Author's Note: I wanted to try something new. I own nothing, except my characters, of course.

Gabe's POV

Taking a deep breath, I stared at the person sitting on the bench at the park, and I willed myself to be seen. I walked up to the person and started talking, but the man made no reply. I shoved his arm, and he barely moved. He didn't look up; he just kept reading the newspaper. Dammit! There's one more attempt that failed.

Every day for the past ten years, I've been going to this park and tried to find someone who could see me. I've waltzed into psychic's shops, I've been to churches, mosques, and temples, and I've even been to the psych ward at the hospital. Nothing. No one can see me apart from Diana. But she's been gone for months. So have Natalie, Dan, and Henry. They've moved out of the house and left me behind.

"A better, fresher start," I muttered to myself as I flopped on the grass next to the marble fountain. I gazed at the people around me and smiled. They're so lucky. They're not stuck at eighteen. I tugged on the purple material of my t-shirt, a habit I've formed when I'm annoyed.

"Why can't you see me?!" I called out, fully knowing that I would receive no reply. A mother walked past me, baby in arm. She came close enough to walk on top of me, and I lunged out of the way. I guess it has become a habit of mine to react like a normal person. She continued forward, and I relaxed.

This old park is the only place I can go to hang out and at least feel alive. The house is too quiet and empty. I shut my eyes and meditated for a minute, just listening to the sounds of the life around me.

"Gabe! Gabe, look up!" I heard a voice yell behind me. I whipped my head around, hopeful. "Gabe! There you are, you rascal. I can't leave you alone for five minutes." To my idiotically misplaced dismay, it was a babysitter calling to one of the children she was watching. Of course.

I turned my head forward and pinched my arm. Why on Earth are you upset, Gabriel? You should've known she wasn't talking to you. Rolling my eyes, I stood up and strolled in the direction of my home. When you're a ghost, you don't have to be fast for anything.

Passing the little houses, all in uniform rows with the same designs, I pondered different ways to be seen. I need someone to see me; Diana still never really believed that I was alive. Whistling the tune to Singin' in the Rain, I unlocked the door to the house and stepped inside.

"Why haven't people reported a door opening and closing by itself?" I wondered aloud as I shut the door and locked it yet again. The 'For Sale' sign sat in the lawn, still covered in dew from the last rain. I just want someone to buy the dumb place, so I won't be stuck by myself all the time. This house is all I can remember, so I can't just leave. I can't get a job, move with my old family, or stay with a new family. That'd be creepy. But now I'm just that one little ghost kid, hanging out at an abandoned house.

"Welcome home!" I heard a male voice call from behind the front door. Without thinking, I raced from my seat on the couch to the upstairs. I hid out in Natalie's old room and prayed this was all a dream. Unless, of course, we had an Open House while I was gone for whatever reason, and they now own the place…Oh my Christ.


Maggie's POV

"Welcome home!" my father yelled. He was way too excited to be human. It was his bright idea that we should pack up and move to Port Townsend, Washington from Las Vegas, Nevada. Lovely. From one of the largest cities in the United States to one of the smallest towns. I'm an eighteen year old girl, so of course I'm supposed to hate everything my parents do. It's part of the teenage code or whatever, but this time, I have a valid reason for hating them. The area we are in the process of moving to is the epitome of "suburbia".

"Well let's go inside, Marcus! We've been out in the clouds long enough!" My mother scolded my father with a grin. I rolled my eyes. We've moved to the extreme northeastern end of the Olympic Peninsula. Of course it's cloudy. You're going to have to deal with that. Dad opened the little red door and we went through with our first round of miscellaneous bags, boxes, and suitcases. The U-HAUL sat in the little driveway, along with dad's truck and my Prius.

"Ok, Mags, you can pick out your own room. You too, Trev," my mom noted as we made our first trip. Trevor, my fifteen year old brother, grabbed what he could and trudged upstairs. He didn't love the idea of uprooting either.

I followed him and took the room at the top of the stairs and to the right. I pushed open the door and laid my bags on the bed, which was pushed against the wall. I surveyed the room, and could swear I heard…breathing. Shaking off the odd feeling of being watched, I ran back outside to pick up more of my bags from my car. At least I was smart enough to drive separately. Now, why I haven't moved away from my family, I have no idea.

Several hours later, we stopped unpacking and went to the diner to eat. It was within walking distance, just like all the other businesses and points of interest.

Trevor brought up my thoughts at the top of dinner. "Hey, am I the only one who thinks we're being watched?" My parents looked at him like he was nuts.

"Right now?" My dad asked, thoroughly confused.

