"I'm Veronica Irvine. Nice to meet you all," I said. My seat in the classroom was predetermined; the back-right corner that hadn't been used, the furthest from the windows and the chalkboard. In front of me was a redheaded girl without freckles, to my left was a blond boy who was in dire need of a haircut. Some people glanced back at me, some were chatting in whispers as the teacher began her job, but most of them just sat there looking bored out of their minds. Word around the school was that this U.S. History class was pretty dreadful, and I was going to have to begin my day with it for the remainder of my sophomore year. My joy knew no bounds.

I realized that reading a comic book during a lesson was against the rules, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. The teacher didn't even mention it, so I just zoned out from whatever we were going over. It felt great when the bell rang without me having to do any work at all, except for that moment as I was walking out the door that Mrs. Smith stuck a detention slip to the top of the stack of books I'd been carrying. At that moment, I had a little shiver of shock that did not go away as I saw her glaring at me. Her expression was colder than the classroom.

I watched myself a little closer the next couple classes, since I'd already screwed up within an hour of being at my new school. Inadvertently, I earned the respect of my English 10 and Algebra II teachers just by being deathly quiet and listening closely. During lunch, I sat in the library and tried to think of a better approach than just being overly cautious. My efforts were fruitless. I was very edgy in Health and Physics. Japanese wasn't much better. No one spoke to me all day, but that was somehow more comfortable. The only exception was Art.

In Art class, I had to loosen up a little. I knew that much; my drawings are garbage when I'm unfocused. I blocked out everyone in the room and suddenly it was just me, a pencil, and my sketch pad. For the first time since I left the apartment this morning, I felt completely calm. My hand formed one shape after the other, and as I went things came to me that never had before. I added more and more details, tried new styles I'd never even thought about; by the time I was adding the finishing touches, it was already the best thing I'd ever drawn. Sitting in his trademark pose was L Lawliet. His eyes reflected that analytic gaze, and not a hair was out of place (that shouldn't be). It was astoundingly lifelike. When had I gotten this good? I hadn't been drawing all that much, and suddenly... this. I was just sitting there, staring at it, when the teacher's laugh broke the silence, broke my concentration.

My head snapped back to look at him. Mr. Harris was standing right behind me, having been looking over my shoulder. "The bell rang, you know?"

"Oh, uh, thanks," I tried to reply. My voice was rough from not talking all day. I hoped he didn't think my voice was weird. He was smiling a friendly sort of smile, so it seemed likely he wouldn't. Regardless, it was increasingly uncomfortable to have such obvious fan art sitting on the table. I flipped it closed and forced myself not to run out of the classroom.

"See you tomorrow," he called.

I stopped walking for a split second, then repeated the same.

By the time I reached my locker, all of the upperclassmen who kept crowding around in between classes were already gone. It was nice to access my locker freely for once. I was getting out the textbooks I needed for homework tonight when I remembered detention. Better to serve it today, before anyone knows me well enough to know I was there?

It was rather dreadful. Did you expect anything else? No one could talk, and we had to work on homework the entire time. Someone actually got yelled at just for being unproductive, though he didn't have anything to work on in the first place. I finished every assignment I had, but read some chapters in my U.S. History book just to look like I was still busy. It was very boring.

The sky was gray when I left the building. I recognized that it would rain, but since I left everything of importance in my locker, I didn't try to avoid it. It started with a sprinkle, then proceeded to pelt the sidewalk in a slant. I continued to amble on, slowed by the weight of my soaked clothing. I kept my head down when a drop hit me in the eye.

I think I tried to look both ways before I crossed the street. I don't know if that makes a difference, though. Someone swerved out of the lane when he lost control. I heard the sounds, but didn't have enough time to look up again before something very metallic slammed into my side. I fell over and some wheels rolled over me.

I died.

It was actually a brutal thing to look at, my own corpse. Closed-casket type of deal. I attended the funeral. My older brother flew home for it, too. He was bawling as he leaned over the box. I tried to pat him on the back but my hand went through and then he had goosebumps. "Oops." For a moment, he looked right at me with these wide eyes. I decided I probably shouldn't touch anyone.

My mother was sitting beside my father, for the first time in a couple years. My step-mom was beside him as well. She was playing with her cell phone, but the other two looked pretty torn up about the whole mess. What was it like to lose a child? I guess none of us had given too much thought about how important our family members were to us. Had they thought about how they'd feel if the other was dead, when they decided they didn't love each other enough to be married anymore?

I wished my cat was here. They didn't bring Kitty Kitty Bang Bang, and it made the entire thing far more depressing. Just imagining him playing with the tassel on the curtains made me smile. Him meowing for food. A simple cat to the very end, ever so loveable.

