In My Head chap 3

um, I just read a book that was told in present tense, so lately I've been catching myself using this in my story. I just read over this chapter and I think I got everything straightened out, but I might have missed something, so if anyone catches it, please let me know oh yea, and the V on my keyboard hasn't been working, so if a word looks really weird or something, it's not because I can't spell lol and um the italics aren't working and stuff, so I put these lil things: < and >. so if you come across these, they're meant to be italics

ok here it is:

"Wait! Zane!" I cried in panic. How dare he just come and go like that without so much as a warning? It wasn't fair. I felt anger bubbling up inside of me, coupled with embarrassment. Was this his way of rejecting me?

"What? I'm right here," came his reply.

"Oh," I exhaled in relief. [/i]Oh stop it. He can't reject you anyways. He's a ghost, a nothing. You and he have no possibilities. [/i]

"So is that my name, Zane?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yeah. I didn't know for sure at first, but now that I've seen you, I-"

"Wait. You can see me?" His voice rose and octave higher and I laughed. "I could, not anymore. Didn't you do that on purpose?"

"No... but that's so cool! Geez, finally! Oh crap, I don't know how I did it either. This sucks!" he said, letting out a sigh. "And why am I at your house? Shouldn't I be at mine? And why can't anyone but you see me?" he continued. I shrugged. "Did we used to know each other?"

"No, we never met.," I replied sadly.

"Aw, man. I was hoping you could tell me about myself," he said equally sad. But not for the same reason, unfortunately.

I chose my words carefully. "Well, what would you like to know?"

He began drilling me about his parents, home life, if he had any pets, what was school like? I answered as best I could. "Do my parents miss me?" he asked quietly.

"Of course they do. Horribly," I added. My comforter was then released from the pressure of his weight (or whatever it was, since he was a ghost) and rose slowly to its previous height. Now I had no idea where Zane was, since nothing in my room was being touched; everything was eerily still and quiet. I scooted backwards until my back was leaning against the wall behind me and my legs stuck straight off the side of my bed.

I heard his suddenly smiling voice from the center of my room. "Tell me more about me."

"You hae to tell me what you want to know first."

"Did I have any friends?"

"Oh yeah. You were pretty popular," I assured him.

"You're just saying that," he argued.

"No, I swear I'm not. Why do you think we never met? Popular people don't talk to people like me." Except to say "you're welcome" when they pick up your pencil. He was quiet for a few minutes before saying, "What do you mean, people like you?"

I shrugged. "You know, weird people. Dorks. Whichever." I was actually okay with fitting in that category. Those kind of things had never bothered me... well, most of the time. Right now, surprisingly, was one of those times. My obsessiveness with a popular guy was what bothered me. My crush on Zane was based entirely on looks. I had never even thought much about his personality. When had I become so shallow?

But that was all it was- a crush.

"You are not a dork. I don't see any weirdness either." he said.

I raised and eyebrow. "Everyone at school sees it. They're all either goth and emo, or jock and cheerleader. I am none of those, and you say I'm normal?" I glanced down at my grassy green skirt spread out around me that I had put with a plain white tank top, bright orange scarf, and suede cowboy boots. I loved my style because no one else had it; originality was everything to me. I didn't care how many weird looks I got at school. What I didn't love, however, was my boring brown hair that was impossible to tame, my dull hazel eyes, and my pale, colorless skin. And if you looked closely enough, you might be able to see that I had just a hint of a pug nose, which I loathed.

"Well, yeah. I guess I am. Hey, was I a jock or emo?" he asked. Grateful for a change of subject, I pondered his question of a moment. When I had first seen him sitting on my bed, he had been wearing baggy shorts cut just above the knee, frayed like they had been cut from pants, a bob Marley tee shirt, soccer socks, and berkinstalks. "Now that I think about it, you weren't really either."

"I guess that means I'm weird too, huh?" he teased.

"No it's different for you. I don't know how to explain it- it just is. Popularity thing, I guess."

"If that's the case, then why aren't you popular?"

"Hmph, my sister says it's because I'm so antisocial. But the truth is, I just don't to popular," I admitted, then changing the subject,"Okay, do you want to hear more about yourself or not?"

"I guess," he relented. I finished describing our school, and told him about his next soccer game being held in his honor. He fell silent at this, and I continued on about the day the whole school wore Manchester United caps in tribute to him and his favorite soccer team. I told him about the winning soccer ball being dedicated to him. I told him how much everyone missed him, while watching his face glow with contentment.

I blinked, shook my head, and looked again. There he was, sprawled atop bed pillows heaped on the floor in the corner of my room. Arms behind his head, fingers intertwined. legs crossed, he appeared...happy.

He began to notice my wide eyes watching him in disbelief and propped himself up on his elbows. "What are you staring at?"

"Y-you," I stammered. "I can see you again!" I exclaimed, coming out of my trance. , something inside me growled sarcastically. I reminded myself guiltily.

"No way!" he said, a grin creeping into the corners of his mouth, his face lighting up. His perfect face... I snapped my eyes to the wall behind him.

"Uh, yeah, I can," I replied coolly.

"Now what are you looking at?" he asked, twisting around to catch a glimpse of the object of my attention. I realized my mistake and quickly reset my gaze to his own. "Oh, nothing."

I thought sourly. First I get caught staring, now he probably thought I had been lying about seeing him the whole time, looking straight through to the wall. But then again, maybe I was overreacting. I had a tendency to do that whenever I had become nervous or embarrassed.

I took a deep breath and realized he had turned back around. His gaze rested on my own. His warm brown to my dull green. I felt myself falling...