-CLAY-

From the get-go, he knew today was going to be horrible, and so were
the days after that.

In a town of ghost stories, Clay found himself completely invisible. His family
even had their own story. A cold lifeless whisper from the wind carried him out
of his thoughts.

He stood at the front of the schoolyard desperately clutching onto the straps of
his bag. Student after student shuffled through the door and disappeared
within the building. After remaining in the centre of the little concrete walkway
for over ten minutes, he still couldn't bring himself to make a decision. If he
turned around right now and kept walking down the side of the road his day
would be so much easier. The thought of his brother receiving a call from the
school however kept his throat dry and his limbs frozen in place.

Like it did daily, the aggressive hollering of the drivers scattered on the road
drowned out all the thoughts trying to give him a good enough reason to
ignore what his brother might do to him. The irony of how such an obnoxious
environment can even be associated with the word ghost caused a sigh to
escape his cracked lips. It was all one big cash grab, an excuse to stalk the
stores with paper ghosts, masks and tell stories about things that go bump in
the night. Yet Clay still found himself entranced with how the leaves of the
trees always seemed to be sun-kissed red and orange as if always on fire.
While everywhere else got to experience the beautiful changing of seasons,
White Oak got stuck with one year-round. Fated to be your paper cut
Halloween Town from the start.

A dozen others his age passed by him listening to music, talking or trying their
best to carry a large mass of books in their hands. There wasn't any point in
becoming a statue if he was going to be dragging himself to homeroom
shortly.

"Come on, one foot in front of the other," he muttered under his breath.

His boots crunched down on the leaves scattered across the dead grass
making his way to the concrete monster. As he drew closer to the doors he
paid attention to the numerous windows he would soon find himself staring out
of during class. He could see the beakers in the biology lab, the dull light
flickering in the boy's bathroom and even a shadow moving within the janitor's
closet. Their janitor had to be getting ready to go on break. Lucky.

Gripping onto the frigid grey handle, it was his last chance to just leave and
not come back. Suffice to say, he did not take it, being embraced by the
silence that immediately consumed him on the inside. His head dropped near-
instantly, pretending his shoes were the most interesting thing in the room. He
could feel the imaginary eyes staring -- judging the way he walked. Wistfully,
he knew it was all in his head. No one would ever grant him the attention he
hungered for. They all faced each other, or rummaged through their lockers,
despising him in silence. No, if they did that, it would mean admitting he
existed. It would be safer to say they didn't care whether he lived or died. Clay
Alister did not exist.

Stumbling down the corridor he tried his best to look straight ahead but his
anxiety got the better of him. Counting the tiles, he abhorred the silence. The
only thing that met his ears were the wooshing of the air conditioner. There
were no conversations had by the groups of students, everyone stood there
with their lips still. A scene that mirrored the way he saw them talking and
laughing through the windows before he entered.

Finally, his gaze landed on his locker, the tiny dents on the blue metal bringing
a familiar pain to his bruised knuckles. Next to it was a girl, her head
disappearing into the depths of the neighbouring locker. If Clay were to open
his own locker even in the slightest it would no doubt hit her in the shoulder.
There was only one possible direction things would go from there. She would
immediately assume he did it on purpose and hightail it to the principal's
office.

Taking a deep breath, he readied his finger to tap her. Using a bit of force, he
managed to reach her through her thick coat. The girl retracted in seconds,
straightening her stature to turning around confused. That confusion
dissolving away immediately when her eyes met his. She relaxed her
eyebrows pulling back into a thin line before slamming her locker and
disappearing.

He would have loved to believe he did not look disappointed at the moment
but he should have known better. Still, it had the makings to be much worse
than a rude gesture. Ghosts weren't meant to touch people. Or speak to them
as a matter of fact. They were not meant to be seen or even heard. Realising
his hand was still up, he brought it over to his locker unlocking it and swinging
the squeaking metal open. Immediately a dusty polaroid came into his view.
One the dated back to last year June. Clay's hair was a lot shorter and better
kept back then, growing into the messy brown birds next it was now, not to
mention his fashion style going from t-shirts and shorts to owning every colour
jacket imaginable, making his skin a bit more on the paler side nowadays.

Within the picture, three others gathered around him. Grace had her arm
wrapped around his neck, leaving the thereto struggle holding the camera. A
smile was plastered onto her face, one that he hasn't seen in a while. A
genuine Grace smile. The other two boys, he fought to prevent old memories
from resurfacing within his mind.

He could lie to himself and say he didn't care about any of it. A lie that would
make the pit in his stomach tug and pull at his heart. He found it hard to
swallow once the lump formed in his throat and he couldn't bring himself to
blink when his eyes started to get glossy. Clutching onto the paper there was
little stopping him from throwing it into the garbage. Was it so bad to long for
living in the past?

