We're Ghosts in a Hail of Bullets

It was bright and sunny out, no surprise. In Vermont it would be snowing right now or there were would be snow on the ground. It's the beginning of Spring but you would never know it here. I preferred the endless summer than the endless cold. Though at night it was almost unbearable. I would find my blankets tossed to the floor and still wake up in sweats.
But who cares about any of that? It was March 20Th. It was my seventeenth birthday. I wasn't sure of what was in store but I knew there would be the traditional cake, presents, money, and maybe an unsuspected surprise. Perhaps my parents would let me get a tattoo or new piercing. That would be nice.
As I walked through the hallway of the house I was greeted by familiar spirits. Violet was at the end of the hall, leaning up against the wall right before the stairs. Her bloody arms were crossed in a snotty little way. I was scared to approach her but I had no choice.

"If you're looking for your parents, they left three hours ago," she informed me.

"Thanks," I replied simply. She watched me approach her and then disappeared when I actually reached the stairs. Chad and Patrick were waiting at the bottom.
I stood still for a moment. I didn't know how to react. Their faces hadn't appeared in forever. Chad stood tall, with his usual feminine postures, holding a wine glass filled to the very brim with white wine. His chest was puffed up and chin up high. Patrick, standing next to his partner, stood in a more aggressive manner. His chest with heaving with hard, sharp breaths. He filled his dead lungs with air he couldn't taste and didn't need. His eyes, dark and angry.

Chad ignored his partners obvious hatred for me and greeted me with a very sly and coy "Happy Birthday".

"Thanks," I replied in the same way.
He took a sip from his wine as I gently hopped down the stairs. I went to search for Moira so I could ask if we had any breakfast or any tea, but Chad and Patrick followed me.

"What were you thinking of doing today?" Chad asked me as he sat down on a stool in the kitchen.

"I'm not sure. I don't really know anyone here that I could celebrate today with. I'll probably just stay home," I answered. Moira wasn't to be found, unfortunately. I was hoping that her presence might scare away Chad and Patrick.
They weren't my least favorite spirits to talk to, but they weren't very pleasant.

"I remember my seventeenth birthday. It was like all of the others, fabulous. I'd design everything from the cake to the streamers. Everything had to be perfect. It wasn't special or anything, but I would always party my ass off on my birthday," he told me, not that I cared.
He just sort of went on about how amazing his birthdays were and how his parents didn't care about anything that he did. It was rather boring.

"What do you know about Tate?" Patrick asked absolutely out of the blue. I glared at him questionably. "Not much, I'm guessing,".

"Hush now, Patrick. It's the girl's birthday," Chad smiled and kissed the man's cheek before chugging down the rest of his wine.
They were hiding something from me. They obviously thought it was important but it was easy for me to shrug it off of my shoulders and leave it at their lips.

"I think I know enough," I said to both of them, shutting the fridge door and pouring myself a glass of soda.

Chad looked at me in disgust and took the 2 liter away. "This stuff will rot out your teeth, break out your skin, and expand your waist line. You do not need that," he complained as he tossed it in the trash. You aren't suppose to throw liquids in the garbage.
I drank the small amount that I caught in the glass anyway.

"And by the way," Chad began, pouring himself a new glass. I have no idea where he got the bottle from. "Enough is never enough. You can know a person for years and it doesn't matter. People are never what you expect them to be. Especially when it comes to little psychos like Tate," he said. He quickly chugged down the wine that was in his glass, pouring himself a third glass.
I caught Patrick's eyes glaring at Chad with more anger and hatred.

"I said I was sorry," Patrick whined through anger.
Chad laughed at him, sipping down more alcohol to dull out his own pain.

"Who said I was talking about you? Someone has a guilty conscious, don't you think, Anna?" Chad smiled at me.

"I'm not getting in the middle of your petty little fights," I responded. Chad finally put down his glass and looked at me. It's more like he examined me. After a couple minutes of starring me down with narrowed eyes he wished me a happy birthday again. Then they both disappeared.
They timed it perfectly too. My parents had just walked through the door, hollering "Happy Birthday, Anna!" very cheerfully.
I walked out to the front door and expected them to hand me bags but instead I was attacked by hugs.
First my mother, using both hands and squeezing tightly. Then my dad wrapped one arm around me and squeeze only for a second. I thought it was over with but after my parents parted away from me, I was embraced by a third party. She was my height with long, flawlessly straight, black hair, lightly colored brown eyes, and blemish free, pale skin. The first thing I noticed, before her actual identity, was her breasts. They were enormous and I knew it could only be one person.
Her name was Brittany and she was one of my best friends back home. If I could depend on any person in this world it would be her. We met back in ninth grade in Health class. We were instant best friend after our teacher sat us next to each other. She was smart, funny, entertaining, sweet, kind, and just a wonderful person. During the end of our sophomore year her parents decided to move to Tennessee. We would talk on the phone every so often but once I moved away I was convinced that our friendship was lost. I guess not.

Our hug could have last the whole day. It was so tight and strong, it was unbreakable.

"Happy Birthday," she said in a muffled voice.

