When you hear the name of the famous – yet the so-feared collector of souls, the gatherer of lives and the keeper of death, what do you think? Death itself has several names. One of the most famous ones is – the Grim Reaper. Until my sophomore year I thought of the Grim Reaper as a rip-off of Kronos, a Greek-myth god who devoured his children one by one, to avoid death by their hands. So, it's more than some other people see. I mean, most people hear "Grim Reaper" and they think of a cover album of an old heavy-metal band. Or they think of that cartoon where all the people look like they are under a foot tall, and 'Grim' the Grim Reaper lives in their basement. And all the kids have wonderful adventures with him such as entering a whole weird world full of monsters, or helping him gather his bones after a dog had stolen them. Hardly sounds like something children should watch, but trust me, it's lovely.

So, as I said, I never really thought about it until my sophomore year. That was when I discovered many things. One – Seniors were not a nice bunch of people. Two – my best friend since forever was the Grim Reaper. Three – green is certainly not the new pink.

Perhaps I should explain. I wore green practically every day of the week, and soon got the nickname of 'Jade the Green Nosed Reindeer'. That was thanks to Sidney Willson. Nice girl, I hope she dies of pneumonia. But anyways, it stuck like lice on a hobo. Not that I have lice or smell like poo, but everyone called me 'Jade ect.' from then on. Oh, and 'then' is what I like to call the first day of my second year in high school. Thankfully, people by nature are lazy sacks of crap, and never really called me by my oh-so-loved nickname. Instead they shortened it to Jaden. I really didn't mind that, Jaden is a good name.

Now that I totally got sidetracked, I will tell you a little about my earlier statement. How did my best friend from birth end up to be the Grim Reaper? It was complicated. No, really, it was. Or else I wouldn't bother writing a whole damned story about it. His name is Daniel, by the way. We have known each other as I said earlier – forever. Our moms were best friends. We were born on the same day, three hours apart, in the same town, and even in the same hospital. Although I am three hours younger than him, he thought he was obligated to defend me at all costs and at all times. Like a big brother. Except we are in no way related. That would be completely gross. Did I mention I'm completely in love with him, and have been since fifth grade? No? Oh well.

My dad and his dad always fished together. When I and Dennis were old enough, they dared take us on a fishing trip. Never happened again due to a "falling off the boat and all the bait being knocked off into the water" accident. But our families were tight. We were both the only children, so no siblings to get in the way of us becoming the bestest friends known to the world. And we actually were. He was closer than a brother to me, if that's possible. As you can imagine, by high school, things changed a bit. For one thing – we were allowed to date. Too bad I dared not suggest the thought of the two of us dating. No, no, we dated other people. Well, he did. I didn't. I couldn't like another boy when I was so hopelessly in love with my childhood sweet-heart. He, on the other hand, was not shy about asking other girls out. It hurt like hell to listen to him talk about his latest girl. And he talked for hours. You know how you always want to talk about the one you like? I was always the one he called when his girlfriend couldn't be reached. And I would die inside a little every time we hung up on such occasions. I hated it, but I supported it. He was happy, and isn't that all that matters? The thing I admire most about him is the fact that he didn't abandon me when yet another girl came along. We were still the best of friends, even if she didn't like it. Sometimes I am amazed at how many girls he had actually dated. I guess if I were to try and look at him as any other girl did, I could see why they flocked to him like flies to a piece of poop. Did I just compare the love of my life to a turd? Ah well, he'll get over it.

Daniel was gorgeous. Hazel-golden eyes that made girls melt whenever he looked at them, incredibly perfect lips, semi-long raven black hair, and that six-foot four body that represented all that a guy should be. He also had one other quality no girl at my school could resist, even if she pretended to despise it. He was punk. Well, punk-goth. He has been for a long time. Now that I think of it, even when we were little he chose black clothes over colorful things his parents offered. But when we got to high school, he really fit the role. And the strange thing was – he wasn't labeled as a loser. People were always instantly comfortable with him. I think it's because he always knew how to build up their self-esteem without using cheesy compliments. So, he was popular. Even with the jock crowd. But that was because he was the king of basketball. Starter on varsity that wonderful sophomore year I will always remember.

