I have no faith in my writing abilities. I have no 'skillz', sadly. So, I've decided to practice more often. Please, tell me about the errors in this horrible piece of writing! And I'm not just talking spelling typos. I'm talking, was the description sucky? How did I balance dialogue with information? How did I add background to the characters? Did the dialogue seem natural? Are the characters cliche? Please, I really want to improve. HELP ME.

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"Lorelei? Can I borrow your history notes?"

It was the lunch period at our school, and Morgana and I were sitting at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, doing some last-minute homework. But I had spaced out for a few seconds. "Hm?" I said automatically.

"Your history notes! I was absent that day, remember? And I have to study for this test," Morgana trailed off, staring intently at her social studies book. Along with being very pretty, she was excellent in school. I didn't mind being in school--I didn't stick out, so it was easy for me to get through the day without being bothered. But my grades weren't like hers. They were, actually, pretty average. B's mostly, maybe a C or two. I knew I could get good grades if I tried, but unlike Morgana, I didn't have the patience to deal with all of the mundane work teachers gave us each day.

I gave the notes to her. They weren't amazing, like all of her work, but they would have to do.

It had been a few months since my last ghost sighting. But I was used to not seeing the apparitions very often. It wasn't usual for me to see a ghost--for reasons unknown to me, there weren't that many ghosts around. This raised questions for me, like "who turns into a ghost, and who dies peacefully?" But I didn't mind leaving these questions unanswered. I had, as I said, grown accustomed to some spottiness. Or maybe it was that I didn't want the questions I had answered. I feared that it would uproot all the ideas I had about... the afterlife? Death? I didn't know. But then, nobody truly does know, until they... well... die.

I hope you remember that, at this point, I had no idea what was going on. I didn't know what to think, and on top of it all, I had been really disturbed by my last encounter.

It had been a boy, a few years older than me. From my time period. But what had shocked me so much about the encounter was that I knew him. Had seen him, on the milk cartons. "Have you seen this boy?" I had, but I couldn't tell the authorities about him. They would think I had lost it only that, but I knew what had happened to him. I asked him.

More surprisingly, he answered me.

When he replied, it was with a hollow voice, as if he was weak. But I knew he wasn't weak. I knew it from an article in the newspaper. He was a soccer player, burly, athletic. His family, and his girlfriend, had said that he would never give up life. "I was killed," he told me, in a hollow, wispy voice that seemed, somehow, faroff, like something coming from a TV the next house down. His voice was transparent like he was. That explained it. After that, he told me who did it. Not surprisingly, I didn't know what to do.

This is what I was thinking about when Morgana asked me for the history notes.

Very soon, the lunch bell rang, signalling the end of lunch: my last bastion from the vague dissatisfaction of school, it seemed like. I mutely packed up my books, knowing there wasn't anything else I could do. My next class was science; Morgana's was english. She walked me to my class, talking about her boyfriend.

Oh yes, her boyfriend.

I forgot to tell you about him. A new kid at our school, he was fresh meat for anyone... espacially since he was good looking. I know he could have made it intp any group he wanted. Instead, it seemed as if he didn't know what to do at our school. He didn't settle for a couple weeks, and when he did, he didn't fit in with the others at the table he sat at so well. Not to criticise the people he sat with, but they didn't relate to him at all. So, of course Morgana adopted him. She does that when she feels sorry for a person. I would too: when you see someone feeling lonely, don't you sympathise with them? Don't you want to talk to them to make them feel better? She adopts them, and when she feels they can function by themselves, she lets them go, without being mean. The only person she hasn't done this to is me. As a result, I know her back to front. Because of the way she can act, I admit I'm doubtful as to how long their relationship will last.

Right now, I'm still in science, collecting my ideas. A lot has happened to me, but not enough to satisfy me. I wish I had some sense of closure on my ability to see things others can't, so lately I've been trying to think about it more. As I think, I see something in the corner of my eye (something darting forward?) but when I turn, there's nothing there. That always happens to me. Someone at my table looks at me strangely, and I avoid their gaze.

And how is my life, from a social point of view? Abysmal, I'm afraid. I could not be any less social if I tried. Oh yes, it was all very nice in kindergarten, when there were no ways of judging people and everyone was too young to care who they talked to. That all went out the door once I felt that there was something separating me from others. I'm afraid it's led me to become a hermit... except, rather than being dignified and wise, I can't talk to anyone without squeaking. And subcultures confuse me. The only reason I have my one good friend, Morgana, is because she picked me out of a crowd to be her friend--there was no bonding involved, and yet our friendship stuck.

And the bell rings again for science. And now I can leave school. I decide to stop by Morgana's locker, but when I near it, I see she is talking to her boyfriend. Not wanting to intrude, I just leave school.

And now, it's the real beginning of the story.