Hey, just thought I'd put this up here. Sorry for a bit of overview in the first chapter- I originally wrote this for an English paper.

None of these characters belong to me. Meg Cabot harbors this honour. Lucky woman.

"Susannah."

I squirmed in my bed, hearing the one voice that could arouse me from such a deep sleep. Glancing at my clock, I realized that I had been out for a full twelve hours, and had a feeling that I would have been able to sleep for a couple more, if I had not been interrupted. This may be because I had been running around the town all of yesterday, generally exhausting myself. Or, you know, I could have just been subconsciously dreading today. You see, today was my first day of the twelfth grade. After enjoying a summer of no nuns breathing down my neck, telling me that my skirt was too short, or my shirt too revealing, I was really not ready to return to the Junipero Serra Mission Academy. The Mission was a catholic school, which was great and all, except for one fact- I'm not catholic. About the only cool person who works there is the principle, Father Dominic, who I actually know pretty well; better than any of the other students I could bet.

"Susannah."

He repeated my name, due to the fact that, while I was actually excited to have him there, I had rolled over onto my stomach, in order to show my irritation at being awoken. I groaned, rolling onto my back again. I was careful not to look at him, though, because I knew the sight of him would wake me up immediately. And, frankly, I was enjoying sleeping.

"Go away. Give me ten more minutes," I mumbled.

"Now what kind of greeting is that?" I heard him say, the amusement clear in his voice.

I felt my bed shift under his weight as he sat down. My eyes still closed, he ran his thumb over my cheek, his hand caressing the side of my face. I was weakening by the second. Regretfully, I opened my eyes a crack. "Jesse," I said, trying to sound annoyed. I reached up my hand in a feeble attempt to swat his away, but my move backfired. I felt him clasp his fingers around mine, pulling me up into a sitting position.

Giving up, I opened my eyes all the way. My breath caught in my throat as I drank in the sight before me. There was my boyfriend, sitting on the bed in front of me. His legs were hanging over the side of the bed as he flashed me a playful smile. Melting inside, I could hardly help but take note of the way his half-buttoned up shirt allowed me a heaping view of his perfectly defined chest muscles. His dark hair flopped all over his head as he reached forward to tuck back my own brown hair from in front of my eyes. Even though I had known him for around two years now, my heart still sped up at the sight of him.

"Well, good morning sleepyhead," he said, leaning forward to whisper in my ear. I leaned forward myself, in order to rest my head on that muscled chest of his.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice muffled by the fact that my face was buried into his chest.

"What? No 'Hi, how are you, Jesse'?" he teased.

I lifted my head up in order to give him a playful shove. "You know what I mean."

The corners of his mouth raised up into a smile that would have made me go weak at the knees- if I had been standing, that is. "Your mom called. She said that no one could wake you up. I was going to come by anyway, in order to escort you to your first day of school, so I figured it would be nice for you to actually be ready."

I gave another groan. "School. Why did you have to remind me?" I pouted.

"Come on, you need to go take a shower. I'll be downstairs waiting for you." At that, he took both of my hands in his and pulled me to my feet. Not that I needed much prodding- I would have followed Jesse through a burning building. Come to think of it, that had pretty much happened, actually.

"Oh, alright," I said, taking a glance at myself in my vanity mirror. I blushed as I realized what a mess I was in; not exactly a state that I wanted my boyfriend to see. This shouldn't have really mattered, considering that Jesse had seen me in every state possible, considering that he used to live in my bedroom, but I still cared. I could tell Jesse didn't notice my disheveled appearance (either that or he just didn't care about it), because he just turned and left my room, leaving me alone to take my shower.

Alright, now, I know what you're thinking: he used to live in her bedroom? But, it's not like that. See, he hadn't really lived in my bedroom, so much as haunted it. The thing is, Jesse actually died about a century and a half ago. When I moved to Carmel, California from my hometown of Brooklyn after my mother remarried, I found that a one-hundred-seventy-year-old ghost was haunting my bedroom. The ghost turned out to be of an extremely hot, dead cowboy, Jesse deSilva. Jesse had been strangled to death in my very room in the 1850s, after his fiancé sicced her lover on him in order to weasel out of the wedding. We had begun dating while Jesse was a ghost, but I'll tell you, that was no picnic. However, after a very hazardous and nearly heart-breaking travel through time- more appropriately called the fourth dimension- Jesse had actually gotten his body back.

