Chapter Four: Whispers Between Worlds
The words wouldn't leave her head.
"You're not dead."
She floated beside him as he left the cafeteria, her usual chatter reduced to quiet hums and half-formed sentences. She wanted to laugh it off again, to tease him, to say something ridiculous just to break the tensionbbut her tongue felt heavy, her chest felt hollow.
She wasn't dead? Then what was she?
The boy walked calmly down the hall, unaffected by the stares of curious students. His silence only sharpened her storm of thoughts.
Finally, she snapped. "Okay, nope. Nope! You can't just drop a bomb like that and then walk away like some mysterious anime protagonist. 'You're not dead'? Excuse me? Then why can no one see me? Why can't I leave the house? Why can I walk through walls? Why can't I TOUCH anything?!"
Her voice cracked. She hated it. She hated that it cracked.
He didn't answer.
She darted in front of him, floating backward, blocking his path. "Don't you dare ignore me. You started this. You said it, not me. If I'm not dead, then what am I? Huh? What. Am. I?"
His gaze flicked past her to the end of the hall. A group of students stood there two girls whispering behind manicured hands, a boy laughing too loud. Normal high school things. But when his eyes returned to her, they softened just enough to make her chest ache.
"I don't know," he admitted.
Her breath hitched.
It wasn't the answer she wanted, but at least it was real.
She opened her mouth, ready to fire another round of questions, but the bell rang. Students spilled into the hall, and the noise swallowed them. The boy turned and slipped into his next class, leaving her hanging in the chaos.
She hovered above the crowd, staring after him. For once, she had no quips, no jokes, no sarcastic commentary. Just silence.
—
By the time the last bell rang, she had regained some of her spark. Floating above the gates, she spotted him exiting the building, and she zipped down to join him.
"Alright, broody boy, listen up. You can't just dangle half-truths like that. We're solving this mystery. Together. You and me. Scooby and Shaggy, except I'm way cuter. And you're… well, you're still handsome, I guess."
He kept walking. She followed.
They turned into the neighborhood, past rows of houses basking in the late afternoon light. She floated alongside him, arms folded, expression determined. "Step one: figure out what I am. Step two: find out how you can see me. Step three: profit. Simple plan. Foolproof. Genius-level, really."
He stopped abruptly.
She tilted her head. "What? Don't tell me you actually like living with unanswered questions. That's boring. I'm way more fun than boring."
He turned, looking directly at her. The sunlight caught his eyes, and for a moment she swore she could see storms brewing inside them.
"You talk too much," he said quietly.
She blinked, then grinned. "Aha! That's the nicest thing you've said to me all day. Compliment accepted. Now, onward to mystery-solving!"
And just like that, her spark returned in full force. She twirled in the air, humming loudly, deliberately cheerful. Because if she let herself sink back into the weight of his words You're not dead she was afraid she might never come back out.
—
That night, the house seemed different.
She floated through the halls while he unpacked in his room, her hands brushing against the old wallpaper, her voice echoing softly. "This place hides secrets, I can feel it. Maybe the answer's here. Maybe I'm tied to the house. Maybe there's a reason you moved in. Maybe"
A creak echoed. Not from her.
She froze.
The boy looked up sharply too, his eyes narrowing.
Another sound followed—the distinct, deliberate scrape of something moving in the attic.
She swallowed hard, drifting closer to him. For once, her voice was small. "You… heard that too, right?"
He nodded.
And together, they stared up at the ceiling, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them both.