A/N: Hey! I got a class 2 on my solo! Whoop! I love all my lovelies who reviewed! I'm even more inspired than ever to create a really awesome chapter. I'm dead (teehee...dead) tired though, so if some of my thoughts are weird, its because after solo/ensemble contest our school had a dance. Gosh, I wish Haunted had a dance in it! Oh wait...party...hmmm!

*Butterball and Foolish Fish: the Northern California comment is a saying I heard in a song (Baz Luhrmann's "Everybody's Free"...very inspirational. It says that and to also live in New York once or you'll become too hard). I've been to Carmel California (when I was young) and it's GOREGEOUS there. I, personally, would move there if I had the money! So I love Northern California, and Paul does too...he just needs something to blame his ever so unlikely squishiness on.

So without further ado, here is the tenth chapter of "Haunter...A Paul POV".

"Do you remember The way we used to melt Do you remember how it felt? When I touched you, oh Cause I remember very well" Maroon 5, Through with You

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I stood by her locker in the morning, waiting to see her beautiful face with her shining green eyes. I know...how pathetic am I? Waiting by her locker like a poor lovesick puppy? Well, trust me, if Susannah Simon was brave enough to face me at school then that wouldn't be how she would perceive it at all. Because I convinced myself that I couldn't let her control my emotions like that. I was supposed to be the one in control, remember?

I looked at my watch worriedly. We had only ten minutes until morning assembly, and she still hadn't shown. Just then I saw a patch of red hair float in my direction.

"Are you looking for Suze?" the geeky, redheaded stepbrother of Suze's asked curiously. "Yes, do you happen to know where she is?" I asked as I leaned against her locker cooly. "She's at home," he replied as he adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses.

"At home?" I echoed incredulously. The kid nodded yes. "Is she...all right?" I asked him with concern. "She is quite healthy, except that she has excessive burn blisters on her feet. I'd say they were third-degree burns, myself. They are quite repulsive; and I think she won't be wearing any new shoes for awhile," he stated as if he had researched it.

"Did she say anything? About how she got the burns, I mean," I asked, no longer leaning on her locker. "My mom...err stepmother...told me she had new shoes on and that she missed a ride home so she had to walk. Obviously she took her shoes off and walked barefoot some of the way. Jake said something about his friend Neil bringing her home after he saw her at his father's restaurant. I find that rather peculiar, because then she would have gone out of her way to get to the restaurant and then home," he answered in his high pitched voice. I didn't let on that I knew why she was there. I mean, what could I say? Your stepsister was fleeing from my house after I made a rude, but absolutely true comment about her dead boyfriend. Oh, and by the way, I was teaching her some ghost busting techniques that I like to call shifting.

Somehow, I seriously doubted that the small boy would understand. Something about him seemed so practical. But then again, if he could understand "Non-Euclidean Geometry" (the book he was carrying in his arms), then he probably could understand my situation. "Is she okay? Is she in major pain?" I asked with extreme interest. I hated to be the cause of the disfiguration of her feet. I swear it wasn't my fault. I offered a ride home, but NO. She wanted to walk. And yeah, maybe she had good reason to refuse. I won't deny that I had planned to kiss her. I wanted to so badly and, as you know, Paul Slater ALWAYS gets what he wants. And I knew she liked it. I could see it in her guilty green eyes. I could sense it in her quickened heartbeat. I could FEEL it in that kiss.

His answer broke me away from my thoughts; "I imagine the burns hurt her, but she seems capable of tending to her own wounds. She's pretty well taken care of." What? Well taken care of? I had a feeling this kid wasn't talking about Suze taking care of her own feet. Knowing Suze, she probably would faint at the sight of any festering blisters. No, it wasn't Suze taking care of her own feet it was Jesse. And she probably told him about what I did to her. I'm as good as dead!

"Just, tell her I...uh, just tell me if she gets too bad off, okay?" I told him. "Um, okay I will," he replied as he raised an eyebrow. He must be suspicious. Heh, he has nothing to be suspicious about. Nope, nothing to look at here, folks. "Good. Bye Danny," I said as I started to drag my feet to assembly. "Uh, it's David!" the little one called back after me. Danny, David, same difference.

The day seemed pathetically long and drawn out to me, due to the absence of Suze. Lunchtime finally rolled along and I was sitting at the table that Kelly sits at, waiting for her. Even though it was depressing not having Suze there at school, her injuries allowed for some key campaigning time. A few minutes later, I saw Kelly struggling with a huge box.

"Here, let me help," I offered as I picked up the box, "What is this anyway?" "These," she said as she dropped the box into my arms clumsily, "are the candy bars, remember? You'll help me pass them out, won't you?" Oh, the candy bars...now I remember. "Sure," I replied as I followed her around the assembly yard. "Vote Prescott/Slater," Kelly would say as she plucked a bar from the box I was carrying. She might also add a compliment to their ensemble if they were a girl, or casually flirt with them if they were a guy. I'll admit, she would make a great politician.

