A Different Kind of Brave

So.

Our sixteen names.

They're in a specific order.

We just don't know it.

It's not alphabetical, or numerical in any way shape or form.

It's just there.

The first name on the list.

It's Jeremy Grey.

We went to his house tonight.

It's not like we know what to do.

And we watched Jeremy Grey.

He sat on his bed and he stared at his wall for an hour and a half.

We spent an hour and a half watching him stare at the wall.

I guess you can say that neither of us have much of a life.
But at least Grace, Derrick, James and I have an excuse. We're dead.
It's physically impossible and improbable for us to have a life.
No pun intended.

I hated puns.

I hated them so bad.

Or at least when I was alive I did.

But when I was alive, I hated a lot of things.
Myself included.

Around one in the morning Jeremy Grey pulls on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt before he gets into bed.

He doesn't sleep.

He just lays there.

Now he stares at the ceiling.

I wondered if he could see us.
We were just sitting in his room.

Grace had her legs folded under her on the computer chair, staring intently.

Derrick was sitting down, his back against the wall as he watched Jeremy Grey.

James stands in the corner, he watches Jeremy through his peripheral vision, as if there was a reason to be sneaky.

I sat on the dresser right next to the bed.
I was the closest to Jeremy Grey.

Nothing happened until two hours before his alarm clock was set.

He gets up and he goes over to me and the dresser. He pulls open the third from the bottom drawer and I hop off to see what he's looking at. James, Grace and Derrick come too.
We all watch as he reaches into a secret compartment and pulls out a gun.
James isn't staring at Jeremy anymore, he's staring at the gun.
Grace gasped lightly.
Jeremy seemed to have heard it.
The gun and his hand dropped a fraction of an inch.
Jeremy could hear us.
He couldn't see us though.
Could he feel us?

I reached out with my cool, thin hand and gently pressed my fingers against the gun. It was despicable and it sent an electric shock through my very dead body when I touched it. I pressed down on the gun. With the help of Derrick and I- although he didn't know it- Jeremy guided the gun back into the secret compartment.

Jeremy Grey walked back over to his bed and lay down.

He started crying.

I hated it when boys cried.

I had an ex-boyfriend cry over me once. It was awkward.

"Tomorrow," He said. "I'll do it tomorrow."

Jeremy Grey did the same thing every night.

I think that each night he's getting closer to pulling the trigger.

Grace and Derrick agree with me.

James won't say anything. He's always staring at the gun.

Every day we follow Jeremy to school.

We kind of expect something to be going wrong there.

We expect that he's bullied, he's teased.

But no.

Everyone likes Jeremy Grey.

Everyone except Jeremy Grey.