An Undead Boy

The trees are skeletal. This is my first thought as Danielle and I pace through the deserted local park. After our run in with Mark and his gang, we decided to skip the last two periods of the day and just go somewhere that wouldn't make us feel like we have to hide. This is the most impulsive thing I have done being dead since I walked out of my P.E. lesson. Danielle is jittery; this is the first time she has left school early, without permission.

Here, beneath the cover of the February snow and gnarled tree branches, I am free to be myself. For extra precaution, I have donned the hat, gloves and scarf that I keep stashed away in my bag. Behind all of this, my appearance is that of a normal teenage boy - albeit, a very pale and emaciated one.

I think we both underestimated the temperature though. I can hear Danielle's shuddering breaths and look over to her with concern. Her complexion is almost as cool as mine in this weather, all except her nose. This is a shiny, luminous red.

"Here, take my coat -" I say, starting to shrug it from my shoulders but she stops me.

"No, we might be seen. You'll look strange walking around in just your school stuff. I'm fine - I just need to be distracted."

For a second, my thoughts go rogue. Back when I was alive and a girl needed distracting, I would flash a cocky smile and throw an arm around her. I imagine doing this with Danielle - except in my mind, my cheeks are a little rosier and my frame is a little fuller - and conjure an image of her giggling girlishly and ducking her head shyly into my shoulder. There is something wrong with this picture though; Danielle does not giggle. She guffaws. And snorts. She laughs heartily because she can and she isn't afraid to let others see exactly who she is.

I'm raising my arm up, throwing caution to the winds to test this action of my former self, when she speaks again.

"How about - maybe you could tell me about Mark? Only if you want to." she murmurs softly.

My arm drops pathetically back to my side and I let it swing there, hoping that she doesn't figure out what I was about to attempt. Of course she wants to know about Mark. I may be a zombie but my ego is punctured.

"He - he was my best friend, along with James. They stopped talking to me when I...when I died."

I feel so hesitant when I talk to Danielle about my life before knowing her. Am I ashamed of who I was? I think I don't want her to hear about what I was like before I lost my invincibility and self-assurance, because that's what I felt like before all this happened. Unbeatable. Strong.

"That's so sad, Charlie. I used to see you all in the corridor sometimes. You seemed like good friends." Danielle sighs, winding one of her arms through mine as we walk. I manage to refrain myself from jumping at the contact but it's not as easy to keep the smile off my face. I guess so much time without consistent, physical human interaction can do that to a person.

"Tell me something happy." she demands. Her face lights up when she looks across at me and she seems as excited as a child at Christmas. "Something about you, Mark and James. I want to know."

I'm overwhelmed in a swirl of foggy memories but which one to choose? Danielle is watching me so earnestly that I feel like I should make it a good one. The best one.

"Well - " I began. "There is this one story. We were all about thirteen at the time..."

The wintry day disperses around me and instead, I see sunlight streaming through the leaves above me. The day is so hot that transparent waves are rising off the pavement and when I breathe in, I can feel the dry air hit the back of my throat. The sensation makes me crave ice cream, my mouth salivating at the thought of it.

I pat my pockets, searching for money. James is sat in the grass on the field, picking it to pieces and shredding it with his fingernails. The dirt is stuck in so deep beneath them that no amount of scrubbing will be able to get his hands totally clean. Then again, James was never one of those people to excel in hygiene. Even now, there is a vibrant green caterpillar worming its way through his knotted red hair and mud stains on his knees.

Mark, still waiting patiently for his growth spurt, lounges across a metal bench close by. He's staring at me as I empty every single pocket of its contents in my desperate on-going search for change, a playful smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"What're you looking for?" he says, examining the small pile of rubbish that I'm pulling from my pockets. A scrunched up ball of tissue, a lonely button that had fallen off my shirt, a perfectly round pebble that I found and had become obsessed with.

I wipe the sweat from my hairline and huff, displeased at my findings.

"Money. I want an ice cream."