Oh, I'm sure you're wondering this now: why could I see him if he was a ghost? Well, that's because I'm what's called a mediator. A mediator is someone whose job it is to guide ghosts stuck in a limbo here on earth into their next destination in life, or death, really. Therefore, I could see and talk to ghosts. It didn't stop there, though. To me, ghosts were actually a lot like regular people. Whereas most people just walk straight through ghosts, sometimes feeling a cold spot, and cannot hear them, I could actually touch and hear ghosts. The only way, at first glance, that I could actually tell the difference between ghosts and living people is that ghosts give off a spectral glow. It's kind of like how a light bulb gives off light; ghosts are also luminescent. However, this is not the only difference between ghosts and the living. Oh, no. Ghosts can actually control objects around them. It is because of this that it really isn't advisable to get on a ghost's bad side. Get them a little pissed and they might make objects around them shake subtly. If they get really mad, though, and have honed their ghost skills, they can be downright deadly. Not that I am afraid of ghosts, though. I have definitely had to kick a bit of ghost butt in my day. I really don't have a choice, with the job that I have to do- mediating and whatnot. Even though I do believe that you should always start with a civil conversation with a ghost, with some that is just not possible. Father Dominic is actually always getting on my case about this- oh, yeah, now would probably be a good time to mention that my principal, Father Dominic, is actually a mediator as well. He thinks that I am sometimes a little too eager to resort to violence. Maybe he's right, but, hey, can you blame a girl for not wanting to have her life dominated by helping ghosts? Sometimes they just need a little push in the right direction, and if that involves me using my fists, well, so be it.

So far as I know, being a mediator is actually pretty rare. Up until I moved to Carmel, I had never met another one. Now, I had met five. Father Dominic was the first. The next mediator I met turned out to be in the form of an eight-year-old boy I babysat named Jack. I next learned that his older brother, Paul, who is my age, is a mediator as well. If that was not enough, Jack and Paul's grandfather is also one.

Father Dominic had been a great help to me since I met him. While he often lectured me about my mediating skills, I had found a great friend in him. I was so relieved when I finally had someone that I could actually talk to about my ability. You see, there was no way that I could tell my mother about my "gift", as Father Dom calls it. This is because she would probably lock me up in a mental hospital- for my own good, of course. Therefore, I found it extremely handy to be able to confide my problems in Father Dom.

With Paul however, I had not been so lucky. My first encounter knowing that Paul was a mediator had involved him trying to get rid of Jesse. Luckily, we had been able to avoid that. It had not been all sunshine and daisies with Paul from then on, though. After his first attempt at Jesse was thwarted, he came up with another plan to get rid of him. This time, he actually had come extremely close to accomplishing his task. It was Paul's idea to time travel. His cause, however, was nowhere near noble. His plan was to go back in time and keep Jesse from having been murdered. Even though it may have seemed like a good cause, he was not doing it out of charity. He was doing it to keep me from Jesse; because if Jesse had never been murdered, he also would have never met me. His plan, as I mentioned before, had backfired. I had followed him into the past, originally planning on keeping Paul from stopping Jesse's murder. After seeing the live Jesse, however, I had realized how I could never stand by and watch him die. I managed to help Jesse thwart being murdered, only to set the barn on fire in the act. This was not strictly my fault, though- Jesse's would-be-assassin had thrown me down on a lamp that broke under my weight. The lamp was what started the fire. When transporting myself back to the present, I had unfortunately been hanging onto Jesse, therefore bringing him with me. Just when it seemed that I would lose him forever, a strange turn of events allowed for the ghost Jesse to return to his body, which was now in my time. Now, Jesse was living out the rest of his life; he just had a century and a half missing from it.

You might be wondering why Paul had tried so hard to get rid of Jesse. The reason for this, actually, was because Paul had fancied me. Luckily, he had seemed to come to his senses last winter, admitting he was wrong. Hopefully, he would stick to those convictions.

