by Sant, Sharon
Before they carry my coffin back outside, the sound system kicks in and plays Lucky by Radiohead. Which is kind of ironic, when you think about it. I’m surprised that mum chose it; she used to go mad when I played it over and over. Once, she threatened to throw my ipod dock out of the window. Radiohead was dad’s favourite band and that was his favourite song. Some of the kids smile in approval but most of the adults look like someone just hurled a hand grenade in through the church window. When the song ends and the vicar says that people can go, they can’t get out quick enough.
‘It’s just so weird, knowing he’s in that box,’ Ingrid says to one of her cronies as they carry my coffin past her, out on the sunny path. If I’d known dying would get her that interested in me, I’d have faked it months ago. It couldn’t have been any less successful than my other attempts to get a date with her. She still looks amazing, even though she’s crying. Her blonde hair is loose today, long and sleek down her back; she’s wearing black from head to toe, like everyone is, but somehow she doesn’t look like someone at a funeral, she just looks hot as hell. She’s a bitch, though, and I don’t know why she’s crying. If anything, it’s her fault there’s a funeral for me at all.
When I’m in the ground, before they fill the hole, everyone takes turns chucking dirt down on the coffin. Mum goes first and Roger’s practically holding her up now as she’s crying so much. Then Roger takes a handful and throws it down. Some of the kids and teachers line up to have a go, but some of them slink away in groups to talk quietly and Ingrid’s gang does that. I don’t know why people throw dirt on coffins. We had to do it when we buried Dad. I never asked Mum why, maybe I should have done. It doesn’t seem like a kind deed here though, it feels sort of symbolic, like this is what everyone thinks of me. It doesn’t seem right to throw dirt at you when you’re dead, even if it is just on your coffin. The vicar says some more stuff about eternal rest and how we all return to the earth. One part of me will, but I wonder what he’d say if he knew that I was watching him right now. I wonder if he’d be calm or if he’d freak out. I’d go for the second option. If Matt and Paulie could talk to me now, we’d be betting on it.
Some people ask Roger if there’ll be a wake. I’m glad when he says no. We had one for Dad, it was horrible. People came round our house and ate a load of sandwiches like there was nothing wrong at all, while my dad was lying in a box, dead. I don’t want people eating sandwiches while I lie in a box dead. Not today.
As I didn’t go straight away, I thought, maybe, after the funeral I would have gone wherever it is that dead people finally go. I’m not sure how long it’s been since the funeral, it’s really hard to keep track of time when each day melts into the next, but I think it’s been maybe two or three weeks. Two or three weeks and I’m still hanging around. Which leaves me wondering when, exactly, you do go. Or if you even go at all? Is there a test or something that you have to pass, a spell or rhyme you have to say, some unfinished business that needs to be sorted? Am I like the plague kids, did I do something really wrong that I have to be punished for, will I be doomed to wander the village for the next gazillion years? Then again, part of me doesn’t like the not knowing what’s waiting for me if I do go.
The other day, I tried to ask this woman in the village about it. She’s named Raven. It’s a weird name, but I don’t think that’s her real one. I never spoke to her once while I was alive but I saw her lots of times. Most of the kids thought she was pretty freaky and kept out of her way. Come to think of it, a lot of the adults did too. She advertises in the paper shop window that she’s a medium but when I went to her the other day she couldn’t hear a thing I said, which leads me to believe that she is making a ton of money for stuff she can’t actually do. People pay this woman to find out about people they’ve lost and she tells them stuff, like if they’re happy or if they have messages to send back from wherever it is that dead people go to, but if it’s not true then she’s a complete hag. If she ever takes a penny from my mum I swear I’ll haunt her forever and I’ll make sure she can bloody well hear me then.