But you know, what really bothered me was that the snack table didn't have any Dr. Pepper. I couldn't find a single drop of the stuff. What did it matter if I couldn't drink it? It was still a horrendous act against humanity to deprive everyone of the drink of the gods on this day of mourning. I bet those kids who've just been sitting in the other room the whole time would agree that this place needed some caffeinated, carbonated deliciousness. But all there was on the table was fruit juice and oatmeal cookies. Unacceptable.

There was an old lady playing a harp while a slide show of pictures of my childhood was showing. The pictures were embarrassing, so I just sat on the carpet and listened to that song of hers. It was nice. If I was still alive, I think I'd take some harp lessons. I never learned any instruments, and that really kind of sucks. I stared at the ceiling.

You always wonder what's going to happen when you die. I was one of those guys who assumed you just fade into nonexistence. Mom liked to watch ghost shows and talk about heaven. She was always really certain that ghosts existed. She said they were spirits that were afraid to move on, or were being prevented by something. I guess I'm a ghost right now? But I'm not afraid, I don't think anyway. And it's not like anyone would prevent me from going wherever dead people go, either. The only people who remember that I existed at all are all here. Minus people from school, I guess. I only went to that school for one day, and I dropped dead right afterward. They always have the students pretend they care when someone from the school dies, but I don't think anyone's going to care about some girl who went there for one day and walked around with her lips sealed shut. Did anyone even think to alert the school? I imagine Mrs. Smith is getting peeved, thinking I ignored her and skipped class.

I left my funeral and went to the school. My locker door was open, and the entire thing was cleared out. Annoying. I guessed they took my stuff to the office, so I went that way. Everything was sitting on the front desk... except my sketchbook. Really, really annoying. I figured it might be in the art room, since it's technically for that class. It at least sounded like the most reasonable place to check third.

The tables were empty even though the light was on. I checked the shelves and the desk, but couldn't find it. Then I looked at the tackboard.

Right smack-dab in the center, he'd stuck my drawing of L Lawliet, with a highlighter yellow-colored tack. I gasped. Gasped. Horrific. You know how the drawing always looks better right after you finish it than it does the day after? That was how it was. And he put it in such a visible place, the bastard.

I tried to take it down, rip it off, anything to get it off that tackboard, but my hands kept going through it.

He was laughing again, I realized. "What the hell?" I'd thought aloud, too used to no one hearing me.

"I thought that you'd like having it hung up like that. I guess I was wrong, huh?" Mr. Harris said.

I just stared at him.

"What?"

"You... you can see me?"

"Am I not supposed to?"

"I'm dead, so no. You aren't supposed to."

"Oh." He covered his eyes with his hands.

I reached up to pull them off, annoyed by his playfulness. I wanted answers, not... I let go of his wrists. I can touch him?

"I thought I wasn't supposed to look at you," he said with an eyebrow raised.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to touch you!" I was shaken, and I couldn't help but raise my voice. "...I mean," I took a breath and tried to make a logical sentence, "I didn't think I could touch anyone. Every time I touched anything else, I'd just go through it."

"Well, yeah, you don't exist here."

"What?"

"You're done living in this dimension. You disconnected from your physical body, since its unfit to support life. I don't know what you're doing, still hanging out around here."

"Still hanging out around here? Where am I supposed to go?"

He sighed. "You really don't know much, do you?"

I waited.

He finally continued, "You can go anywhere, I guess. Go be reborn somewhere, live again in another dimension," he glanced over at my drawing, "Maybe go live in that guy's dimension?"

"This is absurd. Are you trying to say I can go reincarnate into a manga story?"

"I don't see why not."

I held my head. What a headache. "Then, what about you? Are you some kind of," I waved my hand around, "inter-dimensional something or another? How come I can touch you?" I poked him.

"It's not that hard to figure out," he said.

Then, he disappeared.

I stared at the place he used to exist in. Then I turned around.

To go into another dimension... Do you just will it or something? I want to go into Death Note. How's that? Some kind of magical spell or something? I don't know. I tried to take down the drawing again. I almost thought I would be able to touch it. But it did give me an idea.

I went back into the office. Within the pile of my belongings was the Death Note manga. I watched the anime a few times, and I finally bought the first volume of the manga just a couple days ago. It's really terrible that I never even got past the first few chapters. I picked it up. It was very solid, just as I had expected. I flipped it open. The secretary's eyes were wide. I jumped into the pages with a flash of blue light.

The book fell back down, closing.

I woke up as Yagami Sayu.