Okay, you may have noticed that while I said that I had met five mediators, I have only mentioned four. The fifth mediator is one very close to my heart. After being returned to his body, we discovered that Jesse was now a mediator as well. I figured that this had something to do with the fact that he already knew so much about ghosts, having been one himself. However, we are still not completely sure why he is a mediator, considering that he was not born one originally.

Fifteen minutes later and I had completed my shower and finished getting dressed. For my first day of school, I had chosen to wear a new, soft yellow sundress paired with my favorite flip flops. Standing on the stairwell, I heard a sound that always made my heart melt. Jesse's voice was floating up the staircase towards me, accompanied by my thirteen year old stepbrother David's. Even though I have been hearing Jesse's voice for around a year and a half, he hasn't been able to have a conversation with anyone else in my family for very long now. Feats like these are generally made difficult when the person you are talking to cannot hear you. My heart still filled with gratitude whenever I heard Jesse talking to my family.

Making my way down the stairs, I paused to watch Jesse and David, who were seated at the kitchen table, for a moment. Jesse's back was to me, while David was too absorbed in the conversation to notice me, even though he was facing towards me. From what I could tell, they were having an in-depth conversation about the driving age limit. I found this particularly amusing, considering that cars didn't even exist when Jesse was born.

After a few seconds of standing there, I walked forward towards Jesse. David noticed me at last, and Jesse, following David's gaze, turned towards me. Arriving at Jesse's side, I brushed my hand against his arm, smiling at him while I did so. He met my gaze, his smile widening visibly.

"Well, hello, querida," he said, using his nickname for me. "Did you have a good sleep?" I could tell that he was trying to keep a straight face.

"I would have, if someone hadn't disturbed me," I teased him, tossing him a sarcastic look. I moved over to the cabinets in search of something to eat. Sifting through the various food containers, I chose a box of strawberry cereal.

"You guys want anything to drink?" I asked as I picked out the milk from the refrigerator.

"No, that's ok," I heard David say. "I need to leave for school soon, anyway. I'm getting there early so that I can see what extra credit I can do."

I rolled my eyes at him. "It's the first day of school, David. Could you be any more of a geek?"

He just shrugged his shoulders at me. Gathering his backpack from the corner of the room, he nodded at Jesse in farewell and gave me a wave goodbye.

I turned back toward the refrigerator, searching for the orange juice. I saw that someone had wedged it behind just about everything else in there, and the question now was: how was I going to get it out?

"What about you, Jesse? Do you want anything to drink?" I asked, still trying to extricate the orange juice from the fridge.

I felt Jesse slip his hands around my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder. "I could have gotten that, you know," he said softly into my ear. Apparently, he had seen my struggle with the orange juice.

"Oh, I know," I replied. "But I can get it myself. This isn't the nineteenth century anymore, you know. Women can do things for themselves," he knew I was teasing, though.

"Well, it can't hurt to have the man in your life do some things for you," he countered, extending his arm over my shoulder to easily reach behind the other objects in the fridge and grab hold of the orange juice.

"Maybe not," I said coyly as I grabbed the orange juice from him. I turned to grab the cereal off the counter and carried that and the orange juice to the table. Just as I was about to go back for a spoon, a bowl, and a glass, I saw Jesse carrying these items to me.

"I'm flattered," I said, and I truly was.

"Anything for a lady. Especially my lady."

"Aw, are you calling me your lady?" I batted my eyelashes at him playfully.

"I believe I am," he said, pouring orange juice into my glass.

"Well, then, I'm doubly flattered."

After finishing my breakfast, Jesse led me outside. He went first to the passenger side of his new car, opening the door to let me in. The car had been a present from me and Father Dom- well, okay, mostly from Father Dom. I looked around the interior at its impressive stereo system and thick plush seats. I had a thing about leather seats- sure, they looked nice, but they get all hot and sticky in the heat and practically freezing in the cold. Not that it got too cold here in Carmel, but, still, they were uncomfortable all the same, and since I was probably going to be spending a lot of time in this car- it belonging to my boyfriend and all- I had nixed the leather. Jesse hadn't seemed to mind too much- anything was an improvement from the last form of transportation that he had owned, which happened to be of the equine variety.

I was just buckling my seatbelt into place when Jesse climbed into the driver's side. Before he had a chance to get settled in, I reached over to the massive stereo system and turned up the volume. A CD was in the slot, and a song immediately began, a man's low voice filling the space of the car.

