See Me

by Susan Hatler

  My purse slipped from my grasp and hit the floor. My backpack fell off my shoulder and joined it. Fiery air burst inside me like a giant vacuum cleaner, sucking harder and harder until I was weightless.

  It was dark now.

  Cold.

  And I no longer had my body.

  Chapter Three

  Everything went pitch black and for a moment I forgot where I was. Darkness surrounded me except for a pinhole of light where I could see the school hallway below. I wanted to go lower and just as I had the thought, the tiny hole swirled open in a blinding flash.

  The empty hall was fully visible beneath me now. A girl stood, a little slouchy but frozen stiff, just inside the high school entry’s double doors. Her auburn hair hung in messy waves to her shoulders. She wore a black sweater, jeans, and boots. The same thing I’d put on this morning. . . .

  Agh! She was me.

  That’s right, I was floating above my own body.

  Oh, man . . . had I died?

  Heart attack? Aneurysm? Had those spirits killed me? Or had they known I was going to die and had been hanging around to take me to the great beyond?

  Why hadn’t I confided in Brynne and Nicole about the spooks? Begged my friends for help? I’d wanted to but then I had choked, too worried they’d think I was losing it. Now I’d lost everything and I was completely on my own, not sure if I was alive or dead. Pretty sure I was dead.

  I looked around for a white light. Golden arches—not the fast food restaurant kind. Or was it supposed to be a golden staircase? Either way, there was nothing glowing or calling me to cross over. I was stuck floating with nowhere to go.

  Suddenly, I shot upward through the ceiling and into some kind of dark crawl space. Ick. Then, as my mind pictured descending, I dropped back down into the hallway, circling the Amy Love mannequin like the rings around Saturn. The hall spun, only I was seeing it through my mind and not my eyes.

  Controlling my movement was a pain without my body. I zipped thirty feet at the thought, tumbling out of control, much as an astronaut might in space.

  One of the spirits must have knocked me out of myself. I wanted to cry, but tear ducts weren’t part of my nonexistent anatomy.

  I couldn’t feel them anymore. Couldn’t feel much really. Just a cool, emptiness. At the mere thought of my body, I bobbed lower and lower like on the string of a yo-yo until I was in front of my own face. Blue-gray eyes stared at me vacantly.

  Was I really dead? Sure looked like it. That was a dead body in front of me. My dead body.

  No. I couldn’t be. I mean, I was thinking, wasn’t I? I’d just separated from my body somehow. Was it a minute ago? It felt like an hour. Or more. Time was immeasurable in my state of nothingness. I had to get back inside my body.

  In a sudden, nervous frenzy, I rushed at my body—trying to pop myself back in. Maybe if I got back inside it would come alive again. Because I sure didn’t want to be dead! I rammed into a solid barrier that exploded hot air, sending me tumbling to the other end of the hall. I bounced to a stop, then hurtled myself back toward my body, flying at full speed.

  I hit something hard, the force punting me to the floor. It didn’t hurt though, since I didn’t have nerve endings or a body. Why couldn’t I get back in? It was scary how dead I looked. The frozen cheekbones. The locked lips. The lifeless eyes that suddenly blinked.

  The emptiness tightened around me as I watched my eyes open and close. My shoulders rolled backward. My head bent left and my neck popped. My chin tucked down and my hands crossed and rubbed my triceps before exploring the length of my arms.

  As I stared in disbelief, my blue-gray eyes came to life. My previously frozen lips crept into a small, lopsided smile. Then, my legs began propelling my body forward, awkwardly, lurching rather than walking . . . without me.

  ****

  I’d been robbed. My body hijacked. My first thought was to call 9-1-1, but without fingers and a voice, that option was pretty much hosed. I spun around the hall, frantic, helpless. Then, footsteps echoed from behind me. I whipped around.

  “There you are.” Brynne clutched a hall pass in her left hand and approached my body, which had come to a slouchy halt, arms stretched out in front. So totally Night of the Living Dead.

  Oh, the horror! Had I somehow become a zombie? Was this my reanimated corpse moving about?

