Authors Note: I'm not sure where I got this idea from, but I like it. I was stuck on my other stories which is really code for: I got bored with them. Anyways I'm really excited to see Eclare on Degrassi tonight; I've missed them so much. Please, please, please review because I would really like to know if you think this story is any good.

I don't own Degrassi (just in case you thought I did).

She woke up to a peculiar silence that rung in her ears. Clare rolled over and untangled her body from her blanket. Sitting up, she ran her hand through her unruly curls and let out a tired yawn. Clare stood up and noticed her door was open, but she thought she had closed it when she got home? Then again she didn't remember getting home? She shrugged it off and walked downstairs to fix some cereal. The first thing she noticed was the pungent smell of alcohol that burned her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose and followed the smell to her father's office. He was just downing the last of the bottle in his hand when she walked in.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" She questioned walking closer. He didn't look up. The man didn't even flinch. She said it again, louder, so she knew he had to hear her and again she got no response. What's wrong with him? He pulled another bottle out of his desk, it read Jack Daniels. The only time she saw him drink was when Darcy was going through her stage after she was raped. He was a wreck then but this was worse, it was like he couldn't hear her.

Clare was getting tired of her father ignoring her existence and walked up to take the bottle from him. What happened next was unexpected. No, it was inhuman and made her whole body go numb. Her hand went through the bottle as if it were air. She felt nothing! Clare felt herself get nauseous and backed away from the room attempting to close the door but her hand just slipped through it. She ran in the kitchen and hesitantly touched the countertop. It was cold and smooth. Then she tried to pick up a glass that was on the table. Instead of being solid like the table it was like air. Her eyes watered and she whispered,

"What's happening to me? What's wrong with me?" Her body began to shake and she started to sob uncontrollably. She lifted her head and tried to quiet her sobbing when she heard someone else crying. Clare stood up and followed the cries to her parent's bedroom. Her mom was hunched over holding a piece of paper in her hand. Her body was shaking and her crying sounded as though she were struggling to breathe.

"Why did it have to be her?" Her mother cried to no one in particular. Clare rushed to her mother's side taking a seat next to her.

"Mom, what's wrong? Who are you talking about?" She leaned in to hug her mom and instead of her hands enclosing around her mother's trembling body they went through her. Just like the bottle and the glass she felt nothing.

"Mom," she shouted, "answer me!" Her mother didn't hear her. She must be dreaming. Clare pinched her arm and muttered an Och. If she wasn't dreaming than what was happening to her? Clare stood up and tried to touch her mother, this time slower. Her eyes focused intently on her hand as she reached to touch her mother's shoulder. Her hand seemed to disappear as she touched her mother and Clare's entire body began to shake as she started crying once more. She buried her face in her hands and cried until she felt sick to her stomach.

When she felt her mom get off the bed Clare lifted her head and focused her bloodshot eyes on the paper that had drifted to the floor. She dragged her tired body to the edge of the bed where she could get a good look at the paper. It was cut out from a newspaper and was faded but she could make out the name and date. It read: Clare Diane Edwards 1995-2011. It wasn't until she read the paper three more times did she realize what it meant. She couldn't be dead, could she? If she was then why wasn't she in heaven?

"This doesn't make any sense! Can someone please tell me what's going on!" She shouted so loud her throat burned. Clare dropped to her knees and clawed at the paper that announced her own death, knowing she couldn't pick up.

"You're pathetic," a voice announced behind her. Clare turned around sharply and looked up at girl with fair skin and brown doe eyes that were lined in black eyeliner and eye shadow. Her mouth was twisted in an odd smile and her long chestnut hair flowed perfectly around shoulders. Clare stood up and her eyes watered as she spoke to the girl.

"You can hear me," she stated and reached out to touch the girl. Clare's eyes closed as she felt her hand touch the smooth leather of the girl's jacket. "And I can touch you!" She squealed and jumped up and down like a five year old who ate too much sugar.

"Calm down, Princess," the doe eyed girl rolled her eyes and waited for Clare to stop.

"Do you know what's wrong with me?" Clare asked once her excitement died down and she came back to reality. The girl let out a sigh and sat on the messy bed, motioning for Clare to follow.

"Listen, Sweetheart," she said, "There's no easy way to say this but," she paused and looked at Clare whose hands were clasped together tight, "You're dead." Clare bit her lip and nodded, trying to understand something that didn't seem real.

"I'm dead," she repeated to herself as though the words were foreign. "So are you dead too or are you some kind of ghost whisperer?" She questioned the girl.

"I'm dead just like you," the girl stood up and pulled on the leg of grey skinny jeans and adjusted her dead hand shirt. Clare noticed the girls shirt and said,

"My boyfriend likes them," she pointed to the girl's shirt and frowned. Eli. Where was he? What was he doing? Did he know she was dead?

"Really," the girl smirked and looked down at her shirt. An image of the last time she saw Eli flashed in her mind. He was smiling and his arm was around her waist as though he didn't want to let go.

"So no one alive can hear me or see me or touch?" She waited for the answer and hoped the girl would tell her something positive.

"Sorry, humans and ghosts can't interact."

"How do you know that? Have you tried?" Clare didn't understand what was happening to her but she knew that if there was anyone in the world who could see her it would be Eli.

"I haven't tried but it's impossible, trust me." Trust you? Clare didn't even know this girl.

"What is your name?" She asked suspiciously, staring at the girl.

"Jane Doe," she huffed placing a hand on her hip and rolling her eyes.

"How am I supposed to 'trust you' if you won't tell me your name?" Clare narrowed her eyes at the girl and stood up.

"My name isn't important. Just promise me you won't try to communicate with Eli." She pleaded giving Clare a sincere look. Clare scrunched her forehead in confusion and asked,

"How did you know his name?" The girl clad in a leather jacket answered smoothly saying,

"I know your name too, Clare," she smiled and ran a hand through her shiny hair. Clare pursed her lips and began to object but instead asked quietly,

"Will you at least teach me how to pick up stuff if that's even possible?" She smiled at Clare and nodded grabbing her hand and dragging her out of her mother's room.

As they crossed over the threshold Clare told herself alive or not Eli would be able to see her. He had to, right?