I remember the first soul I had to help better than almost all the others. It's not exactly something you can forget. Her name was Tabatha, and I remembered her being in some of my classes when I was still alive. She was a short, dumpy girl with her blonde hair always in two braids. She wasn't the brightest bulb and her voice was irritating, but I remember just being glad that somebody could finally see and hear me. That I wasn't alone anymore. It was two months after I'd died when I heard her calling for me.
I was up a tree, I think, just starting to explore parts of the school grounds that I'd never had the chance to when I was alive. I very nearly fell when I heard her annoying little voice in my head and the tug of her in my chest, just managing to hang onto one of the branches. It wasn't like it would've hurt even if I did end up hitting the ground. I didn't need a physical body to help her so back then I didn't even know I could have one. She wanted to learn her spellings, so I read them from a chalkboard for her and she wrote them down.
Then I checked them over, had her correct them and we repeated the process until she got them all perfect. The next day in school, I walked right up to her to ask how her test went, hoping she would somehow be different from all the others who passed right through me. But she did. She walked through me like I was nothing - which I was. I followed her around for the entire day trying to get her to notice me but to no avail.
When I first became physical, I abandoned the kid I was supposed to be helping to go talk to her. I stepped right in front of her and she crashed into me - for a moment, I thought it was a victory. I asked her if she remembered me - I'm Evan, I said, the one who helped you with your spellings. She scowled at me, said that she had never seen me in her life. Then she walked right past me. I learned how this all works the hard way.
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Theo doesn't acknowledge what happened last night. I think he's ashamed; I don't push it. He has toasted waffles for breakfast, slathered in jam and butter. It's gross. He offers me one, which I decline. I know I would've even if I did need to eat. How is he so skinny if this is his diet? I sit and watch him while he eats, tapping the marble-like tabletop with my fingernails and thinking over the plan I made when I went back to bed last night.
"Theo," he looks up from his waffle, "Not to sound callous or anything, but I actually think a list is the best way to go about this." He frowns at me, but he has jam on the end of his nose, so it doesn't quite have the intended effect. "What do you mean-" He cuts off suddenly when the front door flies open. I turn around quickly (I'm sitting on a stool that can turn a full circle and it's way more fun than it should be) and my eyes land on a woman with a shock of blonde curls wearing a copious amount of eyeliner. Theo doesn't yell at her to get out or act frightened in any way, so I guess this woman bursting into the house at an ungodly hour is a thing. With a huge grin on her face, she makes a beeline for Theo, planting a kiss on his bed hair and turning to me, the sharpness of her gaze slipping away into nothing as she does.
"Who's this, Theo? Your new boyfriend?" Her voice is dull like she's an inexperienced actor reading from a play script. "No, Georgia," Theo snaps. I can see the blood rushing to his cheeks. "He's a friend from school. He's helping me with a project."The woman, Georgia, looks at me with slightly misty eyes, like she's trying to discern me from the other side of a waterfall. "Well, you're welcome to stay for dinner," she says distantly. "This house is too big for Theo to be all alone." She blinks and looks back at Theo, smiling, and it's like she suddenly remembered who she is. "Well, I'd better start work."
"You're the reason I don't have any friends!" Theo yells at her back. Just as she passes through the kitchen door, she flips him the bird. I burst out laughing and even Theo lets himself chuckle. "She seems nice," I comment, following Theo as he dumps his plate in the sink. And she does - it's not her fault she can't really see me, just like everybody else. "She's more like my sister than our maid," Theo replies, dousing his plate in water so the food doesn't dry to it before it's washed and drying his hands. (Problem with having a maid: how is he going to learn self-reliance? He can't even wash up.)
"What is it you were saying about a list?" "Later. Can I come to school with you?" "I assumed you would be. You haunt it, don't you?" "I mean as a student. Like I really am one of your friends doing a class project with you. And I don't haunt it!" I add, smacking his arm jokingly. (There really isn't much muscle there - he's built like a runner bean.)Theo smirks, then frowns. It's like he can't decide which part he's supposed to be playing. "You're not a student anymore, are you? How do you expect to get away with that?"