Stop it, he told himself. That's how they want him to feel. Sad and alone.

"Please tell me you didn't watch it!" Grace's voice came as an alarm to quickly
dry his eyes and throw the photo back inside his locker. She moved with quick
and effortless strides, the reoccurring squeaks from her sneakers filling the
room.

Finally, someone he could hear. Had he truly been a ghost that haunted the
halls Grace was the psychic that had the ability to see him.

His friend stopped a few inches away trying to avoid the embarrassment of
their high difference. Squishing and rotating her face to find the best
expression, her eyebrows pushed upwards mimicking the frown on her lips as
she tried her best to fake a whimper.

"Please tell me you didn't watch the new episode of Night Watch because you
know you tend to spoil things and if you spoil what happened next for me Clay
I swear by the stuffed teddy bear you had when you were seven that I will end
your bloodline when I become a female mercenary," she held up a stern finger
indicating he should watch what he says next.

"Calm down I didn't even have time to watch it, Jonah was up all night
watching some documentary on how phones are manufactured," he
explained, "I was going to watch it on my phone but then I got distracted with-"

"Homework that you didn't finish?" she cut him off finishing his sentence for
him with a smug look on her face.
"Noooooooooooooooo," he lied trying his best to hide the twitch of his finger,
knowing it would blow his case open.

"Whatever you say," her eyes immediately darted to his fingers keeping the
bright expression on her face.

Grace was the only face Clay saw that he could listen to. Her large blue
googly eyes travelled into his locker, fixing the loose strands of hair that had
fallen into her face. She was built like the slender maple tree, though she was
a bit on the shorter end she stood firm with locks of red for leaves tying up into
a messy pumpkin-shaped bun. She wore a light brown sweater that embraced
her like a cloud. Her legs were shielded by tight leggings of a darker terracotta
and her usual white sneakers showing hints of dirt from outside. He often
joked that Grace was the poster child for the town as she looked like she
stepped out of a fall magazine no matter where she was.

"Can you hold this in your locker for me?" She asked in a pout, bringing her
black leather bag up between the two. Clay looked into his locker and then
back at her bag and finally his own bag, wondering if she knew about a secret
option to increase your locker size or thought that he could somehow work
magic to fit both bags in there at once.

The school gives each student their locker for a reason you know, he ran his
response in his head deciding against saying that for fear that he might come
across as a bit hurtful.

"I don't think they would both fit," was what he found himself saying instead.

"Come on," she sighed looking backwards in the direction of her locker "I had
to bring a large box of cardboard to school for a project that Harper has to
help me with. I would have put it in her locker but she isn't here yet and I really
don't want to carry this heavy thing around all day." She looks up at him
expectedly with little specs of light in her eyes and a bright - but fake smile
painted on like a caricature.

"They won't fit through."

She dropped the bag to the ground slowly holding her head up in petty
frustration, refusing to utter another word. Clay new her tricks all too well, her
deciding to use the one thing he could not stand, knowing it would drive him
crazy. To say that Grace Seinfeld could give you the silent treatment if you
didn't do what she wanted would be an understatement. She could hold her
tongue for months if she had to prove a point.

"You really aren't going to talk to me?" he asked.

"Nothing?" he tried again moving in closer.

"Not even if I agreed to go on a road trip to California with you?" he received a

side glance but it slowly moved back into place to express that she was not
caving any time soon.

"You're being irrational, I can't fit both of them in at the same time," not able to
take the feeling of being shut off anymore he uttered a "Fine. "

"I can put your bag in my locker and carry mine around," He gave up taking
her bag and placing it inside before silently closing the door in defeat. "If you
need to get it the code is-"

"1-6-1-8, the same pin on your phone and computer," she finished once again
returning to her sunshine expression and tying her arms around his like a
viper "and in return, I will help you with the homework you tried to finish last
night but still didn't".
He opened his mouth to detest but couldn't find the correct words to formulate
a lie.

Around Grace, the pit in his stomach seemed to get smaller and smaller
allowing him to forget about the tiny things around he cannot fix. He used to
joke that if he stayed around her enough he would be able to bottle up some
of her bright personality and keep it inside for a rainy day. Hope was a funny
thing in his eyes, he continued to find something to hold onto when everything
else rotted.

Grace, of course, was well aware of the gazes they caught from walking
together. Like bugs circling around a lantern at night, they trailed their every
movement trying their best to formulate why she wasn't on their side. She
could hear their whispers and insults undoubtedly, she thought Clay could too.
Unknown to her, he had long censored himself to the words of those who
didn't want him around. It hurt him less that way. He did not want to be
reminded of the things that everyone hated him for, it only stressed the
reasons why he hated himself for being that way.