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01 September 2011 @ 04:26 pm
fml, wendy's isnt dead to me anymore.
08 February 2011 @ 02:06 am
 Hmmm, I don't know how to get all fancy with cuts so.... sorry.

Three Prolouges


A/N- I don't know if any of these are worth working out to the conclusion, I'd have to do them one at a time, but I'd love some feedback about them maybe. 

REMEMBER- these are un-proofed, so try to forgive the errors.

YoonFany, EunTi and TaeNy, yo!Collapse )


26 January 2011 @ 11:24 pm
 This page no longer represents me in any capacity. In fact, it has been given over to evil, sick obsessions of my counterpart. I would not blame you for unsubscribing- if for some reason you had decided to subscribe to us in the first place. I was, quite frankly, shocked to find this content on a site connected with my name. 

Furthermore, I think her sick obsession with this group called SNSD (for those of you not in the know- trust me, it's a good thing) has begun to take over her life. I may have to stage an intervention- like the kind you do for drug addicts or people who eat toilet paper. There is no logic to these kinds of obsessions, yet they exist. 

I would even go so far as to say, that the obsession represented here (and on several other sites that this same counterpart of mine also feels the need to post this on) has been a mild blight on my existence since I discovered my counterpart's sickening enamoring of it.

Furthermore, this obsession has influenced her to break the cardinal rule of the internet- don't meet up with these people in real life.  She has not only broken this rule, she seems to think it's fine because they are also obsessed with this same group. Because OBVIOUSLY that means they are good people. Apparently, fans of this group (as opposed to other groups and other fans) don't hurt each other. (This is what she literally just said to me, as I am on a Skype call with her as I write this). This makes me wonder if there are background checks, releases, or contracts involved in becoming a fan- somehow, I doubt it. 

I worry about her, trusting people in this way. I just have to interject something here, apparently "I know how she feels about Europeans"- I don't know what that means. I'm not sure what she's trying to imply. Apparently, according to my very delusional friend, "Europeans are good people, but not in real life." 

Are you convinced yet that she's a few fries short of a Happy Meal? No, you should be. To make things worse, her desktop is frequently WALLPAPERED with pictures of the girls from this group; she knows their stats; she knows their names. She frequently sends me awkward GIFs and stories, that I would prefer never to have seen. I consider myself scarred from these experiences. Here is an example of random pictures (although not of her not-so-secret obsession) that she likes to send me: 28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lfcks7SJLp1qf1aapo1_500.jpg. As you can see if you clicked this link, there is no reason to ever look at it; it's not interesting, it's kind of awkward; her leg is in a strange position. 

Now, I won't lie, I like Kpop, I do. However, I can tell you the names of groups, but not their members, their bloodtypes, or even any recent gossip about them. Not so with my counterpart; I'm beginning to worry that the line between reality and Kpop is blurring. 

She just sent this to me. It makes no sense, I don't know why it's funny...I think it has something to do with SNSD...but, again, I'm okay with not knowing. Here is what she sent me: "I, YoonSicretive, take you, my beloved YoonSic, as my lawfully wedded partners. To hold hands when you're nervous, to gossip with you when you're curious, to cover you when your butt-fettish attacks, to provide you with $9352.722 as a daily shopping spree. I vow to allow my Gorjess to sleep until noon and to listen to my DeerYoona's imitations of Ahn Youngmi until dawn. I promise to laugh when my Ice Princess cracks her Sica-ish jokes and keep a straight-face when my Im Choding laughs alligator-ishly. I will never refuse to eat anything my Sicarella cooks and cook anything my Yoondeerella eats. I swear to not let cucumbers in your sight for a dolphin's scream will explode once Him Yoona attacks Sicacchu with them. All in all, I dare not to jump ship for I'm afraid of your Hello Baby prank. I will love you two with a guarantee that only God could love you more."

Do you understand? If yes, please see the nearest rehabilitation facility. If no, I'm glad. 

She has just called me a "Girl of European Descent" (we'll call this a GED for short). Now, given what she's already said her feelings are towards Europeans...I'm a good person, not in real life. She's giggling so hard in reaction to having just insulted me that she's snorting. 

