The school had a ghost. This ghost was very active, but unlike in most cases, nobody noticed. The ghost had a name, to. Matthew. Usually in a haunted place, there are thousands of senseless stories of how the ghost did so-and-so, and blah blah blah. Not here. As far as everyone was concerned, Matthew the ghost boy didn't exist.
He used to hate it. He was a living, breathing student, for crying out loud! Used to are the key words here. Matthew Williams had gotten over the fact that he was invisible. Nonetheless, he certainly felt a pair of red eyes on him the first day of tenth grade.
Him. He was staring at him! From his leather jacket to his greased-up hair, Matthew could tell he was a bad boy. Probably listened to Elvis. He bit back his sigh. Just great. Someone finally realized he existed and it was him. As he walked down the hall to class, he looked over his shoulder at him.
He was fidgeting with something in his locker. Matthew stopped when he heard the familiar crack and hiss of a lighter. Turning around, he gawked at the boy incredulously. What on earth was he doing? Unable to help himself, Matthew gravitated closer.
The kid put something to his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke.
"Are you smoking?"
"Talking to me?" The boy smirked and Matthew's eyes widened at his too pale skin and dark red eyes. "Imma take that as a yes. You're wondering what's up with my face, aren't ya?" The bell rang, and the last straggling students wandered off to class.
"N-no…I didn't want to be rude…" Matthew coughed from the smoke and realized that he was now standing face-to-face with the Greaser.
"S'okay kid. I know I'm different." He spat the word with hatred. "But you're different too. Why don't you have any friends? I've been watching you, and they just seem to…walk through you. What's up with that? It's totally not awesome." Matthew blushed.
"W-well, they just don't seem to notice me, I guess…" He trailed off as he noticed a scar on the boy's pale neck. It was straight and thin, but slightly raised. "What's on your neck?"
"Huh? Oh, that. It's nothing. I fell when I was little." Matthew narrowed his eyes, he knew when someone was lying.
"Okay…where'd you really get it?"
"So full of questions, aren't we? Well, Birdie, I'm going to finish this outside, you look like you're gonna pass out." Matthew coughed weakly in response. "Would ask ya to join me, but wouldn't want you to have an asthma attack or nothin'." The strange boy slammed his locker shut and headed towards the doors. "Bye bye Birdie! Stay awesome!"
Matthew watched him leave, confusion and cigarette smoke making his head spin. What was with that kid? He was obviously bad news, that was for sure. How did he know he had asthma? Was it really that obvious? And where did he get that scar? He knew he was lying about it. That was a knife cut.
