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Chapters (61)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. Books by Emily Barr
  4. DEDICATION
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgements
  59. Read on for an extract from …
  60. 12 December
  61. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

I shake my head. I think it’s probably best if I run away. I take a step towards her, but she still doesn’t move from the doorway. I take another and she steps away, just a bit, and now I’m in the middle of some kind of full breakdown, so I just try to push past her so I can run home and probably forget this ever happened, but it doesn’t work. I try to nudge her out of the way in the least aggressive way I can, but it doesn’t work because my hand goes right through her.

It’s as if she’s not there at all.

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13

Joe and I went back into the room and sat down. I was trembling. I met a boy and got excited, only to discover first of all that he was ghosting me, and then that he was ghosting me. Or was I ghosting him?

I tried to think of any time when I might have died without noticing it, but I couldn’t pinpoint one. I supposed, though, that all it took was one road crossing gone wrong.

But if I was dead where was Mum?

I thought of the figures I saw at school. I’d seen hundreds of them. No one else, as far as I knew, had set eyes on a single one. This was the next step. Now I’d actually had two conversations with someone who wasn’t really there. I was completely losing the plot. That was what was happening. Ariel Brown needed psychiatric help.

I looked at him. I filled my head with the colour blue and there it was, a blue light shining out of him, all around him.

‘What year is it?’ said Joe, once we were sitting next to each other.

‘I’ve been seeing ghosts all over the place,’ I said. ‘Not ghosts. Future people maybe. Hallucinations.’ Then I added, ‘It’s 2019.’

When I looked up, I saw he was staring into my face. He was stricken.

‘Are you serious?’ he said.

This was it. He was going to be from 2050 or something. I was about to find out something unthinkable about myself. I grabbed the wall to keep myself upright. My voice was quiet. ‘What year is it for you?’

‘It’s 1999,’ he said. ‘And I thought that was modern.’

For some reason we both burst out laughing. We laughed until we cried. It felt good to lose control for a while. I didn’t care that I was crying with laughter in front of a boy I liked, now that I knew. I grabbed at him to steady myself, but my hand went right through his arm. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten already.

I wasn’t the ghost. It wasn’t me.