The Blackbird

I tried as hard as I could not to glare at the absurdly handsome ghost in front of me, but he was really starting to annoy me. For the thousandth time today I walked right through him and continued to walk in the general direction of my locker.

"Okay, that was uncalled for," he said, walking soundlessly beside me. "But you insulted me first."

I ignored him as I checked the paper in my hand to make sure I was entering the correct code, apparently I had and I felt the lock catch. I swung the green door open, if he were alive then it would have smashed his face. In my peripheral I saw him lean down so that he could watch me through the slits in the metal door. "Ooh please don't tell me you’re giving me the silent treatment."

"Don't you have somewhere to haunt? Someone ELSE to torment maybe?" I muttered under my breath, but I knew he could hear.

I closed the locker door and held my books in my hands. I glanced at him once only to see the duh look he was giving me. Then a smirk spread across his face and I turned toward my next class. Ugh, Trigonometry, I cringed internally.

I could feel the cold radiating from his body so I didn't have to look to know he was still there. "Can't you leave me alone?" I whispered, though a little too loudly because a blonde girl, who's name I had never bothered to learn, turned to look at me. The expression on her face was one of offense, obviously she thought the remark was for her.

"Well think of it this way, I am completely devoted to following you until you help me. It's almost like you have your own personal stalker." He actually seemed like that should grace me more than it did. He wasn't the first that had followed me. They knew I could see them and they made it a point to demand my help. Often, the results were me leaving town. Finding a new school and a new life. I never bothered to settle myself down and I had come to this school just a week and a half ago. I wasn't unpacking my bags.

People ignored me in the hall. I wasn't a leper or anything, on the contrary I was quite pretty. My dyed black hair hung in millions of layers all around my face, molded into place with a sizeable amount of hairspray. My grey eyes barely managing to peek out below my choppy bangs. I wore all of the skinny jeans, band tee's, and converses though, to immediately have me banned from the prep cliques. I didn't mind, I didn't make friends easy especially since I never planned on staying long.

I pushed past the thick crowd and into my Trig classroom, where I immediately walked to the extreme back of the room and sat in the most secluded corner. The ghost sat in the desk in front of me and turned, a grin pasted on his striking face. With hair somehow blacker than mine and falling into his face he could have passed for death himself. His eyes were black as well but with silver streaking out from the pupil. His eyes must have been very grey in life for them to mar the typical black tint that marked the dead. He may have also paled after losing his life but it was hard to tell. The pale looked natural on him, making the pitch black of his hair and eyes stand out even more.

"How may I help you?" I asked sarcastically, laying my head on my folded arms and preparing for sleep. I didn't want to stare at him, this one had an ego. I hadn't bothered to ask his name, it didn't matter. He would see that I wasn't going to help him soon enough and move on to haunting the local Ice-cream parlor. The sooner the better.

He didn't respond at first but I thought maybe I heard him sigh. "Don't worry, I'll wake you when the bell rings."

"Thanks, I owe you one." I said closing my eyes.
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I bolted upright when I felt something icy touch my back. "Yes?" I asked, noticing the teacher staring at me.

"Would you like to answer the question Miss Lockland?" The old man asked with a raised eyebrow.

I looked around and noticed that the ghost was standing beside me, his hand being the ice cube on my back. I couldn't feel him touching me so much as a cold presence. I glanced at his face, he was smirking but even that was devastating. "The answer is the Bessemer Process."

"The Bessemer Process," I repeated, my voice quavering with uncertainty. The teacher looked surprised, obviously thinking that I had been asleep. He was right but I wasn't going to let him know that.

He turned without another word and continued his lecture. I turned to look at the pale, beautiful creature beside me. "Thanks, again." I muttered under my breath.

"That's two you owe me." His grin widened, displaying bleach white teeth.
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"Ooh, come on!" He protested, "You owe me!"

I climbed the stairs to my room and slammed the door in his face, not that it would do anything. I turned from locking it and froze at the sight of him laying on my bed. His black clothes blended perfectly into the black silky sheets of the large bed. Most of the room was either black, mahogany wood, or deep burgundy, and the curtains were drawn tight to keep out as much light as possible. I hadn't unpacked much of my stuff so my bags were all stacked as neatly as possible in the front right hand corner of the room, the small walk-in and bathroom were on the left, both doors stood open.

I threw my backpack on my bed, it barely missing his non-existent body. He feigned insult. "That could have hit me. It might have hurt."

I ignored him further as I dug through the bedside table for my headphones. I put them on and sat on my bed, noticing that he was no longer there. I closed my eyes and, for a time, let the music take over. Song after song blared out through the guitar earphones and I silently moved my lips to the words. Feeling suddenly colder, I opened my eyes. The Ghost sat in front of me, his stance copying my own; legs crossed and hands folded together. Only his head was tilted the side.

I removed my earphones. "What?" I asked, genuinely curious.

His brow furrowed. "Nothing." He said, dismissing whatever he had been thinking. He turned his head to stare at the posters above my head.

He had come to me only three days ago. And this was not the first time I had caught that absent minded look on his face. "What's bothering you?" I waited but he didn't answer.

I asked a different question. One I didn't normally ask. "What's your name?" My voice had softened and he looked back at me.

"Why do you want to know now?" He asked, slyly raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged, "I don't know. But I think it would help, if I'm going to be helping you."

He smiled at this, "So you will then, help me I mean?"

"Something tells me you need it, more than you're letting on." I stared into his eyes, tracing the silver in them. The color seemed to glow, a barrier between the black of his irises and pupils.

"I do." He said, looking back right at me. "But my mother taught me not to talk to strangers, so you first." He smirked.

"Lillian Lockland, but I'll kill you," I hesitated as we both laughed at that, "if you call me Lillian, it's Lilly."

"Hmm..," He said, seeming to ponder my name, "I think I can handle that, Lilly." He said, testing it out. I liked the way it sounded elegant when he said it.

"Your turn." I said, motioning to his holiness.

He seemed to think about it a moment before answering. "Grayson."
"What is your last name?" I asked rolling my eyes.
His face did not change. "It's DeCarlo."

I stopped laughing rather abruptly. "DeCarlo? Are you the one that went missing a couple of years ago? Your dad was Governor of some state."

He smiled, though mockingly. "Yes, I've been dead for a while."

"Huh," was all I could manage to say.
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