at them.
"How dare you!?" my mother stood up and gathered her things, "You should be ashamed, come on," she signaled my father to follow.
"No mom! You should!" I said following after them but they were going to fast. Out of my reach now. I looked back at Simon who was shaking his head sadly. I walked back to him and put my hand on his shoulder, he didn't flinch, "Looks like it's just you and me."

Chapter 4: questioning existing

I answered the ghostly questions in a book about ghosts in a book store. After a few questions I grabbed the book and left though. I'm sure no one else was going to buy it anyways. Outside in the town square the big clock rung twelve. I had been dead for half a day now, but gone for a full two days. What did that mean? Would I stay like this forever? Would I just drift by til the world ended. Or would I still be alive then or erm, dead? What could I possibly do in that time? Observe other people having fun? Learn? Nothing sounded too appealing to me. But hey, that's what I get for being bad right? Across the street I though I saw my mom and dad walking into the local police station. Were they finally reporting me being missing? No they couldn't. They think I was home last night. Maybe if I just follow them.
By the time I caught up to them they were chatting away, "Honey, Natalie is always out, she never listens," my father argued madly.
"Yes, but she should at least have the decency to tell us she's alive!"
"Sorry I can't mom, I'm kinda DEAD," I spat out realizing they couldn't hear me either.
"Well, she's a teenager, maybe she just hates us!"
"No I don't!" I begged.
"Well, let's just inform the police that they should keep an eye out for her, she's always wandering around here, if we're lucky, she's in this very town square," my mother said holding back tears like she always did. She never cried.
"Mom, I'm right here," I said putting my hand on her shoulder. She shook it off. Could she feel me?
"Let's just go," My mother said adjusting her purse and scurrying into the station.
"Well hello mister and Mrs. Barnes," a portly old police bellowed adjusting his belt as he waddled over here, I chuckled, he reminded me of Santa Claus, but then again he probably was the man who always dressed up on Christmas in this town. He stuck out his hand but my parents, being rude as always, declined.
"Mr. Gregory, we need Simon," my mother said stiffly smiling.
"Alright then," Mr. Gregory said in a raspy chuckle as he blew his whistle to get Simon's attention. Simon walked out.
"Hello," my father muttered, "We would like to file a missing persons report."

Chapter 3: Interview

Q: What is it like to be one of the "undead"?
Natalie: I can't describe it really. I guess neutral though. Never sleepy, never awake. Never happy or sad. I never need anything. I can't really feel anything either. I haven't really figured anything out yet so I can just simply say that I'm neutral.

Q: Any pyhsical changes?
Natalie: No. Anyone who says when you become a ghost and says you lose your color or can fly, that's a myth. You look exactly the same as the moment you died. I guess from there on you cannot change. There might be a difference, like no one can notice you but that's it. Oh and I'm pretty sure you no longer have a heart.

Q: Well, what do you believe?
Natalie: Nothing.