Also, I think some of my dislike of this particular obsession comes from the fact that it leads to her saying very awkward things...like "but it was so cute, the way she put it in the thing", or (from their most recent SNSD song) "missing you from the depths of my love core. -_^" (mind you, this comes across as very sexual within the context of the song). Yes, that is a wink at the end...she meant to be suggestive. No, we're not more than friends; I like guys. She's a girl. Enough said on that subject.

So, yes, until she removes this content (yes, REMOVES), I doubt I'll post again. Because, really, I don't want to be associated with this type of obsession. I would even go so far as to say that she's almost crossing the line into being a NETIZEN. 

In the world of Kpop, this word means something much different than what Google has as its definition. A netizen, again, for those of you who don't know, is a superfan- a fanatic, someone who is crazy in love, past the point of obsession, with a person or group. While this idea is not exclusive to the Kpop community, the term (and its usage and definition) are. 
Current Location: College
Current Mood: aggravatedaggravated
Current Music: Supa Luv by Teen Top
22 January 2011 @ 08:30 am
There's a kind of ache that you don't know, a kind of hurt that can't be described if you haven’t felt it. If you tried you might use words like empty (but you’re never really hollow) and lost (but you know exactly where you stand). Its really a crippling pain when it starts you can barely will yourself to move, to get out of bed, to do anything, it just hurts so much. There are many ways to treat it, to deal with it, but really there’s only one cure.~~~

Taeyeon sat in front of her empty plate staring at the ice melting in her glass. She been sitting like that for twenty minutes and the staff were getting a bit worried, there was a line of people just waiting to get in, and it didn’t look like she’d be moving any time soon. Her waitress made a move to clear her dishes off the table to encourage her to settle the bill and be on her way, vacating the table. Just as she was picking up the last dish, a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into the kitchen.

“What do you think you are doing?” a tall seemingly irritated girl asked, “Do you have any idea who that is?”

The waitress shook her head, “I was just trying to get her to leave. We’re really busy?”

The taller girl smacked her own forehead, how would Jessica know who that was? “That, Jessica,” she pointed to the woman who was now staring at the crumbs on the table cloth, “is Yuri, you know, your boss Yuri, her best friend.”

“Wait,” Jessica began skeptically, “Yoona, I thought you were her best friend, you always blow me off to hang with her?” 

“No, I’m not that exactly,” Yoona’s cheeks flushed a bright red, “Yuri and Taeyeon have known each other since grade school. Any ways it’s a good thing Yuri didn’t catch you, or you’d be in for it.” Yoona said letting her body reflect the ease that she felt was appropriate, but just as she did, Jessica’s eyes grew wide.

“Catch her at what?” Yuri asked, eyeing her two employees.

“Um… you know…” Yoona stammered, trying to think of something.

But Jessica being a bit dense indicated towards Taeyeon’s table, “I tried to clear that customers table, so she’d be inclined to leave.” Yoona again smacked her own forehead.

Yuri’s agitation at the situation was clearly visible. Yoona placed her hands on both Yuri’s shoulders and pushed her over to a corner in the kitchen.

“That idiot.”


“That stupid, stupid girl.”


“I should fire her right this…”

“Yuri,” Yoona cooed for the last time. “She just didn’t know.” Yoona reasoned, “Let it go.”

Yuri couldn’t stay angry at Yoona’s reasoning, she broke the eye contact Yoona had locked her in, looking down before saying, “Fine… just, get her out of my sight for now.”

And just then Yoona got an idea in her head.

Three minutes later, Jessica was again approaching Taeyeon’s table, this time shaking her head, this certainly wasn’t in her job description, it didn’t even seem like fair punishment for the tiny mistake she’d made, but she needed this job. 

“Excuse me, Miss Kim, I’ve been asked to get you home.”

For just the briefest of moments Taeyeon thought it was her, she blinked twice, and it was just her waitress. She stood up to follow the girl instructed to take her home, still amazed that she’d thought it was her.

“I’m Jessica, I have your address, but is there any place you’d like to go before I take you home?”

Taeyeon shook her head, she didn’t want to go anyplace, and no matter where her body was, her mind would still be elsewhere. Jessica led the zombie like girl out of the restaurant.