  But my spirit was still alive. Right? So someone—or something—else was controlling my body. But what? How? All I could think was, I’d been zombied.

  “Where have you been? I was worried,” Brynne added.

  Whatever had zombied me took a gawky step back. “Y-You can see me?”

  Weird. My voice sounded the same even thought I wasn’t the one using it.

  Brynne pulled her mouth to one side. “Um, yes.”

  “You can hear me, too?” My body’s voice was a high-pitched squeak. The “thing” cleared my throat, then crooked a finger at Brynne. “Come closer.”

  I watched in horror as my hand—the zombie’s hand—stretched toward Brynne. Run!

  Brynne stood still, watching without fear as my fingers reached for her neck.

  No! I barreled toward my body in a furious rage. Hot sparks smacked against me and I tumbled backward.

  My body fell backward onto the floor, sprawling into a contorted mess.

  Ha! Take that, you freakie zombie. Nobody messes with my friends.

  Instead of running away while she had the chance, Brynne knelt beside my body, and put a hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Its eyes widened, then turned to stare at Brynne’s hand where it was touching my arm. “I can feel you.”

  “That’s good, I guess.” Brynne pressed her lips together. “So you’re not hurt?”

  The thing made my head shake.

  Brynne exhaled audibly, then glanced down at the floor. “What happened? Did you slip on something?”

  It was insanely frustrating that she had no clue she was in danger. That something had taken over my body. I felt powerless. There was absolutely nothing I could do, but hover above them and watch in horror.

  “Where are we?” The zombie made my arm gesture around the hall.

  “Oh, Amy.” Brynne placed a palm against my forehead. “Did you hit your head when you fell? Do you have amnesia?”

  “Amy?” My brows furrowed. “Is that my name? Are we friends?”

  “Of course we’re friends.” Brynne held her index finger up in front of my body’s face and moved it back and forth. “Follow my finger with your eyes.”

  It shook my head. “Tell me where I am.”

  “We’re at school. You must have bonked your head when you slipped.” She started feeling my skull. “Do you have any bumps?”

  It brushed her off, then pushed to its feet and stood upright. Without wobbling, this time. “Which school? What’s the name?”

  “San. Felipe. High.” Brynne pronounced every syllable as if giving a reading lesson to a kindergartener.

  It scratched my temple. Its hand-eye coordination seemed to be improving. “That’s in the bay area just outside of San Francisco, right? We’re still in California.”

  Brynne stood, then peered into my eyes. “Yes, we are. Good job. You’re starting to remember things.”

  My body looked annoyed with her. I hated to say it, but I was too. Couldn’t she tell that wasn’t me? We were BFFs and she was supposed to be my smart friend.

  I watched as my body walked forward, this time more steady and less zombie-ish, and tested one of the double doors, pushing it open, then watching it fall back. “We aren’t locked in.”

  Brynne’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course not.”

  It turned to Brynne. “What’s your name?”

  She shook her head pitifully, then gripped each of my shoulders, and stared into my eyes. “My name is Brynne Peterson! You and I are friends! We’ve lived down the street from each other since freshman year!”

  If I had eyes, I
would’ve rolled them. I mean, hello? My body was zombied, not deaf.

  The zombie turned toward the door, then glanced back again. “Are we close friends, Brynne?”

  “We’re best friends.” Her tone sounded high-pitched, like she was talking to a five-year-old. “You, Nicole, and I are best friends.”

  Uh, if we were best friends, shouldn’t she realize that wasn’t even me she was talking to? Especially since it was acting so slow? Highly insulting.

  It reached around Brynne’s wrists, and held each of her hands. “I’m glad we’re best friends, Brynne. Because I don’t have amnesia.”

  She frowned and tried to pull her hands free, but it wouldn’t let her. “What do you mean?”

  My possessed body pulled her toward the double doors. “I need your help. And you’re going to have to trust me.”

  ****

  I had never given any thought as to how a spirit could travel, but when that spook, who inhabited my body, got Brynne in the car, I figured I’d better map this one out quick. Didn’t take long for me to realize I could just tag along in the back seat, which is where I hovered for the duration of the ride.

