Chapter two:], and never try typing a whole chapter with fake . Thats all I have to say.

I guess I should explain. I'm not extactly your typical sixteen year-old girl.

Oh, I seem normal enough, I guess. I dont do drugs,or drink,or smoke. I dont have anything pierced,except my ears. I dont have any tattoos either. I've never dyed my hair. I dont wear an excessive amount of black. I dont even wear dark fingernail polish.

All in all,I am a pretty normal,everyday teenage girl.

Except,of couse,for the fact that I can talk and see the dead.

Well,I probably shouldnt be so blunt. I should probably say that the dead talk to me, in a way.

I mean,I dont go around initiating these fact,I try to avoid the whole thing as much as possbile.

It's just that sometimes they wont let me. The ghost I mean.

I dont think I'm crazy. At least,not any craizer than you average sixteen year old. I guess I might seem crazy to some people. Certainly the majority of kids in my old neightborhood thought I was nuts. Sometimes I even think it would be simpler just to let them lock me up.

But even on the ninth floor of Bellevue-which is where they lock up the crazy people-I probably wouldnt be safe from the ghosts. They'd still find me.

They always do.

I remember my frist ghost. I remember it as clearly as any of my other memories of that time,which is to say,not very well, snice I was about two years old. I guess I remember it about as well as I remember taking a mouse away from our cat and cradling it in my arms...I was two okay!

The ghost,like the mouse, was little,gray, and helpless. To this day, I dont know who shes was. I spoke to her,some baby gibberish that she didnt understand. Ghost cant understand baby gibberish for sure.

She just looked at me sadly from the top of the stairs of our apartement building. I felt sorry for her,and wanted to help her. Only I didnt know how. So I did what any uncertain two-year old would do... run for her mommy.

That was when I learned my first lesson concerning ghost: only I can see them.

Well,obviously, other people can see them.

How else would we have haunted houses and ghost stories and Unsloved Mysteries and all of that?

But theres one difference. Most people who see ghost only see one. I see all ghost.

Anybody. Anybody who has dided and for whatever reason is hanging around on Earth instead of going wherever it is, he or she is surppose to go.

I'm not saying my mother figured out that it was a ghost I was pointing to and gibbering about that afternoon,I doubt she knew it. She probably thought I was tyring to tell her something about the mouse. But she looked up gamely up the stairs and nodded and said, "Uh-huh. Listen, Heathie. What do you want for lunch today? Grilled Cheese?Or tuna fish?"

I hadnt exactly expected that reaction.

I had expected aleast an acknowledgment of the thing floating at the top of the stairs. I was given explanations for virtualy everything else I encoutered on a daily basis, from fire to electrical outlets. But why not ghost?

But as I sat muncing my grilled cheese a little later, I realized that the reason my mother had offered no explanation for the gray thing was that she hadn't been able to see it. To her, it wasnt there at all.

At two years old,this didnt seem unreasonable to me. Over the years of seeing more and more of the little gray things I never discussed them...really. I saw them. They spoke to me. For the most part, I didnt understand what they were saying, what they wanted, and they usually went away. End of story.

It probably would havegone on like that indefitely if my father hadnt suddenly died.

Really. Just like that. One minute he was there, cooking and laughing in the kitchen, and the next day he was gone.

And, people keep assuring me all throughh the week following his death-which I spent on the stoop in front of our building, waiting for my dad to come home-he was never coming back.

I,of cousem didnt believe their assurances. Why should I? My dad, not coming back? Were they nuts? Sure, he might of been dead, but that didnt mean I would never see him again. I saw lots of dead people on a daily basis.

It turned out I was right.

My dad was the one who finally explained it to me. So I guess, in a way, its a good thing he did die. snice I might never have known otherwise. About the whole seeing ghost thing.

I dont know how I got SO lucky-i mean, i am a normal in ever other respect. Well,almost,anyway. I just have this unfortunate ability to communicate with the dead.

Not just any dead either-the unhappy dead. So you can see that my life has really been just a bowl of cherries these past sixteen years!

Imagine-being haunted-literally haunted- by the dead,every single minute of every single day of you life. Example number one:

You go down to the deli to get a soda-opps,dead guy on this corner. Somebody shot him. And if you could just make sure the cops get the guy who did it, he can finally rest in peace.

And all you wanted was one sada.

Example number two.

You go to the library to check out a book-oops, the ghost of some librarian comes up to you and wants you to tell her nephew how mad she is about what he did wit her cats after she kicked the bucket.

And those are just the folks who know why they're sticking around. Half of them dont have any idea why they havent slipped offinto the afterlife like they're suppposed to.

Which is irritating because,of couse, I'm the schmuch who's supossed to help them get there.

Im the mediator.

Sometimes they can get rough, I mean they try to hurt people. On purpose. Thats when I usually get mad. Thats when I usually feel compelled to kick a little ghost butt, what? I do have a evil side thank you.

Which was what my mom meant when she said,"Oh Heather, not again." When I kick ghost butt, tings have a tendency to get a little messy.

Which is why I turned my back on the ghost and said, "Never mind mom, Everything is fine! The room is great. Thanks soo so much."

I could tell she didnt believe me. It's hard to fake out a mom. I know she suspects there's something up with me. She just cant figure out what it is. Which is probably a good thing because it would shake up the world as she knows it in to major a way. I mean,shes a televison news reporter. She only believes what she can see. And she cant see ghost.

"Well,"She said, "I'm gald you like it. I was sort of worried. I know how you get about old places."

Old places are the worst for me because the older a building is,the more chance there is that someone has died itn it, and that he or she is still hanging around.

"Really, Mom," I said, "It's great I love it."

Andy hearing this, hustled around the room all excitedly,showing me the clap-on,clap off lights, and various other gadgets he'd installed. I followed him around,expressing my delight, being careful not to look in the ghost's direction. It was really sweet, how much Andy wanted me to be happy. And I was determined because he wanted it so much, for me to be happy.

"Is it really all right heathie?" my mom wanted to know. "I know its a big change and all. I know it's asking a lot of you-"

I took off my leather jacket. I dont know if I've mentioned this, but it was pretty hot out for January. Like seventy. I'd nearly roasted in the car. "It's fine mom, really" I said.

So maybe it wasnt so unusual for my mother to be sitting there on my bed,talking about "fresh starts" and all of that. It was kind of weird that she was doing it while this ghost was sitting a few feet away, watching us. But whatever. She seemed to have a need to talk about how things were going to be much betther for me out here on the West Coast.

And if that's what she wanted, I was going to do my best to make sure she got it. I had already resolved not to do anything out here that was going to end up getting me arrested, so the was a start anyway.

"Well," my mom said, running out of steam after her you-wont-make-friends-unless-you-project-a-friendly-demeanoer-speach. My mom nodded and got up. Just as she was about to go out the door, she turned around and she said, her brown eyes all filled with tears," I just you to be happy heathie, Thats all I've ever wanted. Do you think you can be happy here?"

I have her a hug. "Sure mom," I said."Sure, I'll be happy here. I'm feeling at home already."Not all Lies.

"Really?" My mom was sniffling." You swear?"

" I do." And I wasnt lying either, I mean there'd been ghost in my bedroom back in Brooklyn all the time, too.

She went away and I shut my door quietly behind her.. I waited untill I couldnt hear her heels on the stairs anymore, and then I turned my head around.

"All right," I said to the presence of the window seat."Who the hell are you?"