The Ghost and the Goth

She shrugged and flipped her glossy hair behind her shoulders. "What else do you have to do with your time besides think about stuff like this? It's not like you're real heavy into extracurriculars. Besides, you're all, like, goth and into the dead, right?" Alona Dare, queen of the insult-compliment. "Wow. Thanks. Anyone ever tell you you're good with people?" She frowned. "No." "Good. I'm not goth." "Your hair is black, you have piercings, you wear black all the time and act all freaky-" "My hair is naturally this color. I have three earings in one ear, that's it. This shirt" -I tugged at the fabric across my chest- "is navy blue, and if I act weird all the time, it's because of ghosts like you.

What are you doing, meditating?" "No, I'm trying to calm down so I don't kick your ass," she said through clenched teeth.

You better smile, or we're toast," I said. "Everything about you screams social malcontent with a grudge and a trunk full of weapons.

Teachers, parents, guidance counselors... all of them are always pushing this crap about how it's okay to be different, just be yourself. Don't give in to peer pressure, blah, blah, blah. The truth is, it's really only okay to be yourself if that self is within an accepted range of "normal." You like soccer instead of basketball, Johnny? Well, okay, I guess, so long as you still like sports. What's that, Susie, you want to wear the blue sweater instead of the red? You know we're all about expressing individuality here... so long as it's still a sweater.

What is that phrase the kids use today? Oh, yeah. You’re his bitch, his spirit-world bitch

I’d ended up sprawled across his chest, which was actually broader than it looked. Navy blue is a slimming colour, I guess.

God, buses are so ugly when you see them that close.

Over the years, I’d seen all kinds of smiles from her. The kind designed to make all the blood drain from your head and gather behind your zipper...

Three days isn’t that long to go without human contact, unless everyone you touch turns your insides into a cold, shaky mess. Then it feels like forever...and touching Will Killian actually felt pretty good.

From what I'd witnessed, Alona Dare was single minded, determined, and ruthless. If high school was a zoo, she was the lioness running the hunt on the hapless tourists who'd wandered into the wrong enclosure.

Great. Not only do I have an angry spirit guide, but an angry spirit guide with a vindictive streak and an unnatural knowledge of show tunes. Better and better already.

I thought for sure you were going straight to hell.

The truth is, it's really only okay to be yourself if that self is within an accepted range of 'normal'.

Killian wasn't dead. He just dressed like it.

My mother's voice intruded on a dream in which a large animated eggplant named Bob teetered on the edge of a cliff with thoughts of suicide and Parmesan.

I suspected those people were seeking to make sense of the world by turning her into a cautionary tale, the lesson being, look both ways. And don't be such a bitch.

Trust me, you see the dead walking around, you learn not to scream, laugh, or piss yourself pretty quickly.

Have some pride, will ya? Begging someone to like you is so pathetic.

Why? What happened to her? Did you get her pregnant? Shove her down a flight of stairs? Help her evil twin abduct her and take her to Mexico for some face altering plastic surgery?

Sorry, maybe this is the head injury talking, but … what?