Jessica wasn’t keen on taxicabs so she’d opted to take the subway. As the pair walked towards the station, Jessica began to feel that the melancholy shrouding this girl was unbearable. 

“You seem sad, do you mind if I take you someplace that I think’ll make the world seem a bit brighter?” 

Taeyeon couldn’t see any reason to say no, it was a long shot, a very long shot, that her waitress, could make her feel any better, but what the hell, Yuri had probably called her out of work for the rest of the day and it put off back home where she’d have only the drab walls of her apartment to stare at. So, Taeyeon looked at Jessica and nodded once, thinking, ‘Give it your best shot.’

Jessica smiled. They got on to the subway, it was two pm it was crowed people heading out and back from lunch dates, it was going to be a long ride, it would take them almost to the very end of the line. So the moment a seat opened up she pushed Taeyeon into it.

Standing in front of Taeyeon, Jessica looked at her, examined her, she was pretty, petite and well dressed, but everything else about her screamed that she was miserable. “Taeyeon,” Jessica said, “What’s got you so down?” Jessica was curious.

Taeyeon typically avoided talking about it, but frankly, she was hoping that she’d find something cathartic in telling it to a complete stranger. “It’s more of a who than a what,” she began. “I doubt you’d know how it feels but imagine, a person that you’d live you life for, do anything for. I gave her all my everything, I’d have given her every last drop of my being if she’d asked.”

Taeyeon heaved a heavy sigh. They were at another stop there was a shuffling of the crowd and the seat next to Taeyeon opened up and Jessica sat down, still trying to imagine what that would be like, having some one to live for. She found the notion mildly inconceivable, she was young, barely over 21 years, but Taeyeon didn’t really look much older than her, she’d never been in love, so she took the concept as an abstract. The best she could figure it to be was a sort of bliss that you’d exchanged your sense of security for, a joy that could only be experienced if you’d let yourself be completely vulnerable for. She shuddered, she couldn’t imagine giving that much up for the love of one person. 

“And in that state, Sunny crushed me, she used me, she broke me.”

Jessica shuddered yet again; she knew something of that kind of pain. She understood now. She grabbed for Taeyeon’s hand and held it. It was all she could think to do, and they rode the rest of the way like that, without another word between them.

At the stop Jessica pulled Taeyeon out of the subway, and out from the underground. She wasn’t certain but she was pretty sure that Taeyeon might enjoy at least a tiny bit the place she was taking her. She smiled at that thought, and so with Taeyeon’s hand in hers she led her to her special place.

Taeyeon looked around, she didn’t know this area, it was near the end of the subway line, on the outskirts of Seoul. It was a bit rundown, and kind of shabby. If she were alone she would have felt quite uncomfortable, but she had Jessica and she was holding her hand and she felt completely at ease.

They stopped in front of a shabby looking high-rise building. Jessica just strolled right in and waved at the guard on duty, he nodded his head at her and turned back to the variety show he was watching. Jessica pressed the up button for the lift and stood back waiting for it to arrive.

“Jessica, where are we? Are you sure this is okay?” Taeyeon asked, she wasn’t really doubting her; it was just a bit strange. The lift arrived and a bell dinged indicating that they should step in. Jessica pressed the button for the 15th floor.

“Yep, as long as this old elevator makes it.” Jessica said with a small smirk. “I come here all the time… well I used to, I don’t come as often any more. We’re lucky the sun’s still up.”

After what felt like and eternity on the lift, the two stepped out and Jessica dashed the two of them up a set of stairs, she barged out through the door and just stopped. Taeyeon ran into her back but she didn’t say a thing as she took in the view around her.

“You see that,” Jessica said waving her arm, “She’s somewhere out there, I’m sure of it.” The way Jessica said that it seemed to Taeyeon that she wasn’t talking about Sunny but someone else. Jessica walked over the railing at the edge of the rooftop they were standing on.