  “Here you go.” Brynne slammed the brakes of her sports car, screeching to a halt in front of my house. “If you don’t have amnesia, I don’t see why you couldn’t drive your own car. But whatever. I trust you, Amy.”

  Although Brynne should’ve known I’d never ask her to miss class for me, I was touched she’d done it. Her perfect attendance record would now be flawed and she would have to face the wrath of her parents for that.

  “I appreciate the ride, Brynne. Thanks.” My body snatcher slung my backpack over its shoulder and gripped the body of my purse in its hands instead of holding the short handles.

  Brynne stuck her head out the car window as my body walked up the front steps. “I’ll call you later!”

  Without my body, I floated through the front door easily, and waited while the zombie located my keys and grappled with the lock. It sucked being in my own house but not really being here physically. Why did the zombie want to go to my place? What would it do here? When my mom and stepdad got home in a few hours with my little brother, they probably wouldn’t even notice this walking Amy wasn’t me.

  The thought made me want to cry. Nobody paid attention to me the way they did with Jimmy. They acted like everything he did was perfection, from grades to losing a tooth. But, me? I was always wasting my “potential.” My mom had her new life her new family, and I wondered why she even kept me around. She probably felt obligated to keep me since she’s a responsible person. And it’s not like she could dump me off on my dad. A few years ago, he’d taken that photography job and now he had to travel all over the world.

  If my mom saw me right now, she’d probably spin my getting zombied into my fault. As if I’d done something to provoke the spirit, like playing with Nicole’s lame Ouija board when all I’d wanted to do was get ready for my date. So not fair.

  The front door opened and my body strode in, wandering from room to room downstairs until it found the kitchen. I followed it, watching it toss my purse on the counter carelessly, the beads getting scratched as the bag slid across the granite. Then the zombie chucked my backpack toward the counter but missed it by inches. My backpack fell to the floor so hard the zipper split open and books spilled onto the hardwood floor.

  With barely a glance at what the mess it had caused, it opened the refrigerator, grabbed a carton of orange juice and guzzled down half. Then, it belched.

  My body had been taken over by a pig.

  Holding the o.j. in its left hand, the zombie grabbed a package of bologna in its right, then kicked the door shut, leaving a scuff mark on the bottom of the fridge. No respect. Mom was gonna be pissed and I’d better not be the one blamed for that.

  I wanted to kick this slob out of my house, out of my body, but all I could do was follow the zombie up the stairs where it strode into my room. It cursed at my heeled boots, pulled them off, then chucked them across my floor—scratching the black leather. Uh-oh. Nicole would not be a happy camper. When I’d borrowed them last week, I’d promised to return them in still-brand-new condition.

  Bootless, it slid into the chair at my white antique desk and flipped open my laptop. While the computer was booting up, it scarfed down the entire package of bologna, which would not be a good look for my thighs in the morning.

  “You’re probably here.” My head glanced up, gaze darting around the room. “Aren’t you?”

  If I had a jaw, it would’ve dropped open. Was the zombie talking to me?

  “You followed me from school. Didn’t you?” It turned back to the keyboard, using two fingers to type in a search engine address, then it punched ENTER. “At least, that’s what I would’ve done if I were in your shoes.”

  Um, it had been in my shoes and it’d scratched them up and . . . wait. Did it think it could start a conversation with me after it had zombied my body? What nerve. If only I had a mouth so I could tell it off.

  When the search engine pulled up on the screen, it typed in “Jonathan Jacob Miller” and numerous site options popped up. “I want you to know that what I did to you wasn’t calculated. It just happened.”

  What kind of lame apology was that? Stealing my body had just happened? Yeah, right. Anger surged through me and I threw myself at my body. I smacked into an invisible wall, hot sparks slapping around me.

  “Oh, yes. You’re here.” It nodded its head. Correction, my head. “Can’t tell you how many times I’d tried that before I figured out that wouldn’t work. Frustrating, isn’t it?”

  Like I needed this thing’s empathy. But, yes.

