Confessions of a Teenage Zombie

Shane kept looking at me. He looked worried. I guess I couldn't blame him for being so; he just told me he would try to kill himself, should anything happen to Art. He knew it was upsetting. If I hadn't asked, I doubt he would ever have said anything.

"You know," he said, "Ian's coming here to Vegas for a visit."

"Are you serious?" I inquired.

"Completely. He called a few days ago and said he was going to fly down and visit me because I'm the best cousin ever," Shane explained. "I'm pretty sure I'll be okay on the whole blood thing; Art told me that the scent of blood from family wouldn't really be attractive to me."

"And... Ian's coming here?" I asked. Shane nodded his head. "He's not staying here, is he? Because that would be awkward."

"He's staying at a hotel, but he will come here to visit." Shane scratched his head. "He didn't really give me much room to talk, to be honest. He just babbled on and on about his excitement, and how we were going to spend every waking moment hanging out."

"Sounds more like an overly obnoxious girlfriend than a cousin," I stated. "What did you say, though? If you got any words in, that is. Because Ian did have a tendency to talk."

"I told him that I had really bad allergies this time of year, and going outside was like sending me out into a death trap. He believed me, thankfully." Shane sighed. "I'm kind of bummed out about it, but at least I can see him at all."

"When is he going to be here?" I wanted to know so I could just go away for a few days. I didn't want to see Ian. If he saw me, and then found out I died months ago, it would be awkward. Plus, even if he never found out, he might want to try and get back together or something.

I didn't even like him anymore.

"Tomorrow. I'm kind of nervous; I haven't really had much contact with anyone I knew in a long time. Well, not outside of talking on the phone, anyway. You think he'll notice anything different about me?" Shane asked. I bit my lip.

"Your fangs might give you away," I stated. Shane's eyes widened. "You haven't noticed?"

"I can't see my reflection." Shane sighed. "How bad is it?"

"Well... You know, he'd probably believe you're wearing fake teeth." I was trying to make Shane laugh, but instead he grabbed his lips and started sniffling. "Shit... I was trying to make you feel better. Sorry."

Shane continued sniffling and started putting a few blankets back on. Damn, I felt horrible. I wanted to say something to make him feel better, if anything would. I figured there was probably not, so I got up to leave. I didn't get too far, as Art was standing in the doorway, staring at me. Was he going to punish me for making his Shane cry or something? I felt like he was mad at me.

"You could try and say something to make him feel better," he suggested. Shit, this guy was a mind reader or something. Or he was here when it happened, and he was just a ninja.

"Yeah," I agreed. I turned around and sat back down next to Shane. "Hey, I really am sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood, and that crappy joke was what came out of my mouth. I think you'll be fine; Ian won't even notice. He's bad at details, you know that."

"Really?" Shane asked. I nodded my head and looked at Art. What I wanted was for them to talk. Also, the less time was focused on my screw-up, the better. Win, win, right? "Artemis."

"Shane." Art walked over, and I moved so he could be between us. He sat down and looked at me. "Can we have some time?"

"Yeah, definitely." I smiled and scurried out of the room and to the stairs. I ran up the stairs and stood in the hall, wondering what to do. I really wanted to be there with Shane and Art, but I knew they had to discuss personal things.

Did I want to sneak downstairs and hide in the dining room to eavesdrop? Of course! But I knew that it was a bad idea, and I was really trying to stop running with the first idea that popped into my head.

I walked into Ryan's room and looked around. It seemed so weird not having him here. I was ecstatic that he was happy, of course, but I was just so used to him always being around.

Who knew having an outside friend could make him so happy? Especially when he seemed so determined to remain miserable.

I saw his photo album on his bed, so I sat right down to look through it. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

I opened the book, seeing pictures of him as a baby. His parents looked happy; like nothing could tear them apart. I wondered if Ryan's dad was drinking way back then. Maybe Ryan's mom leaving made the guy start drinking. Who knew?

I flipped the page. There was a picture of little Ryan with his dad, both wearing matching baseball shirts. Must have gone to a game or something. It made me kind of sad, because they looked happy. Like, really, honestly happy.

I flipped a few pages forward, because I didn't want to start bawling.

It wasn't until I felt a chill near me that I realized how long I'd been looking through Ryan's photo album. I looked over at the window, noticing it was dark out. The window was also open, which I didn't even realize.

I walked over and closed it, and then I felt someone breathing on my neck. I slowly turned around, because that kind of thing freaked me out. I came face to face with Ryan, who was grinning.

"Fuck!" I screamed. "How the hell are you doing that?"

"Magic," Ryan replied. He seemed cheerful. Eerily cheerful.

"Did you screw Brent?" It just came out of my mouth. Like, I didn't have time to process the thought too much. Ryan just stared at me, his mouth hanging open. "Well, I mean, you're all happy and shit! It popped into my head, okay?"

"Maybe I'm just happy to be home." Ryan seemed to go from happy, to moody, all thanks to my big mouth. He grinned, almost as if he forgot what I said. "How do you imagine I could do that with Brent anyway? I'm not exactly in the position to do much, am I?"

"I... don't know?" I replied. "You're not angry?"

"I know you say stupid stuff all the time. The question surprised me, and I came off as a bit jerky, but I'm not angry," Ryan explained.

"Oh." I blinked twice, and then realized something. "You know, you never answered my initial question. You dodged it with your own question. So... you did screw him?"

"Uh... no," Ryan muttered. "We hung out and listened to music. We talked, mostly. It was nice; it made me forget I was dead, actually. I realized that that must be how you feel when you're with people outside, and why you like being out there so much."

"Yeah." I smiled. "I'm happy you had a good time, Ryan. You deserve to be happy."

And he really did. Maybe slowly, my hope to make other people happy would come into full effect, and the whole world could be happy.

But I had to start with baby steps. This could do.