Chapter Two

My bones didn’t break. My skin wasn’t scratched or torn. My entire being remained intact. Nothing happened. I didn’t feel a thing. I simply dropped to the ground, my face smacking against the dirt, with my arms and legs spread out everywhere. There wasn’t even a sound caused by my impact. And as I sat up, I saw there were not any marks from where my body had been.

Half of me was drastically relieved for there being no pain, while the other was disappointed. The fall only confirmed the fact that I could not feel anything. Was I alive again?

No. That much was obvious. If I hadn’t felt the impact of the ground meeting me, and there were no signs of it on the ground, than there was certainly no possible way I had life in me. I sat down, legs crossed, to think some more. It was the approach I’d always taken when presented with an obstacle, or a puzzle of some sort.

I was not alive. I had not been given back my life. Probably never would, if I was honest with myself. No one had ever come back from the dead. At least, not from what I knew. Of course there were the bible stories, but I had not been raised to take stock in such tales.

So why was I there? For what purpose had I been let out of the tunnel? Did I have “unfinished business”? That’s what I’d heard was the reason for ghosts to stick around. They had one last task they wanted done.

Ghosts. The word shocked me. For that was what I was, I realized. I was a ghost. An apparition. The notion struck me that I needed to see someone. I needed to find a person, and stand in front of them. Speak to them. Then I would know for sure.

I hurriedly stood, brushing myself off. I was wearing my favorite pair of white caprice, and a navy-blue tank. At least I was wearing nice clothes when I died, I thought dryly. And to think, I thought as I walked towards the dirt road I spotted alongside the field, all of this began with that apple. An apple I never even got to finish.

Only a few cars were driving by when I stood on the curb. None of them stopped. None of them glanced at me. But what reason did they have to? If they really could see me, I would appear as a normal teenage girl.

Then I did something that I had never done before. Something that I never would have done if I had not been half-desperate and half-mad.

I cried for no particular reason.

I plopped down on the curb, buried my face in my hands, and sobbed violently. My shoulders shook for effect, and I tried to look tiny and vulnerable.

Still no one stopped. I stood, frowning, not wanting to believe. Perhaps this road was just full of heartless people, who didn’t want to stop and help a poor girl. I pulled down my tank to get the wrinkles out, and began to walk down the sidewalk. I would go into the city and speak to someone there.

It wasn’t as far as I thought it would be. I saw it in the distance only after a few minutes. The cars became more numerous, and no one even looked my way while I walked. But I would not allow despair to rule me; perhaps they only thought I was walking home, and needed no help.

The first building I passed was an adult bookstore. Even with my urgency to speak to someone, anyone, I did not go in. Mother and Father, though not religious, had had certain ideals, and taught them to me.

But the next store I did go into. It was a coffee shop. My mother’s favorite one: Caribou Coffee. I personally was a Starbucks girl, but I wasn’t going to be picky at that moment.

I walked up to the register. There was a guy behind it, possessing several tattoos on his neck and many shiny earrings down his ear. “Hello!” I said loudly, slapping my hands on the counter with nervousness and hope.

He didn’t react. I felt panic beginning to take root, and I leaned over. “I want coffee!” I shouted urgently.

Again, nothing.

Fury took place of my desperation. I reached over and punched the man with as much force as I could muster. I’d never hit anyone in my life, and I wasn’t used to shouting. But I did both. And the guy just turned away, putting a mug in the sink behind him. My hand went right through him. I blinked. It was so final, so absolute. I really was dead. I really was a ghost. No one could, ever would, hear me. Because who could hear someone that was dead?

Then a wild idea took hold of me. I would find a medium! Weren’t they supposed to communicate with the deceased? Weren’t they supposed to have abilities of hearing spirits?

Excitement and hope filled me once more, and I left the tattooed man and Caribou Coffee behind. I had no idea where I was, or where I would find a medium, but I didn’t care. I didn't even know the true reason for searching out a medium. For once, all practicality had left me, abandoned me in a flourish of a new idea, and I couldn’t think enough to call it back.

As I walked, where people should have brushed me, they didn’t. An elbow flew in my face, but went right on through. A purse, where it should have smacked against my stomach, didn’t. Fresh curiosity filled me then. Why was it that I could touch the ground, and counters, but not people?

I didn’t have time to think or wonder about it, because just then, a person was heading right at me. I didn’t swerve, and, of course, neither did they. They couldn’t see me—or so I thought.

And a collision was made.

“Oomph!” I grunted, though I didn’t feel anything. The other person flew straight back and hit the sidewalk. I stared at the person in shock. It was a girl, looking to be about my own age. How…? Wild hope consumed me, and I beamed at her. Maybe I wasn’t dead, after all!

She, on the other hand, was glaring at me. “Watch it!” she snapped.

I sputtered, so shocked was I.

The girl rolled her eyes, standing again. I felt as if we were the only two in the world, and that the busy people around us didn’t exist.

“I-I-I d-didn’t—” was my intelligent response.

She stepped past me. “Newbies,” she said disdainfully. “So annoying.”

The girl was walking away! I couldn’t let her leave without some sort of explanation! “Wait!” I called frantically, following her. She didn’t stop,

“Please—” I touched her arm, and she yanked it away.

“Don’t come near me, you freak!” the girl snapped. “Jeez, just leave me alone!”

Then she ran. I stared at her for an instant, and then bounded determinedly after her. I chased her across a street, and actually ran right through a bus. I lost sight of her briefly, and then couldn’t find her; she must have dashed into a crowd of people, or a building.

I was alone again.