We made our way to the table Suze usually sat at with CeeCee and Adam. "Hey CeeCee, hey Adam. Vote Prescott/Slater," I said casually as I handed them each a candy bar. CeeCee glared murderously at me, while Adam shook his head. CeeCee spat with hostility, "You know, Suze is going to kick your butt in this election." "Oh really? She seems to be doing a great job of that right now. Her posters are extremely inspiring," I retorted sarcastically. Of course, Suze had no posters up in the classrooms or anything. CeeCee sat up, with the sun catching on her white hair. Adam placed an arm on her shoulder and said, "Dude, Cee. It's not worth it. Just let him be surprised when Suze rocks the vote." CeeCee pulled a cell phone from Adam's shirt pocket and started dialing angrily. I turned around victoriously to catch up to Kelly. I heard CeeCee shriek into the phone, "I cannot believe you decided to take a sick day! Today, of all days! How could you, Suze? We have so much campaigning to do!" "What are you laughing at?" Kelly asked me when I joined her once again. "Oh, nothing," I replied with a chuckle.

"Tomorrow we should get some others to help us pass out more candy bars. We need time to mingle, don't you agree?" Kelly asked as she took a seat on a deserted picnic table that was under the shade. "Sounds great," I replied as I set down the box and took a seat beside her. "Suze doesn't stand a chance, you don't need to worry about anything, Paul," Kelly assured me. Who said I was worried? I could win this thing with ease. "I'm not worried about that," I replied. "Well, you seem...I don't know...distant today, that's all. Are you sure you're okay?" she asked concernedly as she placed her hand on my leg. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking, babe. It's just that...have you heard anything about why Suze wasn't here today?" I asked, staring at her small hand which was still on my leg. "Brad told me she had these hideous blisters on her feet that were oozing with that white stuff," Kelly said with a look of disgust.

"I heard that too," I said as I looked away from my leg. Her hand seemed so foreign, I couldn't stand to look at it. It just didn't belong. "It serves her right. Every girl knows you HAVE to break your mules in before you wear them to school. I mean, Duh," Kelly rambled on. I guess she realized I really wasn't paying attention because she stopped suddenly and asked, "Are you sure you're okay? I mean...wait a minute. You don't LIKE her do you? Suze, I mean," she asked as she finally removed her hand from my knee.

After thinking for a bit, I replied, "I don't LIKE her." I really should learn to be more specific. By not liking her I meant, I didn't just LIKE her. I loved her. But that was only my business, not Kelly's.

"Good," Kelly said as she hopped off of the table gracefully. "I better get back to the table," Kelly said, expecting an answer from me. When she got none, she just leaned over and kissed my cheek quickly and trotted away. The place where her lips met my skin began to burn. Not too painfully, but it kind of tingled a bit. It didn't burn out of a liking of Kelly. No, it burned for those lips to be Suze's. Because that's who is really the only one that is meant to be kissing me like that. Yeah, it was just a kiss on the cheek, but it felt odd because it wasn't Suze. I've kissed and been kissed by dozens of girls in my seventeen years. It never felt weird before. But now, after I've felt the soft touch of Suze's lips on mine every other kiss I've ever shared with another girl just seemed stupid and meaningless.

How sad am I? I can't even enjoy a stupid kiss on the cheek without comparing it to another. So now what? I'd never be able to date anyone unless it's Suze? She didn't love me like I loved her. She would, though, in time. She HAD to. I would stop at nothing to get her to love me. Even if that meant getting rid of Jesse De-Loser. He just got in the way. Suze and I, we were meant to be. We were perfect for each other. And Jesse was DEAD. He missed his chance at finding love. There was no way in heck I'd let him spoil my chance. NO WAY!

When I finally snapped out of my thoughts, I realized I was ten minutes late to class. I really did not feel like going to class. So I ditched. I know if anyone found out, my campaign would be in danger. I didn't care about that anymore. Plus it technically wasn't ditching because I stayed on school property. I was sneaking around the school, hoping none of the novices would catch me. Luckily, a group of tourists happened to walk by and I was able to quickly blend in. I followed them around and listened to the tour guide brag while the tourists fanned themselves with brochures.

The tour guide led us down this small path. I really couldn't see where we were going because of the number of people that were in front of me. I tried to push my way through, but let me tell you, tourists are so pushy! Suddenly everyone grew quiet and stopped chattering. I heard the voice of the tour guide quietly say, "This, everyone, is the Mission's cemetery. A great many of these graves are those who lived and worked in the mission. Some belong to parishioners of that time, who donated large amounts of money to snag a spot in the cemetery." Everyone was looking around and gasping and pointing at stuff. I was a little frustrated because I couldn't see anything yet. I was still outside of the cemetery. The tour guide let everyone snap a few photos and then she quickly said, "Let's move along to the sarcophagus of Father Juniperro Serra, right this way." One by one everyone evacuated the cemetery, leaving me behind.

