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The day after Sam showed up, I woke up with ten minutes to get ready, eat breakfast and drive to school. Sure, I was happy about the driving part (really, what kind of senior wants to walk to school and back?) but not too excited about going to school on and empty stomach and being so tired that I didn't even want to breathe.

So I pulled on my usual ensamble, band tee with a black hoodie, jeans, and black vans slip-ons, then grabbed a plain bagel and trotted out the door. I had actually forgotten all about Sam for a while, atleast until I put the key into the ignition and turned it.

"Dream about me?" said a voice to my side.

Without turning to look at her, I said, "Yeah. Dreamt of you leaving."

Sam rolled her eyes, then smiled brightly. "I haven't been to school for weeks!"

"You didn't die that long ago," I replied.

"It's still felt like ages, especially having gone to high school for almost four years."

"Damn, that sucks," I told her. "So close to graduation."

As I backed out of the driveway, she sadly said, "Yeah."

I looked over at her for a few seconds, and I think this was the first time I actually noticed how pale her skin was, how her red hair perfectly framed her face. And those soft green eyes, suddenly I felt like melting.

But I wouldn't. I couldn't. She wasn't even alive. For all I knew, she was just a figment of my imagination--- as the little boy from the day before had put it, an imaginary friend. Maybe I had a mental problem. So there was no way that I could even befriend this girl.

"Man, you made it here in record time," Sam said, breaking my train of thought. Yes, I had been very quick on getting to school, but not on purpose at all.

I grabbed my backpack and walked towards the front of Downers Grove South High School, taking a large bite from my bagel. And a deep breath. Just two more months, Bryar, and you are out of this shit hole.



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Yet again I was in jazz studies with Ms. Wakelin. As soon as I walked through the door, she put on her usual scowl and started to bitch at me.

"Pull up your pants," she nagged, then said, "And you're going to need to go get the other snare drum from the back room. Ricky broke the other one."

I turned to her and said, "Look, I've got some senior stuff to take care of, pronto. I'll be back if I can," then high-tailed it out of the music classroom before she could bark at me to do anything else. Right now I needed to get some invastigation under way.

I had gotten the idea in homeroom, when some cheerleader was talking about going to the library and looking at old yearbooks to see if some apparent celebrity really did go to this school. Then--- ding!--- let's go see about this Sam. Great idea! I didn't even know if she went to this school, you know, before, but it was worth a try. It was funny I hadn't known her before, or even seen her, but then again, the school's pretty big.

I roamed through the bookshelves until I finally came across them. The yearbooks. I grabbed last year's and opened it up to my class, flipping to the S sections.

There, in the second row, was Amber Sampson. But it wasn't the same girl. Same name, different girl.

"What are you doing?" a curious voice said over my shoulder.

"You are a liar," I told Sam, then turned to look at her.

She scoffed. "Whatever. Big deal."

"Not that it matters to me. Just... why?"

I looked back at the Amber Sampson in the yearbook. She had real tan skin and dark hair, plus her chin was more pointy.

"So then, is this Amber dead?"

Sam nodded.

"And you're dead."

She nodded again, even though I'd said it to myself.

"Right." I got up and put the yearbook away, annoyed.

"What's eating you?" Sam asked.

Making sure nobody was around, I said, "Well, there's a dead girl talking to me and following me, for one. Then come to find out, she's not even who she says she is."

"My real name is Sam, though," she rubuttled, but I cut her off.

"You're obnoxious. You are like a bunch of freaking fluit flies wizzing by my ears. And yet I---"

Crossing her arms, she asked, "You what?"

"I am leaving now. So you go, too."

A magazine flew off the shelf behind me, and Sam yelled, "Whatever!" then disappeared. A couple minutes passed before Casey came to the aisle I was in.

"What's up with you, Bryar?" he said.

I hadn't heard him though, so I asked, "What?"

"You look upset or something? And there's just tension radiating off of you..."

I sighed, said, "Can I talk to you without any teasing or telling other people?"

"I'm all ears," he smiled, and I couldn't help but smile too, because Casey had these rediculously huge ears.

"Alright, so yesterday..."







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