I'm running out of ideas –out of people. If it wasn't Hazel or my mom or dad –then who on earth is left to be my anchor? What will happen if I cannot find anyone to hear me or to feel me?

It's become increasingly depressing that no one feels my presence. Sure, it's an invisible and supernatural presence, but it doesn't hurt any less. Hazel and my parents –I watch them cry, feel them try to cope and all the while I'm screaming in their faces. I'm screaming for them to hear me.

There's a dark truth that I've not yet allowed to sink in, not fully. It's what happens when I don't find someone to pull me back. It's what happens when my time in this place expires. It's what happens when I'm stuck in the Fold for all eternity.

If I miss my window, there's no going back –no coming back. I'll be gone for good. Dead for good.

I shake my head and trudge along. I'm navigating the reservoir wall. It's already easier than last time. If only it hadn't been snowy. If only the ice had been thicker. The brick building looms before me, peeking out from behind bare trees. My boots stop on the blacktop, right on the white line of the last parking spot.

The bell rings and the doors open. Students are crossing left and right, walking between the two buildings that make up the high school campus. I can tell it's at least mid-day as some of the seniors are walking to their cars. They must have a free last period. Some hardly seem fazed and none recognize my ghostly presence watching them from the parking lot.

I spot Tara and Levi entering the side doors to the cafeteria. Lunchtime. So it's sixth period, then. Almost 1 PM. It's the most sense of time I've had in days. Stupid Fold. Seeing Tara looking solemn and glum is at least somewhat reassuring. I suppose our old friendship still holds some weight for her.

Well, Hazel and my parents were no-gos. May as well try Tara next.

Now that I think about it, maybe Tara makes sense! When we were younger, we were always together. We used to imagine up all sorts of scenarios. This whole limbo-situation would fit right in our catalogue of wild adventures.

I walk through the crowd, literally right through some of them. I am getting used to this ghost thing. I squeeze in the cafeteria doors closing behind two freshman boys. The lingering smell of pot is stuck on their jean jackets. The cafeteria seems darker than usual and there are the usual blurred edges to everything, but it smells the same. It smells like the stale school air I've grown used to.

Like almost every other building in this sad and sleepy town, the school is an eyesore left over from the 60s. At least the cafeteria was updated in the 80s. I think. Everything else about it looks painfully outdated: The oversized vending machine in the hallway. The boxy TVs in the AV lounge. Even the lockers look vintage. And I'm not talking rom-com vintage where it's almost endearing. It's tragic.

Tara opens her brown-bag lunch and just stares at it. Kettle chips and a baggie of mandarin wedges. Levi drops his books on the table and cracks open a soda.

"Still not eating?" Levi asks, his head hanging.

"Just not hungry," Tara answers. She stares down at the table and plays with the orange slices.

"I know you're worried about her, but it's not like starving will help anything at all," Levi says. My eyes concentrate on the zipper of his hoodie. I wonder if I could move a zipper.

"I'm aware. Thanks," Tara grumbles, miserable. "I just wish –I don't know. It makes you feel guilty, ya know?"

"No." Levi shakes his head.

I watch Tara play with her blonde braid. She always plays with her hair when she's distracted or thinking about something intensely. The bench next to her is completely empty, so I take my chances and sit. Maybe since she's thinking about me right now it will help her feel me.

"Tara?" I use my loud voice.

Nothing.

"It's just, I know we drifted. But we used to be best friends. I mean, the BEST of friends. Now she's..." Tara's voice trails.

"In a coma?" Levi finishes.

"Just makes you realize your relationship with certain people. How things can change." Tara says, now picking at her chip foil.

"Things always change, Tara. Doesn't mean you need to beat yourself up over it. You two were friends and still are, but this isn't your fault that this happened." Levi pops his own bag of chips.

I move closer to Tara and lean in.

"Tara? Can you hear me?" I whisper close to her ear.

For one glorious, hopeful second I convince myself Tara looks up. I imagine her head shifts a fraction of an inch. Then I blink and she's back to staring at her water bottle.

I sigh heavy and toss my head back. I never noticed how many stained tiles there were in the cafeteria ceiling, twenty-one to be exact. The fluorescent light strip flickers above our table. Levi stretches back on the bench and I can't help how annoyed I feel. I can't help but think if he weren't here, maybe I could get through to Tara.

"I'm going to skip the rest of the day," Tara says. She stands up and swipes her uneaten lunch back into the bag.

"You sure?" Levi says. "Want me to ditch with you?"

"No. I'm just going to walk home. Get some fresh air."

"Sure, sure." Levi says, nodding.

Tara turns on the spot and moves toward the cafeteria doors. I quickly hop up and step in line beside her. I can almost feel my eyes boring into the side of her face, but still she doesn't turn. Tara has no idea I'm walking along beside her, trying to get her to hear me.

I follow her across the courtyard and through the single door into the main building. She stops at her locker and shoves her whole book bag inside it. I try to fidget with the lock that hangs loosely from her handle. No luck.

I rap on the locker three times thinking maybe Tara will hear some kind of reverberation or echo. 

"Tara, please. Hear me," I urge.

"Oh god, Quinn." Tara mumbles under her breath. "You have to pull through."

"Tara? TARA!" I shout, my face to hers.

I'm so hopeful she's starting to hear me, but then she slams her locker shut and turns in the opposite direction.

"Come on, Quinn," Tara says. "You better be awake."

I realize she's talking to herself. Her grief hits me differently than my sister's or my parents'. I don't know why. We aren't that close anymore, sure, but it doesn't change our friendship. I know I would feel the same way if it were her lying in a paranormal coma. No matter how much time passes or how distant we become, there are just some friendships you don't outgrow.

I realize I'm never going to find my anchor. Maybe I don't even have one. My back leans against the wall of lockers. The bell rings again and the hallway floods with acne-ridden adolescents. Then it happens again. I'm wondering where I can go next –who I can try next –when I see it. The door to the Administrative Office (AO as we call it) starts radiating.

I roll my eyes and drag my boots over to the door. The bell has stopped ringing. Instead, I hear the clicking noise again. I brace myself for the bright glow of the white room.

What's it going to be this time? I wonder.