This was carefully crafted to have some fun with a Middle School English teacher. He has over 120 short stories to read and grade.
I went ahead and made a short story which a teenager might write with significant help. We attached a parent’s note on the paper and turned it in without a name on it.
Still waiting for him to comment/raise a ruckus.
I’ve been everywhere in the world, from the Eiffel Tower to the Bermuda Triangle. Sometimes these places are more boring than I expected. Most of the time they look nothing like the pictures. Then I wake up. Usually in English class.
I am still listening to the teacher so I can answer any questions asked to me, but my mind is somewhere far away.
“Alicia Peterson,” called the substitute.
“Here,” I replied.
For the next three weeks we’d be writing a short story in class. The sub barked orders to keep writing and keep quiet; much like Mr. Cleveland. Most of the other students didn’t listen.
As for me, I was thinking of my next class and wanted to disappear. It was a presentation. I hate presentations.
“She’s not here today,” said Melody who sits right next to me.
I didn’t argue with her; I wanted to not be here. She has a disease called Italkwaytomuchandcanthelpit. Luckily it doesn’t seem to be contagious.
The bell rang and I took steps to death row; the presentation classroom.
“Wasn’t Alicia here for house this morning?” Melody questioned John.
“Yeah, I thought she was here, too.”
They were like my younger brother. He finds it funny to talk as if I’m not there. My mom and dad told him to stop, but it doesn’t work. Telling these two to stop will just push them to keep going.
Three minutes later I was in my seat and waiting to be called on to stand… and die.
“Alicia’s not here today?” the teacher mumbled.
Great… she’s in on it to. Whatever, I don’t want to be here right now anyway.
“Alright Johnny, start us off,” the teacher started. She went on to explain what to include in the presentation and what to leave out.
John finished his presentation along with most of the class. Time was running out and I was still not called on. I decided to muster up and raise my hand, showing I was willing to do it, though I still didn’t want to be here. We got extra points if we ‘volunteered’ to present.
The teacher was looking straight at me, but continued to look around the room.
I was free to let my mind wander; She didn’t want me to present today? Maybe she wrote my points down for volunteering and knew I didn’t want to get up there just yet. Maybe I’d be better off invisible? What would happen if I walked into this class at the last minute?
Then it happened. I had no idea what I was looking at. A door? To my class?
I opened it and took a step inside.
“There you are,” the teacher basically yelled, raising her hands and smiling. “If you were any quicker, I’d have you give your presentation right now, but we only have a short time left of class. You’ll have to give your presentation tomorrow.”
I felt like I woke up from a dream, but the strangeness did not stop.
A girl who apparently loves pink and had long brown hair was standing in the classroom doorway. Maybe she’s new? The first thing I noticed was her backpack was the same as mine….
… and her pants
… and her jacket
… and … she looked just like me.
The bell chimed and I slowly gathered my things while staring at this girl.
I walked near her, but got bumped from behind from a student… I was just looking at. I turned to look at him. It was Josh. I looked back and the girl was gone.
“Sorry you didn’t make it in time. I try to get you in early because I know you’re presentations are so good.”
I must’ve had a weird look on my face as I turned back to the teacher, because she looked like she smelled something bad.
“Are you sick?” the teacher asked.
“Noooo…,” I forced the word out, still confused.
“Okay… … I’ll have you present tomorrow,” the teacher explained as she walked off.
If I wasn’t sick before, I must be now. I just saw … myself … staring at … myself … without seeing … myself. It’s so hard to explain… to myself.
The day went by like normal, except people kept asking me if I was alright. I got home, ate dinner, did my writing homework that’s due tomorrow, and went to bed. I did not sleep.
I played over and over what happened at school in my head. A girl walked in the class looking just like me, then disappeared. I saw her, but it didn’t seem like she, or anyone else, could see me. I was up for hours trying to figure out a puzzle with disappearing and weird looking pieces.
My mom and dad were downstairs talking about something. I wondered what it was about?
“Honey? Why are you up so late? Go back to bed,” my mom said.
I didn’t know why or when I walked downstairs to listen to my parents, but I was now my way back to bed. It was dark and hard to see. I opened my bedroom door and froze.
There was someone lying on my bed, just staring at the ceiling. She was …
I looked up from my bed and saw me, standing there, staring at me, sitting on my bed.
* * *
It took me a few days to realize what was going on; I had super-powers.
Casting myself into my classes and walking around the school invisible at the same time was fun, but dangerous at first. I suddenly appeared in front of my teachers in the hallway more than once. One time they walked straight into my class, looked at me, shook their head, and walked out. I decided to stay safe after that. If they found out I was a Mutant, I’d probably be hunted down.
Christmas break was now in two days. I now had control of my abilities on demand.
School was back to normal and I was more shy than ever.
“Can … er … May I go to the bathroom?” I asked.
With a nod, I was off. I was about to head back to class when the speaker rang out with the principles frantic and loud voice, “Hawks, this is not a drill. We are in full lockdown right now. Lockdown NOW!”
The speaker went silent and I got scared. I was about to run into the nearest classroom, but as I walked out, I saw him. The man with the gun.
I gasped and he looked my way, but luckily saw nothing. I saw him perfectly fine.
He started off, checking classroom doors. I watched as he kept trying, but not able to get in. After all the doors in the 100 hall, he marched back to the front. I ran to the 200 hall as fast as I could and checked the doors.
I found two doors unlocked. I looked out for the bad guy, didn’t see him, then opened the doors and yelled inside, “LOCK THIS DOOR NOW, HURRY!”
I did the same for the 300 hall, yelled the same thing for three rooms, but noticed the gunman was not coming. I headed back, staying invisible, to the 100 hall.
He was inside the office. Everyone was afraid and just staring at him yelling with his gun held up. The police sirens were now heard from outside somewhere, but it was too late, he was inside with a gun on people.
I did something stupid. I started imagining what a superhero would do and found myself in the attendance office walking toward the gunman.
BANG! I was shot.
I just stood there… not knowing what just happened.
BANG! BANG! Twice more.
I saw everyone else on the floor and dropped with them. I looked up and the gunman was just looking at me, staring.
Looking down, I was shot, but not hurt. The bullet holes went away and my clothes and body seemed to heal in two or three seconds. I stood back up.
BANG! Now with panic on his face. I took a step
BANG! BANG! Click… click… He turned white. I took another step.
“RUN!” I yelled. Nobody ran but the gunman.
The police caught him right outside the doors of the school.
I turned off … myself … and thought hard about being in the corner of my 3rd period class.
About 20 minutes went by before the speaker turned on again, “We are no longer in lockdown. Repeat, we are no longer in lockdown.”
I was only asked once where I was at that time with the gunman. My 3rd period teacher did see me back in class and said I was back from the bathroom before the lockdown happened. I was safe, but not without the wild stories of the staff and their close watch from then on.
* * *
It’s been five months since I transferred to my new school. Sure, I learn a lot of the same stuff, but it’s not the same experience.
Alicia Peterson doesn’t go to this school. She moved far away and is well taken care of. Her parents are scared, heartbroken, and proud. She’s the girl who saved the school and didn’t die. She is me.
I am Ghost.