So what about me? If it wasn't for Daniel, I would be that girl that walks by you in the hall and the only reason you recognize her is because she seems to be the prime target for spitballs in the library. But as I said, Daniel never abandoned me. He has always seemed oblivious of his popularity, and as it increased, he dragged me along with him. Despite my strong protests of becoming a Malibu Barbie, I had picked up tricks of looking good from the girls that usually hung around Daniel. As freshman year finished up, I found myself wearing jean minis with cute little flip-flops and my hair smothered with chemicals to keep it up. I never accepted "slut clothes" into my wardrobe though. Even my minis I kept modest. But you get the idea, I was a typical loser who was deemed to be cool because of my friends.

Now that I've explained our school status a little, let's talk about that thing about death and such. It was sudden that he told me. About a month into the school year, Daniel calls me at six in the morning. Not that weird, he's done it before, but the conversation was a little on the abnormal side.

"Hmpth?" Was my reply to the annoying ringtone I had chosen the day before.

"Jaden, I think I killed someone!" Was the voice on the other end. Although he sounded absolutely awful, I took it to be a prank.

"So stash them in your closet and call me back when it's time to get up." I answered, propping myself up on an elbow and sitting up in bed. I had planned to hang up on him right there, but he guessed my intent and with an urgent voice started explaining.

"No! Jaden, listen, I am serious! I seriously think I killed someone!" He protested, and something in his voice made me focus. He never was good a lying.

"What are you talking about Danny?" I asked slowly. What the hell? Was he serious? What was going on…

"I don't know!" He sounded desperate. "There was blood all over my hands when I woke up! And I had this weird dream that I could not control..."

At a hundred miles an hour, I could not understand him. Without dropping the phone, I managed to pull a shirt on and a pair of jeans, and assured him that I would be at his house in ten minutes and then we could both take his car to school.

When I finally hung up, I was rushing down the stairs, my hair in a high ponytail and no make-up. I rarely wore heavy make-up, but usually at least put on mascara and lip-gloss. Unfortunately, I forgot both that day. I did not exactly understand what Danny had said, but I was really worried by his tone. Daniel never panicked. He never worried about anything that much. And I would be a lousy best friend if I ignored him when he sounded like he was going to have a heart attack.

My mom was in the kitchen making coffee when I ran though. She questionably looked up at me and I briefly explained that I was going over to Daniel's to help out with something before school. She just shrugged and let me go. If there was an emergency his mother would have called her, so Mom wasn't worried.

I fell into the front seat of my car and started the engine to have it sound like a sick hippo. My phone rang again, and I picked it up.

"Jaden?" He sounded a little more relaxed, so my nerves calmed a little as well. "Jaden, don't tell your parents… don't tell my parents either. Come through the back door, it's unlocked. Everyone is asleep, I don't want them to wake up."

"Alright…" I agreed, triumphantly turning the key and hearing the purring of my car. He did not say anything else, so I hung up and pulled out of the driveway.

The streets were empty except for a few cars. We lived in the suburbs of town, so there wasn't a lot of traffic before eight. Our houses were about five minutes apart, and at my speed I got there in three. There was only one light on in the house. It was Danny's room, right above the garage.

I tried my best not to make a sound as I pushed the back door open. It was still dark outside, and I did not see the dog's food bowl right in my way. I tripped and sent the bits of dry food flying around. That, of course, woke up Bizz, Danny's great dane. I heard four claws rip grass out of the ground as he practically flew towards me. Fortunately Bizz did not bark unless he was sure there was danger to his master, and he recognized me right away. In a matter of seconds Bizz was everywhere around me, his tail a big blur of white fur. He was a rare dane, a pure white one. As a puppy he had black spots, but they disappeared as he grew. I loved that dog, he was the most vicious looking puppy unless he knew you. Then he became the sweetest a hundred and forty pounds of dog.

I shushed him and smiled as he offered me a paw to shake. I patted him on the head and proceeded towards the back door. He tried to follow, but I made him stay outside. Danny's mom didn't like the dog to be inside the house at night, she was afraid of him breaking things on accident. And it was considered night until she got up in the morning.

I made my way up the stairs, and past the master bedroom. I slightly tapped on Danny's door, but I knew he heard me because I heard something fall off the bed and scramble to the door.

The light from inside the room was almost blinding to my poor used-to-dark eyes, and I did not immediately see the condition Danny was in. When I did, I gasped and covered my mouth.

"What happened?" I managed to squeak as he pulled me inside the room and shut the door.