"No! At the new house, of course," Trev replied, shoving fries into his mouth.

"Oh don't worry about that. It's a normal thought when you move into an older home. It's all in your head."

I finished eating, set some money on the table, and told my family that I wasn't well and needed sleep. I left quickly and ran to our little home. Unlocking the door, I raced inside and finished unpacking my bedroom. Everything was now in place.

If you can't already tell, I'm really annoyed with my family. They don't do anything wrong, but when the little voices in my head start screaming at me, I just need to get as far away as possible. I lay on my bed and took a deep breath.

"Ok, Maggie. Time to breathe," I whispered to myself.

"You're breathing just fine, as far as I can tell," I heard a male voice murmur from the other side of the room. My head snapped up and I locked eyes with a teenage boy, who was sitting at my desk. My eyes grew wider and I screamed.

"I'LL CALL THE COPS! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" I sprung out of bed, flung open the door, and raced downstairs. I felt a hand grab my arm, and I was forced to stop in my tracks. He pushed me against a wall and kept my arms restrained.

"Ok, first, YOUR house? This was MY house first. And second…you see me?" he said, his voice wavering.

I nodded, because that's all I could do.

"What's your name, stranger?" he inquired with a cheeky grin.

"M-Maggie," I stuttered. "Yours? And why do you ask if I could see you?"

"Gabriel Goodman. Gabe. And, uh, I'm dead." Gabe stated the last answer with total nonchalance.

"D-Dead? How is that even possible?! I've always been called crazy, from the doctors and such. But…you're dead. And I can see you," I tried to clarify this as much as possible. All he did was nod, and I finally got a really good look at him. Now that he was forcing me up against a wall, I could look at him fully. Sandy blond hair, big brown eyes, slightly muscular build, jeans, purple t-shirt. Oh yeah, and he was hot. For a ghost, that is.

"Hello? Maggie? I asked you a question." I snapped out of my reverie to notice that he let me go.

"Sorry. What was that?" I felt a slight blush creep on my cheeks, and I forced myself to look away from him.

He smirked, and then spoke again. "I was wondering how old you were."

"Eighteen," I replied mechanically. I'd gotten so used to saying it over and over to distant relatives and pretty much everyone else. It's just a constant reminder that I am a legal adult that's treated as a child.

"I know how you feel." I snapped my head up to look at him.

"Did you just read my mind?" I wondered.

"I'm a ghost, not a psychic. You were talking aloud." God dammit. I hate it when I do that.

"Sorry…wait, do you think the rest of my family can see you?"

He pondered this for a while, and then shrugged. "Can't tell. Probably not, because only special people can see me." He winked.

Rolling my eyes, I trudged back upstairs and into my room. Gabe flopped on my bed and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Right, your house first, sorry," I muttered when he crossed his arms. I sat next to him, and our conversation continued. For an hour, we sat alone, talking about who we were and who we are and what we do. I noticed that he didn't talk a lot about his family or how he died, and I didn't press him for answers. It made me extremely curious. Thanking God that my family was taking their time to explore the town, I really enjoyed Gabe's company. He was really easy to talk to.

"Ok…um…favourite animal," he inquired.

"Tigers. You?"

"Penguins."

"Um...colour?"

"Purple. You?"

"Red." Our conversation drifted mainly to our favourite things. Glancing at the clock, I noticed that it was almost ten o'clock. Almost on cue, I heard the door unlock and the voices of my parents and brother filter up and into my room.

"Crap," I muttered. "Quick! Hide!" I yelled at Gabe. He just stared at me with a raised eyebrow and did nothing. Trevor went into my room (without knocking, of course) and sat in the same spot where Gabe was sitting. My eyes widened a bit, but not enough to be noticed.

"You alright, sis? You missed a really cool mini-museum at the end of the street," he said, laying his back against the wall.

"I-I'm fine, Trev. Can you please just leave? I really would appreciate some quiet." He ruffled my hair and left, and I flattened the wild brown curls that he messed up. My hair was always unruly, but messing it up certainly didn't help anything. Gabe smirked yet again, and I just rolled my eyes.

"I told you," he said, ruffling my hair like Trevor did.

"Argh!" I groaned. "Rule number one. Do not touch my hair." He just stuck his tongue out at me.

When I made sure that everyone was asleep, we continued our rapid-fire questions. At around three in the morning, I felt my eyelids droop.

"I think it's time we put the questions to rest," he said softly. I nodded, and he stood and sat at my desk. "Goodnight, Maggie."

"G'night, Gabe," I mumbled as I lie down and fell asleep. The last thought that passed through the conscious part of my head was:

Why do I trust him so easily?