"Thanks," I smiled as my face was buried in her shoulder. You wouldn't be able to see it, but my smile was huge. I was so surprised and happy to see her. The weights vanished and the rain cloud dispersed. There was nothing sunshine now.
My parents explained to me that her spring began the day before my birthday and they made arrangements with her parents to fly her out here for the week. It was my present. I had my best friend for a week. They told me that I had another present on the way, but refused to give me any hint. I didn't care. I didn't need anything else. There was no need for a birthday cake, balloons, or streamers if Brittany was there.

The first thing we did was run into my room and talk about new things. She had a new boyfriend. His name was Phil. She showed me pictures of him and he was cute. He had short, brown hair. He was skinny and had small gauges. I couldn't see any other details.
I explained her the details of my boyfriend. Tall, dark eyes, leans, scars, and messy blonde hair.

"I met him a couple days in. He's the cute neighbor boy," I explained.

"I want to meet him. I need to judge him," she ordered.
Fear pierced my body like a hundred needles. Tate was a ghost and there was no way to explain that to her. This wasn't a teenage romance novel with some seductive vampire or werewolf. This was a boy who shot up his school and then was killed by a SWAT team. He now haunts this house with his angry spirit. I just so happened to fall in love with him.
There was nothing there that she would understand or accept. She would have me locked up in a mental hospital.

"Maybe later. Mom and dad know nothing about him," I said.

"If I don't like him, you're dumping him," she joked and playfully pushed me.

"You'll like him," I smiled back.

We sat in my room for hours, playing loud music like A Fire Inside, From First to Last, and Chiodos. We laughed about our days back in Vermont and gossiped about girls at our new schools. I was half tempted to tell her most of the history of the house, besides the part where Tate lived there, but I knew she would hate it. She wouldn't want to stay here for the week if she knew the stories.
I saved them for another time.

"I wanna see your back yard," she exclaimed before dragging me out the door. She rushed me down the stairs and out the back door where we stood on the porch for a moment. I never noticed the yard before. It was a place I didn't go. There was no reason for it. I didn't chose not to.
We had a garden. It was full of flowers. Tulips mostly in different colors. Some were red, some were yellow, others pink, and orange. I noticed that some were picked leaving empty spaces. Brittany didn't notice it. She saw the gazebo. I didn't even know we had one.
Brittany ran to it as fast as she could. She danced on the wooden boards.

"It's so nice out here!" she yelled joyfully. I smiled and joined her.
After spinning and running around the back yard we finally settled down. We sat on the gazebo, across from each other, our backs were pressed against the pale wooden rails.
"So about this neighbor boy," she began. She caught my attention. "Is it serious?" she asked.

I didn't even have to ponder the thought. "Of course it is. We've been together since September," I said. After everything that Tate and I have been through, it would've been stupid to say that it was a fling.

"That's a long time for you," she pointed out. Usually my relationships only last a couple months. At the most, four or five. But Tate and I had managed six. That's half of a year. It's not much compared to married couples, but it was a century to me.
Back in Vermont, I would watch my friend's relationships blossom and stay. It bothered me because I was usually single. They would last for a year or at least close to that, but I couldn't even pull off more than five months. I was so jealous. My old friend Shawn. He would find a new girl every three years. It was amazing for a kid in high school. He could really stick to them. Why couldn't I?
Something would always go wrong. Either the boy turned into a cheater, he wasn't good enough, we grew distant, or I would find a new guy to follow. I was so pathetic when it came to love. I'd pour my heart and soul into any young, attractive, sweet boy who was willing to hold it. I wasn't a whore or anything. I've only dated five guys, not including Tate, but I did fall in love easily.
Maybe Tate and I weren't as serious as I thought. He was an amazing guy, though dead, but what if something happened? No, I couldn't think like that. Nothing would happen. This is love. It has to be.

"Does he love you?" she asked.

"I think so. He says it enough. He shows it enough," I answered.

"Have you fucked yet?" she asked very quickly. It caught me off guard.

"Not yet," I said after regaining my composure.
The night Tate showed me his wounds, we were close to it, but no. I was too frightened by all of the shock. We didn't talk about it enough either. I guess when you're dead sex isn't as important.

"That's new," Brittany said surprised. She raised her eyebrows at me and then smirked. "You usually claim them pretty fast,".

"I guess not this time," I said. Slowly, she made me feel like a slut. It wasn't her intention, but it's what she did. Out of the four boys that I dated, I slept with four of them. It was only in a three year period. Maybe I was a slut.
I began to doubt myself. I was so wrapped up in the fictional worlds of ghosts and teenage love that I didn't take the time out to step into the world of reality. How could a ghost and human last? How could it ever happen?
These thoughts raced through my head and the weights began to pile back up. Thankfully, Brittany lightened up the mood.

"He sounds good for you. You guys will make it. I know it," she smiled at me with a reassuring look. I couldn't help but smile back. I needed to hear her say that.

We sat on that gazebo for an hour or so. After short, numerous conversations about useless things such as unicorns, bunny rabbits, and other stupid stuff, the air became heavy. It was like a clear smog. A presence had appeared and I feared the worst. Only to be touched by cold hands. They touched my cheek and traced down using their fingers. A chill ran down my spine. It was a good chill.
The cold touch was comforting instead of intimidating.
Tate had appeared. Like he does.