Unanswered by Liza Mynx (books under 200 pages txt) 📕

full of life, love, and joy. Now they’re dull, lifeless, slate gray. My face was different, but instead of it being matured to look like a teenager I looked like I was in my thirties. I actually had frown lines around my mouth and I just looked . . . worn. My face looked old, worn, and sad. Permanently. I’m an eighteen year old who looks so worn out she’s a thirty year old.
I walked out of the room and felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket.

Probably Sammy. She probably sent me a text trying to apologize.
I didn’t want to talk to her, but my phone kept vibrating, so I took it out and looked at the number.
“Ahh,” I screamed, as I saw the name. I wanted to drop my phone, but I was too curious. I opened the message.
It read:
You know the person. They are closer then you think.
The name of the person who sent the message was Chris. The same Chris that died one year ago, and the same Chris whose spirit is still walking around.


5. Chat Rooms

“Mom! Mom, where are you?! I have proof!” I yelled, running into my house. I ran into the living room, and she was sitting on the couch talking to somebody.
We had a visitor, and not one I liked.
“Hello, Ms. Jason,” Mr. Kastone said, sitting in the recliner across the room.
“Mr. Kastone, hello. Um, how are you?” I asked anxiously.
A teacher’s in the house! Repeat, a teacher is in the house! NO! Oh no!
“He did not come for you to ask him how he is doing, he came to talk to me about your grades. Mr. Kastone says that you have been skipping school, obviously,” she pointed at me as she said that, “not turning in assignments, failing tests. You’re back talking in class! I thought he had you confused with another girl, until he showed me your progress report and . . . ” Her voice trailed off. She rubbed her temples with her hands. A normal habit she does when she is either stressed, extremely frustrated, or both. From the scary look in her eyes, I’d say she was frustrated, but there was a hint of something else. Disappointment?
“I’m not here to make you upset, Claire, I’m here to try to help you. Your mother told me you had a very close friend that died last year and-”
I narrowed my blue eyes, which were probably ice by now(metaphorically because my eyes are the color of ice.) “He didn’t die. He went away for a while. He’s back though, and I need to talk to my mother alone.”
Mr. Kastone stood up and so did my mother.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kastone, my daughter has been seeing a doctor for the past year. She is getting the help she needs, but thank-you for the concern you have for her. Would you like me to show you to the door?”
He took his hard eyes off of me and they softened a little bit as he looked at her. “No, Mrs. Jason, but thank-you for being so kind.” He looked at me, his gray eyes stone again. “See you tomorrow, Claire.”
“Yes you will. Then we can talk about my future,” I said, watching him warily as he walked out of the room.
I waited until I heard the door close, and his car start. Then, he drove back to school. When he was gone, I told my mom about what happened at school and the text message. She didn’t believe me, and then I got my phone out.
“You’ll see! It’s all right here,” I said, opening my phone and going to my messages.
NO MESSAGES
I stared at those words. My mom put her hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.

“Mom, the text was right there! I read it! It said ‘You know the person. They are closer then you think.’ It was from Chris! I swear it!”
She put her head down and shook it. A sign that all hope was lost. I dropped my shoulders, and turned toward my room.
“Honey, it’s not that I don’t believe that you really think you saw it, it’s just . . . well, it’s impossible. I’m sorry, sweety. You know I want to believe you, but I can’t.”
I stared at her, my hurt obviously written on my face.
“You know what, mom? I would expect someone who really didn’t know me to not believe me. I thought that since you were my mother, you would. That’s another thing I’m apparently wrong about.”
I walked into my room and slammed the door shut. I walked over to my computer and turned it on. I went to the chat room that I spent most of my time at these days. I’ve made a friend there, and I always talk to him. My name in the chat room was SilentGirl, and his name was GhostBoy.
SilentGirl: Hey, GhostBoy, are you there?
I pressed send and waited. About a minute later I got a message back.
GhostBoy: Hey, SilentGirl, I thought you were at school. What are you doing home?
I sighed and typed an answer back.
SilentGirl: Yeah, I should be at school but I wanted to come home. You have no idea how hard my school is. . .
When I met GhostBoy, he was a sophomore like I was, and I met him two years ago. I was bored on the computer, and I had heard of this chat room and decided to try it out. As soon as I got on I met him. We talked for a few weeks, and he became a good friend. He would be going to my school, but he dropped out last year.
GhostBoy: Yeah I do! I went to that school for three and a half years!!! Anyway, you should get back to school.
He cared a lot about my education. In the two years I’ve talked to him, he was always talking about my time at school, and didn’t like when I skipped it.
SilentGirl: I don’t want to go back!!!!! I want to stay here . . . and talk to you about something.
GhostBoy: *sigh* Fine. What do you want to talk about?
SilentGirl: When you went to Maple High, did you know anybody named . . . Chris White?????
GhostBoy: Huh! I haven’t heard that name in about a year . . . Yeah, I did know him. He died didn’t he? Why do you want to talk about him???
I felt a sharp knife of pain stab my stomach as I read his comment. It took me a while to catch my breath because the pain knocked the wind out of me, and it felt like it was doing that again and again.

