Prologue

String Theory

"If I take the theory as we have it now, literally, I would conclude that extra dimensions really exist. They're part of nature."

Edward Witten.

Okay, it's going to sound crazy.

Like 'the voices in my head are teasing me' kind of crazy.

Whatever, stop judging. You don't have to believe me.

Anyway, the thing about me is simple.

I see dead people.

Snort. Just kidding.

I see one dead person.

And he's standing in front of the TV while I'm trying to watch 21 Jump Street. Geehz. What, like when you die you totally forget your manners? He wasn't even doing anything, just standing there staring at nothing. Or something. I'm not totally sure how this 'ghost' thing works. I wasn't even really sure why I could see him. Guess I'm just special. But, that didn't stop me from picking up the lounge pillow to my left and hurling it at his blonde head.

Oh. Right. He's a ghost. Not capable of physically occupying space and all that.

So my awesome left arm swing caused the pillow to hit my plasma. That's right, my stupid skinny-ass plasma TV, which then proceeded to topple over and fizzle out.

"Noooo!" I jumped up from my seat and fell to my knees on the floor. Just for dramatic effect, of course.

"It's like I can see its soul floating up through the ceiling," he laughed, flying over to patronise me. Yep folks, you heard right. This boy can hover.

I looked up at him, still devastated. I mean, he looked just like your average 18 year old. Sporting the blonde 'bed hair' fashion, a plain white shirt, pair of skinny jeans and those incredibly annoying cerulean blue eyes. Like, I totally would have swooned over him. If he wasn't dead and all. And maybe if he hadn't just mocked me.

"I'll beat the snot out of you!" My threat did sound pretty scary. I was quite mad about not being about to find out if Hanson and Penhall caught that stupid drug-dealing kid. Which yes, is something definitely worth beating someone up over.

"Just try it, Wendy." He smirked.

"That was a terrible Casper reference!" I yelled, pulling back my arm and throwing my fist into his face. But then of course, my fist went straight threw him, causing me to lose my balance (yeah I know, and I'm still sitting down) and fall into him.

This was always weird. I suddenly felt chills down my back and was unable to think clearly. It was kind of like being outside in a blizzard, except you forgot to get dressed and you're standing in the snow wearing your dorky Sponge Bob pajamas and matching slippers. Not that I actually had those pajamas or anything. And, at the same time, I also had to refrain from making any 'I'm inside you' jokes. Which yes, I felt compelled to do.

Patrick Swayze stepped over me, allowing my head to clear. "The hell man! You're like Casper the annoying ghost." I fell back on the floor, slightly hitting my head on the mahogany, but not allowing him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.

"Maybe you should find another apartment then. And some better ghost jokes." He mumbled the last sentence, but my bat hearing totally sonared it.

"I don't care if you used to live here. I'm in a leasing contract so I'm staying. And as for jokes, sir," I cleared my throat, "What's a ghost's favourite ride at the carnival?" I played with my hair, plaiting the blonde and brown strands together.

He rolled his eyes.

"The roller ghoster!" I answered my own question in a Vincent Price voice and started laughing. Okay, it sounded a bit closer to cackling.

"Really?" He looked at me with a sarcastic expression.

"Yes really, you goob." Geehz. I stood up and walked over to where he was standing. "Get over it man, I live here now. Alright? 'Live'? Yeah, key word."

He rolled his blue eyes again. "But I died here. This is my resting place. And how am I supposed to 'rest' while you're constantly watching Indiana Jones and the Indiana Colts?" He threw up his arms in frustration.

I suddenly 'duh' slapped my forehead, "I totally forgot to check what time they were playing!" As I reached for the remote I remembered the TV incident. "Noooo!" I screamed, in a weird moment of déjà vu, and fell to my knees dramatically.

Ghost boy ran his hand through his hair, "God, please kill me again."