If Amethyst Howard would tell anyone that she thought graveyards at night are peaceful, they would think she was crazy. And if she told them that the ghosts they didn't even believe exist were the most peaceful thing of it all, they would lock her up in a mental asylum. The clock struck midnight when she squinted up at the highest point of the closed gates and sighed.

She could probably just steal a key, or something, but she couldn't risk the sound of the scraping iron. People lived there, after all. So she placed a black boot on the lowest horizontal bar of the fence and hauled herself up. Her backpack bounced against her shoulders while she climbed the gates. The iron was slippery on certain places where the black paint was peeling off and the metal was exposed to the rain.

Amethyst spat out a wet lock of hair that had ended up in her mouth and gripped the top of the fence. Careful not to hurt herself on the iron spikes, she swung a leg over the topside of the railing and looked down. It was too high to jump, despite the thick layer of autumn leaves on the ground. She had tried once, during winter, when there was snow, and had broken her leg.

She'd needed to hide until the gates opened in the morning and then call Hope to pick her up. It had been hell. She could have called an ambulance, but then she would have also been caught and would have risked being punished, or worse, banned from this place. No, she would never jump again. As she did every week, she scanned the trees just inside the gate, looking for a branch she could use to swing down, but found none. As always. Maybe, in a few years, the one closest to the gates would be big enough to use, but now, she would only break her leg again. She gripped the uppermost bar of the fence and put her left leg next to the right one on the other side. At least, she tried to. When her thigh touched the nearest spike, her tights caught on the point and got stuck. She cursed under her breath when she almost lost her balance.

"Are you okay?" a soft voice, coming from underneath her, said.

"I'm... coming..." Amethyst groaned, and ripped the nylon free of the spike. Safely on the ground, she inspected her leg. There was a big hole in her tights, starting from the bottom of her shorts and stretching out to the back of her knees.

"Note to self: never wear tights again while climbing over fences," she muttered.

"You made that note a month ago. And then the month before," the voice sounded again. Amethyst righted herself and glared at the boy leaning against the gates.

"Well, you can't expect me to have bare legs in this weather."

The boy rolled his eyes and shook his head, causing his half-long curls to whip against his jaw.

"You're impossible."

Amethyst smiled at him.

"You shouldn't be that far from your source, Sam."

Samuel shrugged.

"What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"Let's not find out."

Amethyst gripped the shoulder straps of her backpack and started walking down the stone path. She knew Samuel was following her, even though his footsteps didn't make any sound on the leaves.

"You're not going to say happy birthday?" he called after a few minutes.

"Last time I did, you became all sad and stuff." Amethyst looked back over her shoulder, and Sam picked up his pace to walk beside her. He shrugged again.

"Yeah, I guess. But it's nice to have someone who thinks of it. You did, huh?"

He was slouching, his nice blue eyes focused on the ground before his feet. Amethyst smiled softly.

"Happy birthday, Samuel Anderson."

"Thanks."

They walked in silence. On both sides, graves sprung up from the earth. Before them, she vaguely saw the outlines of the walls with urns. It was not a very large graveyard, and that maybe was the reason she liked it that much. She took a turn left and spotted their destination. The gravestone was dirty, without any flowers. She crouched down and ran her fingers over the engraved letters. They weren't faded, only less visible by the dirt on the stone.

Samuel Anderson

11/1/1996 – 12/31/2015

New Year's Eve, a party with friends. Other homeless boys. He was nineteen, had chosen to flee his abusive household. Took an overdose of drugs. He died on the street corner, and was found by a cop the next morning. His parents had paid for his funeral, then left the town. Amethyst sighed. She had heard so many stories, had seen so many people who lived and died horribly. Then why didn't she think the world was horrible as well?

"You should hate me," she said suddenly. She felt Sam shift behind her, restless.

"Why? You're the only one I can talk with."

She didn't know why she said it out loud. Maybe because it was his birthday. Because he should have gone to college, celebrated it with his friends and family. Because there should have been at least someone who thought of him.

"Because I'm..." The sentence was left unfinished, but he seemed to get it.

