She was waiting for him in his bedroom before he even set foot there. “Show off,” he muttered. Before he could even empty his pack he felt two cold lips press the back of his neck.
He turned around. “No!” he said firmly, “I need to do my homework. Just be here in the room with me.”
“No?” she queried gently.
“I have to do my homework.”
“Have to?” He could hear a light giggle.
“Okay, I want to. This is important to me. If I decide to go to college, I’m going to need all the scholarships I can get.” It’s not like it used to be, he thought bitterly. “Let me work, okay?”
“Don’t you want me here?” He caught a note of petulance in her voice.
“Yes I want you here, right here.” Girls, he thought. “Just be here while I do my homework. Be here when I get back from dinner. Be here while I read. Just don’t distract me until I’m ready to be distracted. I’m happy just having you in my room, just knowing you’re here. Happy?”
“Not as happy as I want to be, but okay,” she sighed, “I never cared about my homework as much as you do.” She gave him one last kiss and then drifted over to his bed. She stretched out, floating a bare inch above it, hoping that he’d notice, but he was back to concentrating on his homework.
He was so absorbed in his studying that he did not notice that she’d left until his mother called him to dinner. This bothered him and made him wonder if he’d hurt her feelings. She was back, however, when he’d finished eating and had resumed the last of his studies for the night.
“He’s still gone, Michael. His car’s gone. He’s nowhere in the house and Crazy Girl hasn’t seen or heard anything. It’s been a long time since he’s been gone this long.”
“Maybe he has family or something.” Michael was trying to play devil’s advocate.
“Ugh. No. He just stays in that creepy old house and watches his TV and videos.”
“Videos?” Michael suddenly turned around in his chair, “Did you say videos?” He sank down. “Wow.”
Mariah put his arms around him. “You’re acting like that’s something important.”
“It could be. Depending on what’s on those videos, they could be evidence. If I could get hold of one….” He shook his head. “God, sometimes I wish that there weren’t so many laws. I don’t know what would happen if I could get my hands on one. Maybe they’d think it was my video. Or if I could prove it was his, would I be guilty of breaking and entering? I don’t think I want to know what’s on his videos, but maybe what’s there would be enough for the cops to arrest him. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Michael.” Two cold arms wrapped themselves around him. “For right now, let’s pretend your sister might not be in danger. Finish your homework. Then turn on your TV and come and lay on your bed with me. I’m worrying about what he might be doing and I don’t want to. I just want you to hold me while you fall asleep. I want to watch your face while you dream, and hope that you’re dreaming of nothing but me.”
He smiled at her and kissed her, then went back to working on his geometry. For right now, a little thing like math homework was enough to make the world seem normal, was enough to make Short Round’s words seem nonsense. He had to believe she was no demon and that she intended him no harm. To think those things would turn his world upside down, when all he wanted in the midst of this madness was for things to be right.
When at last he put his books down and climbed into bed, she was there with him, holding him through the covers. He drew her to him and began to kiss her, starting with her lips, then her forehead, moving down to her neck.
He traced the line of her shoulders with his fingers, wondering at the way he could actually feel her, that she could be so solid. He ran his hands down her hip, feeling how it curved into her thigh.
He sighed. His adolescent hormones wanted much more, but just by being there she made him happy. He was considered a gentleman by the girls in his school and more highly regarded than he realized. Some of the guys he knew were no longer virgins, but at fifteen he wasn’t ready. His parents had instilled values in him that taught him to respect others—and to always treat woman with dignity.
It wasn’t just self denial. When he sheltered her in his arms he felt like he was protecting her from the memories of all that had happened to her before. Holding her, kissing her, touching her, intoxicated him. One look at him from her beautiful eyes, and he felt helpless. That was all the happiness he needed.
It was two days before he went back to the skate park. As he’d expected, Short Round and Dewey were there. Dewey greeted him and held up his fist in salute. Short Round saw him, and turned his head away. Mike responded to this 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 felt a glimmer of hope that maybe he could. Maybe things would be right between them again. He didn’t want the friendship to end.
It felt good to be back on his skateboard. The feeling of freedom returned that had been gone over the past few days. This was what he wanted, this feeling of flying. He was good, he knew he was good, and he was only going to get better if that was the path he chose. He could see himself, promoting his skate boards, t-shirts, knee-pads, and gloves; signing autographs. Maybe even creating games in his name for X-Box or Nintendo.
He was so caught up in the image of his picture-perfect dream that he didn’t realize that he’d leaned too far back as he was turning, and the exit he’d visualized from his last jump turned into a fall. He crashed down on his side, the side of his head hitting hard against his skateboard.