"Susannah! You know how much I hate this century's music! Why do you have to keep playing such bothersome tunes all of the time?" He sounded indignant that I would put him through such 'torture'.

"I've told you before and I'll tell you again: you really need to get yourself acclimated with this century's culture. We can't have you going around acting all nineteenth-century-ish. Music is a good way to immerse one's self in a particular way of life." Alright, I'll admit it: I had gotten that last line from David (or Doc, as I sometime called him), who was sort of a know-it-all- but in a good way. I thought it sounded appropriate enough, though.

"Nineteenth-century-ish?" he sounded amused at my made up word. He looked amused too; his eyebrows- one with that cute, if not so mysterious, scar running through it- were raised up playfully, and a teasing smile graced those oh-so-kissable (I would know) lips of his.

"You know what I mean," I said, rolling my eyes at him. "We have to make it convincible that you were born in this century."

Jesse chuckled. Chuckled? What exactly was funny? I had been being quite serious, in fact.

"Oh, querida," he soothed. "Do not worry. I may not have been born in this century, but I certainly have been living in this century for just as long as you have."

I was still dubious. Sure, he was around for the twenty-first century, but also for the two before that. This resulted in a very mixed-up upbringing if you ask me. "Well…" I began doubtfully, "I suppose we'll see about that."

"So does that mean that I can turn this awful racket off?" he asked me hopefully.

I felt like pointing out that he was perfectly able to do so anyway-him being so much taller and stronger than I was. However, he was too much of a gentleman to do it without my permission. Instead I replied, "Sure, whatever, Jesse," callously, annoyed that his point had been better than mine.

He immediately turned the knob for the volume down to zero, but when he turned to look at me a worried frown crossed his face. "What is the matter, querida?" his voice was soft and silky, and laced with concern. "You seem to be in a bad mood."

The anxiety in his face nearly broke my heart. It was physically painful for me to see him like that; a not-so-dull throbbing filled my chest as I saw worry shining from his eyes. Instantly, my hard expression softened, and I gazed at him apologetically.

"Nothing's wrong, Jesse. Just upset about having to go to school, I guess. I'm sorry for snapping at you." And I truly was. Hopefully I could convey it to him just how sorry I was. It only hurt me more to see how my crossness had not hurt him, but worried him instead. How more perfect could a guy get?

"Susannah," he cooed, "you never have to be sorry for anything you do around me, for you are forgiven the instant you commit whatever offending act it may be." He reached forward and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, never breaking eye contact with me. His deep brown eyes looked almost black, and they were filled to the brim with the utmost tenderness. I felt myself melt at his touch, and I smiled at him lovingly. My breath picked up in pace at his mere touch. I was immensely grateful for the heat that I felt radiating from his hand- a couple months ago and this would not have been possible (dead guys don't tend to give off body heat, you see). I wanted more than anything to lean forward and meet his chaste lips with my own.

Unfortunately, this was probably not the best time, seeing as we were sitting in the front seats of his car about to leave for my first day of school, which we were probably now late for. Breaking from my trance, I snapped my head towards the windshield so that I could not be seduced by those incredible eyes of his.

It was at this point that I noticed something that made me chuckle.

"Uh, Jesse?" I said amusedly. "Are you planning on going anywhere at some point?"

He looked at me with a dazed look in his eyes- as though he, too, had been overwhelmed by the same sensation that I had. This made me feel a little better; at least I wasn't the only one suffering.

I tried unsuccessfully to bite back a peal of laughter at the utterly perplexed expression that he donned on his normally composed face.

"We're still in the driveway," I explained, waving around at our surroundings to prove my point.

Comprehension dawned on his face, and he smiled wryly at me. "I guess I get a bit distracted around you." I was pleased to not the somewhat husky tone in his voice.

Slapping him playfully- what can I say, I just make any excuse I can to touch him- I made a face. "None of that, now," I teased. "I'm going to have to get to school sometime today- however much I may wish that to be untrue- and you're going to make it increasingly difficult for me if you continue acting so darn cute."

"Alright, alright," Jesse chuckled somewhat reluctantly. "If you must."

With that, he put the car into drive and began backing out of the driveway.

Well? What do ya think?