"Jaden… I woke up like this – I swear!" He said rapidly. He looked like he was about to cry. But I knew better. The only time in his life Daniel cried was when we were six and I had thrown the playstation out the window of the second floor. What can I say, I get a little competitive when it comes to racing games.

I shook my head to make sure this wasn't a mistake. Was he playing some kind of a sick joke on me? His arms were covered with dry blood to the elbow, but there was not a visible cut on them. He had bloodshot eyes, like he hadn't slept for days, and he was deathly pale.

"Let's go wash it off…" I offered dumbly. What would you say in a situation like mine? Of course I would make him explain, but perhaps not having blood all over him would help his nerves a little. As I led him like a child to the bathroom across the hall, he did not say a word. But I could see he was shaking a little. We remained silent until we were back in his room. Only then did it occur to me that the only thing he was wearing were boxers.

"First – put some pants on." I commanded, throwing open the doors of his closet and fishing out a pair of grey jeans. "Technically, I'm not allowed to be in the same room with a guy that doesn't have pants on."

"Technically, I don't count as a 'guy' with your parents." Daniel answered with a small smile, but received the jeans thrown at him and slid them on as I shut the closet and handed him a black 'Senses Fail' t-shirt.

"Alright. Now, explain." I sat on the bed next to him and crossed my arms. "What the hell did you mean when you said that you killed someone?"

He pulled the t-shirt over his head and looked at me childishly. "Sorry, I panicked…" He said somewhat unsurely.

"Danny, you mean to say you panicked, and that's why I rushed over here at six twenty in the morning?" I asked, although somewhat relieved that it was all in his head.

"Well, I don't know." He admitted. I figured he had a bad dream and woke up to find blood all over him.

"What about the blood, are you alright?"

"Yeah. I can't explain that one." He looked down at the floor. "But that's why I said that I think I killed someone. I was so sure of it when I woke up."

So I was correct, it was a bad dream. I nodded for him to go on, and he did.

"You see, I had a dream that I was in the hospital. That I walked down the hall, and none of the night-shift nurses could see me. I tried talking to them, but they looked right through me and couldn't hear me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Dreaming of nurses, huh?"

"It's not what you think." Danny answered. "This wasn't like any other dream. They were real – everyday people."

Hmm, so fat girls, I thought.

"And then I walked into a room. Most of the stuff in it was either white or teal. There were flowers on the desk. And there, hooked up to all kinds of machines, was an older woman lying in bed. She lifted her head and asked me the strangest thing. She asked if she could go. And then I found myself doing the strangest thing. I reached for her, and my hands went right through her, up to my elbows, and then suddenly she fell back, dead! The thing she was hooked up to made these weird noises, and a minute later several nurses rushed in along with a doctor. I stepped aside, they didn't notice me. Like I wasn't there. They rushed about her, as I watched. Then I suddenly woke up. And there was blood on my hands and arms…"

I sat there, gaping at him. He looked stressed and uncomfortable. I looked away from him. Bad dream. Weird dream – sure! But how the hell do you explain blood?

"What do you think happened?" I asked quietly.

"I don't know."

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah… I feel like the last piece of shit for making you come out here because of this."

I smiled, "Don't worry about it. Someone must have played a sick joke on you. I would have pissed myself if I had woken up with blood all over me."

He seemed to accept that and relaxed.

"Let's get some breakfast." I suggested. He stood up, gratefully looking down at me, and offered his hand to help me up. I accepted and we snuck out of the room.

A little bit of pale rose light was coming in through the windows by now. When we came downstairs Mrs. Kelly, Daniel's mom, was in the kitchen in her bathrobe.

"Good morning!" She smiled at us.

"Morning mom…" Danny said as he went for the pantry.

"Good morning Joan!" I greeted her. I never really did call her Mrs. Kelly. It felt weird because she was like a second mother to me. Half my time I spent over at her house, and she wasn't one bit surprised when I was there at six thirty in the morning.

"You two want some toast?" She asked, opening a bag of bread and taking out a few slices of it. Danny stopped in his tracks, and put the box of wheat flakes back into the pantry.

"Sure." We said at the same time. She laughed and got more bread out.

"So Jenni," Joan started as I sat down at the table as Daniel fished in the fridge for juice. His mom always called me by my name rather than my nickname. I don't think she even knew my nickname. "Your mother tells me you're thinking of taking guitar lessons."

