• Jennifer and Garrett Reeder, currently fifteen, looked almost exactly the same, other than the fact that Jen was just slightly translucent. They had tawny eyes and pale skin, which brought little attention their sandy-brown hair. Their faces were slightly angled and their cheeks dimpled when they smiled.
    Jen's hair was beautiful with long curls and sheen, almost identical to her mother's. She had a petite body and curves that would make any girl jealous if she was still alive. Garrett's hair was light and feathery, often sweeping down in front of his eyes. His body was also slender, and though he had a good deal of strength, it couldn't be told by looking.
    Girls awed and drooled over him, which made most of the guys hate him through envy. They would pick on him, and every now and then he would get into a fight. He didn't fight back (which made him "weak" in their eyes) and fled whenever he had the chance. Jen worried for him, though she couldn't say anything. She sat wallowing in helplessness as he tended his own wounds, feeling guilty about lacking the ability to physically touch.
    However, Garrett had always reassured her that she could touch and feel; she just had a level of gentleness that could not be controlled.
    One time while Garrett wrapped gauze around his opened arm, she had asked, "How do I feel?"
    Garrett remained silent, his eyes unmoving from the mirror in front of him. Jen stared at him with huge eyes while he thought over the answer. Finally he replied calmly, "You kinda tickle." Jen frowned at this, which only made Garrett smile and continue. "Like a breeze of feathers. It's nice."

    - - - - - - - - - -


    Rachel Holmes was Garrett's therapist's name. She was an elderly woman, whose face was wrinkled into a permanent frown. It was unwelcoming and Garrett was reluctant in telling her anything. So every Wednesday they sat in silence, staring at each other for an hour until his mother came.
    His mother, Candice Reeder, was kind and loving, a woman who looked much older than 39. Her she was a grayer version of her daughter, with dulled eyes and limp hair. Garrett told her about Jen's ghost when he was twelve, and she smiled sympathetically. The next day was his first day of therapy.
    The twins' father was Michael Reeder. He was a hardy man, with a rough smile and a heart of gold. He worked during the week, slept on Saturday and went hunting on Sunday. And though Garrett rarely saw him, he was very important to him. He was one of the only two people who believed him about Jen.
    When he decided to stay up through Saturday, he would talk to Garrett. Garrett would transfer Jen's messages, and they would stay up almost all night, talking to each other as if Jen's death hadn't happened...
    Candice often lectured Michael, telling him not to encourage Garrett's already-twisted imagination. She would do this out of earshot, but Garrett once heard and decided to avoid his father when Saturday rolled around.
    They pulled up to the white house with navy shutters and climbed out of the car, Garrett slamming his and storming off to his room. Jen followed, a part of her wishing she could apologize to her mother for his behavior.
    "Garrett," she called softly as she gracefully followed him up the stairs. "Talk to me. What's wrong?" They shuffled into his bedroom and sat on the bed, Garrett whipping the door shut behind him.
    "That's exactly it," he hissed. "I'm sick of talking. I'm sick of people telling me how crazy I am, sending me to places I don't want to be, smiling at everything I say like I'm some kind of mental patient." He fell back into a lying position with his feet dangling off the bed's edge. He rubbed his face with his palms and mumbled, "It's just getting to me is all."
    Jen listened and watched him, her face pulled into that of concern. It was silent for a minute, and she finally said, "I... I'm sorry."
    "Sorry?" Garrett said blankly, staring at the ceiling. "You did nothing, Jen."
    "I did, though," she whispered. She looked away at the ground. "It's my fault people think this about you. If I left, they wouldn't think you were crazy."
    Garrett sat up and smiled. "If you left, I would go crazy. You're my sanity."
    Jen laughed. It was light, chiming laugh, like that of an angel. "That's good to know." She looked over to his nightstand, where the numbers 6:23 glared back in bright red. She stood and placed her hands gingerly on her hips, the smile never leaving her face. "Back to homework, Garrett Reeder. Now."
    "Yes, Mom," he said sarcastically, and trudged over to his desk. He sighed. "I hate biology."

    - - - - - - - - - -


    Later that night Jennifer left Garrett's room, seeping through the door cracks in a smoky gaseous form. He'd finally fell asleep after all of her nagging about slipping grades. As punishment, she'd made him stay up to eleven studying every subject. It wasn't much of a consequence -- Garrett's usual curfew was one or two in the morning -- but he normally didn't study for anything. During quizzes and tests he would ask Jen for the answers; after all, she payed more attention in class than he did.
    So she made him study, which made him crash earlier than usual. Good, she thought. He needs much more sleep anyway.
    She took form again and walked down the hall. The hall was larger than a normal one, with the ability to hold at least four people side-by-side. About half way down the hall was a door leading to the roomy bathroom. Continuing, she reached the end of the hall, which held the stairs leading to the first level and a third door -- her parents' room. Again she shuffled through the door cracks to find them slumbering peacefully. Her father was breathing steadily while her mother snored lightly, as unconscious as a newborn. "I wish you would get more sleep, Mom," she whispered. "You're more deprived than Garrett."
    She sighed and left the room, but not before kissing each parent on the top of their head. According to Garret though, it would only be a passing breeze... She slowly descended down the stairs, her loose curls bouncing with each step. The house was dark and quiet, and the only sound was that of a passing car every now and again.
    Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was in the living room, which reminded her of cinnamon. The carpet was a rich burgundy and the wallpaper a deep red. The black leather couch sat against the north wall, facing the over-sized television. She made a right into a threshold and found herself in a kitchen. It was more of a half-kitchen, part of it being tiled and holding a number of appliances. The second part was divided off by a thin counter and was layered with a dark navy carpet. A golden chandelier dangled over a glossy oval table.
    Despite all of the beautiful furnishing and style, Jen couldn't help but to feel slightly disgusted. Her family was on the wealthy side, which meant they spoiled themselves with unnecessary wonders. She loved them more than anything, but it seemed as if people expected more from her family just because they had money.
    Jen swept around and back into the living room, heading for the front door. She fizzled through and trotted down the perfectly cut lawn, paying no mind to the brick patio that lead to the sidewalk. She was thinking in silence when she found herself standing in front of her mother's station wagon. It was old, and her mother refused to get rid of it, even though it was almost as old as Jen and Garrett are.
    I could've learned to drive, she thought solemnly. Garrett and I could've driven together...
    She lie back in her lawn and stared at the star dappled sky. The moon was three-quarters full and there wasn't a cloud in sight. She became lost in her thoughts, losing track of time and all awareness.
    Before she knew it, the sun was rising, and the sky was a running pastel masterpiece of purple and blue. She hadn't slept -- she was a ghost after all -- but she had been so tied up in her thoughts that she hadn't realized that Garrett would be up in about an hour.
    She stood and walked back to the front door, her feet noiselessly trailing through the early November frost. It was abnormally dry for Vermont's usual weather around this time of year; there was usually some kind of rain of snow, but today was cloudless and the sun shone, even though the temperature was frigid. The weather didn't affect Jen though, and she found it mildly enjoyable. Precipitation made it difficult to keep her figure.