“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 moved and tried to get up, but his head started spinning and he collapsed back on the ground and closed his eyes. He wanted to go to sleep, but Dewey kept shaking him, saying, “No, no, you’ve got to stay awake!”
It wasn’t until he heard the sirens and was lifted onto a stretcher that he started to let go of consciousness. The paramedics kept trying to talk to him, but any attempt to talk made his head start hurting. He cooperated when they 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 heard Mariah’s voice in his head. “You might have a concussion, you have to stay awake. Please Michael.”
This new form of communication with her pleased him, in spite of his hurting head and body. All he had to do was think and she could hear him. He could talk to her now and no one would have to hear. Maybe he didn’t even have to stay awake now. He didn’t realize he was half delirious, and did not think as to how this had happened.
“Come on kid, don’t go out on us.” He heard the voices and 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.”
“Because it’s not as fun,” he thought and smiled. At that moment he looked up and caught one of the paramedics’ eyes and realized he hadn’t actually heard anyone talking, but he’d heard them thinking. This could definitely be interesting.
A ride through the streets in the ambulance, then the gurney crashed through the doors and he was wheeled into the ER. Someone was asking him a bunch of questions that he couldn’t really answer while nurses removed his clothing. Everyone word he spoke made his head hurt, couldn’t they understand that?
But suddenly his mother was there, and she was doing the hard work for him. He could hear the thoughts racing in her mind as she answered the questions; looking frantically to the bed, blue eyes full of worry. She looked like his guardian angel and he smiled at her while he tried to close his eyes without their knowing.
“No you don’t Mike,” his mother said. She took hold of his hand and squeezed. “Stay awake. Keep your eyes open. They think you have a concussion and are taking you to do some x-rays and a CT scan. Don’t you go and fall into a coma on me, hear? I can’t do without you Mikey.” And she started to cry.
His head was thoroughly spinning by the time they brought him back from Radiology. His father and sister were there now, along with Dewey. At least one friend hadn’t abandoned him. His mom must have brought him. But where was Short Round?
He heard Mariah’s soothing voice in his head while they were talking about him. “It’s all right now. You’re going to have to stay here tonight. I’ll be with you, don’t worry.” He couldn’t feel her presence, but her voice reassured him.
Suddenly the dizziness made his stomach heave. A quick thinking nurse grabbed an emesis basin and held his head while he threw up. He lay back down, feeling embarrassed; but the nurse touched his head gently, telling him it was okay. His mother and father kissed him goodbye and Dewey made a quiet kissing noise with his mouth.
“Go away jerk, it hurts to laugh.” It hurt tremendously to say it, but Dewey’s gesture did more than anything else to make him feel that things would be all right. All he had to do was put up with a head that felt like an ax murderer had struck him; keep from throwing up; and not go to sleep—which he wanted to do more badly than anything else.
Now that his family and Dewey had left, he could hear Mariah again. “Be good, Michael. What will I do if I lose you?” Her voice was plaintive, almost pleading.
“It’s just a concussion. I’m not going to die.”
“Just a concussion?” Anger in her voice this time. “They’re going to keep waking you up all night to make sure you don’t go into a coma. You and your stupid skateboard—you’re going to get yourself killed!”
Something came to him out of nowhere. “Mariah?”
“Yes?”
“Go to the house really quick and see if his car is back,”
“Now? Are you crazy?”
“Yes I’m crazy, if saying it makes you happy. But go to his house and then come back.” He paused a moment. “I think he just came home.”
“How do you know that?”
“I heard him. I don’t know how but suddenly I just heard him. Just like I hear you. Do this for me, okay? I promise, I’ll be good and cooperate for the rest of the night. I need to know if I’m right.”
He felt light, cold lips brush his forehead. Then he suddenly sensed that she was no longer in the room with him, and it felt suddenly empty in spite of the people bustling around him.
“You’re right, he’s back”. She was suddenly lying next to him, invisible to everyone else. “And there’s something not right about this—his car smelled, well, funny. But I can’t tell you what it smelled like.”
“I knew it,” he thought, “He’s done something, Mariah, but we don’t know what or where.” He wanted to put his arms around her, but couldn’t. Instead she just curled up around him so that he could feel her next to him.
They came to wake him a regular intervals. All he wanted was to sleep, but he knew about comas and cooperated as best he could. When they’d leave, Mariah would cuddle up next to him again, soothing him.
They finally left him alone at dawn, as the hospital started to come alive. Orderlies came and he was moved to a regular room to free up his bed in the ER. They brought him breakfast, even though he didn’t have the stomach to eat it. Mariah persuaded him to try, whispering mischievously that if he needed to, he could always throw it up.