Today I’m actually sitting in assembly at school. What a freak show. But I’m bored and it’s horrible watching Mum cry while she gets rid of my stuff, and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Mr Patel is waffling on about some end of term crap and everyone looks as though they’re falling asleep. I’m falling asleep and I’m dead, I don’t need to sleep. I get up and stand in front of Ingrid. I could totally pull my trousers down and show her everything I’ve got, right in her face, and she wouldn’t be able to do a thing. But she just looks through me, the same as she did when I was alive, and suddenly it doesn’t seem such a funny idea. I look across the line. Matt’s sniggering at something Paulie’s just said. It didn’t take that git long to forget me. I thought he would have been sad for a bit longer than a couple of weeks but every time I see him now, he’s having a right laugh, like I never even existed. In films dead people can make stuff fly at people who annoy them but I can’t even do that. So I just glare at him. But that seems pretty pointless too. No one ever glared someone to death.
I go and stand behind Mr Patel and shout, ‘Patel just farted!’ and I pretend to faint from the smell. Nobody looks at me. I start doing star jumps behind him and pull my face. I do monkey noises, pretend to be a ninja, bomb around the hall screaming my head off. But all that is soon boring too and it drives me mad that nobody knows I’m here. I’m like a shadow; not even that, at least shadows can be seen when the sun is out.
I end up sitting down on the steps of the stage and watch the rows of kids staring through me. That’s even more depressing. It’s just as I decide to leave that I notice something.
Bethany Willis seems to be looking at me. Not just looking, but open mouthed, concentrating on me. I look behind but there’s only me on the steps. Perhaps she’s just having a weird moment. She does that. I’ve never really talked to her, apart from getting her to shift out of the way in the canteen, but I know she’s weird. Always wearing her shirt buttoned up tight and her tie knotted as high as she can. Sometimes she wears a polo-necked jumper under her shirt. You’re not supposed to wear anything that’s not school uniform but nobody ever tells her to take it off. And sleeves, always long sleeves, even on the hottest days of summer. She wears her fringe really long and some days her hair is stuck to the side of her face like she gelled it there on purpose. She’s the quietest, most unnoticeable person in the school. Almost as unnoticeable as me.
She carries on gawping at me so I flip her the finger. Her eyes narrow. So I start to walk towards her and then her frown fades and she starts to look terrified as I get closer. I can see her chest rise and fall in a tiny, rapid movement, like she can’t get enough air, and she looks straight at me while I approach, her eyes getting wider and her breaths getting shorter. Then I stop and bend down to put my face right to hers. I’m so close I can smell the mint from her toothpaste. Her eyes flicker up and seem to meet mine, just for a moment, then she tries to look straight ahead, as if she’s watching the stage, but I can tell from her look that she isn’t really watching the stage. Is that because she can’t see it? Is it because something, or someone, is blocking her view?
Forgive me for not being excited at this point, but Bethany Willis? If I have to wander around forever and only Bethany Willis can see me, I know there’s definitely a god and he’s punishing me big time for something I did when I was alive. I don’t know why I do it, but I speak to her quietly.
‘Bethany… Bethany Willis… I’ve come to haunt you…’ I walk around her chair in a tight circle, fading through the surrounding kids like I’m mist.
She keeps her face straight forwards but she’s gone three shades paler and I can see tiny beads of sweat beginning to form on her top lip.
‘Bethany… I know you can see me…’
She’s still trying to look straight ahead. I think she might cry but I just can’t stop.
‘Bethany!’ I shout at her now. ‘I’ve come to take
you to hell!’
She glances up at me; there’s real terror in her eyes and just for a moment I feel bad. But this is Bethany Willis. Her face goes forwards again and she clasps her hands together to try to hold the tremors. I loom over her and raise my arms in the air like a zombie. Suddenly her eyes roll back in her head and she falls sideways off her chair.
The three girls next to her leap off their seats and rush over. She’s out cold on the floor. The hall erupts in a low ripple of murmurs that soon grows into an excited babble and somewhere, someone starts a round of applause, which Mr Patel immediately shouts down. Maisie Burrows, who’s a prefect, arrives next and kneels beside Bethany, tapping her face and talking to her, but she doesn’t wake up. Miss Jacobs and Mr Bauer come over and have a quick conversation about whether they should try and bring her round on the spot, or whether she looks bad enough to call an ambulance. Finally, they decide not to do either of these things and, instead, they drag Bethany away.