Danny turned his head around to laugh at me. I frowned at him and turned back to Mrs. Kelly.

"Yes, I was. My mom thinks I should get some experience with an instrument if I want to have a chance in performing." I answered, snatching an orange out of the bowl in the middle of the table. The truth was that I hated playing any kind of instrument, and absolutely loved singing. It was hard for me to do it in front of people, but I could learn to live with it. Unfortunately my mother had her heart set on me playing the piano, and was very disappointed when I declared that I would rather set myself on fire than play piano. After hours of arguing we decided that I would take guitar lessons, and she wouldn't take away my car.

"But Jenni, I thought you were interested in singing." She asked, setting a plate of toast on the table in front of us. She motioned for Danny to get the butter.

"I am. But Mom wants me to get a wider taste for music."

"Hmm…" was her response as she got herself a cup of coffee, and retreated to the dining room. She was like that, could leave at any point of conversation. Daniel laughed slightly as I grinned. I looked to Danny. He stared back at me.

"What?"

"Guitar lessons?" He asked, taking a bite of his toast.

"Yeah…" I didn't exactly tell him beforehand. That was because he was a god at playing guitar. And I didn't want him to teach me. That would make his head so big, he would not be able to fit through the doorway. Heck, he wouldn't be able to lift it off the pillow in the morning.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could help you out with it." He looked hurt, and that's why I didn't want to tell him.

"Look, I don't even want to play. Let's not talk about it." I protested. He frowned, but let it go. I'm a real bitch sometimes.

So. That is how it all started. We dismissed it as a prank that day. If only we knew. Something very similar happened a few nights afterwards. This time my cell rang in the very middle of the night. I have to admit, I wasn't very happy with it, and answered rather harshly.

"Motherfucker!" I groaned into the phone.

"It happened again..." I wasn't sure who it was calling me. It did not sound like Daniel – that was for sure.

"Who the hell is this?" I managed to mumble as I searched for the light beside my bed with my free hand.

"It's me, Daniel. Jaden, I don't know what the fuck is going on… it… it happened again… there is so much blood…" I hated how he sounded. He was so calm. He sounded like he was still asleep – like he didn't believe a word he was saying. I finally discovered the light switch and flipped on the blinding light bulbs, in the shape of unicorns, by my bed.

"Daniel, what's going on?" I was a little more awake now that I scorched my vision.

"It happened again…" he repeated, "this time I went to someone's home… and an apartment, and a nursing home – twice!"

I opened my mouth to say something stupid, but thought better of it. I vaguely formed intelligent thoughts in my mind concerning Daniel's strange dream and blood we found the morning after.

"Blood?" I asked.

"Up to my elbows…" He confirmed. I still did not like the way he sounded. Way too calm. I could just hope he didn't go into a state of shock. "I washed it off… but… Jaden? I don't think this is someone's prank…"

"What?"

"There were four people this time… at least… that's all I can remember…"

I let out a heavy sigh. My best friend was going crazy – literally insane – right in front of me, and I didn't know what to tell him.

"House? Apartment? Where was this?"

"I don't know… well… I kinda know. The house was in the middle of nowhere, out in the farming country. I remember seeing fields when I entered the door."

"Before that?"

"I don't know. The dream began with me standing at the door…"

"Ok. What about the apartment?"

"I was already inside. I didn't see anything but the old man."

"Man? What happened?"

"Same thing as last time. He opened his eyes, and asked if he could go. Then I reached for him, and was covered up to my elbows in blood… he died right there…"

I sat up, quietly listening to him. This wasn't normal, and I didn't like it.

"Listen… I think you should go back to sleep. Meet me in the library before school… we need to figure out what the hell is going on with you." I was concerned, really, but when I get woken up at two in the morning, I don't function too well.

"Alright. You're the smart one, I guess."

And he hung up the phone. I dropped back onto my pillow, but couldn't just shut my eyes and go to sleep. This was messed up. These things happened to crazy old ladies who believed in ghosts and junk like that, or gypsies who smelled a little funky. But not to sixteen year old boys whose life revolved around what the cafeteria was going to serve for lunch.

Eventually I did fall asleep, although I'm not sure when. I woke up at seven thirty – way later than I planned to – and rushed to get ready. I was determined to figure out what was going on with my best friend.