Caffeine Challenge #4
Whoo! I went a little over! That was a fun challenge and now I have another project in my pile lol. Remember to tag yours Caffeine Challenge so I can find it!
Here’s mine below:
First line: You talk to the dead fairly regularly. Lately, you’ve gotten the distinct impression that the dead wish you’d just shut up.
You talk to the dead fairly regularly. Lately, you’ve gotten the distinct impression that the dead wish you’d just shut up.
“You’d think they’d at least tell me,” you mutter, hunching your shoulders. The walk to school is usually filled with the spirits of the recently departed, all wishing you a good day. Mrs. Romero, for example, hangs out at the intersection of George and Seventh, but not today. Today it’s just Mr. Romero, Mrs. Romero’s still living husband. He’s pruning the hedges where he buried Mrs. Romero seven years ago.
“Good morning, Antonia,” Mr. Romero says, waving with the garden shears. He tips the straw hat on his head to you. “School today?”
“Like every day,” you say, trying to sound cheerful. You don’t like talking to Mr. Romero. Usually you tip off the police about murderers, but Mrs. Romero had insisted you leave her husband alone until he got to see their grandchildren born. You think the dead are often too kind.
You keep walking, eyes scanning the street for any of your undead friends. Ghost friends? Ghostly acquaintances?
“What are we?” you ask the air. No one responds.
You make it to your high school without having encountered a single spirit. You frown at the principal’s office, the usual haunt of Former Principal Ferrera, the stern, vaguely malevolent spirit that makes the PA system screech. He’s absent, just like he has been for the last three days.
You head into math, hands clenched around the straps of your backpack, with your head down.
“‘Sup, Jennifer Love Hewitt,” Jean Paul says as you drop into the seat next to him. He pauses as if waiting for you to respond. When you don’t, he sighs. “Ghost Whisperer? She plays a medium? Ring any bells?”
Normally you’d be all up for bantering with Jean Paul. You’re not quite friends, but he’s by far the nicest person at school. In the mood you’re in, that’s even sadder than usual.
“Am I annoying?” you ask him, staring at the whiteboard. There’s a very faint outline of a penis, leftover from when Kavi, the most popular girl in the grade, tried to impress Tevin, the most popular boy in the grade. You hadn’t found it nearly as funny as the rest of the class. Then again, the rest of the class hadn’t been able to see Mrs. Ng, the former math teacher, screeching out her lungs at the “classroom defacement.” You drop your head onto your desk. “Wait, don’t answer that.”