He looked at her, suddenly aware that he didn’t feel so good. “You’re a big help. I want to get out of here, not be stuck in here.”
He choked down his breakfast, hoping it wouldn’t some back up. A young doctor came by and looked at his x-rays, shone a penlight in his eyes, then told him he was going to admitted for a couple of days just to make sure nothing went wrong.
Michael fell back and groaned. The doctor laughed and then in a more serious tone told him that he could have avoided most of this if he’d worn a helmet. There was a shoulder injury, too, and he’d need to wear a sling until it stopped hurting. Until then, he was stuck on enforced bed rest so that he wouldn’t lose his balance and fall and injure himself again.
The doctor moved on to the next patient, and Michael was left with nothing to do but feel angry that he hurt himself and that he was stuck in the hospital. He felt like crap, but maybe now they’d let him sleep.
“You okay?” Mariah was suddenly next to him, holding on to him with cold arms.
Michael looked, but could not see her. He had understood her perfectly, but her voice had come from inside his head.
“Michael,” her voice was a soothing caress, “it happened when you hit your head. You were doing it in the ambulance and when they first brought you to the Emergency Room. I didn’t realize that you had no memory of it. Try it now, you can talk to me and no one can hear. That’s the reason I can be with you right now. Just be careful.”
“Will you materialize and kiss me?” In spite of his hurting head, he smiled.
“If I could materialize right now, I’d hit you. Don’t be such a guy.”
It strained his head a little, but he tried one more time. “I think it was easier in the ambulance and the ER. More people milling around, so more things to hear. I don’t think I even have a roommate.”
She sighed. “No, you don’t. Don’t try now. Don’t even try to talk to me. Just sleep. I bet your parents and maybe your friend is coming, so I’ll have to disappear when they do. Right now just let it be you and me. Sleep, Michael, sleep. Sleep and get well.
“I love you Mariah.” The thought came almost on its own.
“Michael, me too. Now go to sleep.” Cold, invisible fingers stroked his forehead and soon he drifted off.
Dewey came and was allowed to stay for a few minutes before the nurse hurried him out. Short Round, however, did not show up. Not even to see how he was. His mother came, though, and brought him some oranges and a little statue that she placed on his table. She patted his head awkwardly, ashamed that her son had not come to see his best friend.
He was feeling really lousy by the time his parents came. His mother’s face was full of worry, despite the fact that the doctor had assured her that he’d been exceptionally lucky and the concussion was much milder than it could have been. His father gave him the inevitable lecture about teenage macho and his refusal to use a helmet. He felt too weak to argue, but gave his dad a thumbs up.
When they left his mom kissed him goodbye, then his father surprised him by kissing the top of his head. He hoped no one was there to see. He was close to his sixteenth birthday and having your father kiss you like you were in kindergarten or something was embarrassing, even when your head was hurting like hell and you got dizzy even when you moved an inch.
He suffered through another hospital dinner, and in the middle of watching TV, Mariah pressed herself against him, and he took comfort from her presence.
He was more than ready when the nurse came to switch off his light. The television screen was starting to make his head ache and concentrating on the programs was making the dizziness worse. It was much better to lay his head on his pillow and drift off, taking comfort in the fact that Mariah was close by.”
He started dreaming early in the morning while his room was still dark. At first, all seemed normal. The nurse came in to check on him, but, on closer inspection, he realized the she had Mariah’s face. The fingers she lay on his forehead were not cold, but uncomfortably warm, almost hot, and her hair seemed to writhe about her like the snakes on a Medusa’s head.
She turned her face to him and stuck out a long tongue. The lovely blue eyes had turned crimson red and as she exhaled she blew out a tongue of fire. Then she began to laugh and laugh, and the laugh was so full of evil and malice that he tried to shut it out, putting his hands over his ears.
“NO!” he shouted, and sat up. He shook himself out of his nightmare, something he had learned to do while very young. He sat in his bed and shook, cursing Short Round for what he had told him, still not wanting to believe him, but now an inner voice was asking “what if?”
Mariah immediately materialized, and he remembered his dream and recoiled from her involuntarily. She saw the look of horror on his face and immediately disappeared, and Michael could no longer feel her presence.
“No,” he moaned, “Mariah, no. It was only a dream. Where are you? Damn you Short Round!”
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Ok, WOW! This chapter is just pure power! This is amazingly good!
His little fight with Mariah about homework, the typical female pouting, guy reaction: Just don’t distract me until I’m ready to be… But with Michael’s usual perceptiveness that he puts demands on her too—this is masterful!
