Chapter One

On August 1st, two weeks before I was supposed to return to school, I died. I'll admit, it wasn't what I was expecting; I remained beside my body for a long time, watching the doctors frantically try to resuscitate me, watching my mother battle through boxes of tissues as the news finally came to her.

There was no fluffy clouds, and no pearly gates, and not so much a glimpse of a late grandparent. On the contrary, I watched my mother deal with insurance companies and funeral directors. I cried in fury with her when they told her that, as I had been extremely ill and was probably going to die soon anyway, the money wouldn't be as much as if a /normal/ kid had been involved in a car accident.

She blamed herself, sitting at our living room table. I watched her shake with sobs, sitting close to her, but not touching – I had tried to put my arm around her shoulders once, but she shivered violently and moved immediately. My touch chilled her rather than comforting her.

Tonight, she was at the kitchen table, as per usual. Only tonight, there was a bottle of whisky clutched in her hands; half in the paper bag, half out. I was astounded. I didn't think people actually drank it like that in real life.

"Sora... I'm so sorry." She murmured, opening it. I was surprised; my mother had rarely ever drank in her life, and certainly never in front of me.

Then I had to remember; I wasn't there. While I could see my mother, and the rest of the room, and I could move in and out of the rooms of my house, I didn't have any control over anything; I couldn't interact with anything.

In the hospital, it had been strange; my vision had been blurred, and there was a ringing in my ears. I had seen the doctors work over me, and then... black. When I could finally see again, everything was in monotone, like in old films. The only thing that was coloured was my own body, still splattered in scarlet hues and in the baggy jeans and shirt I'd been wearing on the day of the accident.

This was what convinced me that I was more than a ghost; ghosts weren't supposed to have colour. Of course, the real world was, but that only confused me when I thought about it.

I sighed, the sound silent to my mother's ears. Never the less, I spoke to her. "It isn't your fault, mum."

Of course, I believed it, but it was difficult – I wanted to place the blame on somebody. Anybody. I frowned as I thought of this; thinking of my mother had brought other things to mind. How were my friends? I wanted to know about them – Kairi, Riku, Tidus, Selphie, Wakka...

We were our own little clique at school, although that probably wasn't the best term. We all had different tastes in music, fashion, films... the one thing we all shared in common was where we had come from; we'd all been transferred to our current high school from Destiny Academy for various reasons.

Tidus and Wakka were good at Blitzball, and since Destiny Academy was... well, a bit of a dump, they moved to Traverse Town High School because it ran an excellent sporting curriculum.

Riku's family moved there, which had excited him when he had first arrived. Of course, he had soon discovered that Traverse Town was ever so incredibly boring. Selphie was a similar case, although she had been reluctant to move and even more so when it came to talking about it.

I had had to move, with Kairi, because the bullying had become intolerable. I was short, had a girls name and a high voice. I was a walking target. Kairi had also had to move, shortly after I had told her I was going to, although I can't say why she had to.

We didn't spread out much; we didn't need to, and many of us didn't want to. Mingling with other people meant change, and change is difficult for everyone. Myself especially.

So it surprised me that I didn't find /this/ as hard as I should have.

I thought this over for a minute, waiting for it to hit me; you know, when you suddenly realise that something is actually /real/, and all these emotions hit you like a tonne of bricks? It wasn't happening to me. Something was wrong.

I paused, withdrawing from my mother's side. Half the bottle had been downed now, and I was astonished; for an always sober individual, she really could take her drink. But seeing that hurt me. It was my fault she was drinking – that my mother, the anti-alcoholic, was drinking whisky like it was water.

I could tell she disliked the taste. She frowned after every sip, but she never once wavered. Swallowing, I suddenly felt claustrophobic – she was beginning to sway from side to side, murmur incoherent thoughts aloud. I had to get out; seeing my mother drunk would destroy me, even if a car crash couldn't.

It proved harder than I thought it would.

First of all, I found that I couldn't grasp the door handle normally; resorting to something I'd only ever seen in movies, I closed my eyes, and stepped straight ahead.

I walked clean through the door.

It was an odd sensation – unpleasant and unnerving, but not at all painful. It was a sort of tingling, like pins and needles all through my body. And then, in a split second, it was over, and I was in the next room of our small, semi-detached house.

Two walls and three steps later, I was out of the house and onto the grey streets. There was a light breeze, and I found it strange that it didn't ruffle my hair or my clothes. I stood still for a moment, but then I noticed something; a flash of bright yellow.

And it wasn't on me.

First chapter's done. Yay.

Leave me a review please, tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, generally just feed my ego, mmmkay:D