    - - - - - - - - - -


    Garrett squeezed his eyes tighter. It was only five and he didn't have to be up for another hour... Yet he found himself tossing and turning for about ten minutes before he decided to give up. He sat up and yawned, examining his room. Plain; a cerulean carpet and white walls, although the clothes and books thrown everywhere made a nice touch. Very professional, Jen would always say.
    He dragged himself out of bed, feeling groggy and exhausted, but somehow lively at the same time.
    At this moment, Jen opened the door and looked at him, her pallor blending with his walls. She looked at him with a questioning glance and finally asked, "Couldn't sleep?"
    "Nah," Garrett said breathlessly. "Oh well, I planned on getting to school early today anyway."
    "Right," Jen said, obviously unconvinced. She stood aside as he stumbled down the hall and into the bathroom. Then he returned to his room and dug through a pile of clothes, pulling out a white wrinkled button-down and black pants -- the school's required uniform. He pulled the shirt over his bare chest and pants over his boxers while Jen looked at an open magazine that sprawled on the floor.
    "What is it with guys and cars?" she mumbled to herself.
    "It's not so much the cars, but more of the ladies that stand around them." Garrett smiled mischievously.
    Jen frowned as she noticed the women dressed in skimpy outfits as they posed next to the cars. "Oh." She sighed and turned again, looking over Garrett's outfit. She frowned even more. "You should iron that."
    Garrett looked at his digital alarm clock. "No time. Besides, you're the only person who cares." He flashed another smile.
    "I doubt that," Jen said, waving her hand nonchalantly. "If I could, I'd iron your clothes all the time." She looked at her pale, translucent hands and began to follow Garrett out of the room and downstairs for breakfast.
    The house was quiet, since their father was already at work and their mother still slept peacefully. Garrett took a quick bowl of cereal and then went back upstairs to brush his teeth -- the normal morning routine.
    By the time he finished getting ready, it was an hour before the homeroom bell rang.
    "Tch," Garrett huffed as he slung his backpack over one shoulder. "We'll take a slow walk to school. I don't feel like sitting here."
    The morning air was still frigid, and Jen scolded Garrett for entire walk about how he should at least be wearing a coat. Garrett ignored her.
    Garrett's high school wasn't too old, but not very recent either. It was a pale brick building with three floors and monstrous flag pole. The front lawn had four pine trees (two on each side of the walkway) that were a mirror image of each other, making the front have perfect symmetry. It was a fairly big outside, but not when it was loitered with students. Some smoked, while other chattered endlessly on their cell phones. Garrett pushed his way through the crowd and tore through the front doors, walking briskly towards his locker. His teeth clicked together and his lips were a pale blue.
    "Told you," Jen said as she crossed her arms.
    Again, she was ignored by Garrett, who impatiently spun the lock of his locker around and pulled it open. He threw books in and pulled books out, stuffing his backpack in and letting his arm hang at his side, books in hand. With the other hand, he slammed the locker shut, only to see a girl stand there. She had flat blond hair and neatly frayed bangs that swept the rim of her expensive-looking glasses. Her eyes were a rich blue and she wore little makeup. She was short -- much more so than Jen and Garrett -- and she wore a fitted button-down similar to Garrett's and every other student with a black pleated skirt that stretched to her mid-thigh.
    "Hi, Garrett!" she chirped when he looked at her.
    "Hey, Bethy," he said with less enthusiasm. Bethany Walsh was her name. She and Garrett had been friends for several years, and she was the second of two people who believed him about Jen. She wasn't talked to by others, as she was the common "geek". She was ridiculously smart and energetic, and some thought of her as annoying. Garrett had never felt this way and saw Bethany as a loyal companion.
    "Hi, Jen!" she pipped again.
    "Hi, Bethany," Jen said smiling, though Bethany wouldn't hear.
    Bethany looked at Garrett's worn face. "Garrett... not to sound like your mother or anything, but shouldn't you be wearing more in weather like this?"
    "Well, first of all, you do sound like my mother. And second of all, it feels like summer out there. You two should stop caring so much about me."
    "Well someone has to!" Bethany and Jen said at the same time, making Garrett smirk. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was drowned by the shrill scream of the first bell. "I'll see you at lunch," he said, his voice dull and apathetic. He waved once before stalking off in the opposite direction.
    Bethany watched him go, her bright eyes clouding. She shrugged and turned, walking cheerfully to her homeroom. After all, she could pry out whatever was bugging him at lunch.