"I don't hate you, Amy." His voice was so kind. Should he have been alive, she could even have fallen in love with him, she thought. She got up, and looked at him.

"Anyone who wanted to talk this week?"

He grinned.

"Uh, yeah. Obviously. I think you're going to have a secretary, your majesty."

"Are you volunteering?" she asked, laughing again, while he showed her the way. She didn't have any messages herself today.

When Amethyst would tell anyone she could talk to ghosts, they would assume that meant the graveyard was full of people for her. But really, there were only the ones who wanted to be seen. Some didn't like to expose themselves. Some were shy. Some were afraid of her. But there were still a lot of ghosts around her, sitting on their own graves, playing on the grass field and between the graves, sometimes with others Amethyst could see, some with invisible partners. All of this happened in silence. They spoke aloud when she approached them, though. Samuel led her to the walls with urns. In the corner of her eye, she saw something shimmer. They were standing between two of the constructions with squares. Curiously, she turned. The flickering ones were the ones who weren't buried yet. The ones who died, and who would come to lay there. Amethyst still didn't know what caused those ghosts, but she had learned to accept it. She looked at the girl waiting for her, and almost stumbled.

The girl smiled sadly, her normally shiny blonde hair dull.

"Hi, Amethyst."

Amethyst blinked. It had happened before, these sort of things, but they kept throwing her off guard. Seeing people she knew. But this was only the second time she saw someone she didn't know was dead.

"Hi, Lauri," Amethyst replied softly. She stepped closer to the shimmering girl and held up her hand. Hesitatingly, Lauri touched her palm with her fingers. They weren't cold. They also weren't warm. They were just... human.

Lauri blinked.

"You can touch me?"

"I can."

Amethyst didn't immediately ask what had happened, even though she already knew.

Lauri started crying, and Amethyst took her hand and held it between her own. Her heart broke a little. She had really tried to help the girl while she was still alive, but she always refused to be aided in whatever way possible.

"It's going to be okay. That's what I'm here for."

"Why can you see me? Why can you touch me? I tried to explain when they found me, tried to apologize, but they didn't hear. No one heard." Thick tears rolled down Lauri's cheeks, and her gray eyes were helpless. Hopeless. Amethyst felt other ghosts gathering around them, but didn't acknowledge them.

"No one can hear except for me," she said to the crying girl. Lauri looked her in the eyes, storm clouds gazing into a summer sky.

"I just thought you were a bit weird. I never could have guessed that you can..." Lauri murmured. "Why?" she asked again.

"I don't know," Amethyst admitted. "No one knows."

She scanned the girl's body for injuries, but found none. Pills, maybe. Ghosts appeared as they had the moment they died.

"Do you want to tell me something?" Amethyst asked. It was the standard question for new habitants of the graveyard. It was vague, but it worked. Almost always. Lauri asked a question instead.

"Do you think they will be angry with me?"

"Firstly, yes. They are always angry. But not only with you. With the world. With themselves, mostly, and that anger will not wear off that fast. But it will go away. They will miss you, above all."

Lauri looked down again.

"Do you think I'm a coward? For doing it?"

"No."

Some people thought committing suicide was selfish. A cry for attention. Cowardly. But Lauri hadn't seen another way, and Amethyst couldn't use all those arguments for not doing it on her since it already happened.

"Do you want me to deliver a message?" Lauri's eyes widened.

"You could do that?"

"Only once. In the days after someone passed away, I can say things as "she would have wanted you to know that she loves you". After that, it gets suspicious."

Lauri hesitated.

"No."

"That's okay." Amethyst didn't ask why. They all had different reasons, and she didn't try to guess them.

"Thank you, Amethyst. For trying to help me. Before. And for being here."

Amethyst kissed Lauri's knuckles, still gripped between her hands.

"You're welcome, honey."

"Isn't it hard? Doing this?" Lauri asked when her hand fell down again. It was. It was so hard. But Amethyst wanted to use her abilities for good. If she couldn't help the living, even though she tried, she would help the dead.

"It is," she said, then turned away. Samuel took her hand and squeezed it.