I follow them to the nurse station and watch as they haul Bethany onto the bed. It’s not really a nurse station – we don’t have a school nurse – but, for some reason, everyone calls it that. Really, it’s just a tiny room with a bed and a first aid kit in it. Mostly, it gets used for stuff like this, like in the summer when kids faint in the heat during assembly or get knocked on the head playing hockey. Miss Jacobs loosens Bethany’s tie and undoes the top buttons of her shirt. Underneath, Bethany’s neck is covered in purple and black marks that sort of look like fingerprints and Miss Jacobs seems to go white as she looks up at Mr Bauer. Neither of them says anything about it.
‘Could you get some water, please?’ Miss Jacobs asks Mr Bauer.
He nods and leaves the room. Miss Jacobs looks down at Bethany with a helpless expression. It’s sort of beautiful, though, sad but hopeful, like she’s desperate to do something to make things better for her. Of all the people who saw my body after I died, nobody looked at it like Miss Jacobs looks at Bethany Willis now. If Miss Jacobs had seen me after I died, would she have given that look to me?
Bethany’s eyes start to open but she can’t seem to focus and she’s groaning slightly. Then her gaze settles on me and her eyes open wide as she tries to clamber up the bed away from me.
I shrug. ‘I was just having a laugh.’
Bethany shoots a questioning look at Miss Jacobs and then looks back at me. Miss Jacobs turns around but she doesn’t see me.
‘Are you alright, Bethany?’ Miss Jacobs’ voice is small and tweety, like a bird. It’s a bit like her - dainty and cute. I always fancied Miss Jacobs. She’s so nice to Bethany, even though she must think Bethany is a freak. Everyone thinks Bethany is a freak, I don’t see how the teachers can be any different.
Bethany nods slowly, trying her hardest not to look at me, though I can feel her gaze pulling my way like it’s on a fishing wire. My eyes travel to the marks on her neck and Bethany must realise that it’s bare and fumbles with her top buttons to do them up. Now I know that she can definitely see me and hear me properly.
‘I’m ok now, Miss,’ she says, looking away from me. ‘Can I go back to assembly?’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Miss Jacobs says kindly. ‘Perhaps we should phone your dad to come and pick you up?’
‘No!’ Bethany almost shouts. Miss Jacobs raises her eyebrows slightly in surprise and then Bethany’s voice goes quiet again. ‘I don’t want to go home, I’m fine now.’
Miss Jacobs watches Bethany for a moment, her expression thoughtful. ‘Did you hurt yourself over the weekend?’
‘What do you mean, Miss?’
‘You seem to have some bruises…’
‘Yeah, I bruise easily, Miss. I fell over and hit myself on the end of my bed.’
‘Funny place to hit yourself.’
‘It was a funny way that I fell, Miss.’
Miss Jacobs pauses. ‘So… there’s nothing you would like to talk about?’
Bethany shakes her head forcefully. ‘No, Miss.’
‘You’re sure? Because whatever you tell me will be in absolute confidence.’
‘I’m sure, Miss, there’s nothing. Can I go back to assembly?’
Miss Jacobs looks at her watch. ‘Assembly is nearly over, Bethany. Perhaps we’ll go to the canteen and get you a drink and a bit of air? Then you can go back to your lessons.’
‘Will you stay with me in the canteen, Miss?’ Bethany asks, glancing at me.
‘If you like. But, Bethany, we will have to tell your parents what happened.’
‘You mean my dad?’
‘Sorry, your dad.’ Miss Jacobs looks a bit embarrassed.
‘It’s ok, Miss. People forget all the time.’
Mr Bauer comes back with a glass of water. ‘You’re up, then? How are you feeling?’ He hands Bethany the glass.
‘Better thanks, Sir,’ Bethany says, taking it from him and sipping. ‘Can I go now?’
‘Canteen?’ Miss Jacobs asks.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t follow you in there,’ I say to Bethany. She tries not to look at me. I shrug. ‘I didn’t mean to make you faint.’
‘Yeah, canteen, Miss,’ Bethany says, ignoring me. I suppose she can’t reply, though. I suppose that might make her look like she really isn’t alright at all to Miss Jacobs and Mr Bauer. ‘You’ll stay with me, won’t you?’ she asks Miss Jacobs. ‘I don’t want to sit on my own.’