“I found this place when I was little, around eight, I think, my mother worked as a receptionist and couldn’t afford after school lessons or a babysitter in the afternoons, so my sister and I would occupy ourselves running around the building, even back then there weren’t many people working here. We’d come here every day after school, Sam, the security guard would fix us a small snack and we’d usually watch TV with him for a while. One day, I rode the elevator all the way up, and for some reason that door wasn’t locked and I found this place.” She paused, if it were a movie it would have been for dramatic effect, but this was real life and she was smiling at the memory.

“Another day, not too long after that, we came like any other day, we ate our snacks, every thing was normal but something felt… funny. It was getting late, near the time we left every day, and Sam called us over, he told us our mother and her boss had left at lunch and hadn’t returned yet. He told us he was sure that maybe they were just running late, or had gotten held up somewhere. But I knew she wasn’t coming back, Sam let us stay with his family for the next few nights, but it was a strain keeping two young girls around. And like any kids that were abandoned, we were sent off to an orphanage. I came here that last night and I looked out over the city, she had to be somewhere out there, you know?”

Taeyeon knew that wasn’t the kind of question that needed an answer, Jessica was no longer smiling, she was perhaps a bit teary, but from behind her Taeyeon couldn’t quite tell, it didn’t matter. She stepped forward and hugged Jessica.

Jessica gently broke from the hug and sniffed hard, “Oh no, this isn’t right I’m supposed to be making you feel better not sharing my sob story.” She wiped her cheeks and smiled. “I want you too look out there, that Sunny, she’s out there and she’s living well. You know what you’re going to do? You’re going go back down there and you’re going to live well too, forget every thing she did, leave it right up here.”

The two stood looking out as the sun began setting over the city, each looking for something different among the buildings. They sat for a long while, sharing not only the space but some unspoken bond was forming between the two and when it got cold they went back down to the lobby and Jessica held Taeyeon’s hand again.

They reached the bottom and Jessica squeezed Taeyeon’s hand and said, “And I’m sure you’ll live better than her with me by your side.” They stepped off the lift both with smiles on their faces.

“Now, I’ve got to get you home.” Jessica said as she put her hand out to call a taxi.

A/N- hi there, its my first fic on lj. i posted this on ssf a while back, but i wanted to tryout posting something on here because i want to do an lj only ongoing,
i'd love crit/feedbacks, and um... im looking for a beta if you're interested.
Current Mood: nervousnervous
29 March 2009 @ 02:37 pm
Well, I'm not saying that there are no spelling errors in published pieces, but not nearly to the degree that can be seen here. At some point in the future I will publish a few of my friends misnomers and misusage of words. It is very much a consistent thing, rather than the rare event- as can be seen in published pieces.

I would also like to note that I am very busy right now and will post when I am able, but I make no promises. Maybe my posts will increase once I've completed one or two of my long-term assignments. For now, however, I bid thee adieu...to you, and you, and you.

By the way, if you catch any references, you are an amazing person and should go through the rest of your life with a smile.  
15 February 2009 @ 09:11 pm

Last night I was sent my first wonderbang video. never had i been like a crazed fan of either but together they are amazing.
Last night I heard a mash-up of Hilary Duff and 2PM--- l  o   v  e      i  t  .                        T.T 
Yesterday was crazy... momentus as it was, and both alexa and tom were late... as to be expected.
Friday I overnighted a package some place, and to my knowledge itstill isn't there.

Name: Jung, Ji-Hoon
DOB: June 25, 1982
Physical Traits: 184Cm, 75Kg, O TYPE
Education: Kyung Hee University Post Modern Music Department
Nickname: Dog(collie)
Hobbies: watching movies, listening to music,
shoes and apparel collection
Special Talent: everything about acting& dance
favorite actor: Charlie Chaplin & Han Seok-kyu
favorite musician: Michael Jackson., Janet Jackson, Usher


Stage name: SE7EN (세븐)
Real name: Choi Dong Wook (최동욱)
Nickname: 7-Eleven
DOB: 11-09-84
Blood Type: B
Height: 5' 11" (180cm)
Weight: 141 lb
Family: Grandmother, parents, two older sisters
Hobbies: Just music
Talents: Singing, Dancing, Rapping, Beatboxing
Favorite Sports: Basketball, Snowboarding, Swimming
Favorite Singers: Usher, Justin Timberlake, Alicia Keys, Dru Hill
Religion: Christian
Favorite Colors: Black, White
Ideal Girlfriend: He prefers a good personality over a pretty face
Prized Possession: His collection of 1000+ CDs
Future Goal: Changing the world with his music
Motto: "Always be humble, have the best dreams."