Its sexy too! His thoughts about her, all that, well done! Teen girls are going to be breathless over this story (Edward? Whose Edward? What vampire?) Just my opinion, but I think its a page turner.
Accident scene—new form of communication: rocks! Amazingly good treatment of this ghost-girlfriend thing. I’m feeling absolutely sappy, fantardy over it!
(We can also see Mariah’s care for Michael very clearly, and get the impression that she’s not a danger to him, wants to save his life… Don’t go to sleep, etc).
Plus—good, smooth foreshadowing and plot interweaving about the man…
Ha! ...Don’t be such a guy! Mariah characterization is as good as Michael’s by the way. I love her!
Whoa! Medusa dream! Hot, scary! Very powerful writing! This is a shiny chapter-end! If I had more, I wouldn’t be able to stop reading.
I can’t lay on enough (heartfelt) praise right now.
**This is a VERY effective chapter. I didn’t get as detailed with what I liked, etc, my impressions while reading, because I was too caught up in it.
Kate—drop everything else and write this babay! It is a winner (in my humble opinion).
THIS BOOK! This one…
I’m thinking he’d have a thought about making Kit was home ok. Not to spend a lot of time on it, but after the nightmare he had the night before (CH 3), and the exchange in her room when she got home the day before (CH 2), I think he should at least look in on her.
I don’t think you need to tell us Michael is playing devil’s advocate – we can tell by the dialogue.
He sighed… this begins an introspection, so I don’t think the “even more than he knew” is appropriate. If he doesn’t know, how can he be thinking it? I don’t think a change in POV is necessary, he speaks/thinks well enough for himself. His reflection on his values makes it clear enough for the reader.
“he felt helpless” Can you build on this? You’ve just said he feels protective, then followed up with feeling helpless, which are either contradictory, or unexplained, and neither truly relate to the emotion of happiness. Content? Fulfilled? Satisfied? What was he helpless about?
“Mike responded to this by getting ready to leave.” Rephrase? Mike responded by starting to leave.
I’d like more build-up of the accident. Did he see stars, feel like his skull cracked, smell or feel blood? What about the nausea and blurred vision and unclear thinking, confusion and loss of memory, etc. that comes with a head injury? Can he feel his other limbs? I also think it would be fun for Mr. Perfect Hair to have a passing thought about combing his hair. It would be appropriate to include helmets in his daydream about promoting his safety equipment. Make me worry about him. Being okay is predictable; make me think there’s a possibility he might be joining Mariah.
“…he started to let go…” I would say that’s the point he stopped fighting unconsciousness. This makes it sound as if he had a choice, and if the concussion is bad enough, there really isn’t a choice.
“half delirious” is awkward for me, personally. Be willing to go all the way, or not at all. I wouldn’t change POV. Just let it be a curiosity to the reader. Too much explanation removes us from the interaction.
In the ER, there’s talk of both mom and dad, but no mention of Kit. Does it occur to him to worry about her or whether she’s alone?
There are missed words and spelling issues, but I’m not bothering – I’m not sure you’re ready for the surgical review, right?
I don’t get Mariah telling him to “be good.” What does that have to do with losing him? Maybe expound on what she means or just have her tell him get better.
“enforced bed rest” as opposed to “unenforced bed rest” is odd to me. I’d just go with “forced bed rest”
ER vs. emergency room. You’ve used it both ways – I’d choose one and stick with it.
“His mother came, though.” I’d make it more clear that this is Short Round’s mother, not Mike’s. It’s a little hazy.
In spite of it all, I felt the end was a little melodramatic. Like he’s shaking his fist in the air as he shouts ‘Damn you, Short Round!’ Might just be me. Feels overdone.
Excellent forward progress!
sometimes i feel like i’m not giving the best critique when i don’t have a lot of specific things to slam. but if the piece is good and nothing stands out as a glaring mistake, will you still feel like you have wasted the 5000 credits it took to unlock this?
i thought this was an interesting, fast paced read. i’m not a lazy person but i’m behaving as one, for the moment. i didn’t read the previous chapters, just jumped in and started reading. having done that, i really like this story and i’m not a young adult. the idea is fresh and interesting and i will go back and get caught up. i like supernatural stories (not vampires and wolves) so i was immediately intrigued with the idea of a ghost as a character. i don’t really know what the back story is, but i’m certainly interested enough to find out.
so…dialogue was natural, maybe setting could have been a bit better-now that i think of it- all i remember is that there were posters on the wall of michael’s room. i like his character and mariah’s (always loved that name) and i want to know what’s going on with them and if her murder will be solved. this reminds me of a series of books called the Ghost Squad i used to read as a teen. heard of them? i vaguely remember a group of ghosts and a live character would solve mysteries and prevent bad things from happening to good people.