The walls of the mission cast a long, cool shadow among all the graves of the cemetery. I looked around the cemetery, noticing all of the graves. In the middle of the leafy ground, there stood an impressive cross, which towered above the small graves. I went down the line, looking at each one with careful contemplation. Many of the graves were only mere wooden crosses, while others were actual headstones with little inscriptions on them. I saw one that said "Baby" on it, dated 1978. Some were dated as early as 1850's and some were as recent as 1998. At the end of the long line of graves, there was a new-shining headstone that caught my eye.

"Here lies Hector 'Jesse' De Silva, 1830-1850, Beloved Brother, Son, and Friend," I read out loud. It had to be at least eighty degrees outside, but for some reason I started getting a chill. That was Jesse's grave. I crouched down and got a closer look at the grave. Here I was Paul Slater, standing over Jesse's dead body. I read the inscription over and over to myself, growing more and more angry as I read it. It wasn't his name that fueled my anger; not even the fact that he was called a 'beloved friend'. I was mad at the numbers in between the words. 1830-1850.

It killed me to see those years, printed so neatly on the gravestone. Years that Jesse had lived. Years that were taken from him. Years that left him stranded here on earth. Those were the years that he belonged to. He didn't belong in the present; he belonged in the 1850's. They caused him to stick around and ruin my life. AND I BELONG HERE, IN THE PRESENT!

The girl I loved was in love with a guy who came from those very years. My living body was standing six feet above the decaying mass that was Jesse's body. There was actually blood pumping in my veins. Jesse's heart stopped a century and a half ago. I could breathe, for heaven's sake. And plus, those numbers probably weren't even accurate. Nobody knows when exactly he died. The numbers were just as real as he was to everyone else on the planet. They were equivalent to nothing. The only people those numbers affected was Suze and me.

This grave meant a whole lot to Suze, I could tell. There was a trail in the dirt that led to it. She probably visited it everyday. But it was just a grave. Doesn't the very sight of that grave make her depressed? Wouldn't it remind her that the guy she loves is buried in the ground? Isn't that reason enough to realize that there is no possible way their relationship would ever work?

I was about tempted to spit on that very grave, but I felt it would be a waste of perfectly good spit. Plus, messing with graves doesn't exactly settle very well with most ghosts. I was pretty much a dead man anyway, so why push it.

I looked at my watch and realized that it was time to go to the next class already. I quickly high-tailed it out of the cemetery and made it over to the next period. I spent the rest of the day deep in thought, practically ignoring most of the people that said 'hi' to me in the halls.

Finally, the long drawn out day had ended. I was walking out to my car, when Kelly caught up with me.

"Paul, are you still coming over to my place after school? I asked my dad about making buttons and he found someone willing to help. I was wondering if you could help design them with me," Kelly said excitedly as she twirled her hair in her fingers. Just then I had an idea.

"Sure, Kell, I'll be over later. Now I have an errand to run," I replied as I squeezed her hand and sprinted over to my car. I quickly pulled out and drove around for a bit.

I had to find the nearest florist. I found one, finally, and quickly entered.

"May I help you, son?" this old cashier asked politely with a huge smile. "Yes sir, I'd like two dozen of your freshest red-roses, please," I said. "Coming right up," he replied as he disappeared behind the counter. I looked around the small store that smelled strongly of a variety of flowers. There were paintings of wild flowers hung all around.

"Here you go, son, two dozen red roses. Do you want a card with that?" The man asked as he struggled with a vase. "Yes, thank you, sir. Do you make deliveries?" I asked, helping him out a bit. "We sure do. Where would you like these to be sent?" he asked as he handed me a blank card. "99 Pine Crest Road," I answered as I took out a pen from my pocket.

What should it say? I'm sorry about your feet? Nope, that's too blunt. I'm right, trust me? Nope, she'd have a fit with that. I wanted to apologize, but at the same time I wanted to give her a hint of how I felt. Then it came to me:

Forgive me, Suze. With love, Paul.

I handed the card to the man and he put it in the envelope. "How much does it cost?" I asked as he put the flowers in a special place for deliveries. "Oh, don't worry, son, it's on me. Young love is a beautiful thing. Good luck, son," he said as he waved goodbye to me.

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A/N: Sorry, another author note! The 'Baby' grave is an actual grave. I looked it up on the web. It's funny because there was a 'Maria A. Silva' listed, but she was born in 1914. Creepy, eh? There were no De Silva's or Diego's listed. I've been on the tour of the Carmel Mission before, but I was like eleven so I really didn't know its significance. I remember seeing the sarcophagus of Juniperro Serra. It was weird because it was like 2 stone dudes looking at another stone dude laying on a platform. Like I said, I was eleven. I do remember the cemetery the most. I was mad then, because most of the graves were little crosses and nothing else really. But the one's that had inscriptions on them were awesome. On some website, you can take a virtual tour of the cemetery...I suggest you Google it. I love all of you guys!