LA LA LA.. Wendy's is dead to me.

yo, i am one crazy chick.
Current Location: House
Current Mood: hyperradiant
Current Music: Girls Yea Top- BoA, Se7en, Usher
31 January 2009 @ 09:04 pm
I've been taking a history class on the Fate of Socialism and am enraptured by the arguments presented by Marx as well as several other authors on the subject. I'm really busy right now doing many, many things and so have little time to post. To give you an idea of my life...I'm taking four classes: 2 @ 200 level and 2 @ 300 level. I have three jobs: Russian tutor, working at the library and doing America Reads. I further am part of Big Brothers Big Sisters, participate in my school newspaper, do yearbook and am also a part of anime club. 

I'm lucky if I have ten minutes to myself. I doubt that my posts are nearly as interests as those of my colleague but she insists that I post. I'm not entirely sure why. However, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for my friend's atrocious spelling and grammar. I'm sorry that you're subjected to it and I hope to help her improve it in the future. 

If you're bored, I highly suggest checking out "Working Class Heroes", they're a band and they are very amazing. They sound like The Morning Of, if you know who they are, and are very good. If you'd like me to continue posting, please comment indicating this preference. If not, I fear that this will quickly become my friend's blog.

So for now, I will retire from this lot and please check me out on fictionpress: Sunsetshadow19. 

Thusly, I bid thee adieu, perhaps for now, perhaps forever.

Current Mood: musing
18 January 2009 @ 04:00 pm

Every Girl’s Dream

There I was, in a long white Jessica McClintock dress and orchid wrist corsage, moonlight playing on my hair and a pair of strong arms encircling my waist, while a masculine voice gently whispered my name: “Susannah.” My dance partner’s breath was soft against my cheek. “Susannah....”

Yeah. In my dreams.

In real life, the voice calling my name wasn’t a bit masculine. That’s because it belonged to a twelve-year-old boy.

“Uh, Suze? Yeah, there’s something seriously wrong with these cannolis.”

I tore my gaze from the whirling couples before me and looked down. Instead of the total hottie in a tux I’d been imagining, standing beside me was my redheaded stepbrother, holding a tray of Italian pastries.

“Kelly’s really mad,” Doc–known as David to everyone but me--said. “She says
they’re like deformed, or something.”

Kelly was right. The cannolis were deformed. As vice-president of the sophomore class, and reluctant chairperson of the junior/senior prom committee (I had been appointed to the position when no other sophomore volunteered), I had tried to cut corners, using Doc’s seventh grade Home Ec class as caterers. This was what I got for my efforts: deformed cannolis.

Not that I cared. I mean, considering the fact that I was the only sophomore girl in the entire school, practically, who had not been asked to this particular dance. This dance I was chairperson of. What did I care about the stupid refreshments?

Oh, all right already. I cared.

“Suze, are you insane?” Kelly Prescott came stalking up, the skirt of her Nicole Miller evening gown shimmering in the moonlight that poured into the Mission’s fountained courtyard. “You actually expect people to eat those?”

I looked down at the pastries, which were supposed to be tube-like shells, but which looked more like pretzels.

“Are there any more cannolis, or are these the last batch?” I asked Doc.

“Um,” he said, looking nervously at Kelly, who, being the most beautiful girl in Carmel, California, considered the two of us, mere mortals, complete freaks. She was right about one of us. And it wasn’t Doc. “There should be more.”

“Fine,” I said. I took the tray of cannolis from him. To Kelly I said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it. Go back to your date.”

Kelly’s date, senior-class president Greg Sanderson, was standing beneath a nearby palm tree, tall and cooly handsome in his tux. He was one of the best looking guys in school, so it was only fitting that he’d asked Kelly, though a lowly sophomore, to his prom....

Still, he’d only done so after his original date, Cheryl McKenna, unexpectedly, well....


But hey, it was Greg. What kind of fool would turn down an invitation to go to prom with Greg?