“Damn you Short Round!” sounds a bit cliche. i imagine he’s shaking an angry fist skyward when he does this. i understand the sentiment but maybe find another way to say it? ex.: Short Round’s warning seared his brain and he couldn’t shake the thought. ”Damn you!”
His thoughts once again drifted to Short Round’s words. He shook his head, negated the thought that Mariah could not be what she seemed. “You’re wrong, Short Round. Dead wrong.” Get it? Dead? lol.
“He had to believe she was no demon and…” a little clearer? ”He had to believe she was not a demon…”
“His father lost his job and had to accept a lower paying one, and eventually his parents could not keep up the mortgage and lost their house.” so nice to start with a kind subject like this which pictures the days of our tim.
“His adolescent hormones wanted much more, but just by being there she made him happy.” agian, it’s a lovely way to bring both the world of fantasy and reality togather in this way. I was drawn into the right from the start. It’s good.
“He started dreaming early in the morning while his room was still dark.” this too, is quite real, beacause you mostly drean in the morning, or when you are in a shalow slpeap – I think! I like to read more
After reading the fourth chapter I’m happy to say that you still have my interest, I want to read more.
Keep going with this one.
Their were a few grammatical errors in their so just run through, you’ll find them.
Thanks for sharing
Jodie
He didn’t notice her leave the room? hmmmmm. what is he, a savant?
I don’t think you have to say michael was playing devil’s advocate. he is, we can tell.
I wish i had a girlfriend like this.
I’ve never met a 15 year old boy that didn’t want to have sex. and i was one, a fifteen year old, that is. i guess that’s why they call it fiction.
too little description of the fall. i want to hear the skull strike something and make a dull thud, or spume of blood, or something. more description here please.
your narrative is rock solid. but description, more more. despite his hurting head and body could be tremulous consciousness, blurred and foggy, and the sickening nausea blah blah blah, you get what i’m saying.
how do you divide delirium in half?
reverie: a state of dreamy meditation or fanciful musing. does this fit what he’s going through? ersatz miasma. maybe? dunno on short notice.
this could definitely be interesting. that’s what the reader would think, but what would he think? i’d think: i hope this guy starts daydreaming about his wife’s best friend’s underwear. oops, young adult fiction, i forgot. hee hee.
why would she tell him to be good? he’s in a hospital bed for chrisakes. how do you be bad in a hospital bed? push the nurse button too often?
they came to wake him a regular intervals. at.
he was going to admitted. he was going to BE admitted
you got some quotes at the end of Mariah being close by, and no one’s talking.
“Damn you all to hellllll!” is this a charlston heston shout out?
nice boys shouldn’t flirt with demons.
anywho, very good! i’m nit picking because obviously you have the basics down. now it’s time to dance! keep on keepin on!
I like this story. It feels different. Your writing style is clear and light and I don’t feel you forcing the story, it is just unraveling naturally. You are keeping out of the way as a writer and allowing the characters total free expression and it is they who are telling the story.
Strangely, or is it only me, but there is something delightfully erotic about a tactile love affair between a ghost and flesh and blood guy. I am enjoying that aspect of the story very much and the characters work well together and I think you as the writer can have a lot of fun here – very believable… As for the other aspects of the story lines, this section doesn’t offer enough to comment, but I intend to read more.
If I am to be critical at all it would be on the skateboarding scene where I had to re-read the bit where he crash lands as that wasn’t clear on the first read. My suggestion would be to develop the scene more and have him doing some tough tricks and then crashing. It needs more build up.
Thanks for this, I will look out for more…
“choked down his breakfast, hoping it wouldn’t some back up” should be “come back up”
I have quite enjoyed the story. Your characters are full and well developed the plot or story – line moves along quite freely and invites the reader to continue – pulling them in even. I am impressed with what I have read so far.
Who is crazy girl? I have read the other chapter. I don’t remember her, sorry.
Waht happened to Ghost girl, Marian? How did she die. Will you reveal that to the reader soon? Thank you for adding the part about how the boy was respectful to the girl and did not make love or have sex with her. You did a good job here.
Michael, Michael?” Mariah’s anxious face swam in front of him, only to morph into Dewey saying, “Mikey, Mikey, I’ve called the paramedics.” Wonderful transition. I like how ghost girls face morphed into Dewey’s. You are such a good writer. I am impresed.
and her hair seemed to writhe about her like the snakes on a Medusa’s head. great line. i love it!
Good descriptive dream. Good, good . good. Oh you might want ot take out the word damn if young adults are going to be reading it. I don’t want to waste your points i will email, later ok. Sandi
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