"They won't even notice me," I say, grinning ruefully. "Seriously. I'll just be another student, somebody they won't look twice at. You, as the soul I'm helping, are the only one who looks at me and sees me. And it'll make my job a lot easier if I'm around you most of the day." "So Georgia was acting so weird because of some kind of ghost magic? I thought she was just tired." "It's not her fault. She just can't see me. Well, she can see me," I clarify. "She just thinks of me as an existence, a logic to fill the illogicality of what I am. I'm not real to her."
Theo's eyes soften. He touches my wrist, the one that rests on the draining board - we're still standing on either side of his sink - and looks me in the eyes. And I see understanding there. He knows what it's like to be invisible.
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Theo's school uniform is even more uncomfortable than my old one. His shirt and jumper are too tight across the back and too long at the sleeves and his trousers have to be rolled up three times at the bottom so I can actually walk.
Luckily, his shoes are some semblance of fitting. "Sorry about the clothes," he says as we walk down the white stone path. "They're all tailored to fit me exactly." "Why? You're, what, sixteen? You're not going to stop growing anytime soon." He shrugs listlessly. "My dad likes appearances. So, about that list." I sigh. "You're one of the least specific souls I've encountered, upon reflection. Most people just want: "Babysit my kid" or "Take my shift at McDonald's" or "Write my history paper". You... don't." He frowns.
"What did my soul say again?" "That you wanted to get away, be safe and be happy." I've already told him, but this time the revelation seems more potent. I let the words hang between us for a moment. "So, last night I decided it might be best to make a list of all the things that you enjoy doing, the aspects of your life and lifestyle that you want to escape and everything that does and did make you happy."
"Ironic," Theo mutters. He smiles at me sideways to show he's joking. "So we just have to find out what I'm missing and bring it back?" "Pretty much, yeah." "Can you resurrect people?" he asks jokingly, but his eyes are wide and vulnerable beneath his shock of hair. "I wish."
We're both silent for a while. We walk to the end of the path and start walking along the gravel road towards the main one side by side. I wonder how this would look to an outsider: two boys, one you could barely look at, walking in silence shoulder-to-shoulder. What would they think we were? Brothers? (Not likely, judging by how my fair skin and bronze hair contrasts with his darker coloring.) Friends? Best friends? More?
"So, what do you like to do?" He scratches the back of his neck, fingers sliding underneath his headphones. (The accessory is red and black, matching his tie.) "Er... art, I guess. I like to paint with oils. And reading."
"What's your favorite book?" I ask, a little too eagerly. I've had far too long to appreciate literature. "The Lord of the Rings. You?" "Harry Potter." (I managed to read each book over kids' shoulders - the one time being invisible was useful.) He looks at me sideways. "Why Harry Potter? I read those when I was a kid. Not to judge your choices, but haven't you had, like, five decades of time to read anything you want?"
"It's a world you can get lost in. I appreciate that." He nods. "That's a mood." "Huh?" "You know what? No. I'm not going to try and explain it to you." "Okay..." Even after years of observation, there'll always be aspects of this generation I'll never understand. "So, other than painting and reading, what do you enjoy?" Theo shrugs.
"Exploring, I guess. Mum and I..." His face tightens. "We used to try and watch the sunset from a different place every day when she was still alive. But I haven't done it in years." He coughs, "Yeah, anyway - I like listening to music. And watching films." I nod, mulling it over so the tug of empathy I feel in my chest is easier to ignore. By the time I come to a conclusion, we've reached the main road. A car flies by unexpectedly, making us jump. My hand brushes his by accident.
"Okay," I say, "so here's the plan. Tell me if you want to change it. I'll come with you to school, try and help you make a few friends, and after school, you can show me around the best parts of the town. Get the exploring part down. I'd like to see it again, anyway. And in the meantime, we can plan out how we can talk to your dad in time for when he comes back. This Saturday, wasn't it? So five days including today." He looks apprehensive.
"You good?" I nudge him with my elbow. "Any objections? Changes?"
"Yeah, I'm good. And the "plan" is fine." He smiles at me - a little nervously, but it's still a relief from all the frowning. I smile back at him, wanting him to do it again instead of scowling and putting up fronts all the time. He has a very nice smile.