I’ll tell you what kind: me. Not that he’d asked me, of course. But if he had, I’d have been forced to decline. Because my heart belongs to another. For all the good it does me.

Giving Kelly a smile she didn’t deserve, I whisked the offending pastries back to the Mission Academy’s kitchens. Built something like four hundred years ago by Franciscan monks, back in the days when three foot thick walls and giant oak beams overhead were not considered decor don’ts, the Mission, now a school, had updated the appliances--and added wiring–so that as I entered the kitchen, I could see my reflection in the huge Subzero fridge at the far end of the room. And let’s just say I was not thrilled by what I saw.

Oh, the long white dress was fine. With my shoulder-length dark hair and the corsage–bought for me by my stepfather–I looked like a girl from another time.
The problem was the reflection I saw alongside mine. And that was the reflection of someone who really was from another time.
I whirled around fast to face him.

“What,” I demanded, “are you doing here?”

I’d nearly dropped the cannolis. He took the tray and set it gently on a nearby counter.

“Hello, querida,” he said, with a smile. “Nice to see you, too.”

It was the smile that did it. The smile that, each and every time I saw it, caused something inside of me to wilt.

Because even though he’s been dead a hundred fifty years, Jesse is still the handsomest guy I’ve ever seen.

And I’ve seen a lot of them. Guys, I mean. Because, like the kid in that movie, I can see dead people.

Only unlike that kid, the ghosts don’t scare me. Some of them I sometimes think I might even love.

Okay, I’m pretty sure I do love.

Not that I’m about to let him know it. Because what kind of guy–even a dead one–could ever possibly love a freak like me?

But that doesn’t mean I can’t dream.

“I happen,” I said, looking away from Jesse’s shrewd, night-dark eyes–not to mention the place where his old-fashioned shirt fell open to reveal a set of abs Greg Sanderson would have envied--“to be extremely busy right now.”

“Oh, I can see that, Susannah,” Jesse said.

“I mean it,” I said. “I don’t have time to chat. I am in charge of making this prom a night these people will always remember.”

Jesse was leaning against one of the countertops, his arms folded across his chest.

“These people,” he echoed, with another one of those smiles. “But not you?”

“It’s not my prom,” I said, with a shrug, trying not to notice how darkly tanned those arms of his were against the whiteness of his shirt. For a ghost, Jesse is extremely buff.

“So that means no dancing for you?” he asked.

I froze with a tray of fresh new--undeformed--cannolis I’d just removed from the fridge in my hands.

“Dancing?” I could feel heat rushing into my cheeks. He isn’t, I told myself sternly, asking you to dance. He’s just asking in general. Don’t get your hopes up.

It was too late. Already, in my mind’s eye, Jesse and I had joined the other couples out in that moonlit courtyard, those strong arms of his circling my waist, his soft breath against my cheek....

“Yes, dancing,” Jesse said. “Surely even in the twenty-first century, people still dance.”

I drew in a breath, wondering even as I did how I was going to reply.

I never got a chance to find out. Because before I could say a word, I saw her.
“Greg?” she called. “Greg? Where are you?”

My jaw dropped. I’d have recognized that lustrous blonde hair anywhere, but the hospital gown was a dead give away. No pun intended.

“Oh, no,” I said.

Cheryl, hearing my voice, came to stand uncertainly in the kitchen doorway. Her lovely, blue-eyed gaze was hopeful as she looked at Jesse and me.

“Hello,” she said, in the dazed but polite manner so often employed by the recently dead. “Have you seen my boyfriend, Greg? He was supposed to bring me here tonight, only he never showed up. He must have forgotten.”

Jesse and I exchanged glances. His was unreadable. Mine, as I was able to see only too well in my reflection in the fridge, was miserable.

Well, and why not? Seeing Cheryl like this was just further proof of my freakishness.
“Cheryl,” I said, putting down the tray of cannolis. “Listen. Greg didn’t forget to pick you up.”

Cheryl blinked like someone waking from a dream. Perhaps that’s what death is.

Who knows? Well, Jesse knows, only he won’t tell me.

“He must have forgotten,” Cheryl said. “It’s prom night.”

