Chapter One

I was bored half to death. Of course, I was already half dead. So, I was bored to death? Maybe. I don't really know.
It was precisely 11:54 on a Thursday morning, which was completely being waisted in math class. I mean, common, I was over 100 years old. I've learned more than enough math than Mr. Miller had learned in his lifetime.
So why was I trapped inside of room 187?
Even though I know perfectly well, I wondered.
I know I have to play up my human half, pretend to be a normal 7th grader. But lets face it, I am not a normal 7th grader. I wasn't even a normal as a ghost, for goodness sake! I don't, I won't ever, not once be so-called normal.
The rang, and Mr. Miller's geometry lesson was halted.
I gathered up my books slowly, swung my bag over my shoulder, trudged out of the classroom, where the closest thing I would ever have for best friend, Marie Johnson, was waiting for me.
"How boring was Mr. M's lecture? Could we learn something less useful?" Like me, Marie was in AP Math.
"I know, really." I roll my ice blue eyes.
"So, whats new?" she plays with a lock of chestnut brown hair.
"Nothing!" I want to scream. "Nothing at all! I haven't changed one bit for over a hundred years! I'm half dead!"
But of course, I don't. Instead I say, my voice short and sharp, like a knife, "Nothing," plain and simple. "Nothing."
"Okay," Marie said, but she doesn't believe me. I can tell, she raised her eyebrows.
I raise mine back at her.
She laughs, a peal of bells.
"Look, I might have something to tell you, but not hear. Okay?" I sigh, I've known Marie since we-no, she. I just appeared to be. One thing about being only half ghost: I grow like a normal human, except when I "die," I don't die, my body resets it self, like some sort of clock, and I become 2 years old, appearance wise, but have all my memories.-be 4 or 5.
"Ooh, good, 'cause I have something to tell you, too." She grins at me. "Lunch?"
"Sure," I grinned right back at her.
We stop at our lockers, and drop off our stuff. I glance at the small mirror in my mine. I was, as usual, a girl with piercing ice blue eyes, and to making my translucent skin even paler, I had wavy, jet black hair. Nothing new. Same as always.
"So, where do ya want to go eat?" We were at the school gate.
"Oh, I dunno" Marie chewed a thumbnail.
"Pizza?" I suggest.
"Sure, why not?"
We walk in silence to the Pizza Hut, then grab a table in the back when we get there.
We got a small pizza, plain old cheese. She got a soda, I got nothing else but a cup of water, heavy on the ice.
Another thing about being half-ghost: like a regular human, you need to eat, but the ghost blood dialates it, makes your hunger weaker, so you only need to eat once a day, twice if your human side is weak. And for some reason, half-ghosts (or half-ghost, I'm the only half-ghost to "live," as far as I know) don't like meat. It makes them (me?) sick. Real sick.
Trust me. I learned the hard way.
I took a slice, and bit into it. The cheese streched and tomato sauce got on my shirt. Good thing I only wore black, sometimes a deep red.
"Crap," I whisper.
"Crap what?" Marie asks me.
That is not a good thing. When I whisper, my voice is so quiet, so faint that only a so-called-"mythical"-creature can hear it.
And Marie heard it.