GhostBoy: SilentGirl, are you there? Are you okay?!?!?!
Come on! I need to recover! It was a year ago, and I need to tell GhostBoy about this! I can trust him. I know I can! Take slow, deep breaths and type.
I started typing.
SilentGirl: Yeah! I’m here! I was just thinking of how to word this to you . . . First of all, do you trust me?
GhostBoy: ....yeah . . . I trust you . . .
It took me a while to figure out a way to word this. After all, if he didn’t believe me, he might not want to talk to me again.
I got a message just then.
GhostBoy: Hey, wait . . . That Chris White guy . . . Promise me you won’t think I’m crazy?!
I was a little startled.
He has to tell me something about Chris, and he’s afraid I’ll think he’s crazy?!
SilentGirl: If you promise me you won’t think I’m crazy. But, you go ahead and tell me what you need to tell me.
GhostBoy: Deal. Alright . . . I’ve seen that Chris guy’s spirit!
What the HECK???!!! He’s seen Chris too!
SilentGirl: OMG!!! Are you serious??!!! Because if you’re lying, I will beat the crap out of you!!!
GhostBoy: Nope!! I’m telling the truth. Why did you react like that?
SilentGirl: Oh. Believe me! You’re lucky you couldn’t see my reaction . . . But, anyway . . . That was what I was going to tell you! That I’ve seen Chris’s spirit wondering around! OH! You have no idea how good it feels to know that I’m not the only one! People think I’m crazy! Even my own mother does!!! But, you believe me, don’t you?
GhostBoy: Yeah I believe you!!! This is so freaky!!! I mean, beyond freaky!!! This is . . . is . . . oh man!!!!!
I sat back in my chair and smiled in relief. It felt amazing knowing that someone in this world believed me, and has even seen Chris, too! I felt unbelievable, like nothing could burst my bubble.
Spoke to soon.


6. Respect

“Claire, you’ve barley touched your dinner,” my mother said as we were sitting at the table eating spaghetti.
“I am not hungry, mother,” I said as harshly as I could while getting up and putting my plate in the sink. I rinsed it off and tried not to say what I really wanted to say.
Because you are the worst mother in the history of worst mothers I have lost my appetite.
I was mad at her. No, far beyond mad. I was furious at her! Earlier while I was talking to GhostBoy, my mom came in to apologize and she saw me talking to him. She read the entire conversation we had and then told me I was never allowed to talk to him again!
“But, mom! He’s my best friend!” I had complained.
“What about Sammy,” she asked calmly.
“She’s not my friend anymore! I don’t like her! You can’t keep me from talking to him! He’s the only person who believes me! Listens to me! He’s even the only one who cares about me,” I had shrieked while I ran to the bathroom and locked the door.
Now that I look back at the sene, I laugh at myself for running into the bathroom. Why I ran in there I have no idea. I guess I was so angry I wasn’t thinking. But really! The bathroom? I guess I am a little crazy. If I wanted to get on her nerves I would have run into her room.
“You know my reasons Clair Sylvia,” my mother said, now getting up and rinsing her plate off as well.
“Oh no! You used my middle name too!” I pretended like I was scared though I wasn’t and it was pretty obvious that it was me being sarcastic.
She dropped her plate in the sink and turned to me. “I don’t expect you to exactly be in the best mood after all the . . . events that happened today.” She struggled to control her voice and her expression. “What I do expect is that you treat me with the respect I deserve.”
“Respect works both ways Mom. If I respect you, you have to respect me.”
She narrowed her eyes at my words.
My mother, oh bless that woman, was never one to look at things two ways. She only saw things her way, and if it wasn’t her way, she didn’t see it. But her way kept changing, so I never know what to say to make her happy. She could say that