“I know, Cheryl,” I said, gently. “It is prom night. And Greg is here.”

Cheryl’s lovely face lit up. “He’s here? Where? Oh, I’ve got to find him.”

She turned to rush from the kitchen. I stopped her. The spirits of the dead are without matter–to everyone but freaks like me, of course. To us, they are flesh and bone–or, as in Jesse’s case, muscle and mysterious smiles.

“Greg’s here, Cheryl,” I said. “But...he’s here with someone else.”

Cheryl’s eyes filled instantly with tears.

“But that can’t be,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “He asked me. Months ago.”
“I know, Cheryl,” I said. “But Greg had to ask someone else because you...well, you died, Cheryl.”

She shook her head.

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not dead. Look at me. I’m standing right here. I am not dead.”

“You’re standing right here in a hospital gown,” I pointed out. “Cheryl, I’m sorry, but you died of a burst appendix two months ago. If you go out there now–if you try to talk to Greg–he won’t see you. He can’t. I can only see you because...well, because it’s what I do. But the truth is, Cheryl, you’re dead.”

I saw it–the horror as my words sank in–spread across her lovely features.
And that’s when she went mental.

Could you blame her? She’d been eighteen, and in love. She’d had everything to live for...college, career, marriage, kids...and now....

Well, now it was all gone.

“NO!” she screamed, her lovely face contorting into a mask of rage and despair.

“NO! I don’t believe you! You’re lying!”

She wrenched free from my grasp.

“You’re just jealous, that’s all!” she screamed. “Jealous of me!”

And that’s when she brought both fists down into the tray of cannolis, sending its contents flying.

And not the deformed cannolis, either.

“Stop it!” I yelled, stepping forward and seizing her by both wrists. No matter how much she contorted her body or kicked out to be free, I wouldn’t let her go. Not this time.

“You’re dead, Cheryl,” I said. “Do you hear me? Dead. It’s not fair, but it’s the way things are. I wish you had gotten to go to your prom. I know it’s every girl’s dream to go to prom with the guy she loves. But Cheryl, Greg’s moved on. It was hard from him, but he did it. It’s time you did the same.”

Something in my words–maybe the assurance that Greg had not had an easy time coping with her death, for all Kelly Prescott might wish otherwise–drove all the fight from her. She sagged against me.

Then, a second later, I heard her murmur, almost wonderingly, “I really am dead, aren’t I?”

And then she was gone.

Just like that.

Jesse, who had not stirred the whole time from the spot he’d been standing, confident I could handle Cheryl myself, was grinning.

“It’s every girl’s dream to guy to go to prom with the guy she loves?” he echoed, not just one, but both inky black eyebrows raised.

“Don’t start with me,” I said. I tried to hide my suddenly flaming cheeks by scraping away what was left of the cannolis, and replacing them with the contents of an upended bag of chocolate chip cookies. “I have things to do.”

“Oh, yes,” Jesse said, getting out of my way as I stormed past him. “I can see that.”
If I’d hoped the night air would cool the fire in my face, I was disappointed. I was still feeling strangely flushed when I found Doc out in the courtyard, and shoved the tray of cookies at him.

“Suze, these aren’t cannolis,” he said.

“I know. There aren’t any more cannolis.”

“I thought there was a whole--”

“Not anymore,” I said, shortly, and turned away because I saw Kelly glaring at us from over Greg’s shoulder. Whatever had happened now, I did not want to know. Because it could not possibly be as bad as what had happened to poor Cheryl McKenna, dead at eighteen.

Or to me, born a freak who can see ghosts.

But when I ducked into the shadows of the Mission’s open-air corridor, hoping to escape, just for a moment, the music and laughter, I found that I was not, in fact, alone at all. Jesse had followed me.

“You never answered my question,” he said, in a voice that was soft as moonlight. “Do people in the twenty-first century still dance?”

My heart beat thundered in my ears, far louder than the slow music. “Um,” I said, barely able to swallow, my throat had gone so dry. “Sometimes.”

“How about now?” he asked.

And then his strong arms were encircling my waist, his breath soft against my cheek as he gently whispered my name: “Susannah. Susannah....”

The End

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