He Remains.

I remember back when you were the high school jock in junior year. You had all of the girls pawing after you. Why wouldn’t they? You were the perfect guy; chestnut brown hair with the deep blue eyes and the plush, pouty lips as well as that bright sunny smile. Not to mention you were smart and nice to anyone and everyone.

Who am I kidding? I even liked you. But you never noticed. Why? Because I’m Clarissa Rhodes, you’re best friend since the seventh grade, back when you had braces and zits. You never forgot the way I stood up for you, and they’ve all but forgotten how they would tease you. The past is the past, but to some it’s better not forgotten.

You shouldn’t be forgotten.

On May 13th, Friday the 13th and the night of our junior prom, you were in the car with your senior brother Daniel. You and Daniel had your dates Theresa Clements and Jessica Heights with you as well as your friend Jack Daniels. Maybe that’s why the cops blamed your brother for driving into the oncoming traffic, but to me it was just sheer misfortune. Every driver knows Welcher Road at night is pitch black and has a sharp bend that keeps drivers from seeing oncoming traffic until it’s too late. I don’t blame your brother for swerving too late, having the tractor trailer clipping the back of the passenger’s side.

Three days later, Jessica Heights was released from the hospital with twenty-two stitches on her arm and a list of complaints about how she wouldn’t be able to wear short sleeves for years. Two weeks later I attended your funeral.

It was just so amazing to me that the last day of school took place only three days after the funeral, and very few people were even mentioning it anymore. Chase Yates was dead due to severe head trauma to the head, but oh, are you going to Ryan’s graduation party tomorrow? It sickened me how quickly these people could forget a classmate they had known since kindergarten in just a blink of an eye. I didn’t want to forget you, and nothing could change that.

Maybe that’s why you came back to me. At first, I just thought I was seeing things. Mom and Dad had me seeing a therapist for a week since the funeral, and yet I was beginning to see you in different places. At first you were next to the tree outside my bedroom window, looking up at me as I worked on my laptop. The next time, you were next to the bleachers at the middle school while I was walking my dog.

The third time you appeared was when I thought I had really gone off the deep end. It was at night, and I had just flicked my light off and was settling in underneath the covers when I saw you standing in front of my closet. You were dressed in your favorite Eagles jersey and dark blue jeans, not what I had expected to see since you were buried in a blue suit.

“Clarissa? I need your help.” You said to me. You looked confused as you moved your head from side to side; looking around the room as if you thought a burglar was going to jump out at any second.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I couldn’t feel anything, save for the fan hitting my face every now and then as it circulated the room. Chase was standing in my bedroom, looking as if he had just came back from watching a football game with his dad.

“I don’t know what’s happened to me. Nobody notices me, it’s like I’m invisible.” His voice wavered as if he was hysterical. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and messed up his hair like he did when he was nervous.

“Chase. They’re not going to see you. You’re dead.” My voice was so calm what I told him, so calm that I wanted to hit myself for sounding so uncaring. Chase’s mouth opened and closed, as if he didn’t know what to say.

“I know I’m dead.” His clarity threw me. I thought that’s what he needed help realizing. People say that spirits don’t know when they’re dead, right? “That’s why you have to help me.”

“Help you cross over?” I guessed.

“No, help people understand. I don’t even understand fully what that means. Look, all I know is that I’m staying here until that happens.” He said, shifting on his feet once more. I had never seen Chase so upset. My heart broke for him. I knew I had to help him, even if he didn’t know what he needed help with.

“I need to go right now, Clarissa. I’ll be back.” He said abruptly.

“Wait.” I turned my head just for a second to turn on the light, and Chase was gone. I didn’t move. I just sat there in my bed, thinking about what just happened. Chase was dead. He needed my help. And he didn’t know what he needed help with. All night I tossed that thought over and over in my head, as well as how scared and tortured he looked. I wished he wasn’t dead. I wished he never got into the car that night. I wished he had opted instead to watch videos that night with me, like we had done so many times before. I wished our friendship would go back to the way it was, before he died.