Mark chuckles and swings his legs off the bench before stretching out to stuff his hands in his jean pockets. He tugs out a thin line of cotton, probably the stitching from his trousers, and then produces a single gold coin. I eye it greedily.

"I only have a pound." he says, scratching the side of his nose thoughtfully. "That might get us a couple of the cheap ice lollies?"

I want an ice cream but nod all the same. Any cold treat is better than none. We both turn to James, who has spotted the caterpillar clinging to a strand of his hair. Without taking his eyes away from it, he blindly searches the ground for a leaf and raises it up to the bug, trying to coax it onto the leaf. Mark catches my bewildered expression from the corner of his eye and smirks.

"O-kaaay. You coming to the shops, James? Or are we interrupting your date with a caterpillar?"

I laugh at James' blushing face. Carefully, he stands up with the caterpillar successfully on the leaf and walks it over to a secluded spot at the base of a tree. After he sets it free, he rubs the dirt from his hands onto his shirt and nods to us.

"Yeah, let's go."

We are about to leave when a group of girls skip through the park gate. James just glances over and loses interest but I freeze. Mark follows the direction of my gaze and realises why I've turned into a marble statue.

Wendy Williams.

She sits next to me in Maths and even though we have only spoken ten words altogether in eight months, my crush on her is colossal. I've clammed up from sheer panic but Mark is already rushing into action.

"Here - take this pound. Go ask her if she wants an ice lolly." he tells me sternly, nudging my shoulder roughly.

"I thought we were having ice lollies!" James interjects indignantly but we both ignore him. I'm staring at the coin in his outstretched hand with a jumble of emotions. Terror, gratitude, confusion.

"Really, Charlie. Take it. Go ask her, she'll say yes. We'll wait here till you get back from the shops."

He presses the pound into my sweaty palm and gives me another shove, nodding encouragingly. James has already dropped back onto the grass and is ripping it up again. I take a step away from them towards Wendy, already rehearsing what I'm going to say to her. I hope she doesn't think I'm an idiot. I hope she knows who I am.

"Go on, Charlie. You can do it." Mark calls behind me.

I don't know why but these words inject courage into me. After a deep breath, I march towards the girls and they all stop chatting, watching me with suspicion. I refuse to look at the rest of them; I address Wendy. She has a ribbon tied into her dark hair and it flutters slightly in the warm breeze.

"Do you want to get an ice lolly?"

No one talks for a moment; it feels like an eternity that I have been standing here, and then she beams brightly.

"Yes, alright then. You're Charlie, aren't you?"

I grin back, relieved and amazed that she said yes. As we stroll away from her friends and pass Mark and James, I see him fist-pumping the air and giving me a silent thumbs up. I try and put everything behind my smile, all the good things that I am feeling. I think he understands because he gives me a similar smile back.

A smile of true friendship.

I'm dragged back up from the Summer day into the icy winds and grey skies. Tentatively, I peer down at Danielle who is still clutching my arm.

"That ice lolly for Wendy - she was my first kiss." I whisper, my voice cracking.

Just ahead of us, I can see the same patch of ground that James had sat on and the park bench where Mark had been. Now, it is covered in graffiti. I feel heavy as I look at it, my body wanting to respond in the necessary way to my feelings but I'm unable to. I wish I could still cry. I want to cry.

"Charlie. Thank you." Danielle reaches up to touch my cheek with her free hand, the texture of the glove soft against my face. Maybe I didn't have to cry with Danielle around? Maybe she senses my sadness without really needing to see it?

We have stopped walking. We just stand like that in the middle of the park, bunched together with her hand on my face, for a long moment. I feel her body quaking against mine.

"Please, take my coat. I don't care if people see." I order, pulling myself away from her to free my arms from the sleeves. "It's probably going to be as cold as outside anyway, without any body heat to warm it up."

Danielle seems as if she is about to protest but I hand her my coat determinedly. She pauses for half a second then shrugs, her smile soft, and yanks it on.

"Thank you." she repeats, shuddering as she warms up.

The way she talks, it always sounds as if I'm doing her a big favour by being her friend but I should be the one to be saying thank you.

Without her, I'd be alone.