‘Of course I will,’ Miss Jacobs replies.
Bethany shoots me one last glance as she clambers unsteadily from the bed.
Sitting on the wall in the yard I can’t get Bethany Willis out of my head. The rain comes down like darts from the leaden sky but I’m not wet and I’m not cold. I can smell cooking meat coming from the canteen. I suppose they’re getting started on dinners. I don’t feel hungry but the smell sets me longing for something that’s gradually fading from my memory. Lots of things are starting to fade. I wonder if that’s what happens when you die – that you don’t go straight away but gradually disappear from existence like dust blown away on the wind. Maybe all this is normal. Maybe this is what happened to Dad. If it did, where is he now? Has he gone on or is he wandering around somewhere different to me? Like maybe we’re all in parallel dimensions or something, because I haven’t seen any others like me all the time I’ve been dead. Then again, how would I know for sure they’re like me if I did see them? And how would they know that I’m like them? Maybe we do see each other and just don’t talk for fear of being wrong.
Bethany could see me, for sure. How come? She is definitely not like me; she was talking to Miss Jacobs and Miss Jacobs could see her. It’s been two or three weeks (I wish I could remember) and not another soul has looked at me, spoken to me, even got a chill down their spine as I entered the room. I’m like a walking memory. Is Bethany Willis a real-deal version of the medium woman in the village? I should try to get her alone and find out. Maybe she’ll talk to my mum for me.
I go to the window of the canteen and peer in. The walls of the canteen are covered in green tiles and all the surfaces are dull silver, apart from the plastic tables and chairs; it’s about the least inspiring place to have your dinner that you can imagine. Bethany is still sitting in there with Miss Jacobs. She’s twisting her fingers around each other and staring into a glass of water while Miss Jacobs watches her carefully. Miss Jacobs says something and Bethany looks up. She casts her eyes towards the window as she replies and I duck out of sight sharpish. If my heart was still beating it’d be going like a trip-hammer. I don’t want her to see me now for some reason, even though I wanted to talk to her. I almost feel like I’m the freak now.
My head inches up above the windowsill again. Miss Jacobs is walking out of the canteen and Bethany is sitting alone now. She checks her watch and drags herself up from the table. It looks like she still feels unwell. I wonder whether to nick in now to try and talk to her again, but I don’t think I’d be able to deal with her fainting all over the place and it’s not like I could go
and fetch anyone. I couldn’t even waft her to bring her round, seeing how I don’t even stir the air when I move. So I watch her leave the canteen. She throws one last look back at the window and I shift out of the way but I think she saw me. When I dare to check, she’s gone.
I don’t know what to do about Bethany, so I go and look for Ingrid instead. I don’t really know why. It hurts like hell, this wanting her, worse than it ever did before. You’d think being dead would change that but it doesn’t. I suppose it’s because now she’s even more unreachable than ever before, and even if she did notice me for one solitary second, there’s nothing I could do about it.
I find her with Matt behind the temporary science block. The science block consists of two parallel buildings that run alongside each other with a narrow corridor in between and the roof of each sort of juts out so that it’s dry under there when it rains. It’s meant to be out of bounds, but loads of kids ignore that. Matt and Ingrid are together under the roof now and there’s nobody else around. If anyone was there before, Matt probably told them to get lost; he likes to think that it’s his spot. I stop and stare at them as the truth smacks me in the face. I’ve never seen them so much as talk to each other before, though they are definitely not talking much now either. Ingrid and Matt? That git. He was supposed to be my best mate. She’s the reason I was on that road in the first place, bombing round delivering papers at the village. I know I had an argument with Mum but she had never wanted me to do the paper round in the first place. But I wanted to get some money to take Ingrid out. I figured that Ingrid isn’t the sort of girl that will settle for a bag of chips and a night at the swings, so I was going to take her somewhere out of the village, somewhere nice. Matt told me she’d never say yes and to sack the paper round and hang out with him instead. No wonder he was telling me to forget it, he knew that he was going to move on her and get her. I can’t decide how I feel about this; does that make him a friend or a backstabber?’