Yes, I'm in love with a dead guy. Life sucks.
The first time I saw him, he was standing near the computer monitor in the newspaper room. It was one of those crunch-time days where the school newspaper had to be finished or it wouldn't be printed on time so I was the only one there.
I had just gotten back from a quick trip to the vending machines—securing my dinner of choice, a bag of chips—when I noticed a boy staring out the window. Naturally, I freaked and started screaming obscenities at him. At the time, I had no idea that he was dead.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" I screeched and placed my free hand to my beating heart. It was pounding so loudly I was sure that he could hear it. The boy did nothing for a moment and then he turned, gave me an odd look of surprise, and flickered out of sight.
I was so sure that I was going insane that I hurriedly scribbled down an apology note to the newspaper advisor and fled from the school. Unfortunately, I wasn't simply going insane and even more unfortunately, that wasn't that last time I saw the ghost boy. My life was going to become a lot more complicated.