  It studied the computer screen, moved the cursor over an article, and then tapped the mouse pad. Then the eyes on my head zipped from left to right across the screen. Its mouth dropped open. “No. . . It can’t be true.” The zombie pushed back from the desk and jumped to its feet. “Think, dude. Think. There has to be a way to fix this.”

  Truth be told, it looked pretty upset. Like I cared what it’s problem was, though. I wished it would shut its trap and give me back my body. It had ripped me off. Every part of my being wanted to shout, smack it around, or do anything other than float impassively.

  “No!” All of a sudden it punched the wall, then knocked a row of books off the shelf above my desk. “No freaking way!”

  Uh oh. The zombie was having a meltdown.

  “It’s not possible.” It grunted, then lunged toward to my dresser and shoved everything off. My wooden jewelry box hit the carpet and burst open. My phone lay upside down on the floor, making an annoying ehnn ehnn ehnn.

  My body stopped, gulped rapid breaths, and stared at the beeping phone. After a long pause, it picked up the receiver and punched in a number. The way my luck was going it was a long distance call and I’d get stuck with the bill.

  “Hello?” A woman’s voice came through the receiver, but the zombie didn’t answer her. “Hello? Is anyone there?” she said.

  A moment later there was a click then a dial tone. I hovered above my body, waiting to see if the zombie would throw another fit.

  It didn’t.

  Breathing heavily, it set the phone back on the dresser, then checked its reflection in the mirror on the back of my door. Tears filled my blue-gray eyes, a couple spilling down my cheeks. It rubbed my nose. “Amy, huh? Bet you’re wishing you never met me.”

  Got that right.

  “I’m going to need your help to fix this, but I have to come up with a plan first. Somehow.” The zombie swiped at its cheeks, sat back on my bed, then glanced up at the ceiling. “I want you to know, I didn’t mean for this to happen. You’re probably scared, aren’t you?”

  Like I’d admit that.

  “I know how you feel.” The muscles on my face tensed as if it were thinking. “It’s like you’re the same as you always were, but now you’re powerless to connect with anyone. Nobody knows you’re there.”

  Story of my li
fe. Seriously.

  “Even though I didn’t have a body, I hadn’t eaten in days so I felt starved. Ravenous. A hunger I’d never known.”

  That would explain the disgusting chow-a-thon.

  “Being invisible is awful. It’s like you don’t matter to anyone.” It’s voice tightened. “You’re the only one who noticed me, who seemed to know I existed. And look what I did to you . . .” It groaned. “As if I don’t have enough problems. Now I’m worried about what I’m doing to you and if you’re okay.”

  I’d definitely been better. But it felt oddly comforting that the zombie understood my feelings, which was more than anyone else in this house did. Maybe it felt invisible too. In more ways than one, I mean.

  It sniffed, reached out a hand and fingered the air. “You’re right here. I can tell. The air’s thicker. Warmer. You give my arms goosebumps.”

  Excuse me? Your arms?

  “I’m in big trouble, Amy. The worst kind.” The zombie’s hand lingered in the air at the exact spot where I felt like I was hovering, but I couldn’t feel the warmth it talked about—which made sense with my having no nerve endings and all. Then, its eyes drifted closed. “For some reason, you’re the only one who can sense me.” It exhaled slowly, then rested my hands on my stomach. “Like it or not, we’re in this together. But I need time to think of a plan. And I can do that just as well where you are.”

  Back up. What had I missed? It needed to do what? Where?

  “Here goes nothing.” A burst of electricity blasted me away and I tumbled through the wall and into the hallway. Not again. I willed myself back to my room and hovered above my body. Something had changed.

  My body lay in the same position, legs dangling off the bed, back against the mattress. But my body appeared slack. Lifeless. Vacant.

  Warm air spilled around me. Through me. Soothing me like a hot bath. Better than soaking in the tub. Even though I didn’t have a body, I bonded with this heated energy as if it were part of me. The void no longer felt empty.

  We were together.

  One.

  Oh, no. I’d nailed it, exactly. That thing was here floating with me. In me, even. The hot bath feeling must be it . . . what? Mixing with me?