RILEY

When I was alone, back then, my mind would be clouded with unwanted thoughts.

A lot of the time, the thoughts would be something like, how can I not mess up today, so he doesn't hit me again? Or, has he broken another one of Mum's old things? And when I wanted to distract myself so I didn't think about that, it would be something like wondering how I'd prank Ash for the hundredth time-even though that never took much effort, since he was a wimp- or what Netflix show I could binge next with him and Macey. We had a goal to watch absolutely everything on there. We were halfway through...

It's a shame I won't get to complete that goal with those two. I'm sure they can carry on though, in honour of me. I hope they will.

Another thing I wish I could do with them again is graffiti the town like a bunch of delinquents. We never did big and bold stuff, though. Just a few small messages that we enjoyed designing in the corners. I'm not sure but it might be the thing I enjoyed doing most back when I was alive. Maybe that's why spray cans are the only things I can touch now. I don't know, though. I can never get answers for things like this. Even from the other ghosts around. None of us know, and we probably never will.

But that's why I like it here. This park that I'm always sitting in. We hung out here the most. We hadn't graffitied it yet, but it had been the next place we'd planned to colour in. I've always wondered what I'd do here. But it hasn't come to me yet.

I settle down on the grass, cross legged, and look up at the wearing red bricks. The wall towers high up and fades into the greyish-black sky, and a brief memory of my friends and I as kids flashes through my mind. We tried to climb this wall once. We were so dumb.

I sigh, and lie down on my back, resting my hands on the back of my head.

I miss them. I want to see them again. Every day that I don't spend with them gets more and more boring-repetitive. There's nothing much to do when I'm on my own like this. But they've both left town now, gone to fulfil their dreams at uni. Ash probably went into something book-related, I bet, and Macey would go into something like film studies. I know they'd both be the best in anything they do.

I think about them everyday. But I wonder if they ever think about me. I wonder if they will ever come and visit me, one day.

The last time I saw Ash was at my funeral. At the time, I wasn't able to leave the graveyard-this ghost stuff has stages-and he had sat in front of my tombstone, whispering very quietly, with his head hung. He might have been trying to tell me something...but there was no point if I literally couldn't hear him. Typical Ash. He always spoke like a mouse anyway. But then he left and didn't come back. Macey wasn't even there. And by the time I actually could leave the graveyard and go to their houses-to show them in some way I was with them-they had both left already.

It stung, but I told myself it was for the best. The thought of me would have probably been too upsetting for them.

****************************

"Riley."

The voice is distant. Almost echoing.

"Hey, Riley."

It sounds closer now.

"Riley! I know you can hear me. Get up."

I blink, and open my eyes. I'm not lying on the grass at the park anymore. I'm on the sofa-not the sofa at my house. It's Macey's. I look up to see a pair of chocolate brown eyes staring at me through thick-rimmed glasses, and a fixed frown that has been plastered onto my best friend's face.

"Macey?" I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands. "Is that you?"

"No, idiot, it's Kim Kardashian," He snaps, "Who do you think?"

I sit up, and look around me. The smell of burnt food fills the air, and I immediately crumple up my nose. "What's that smell?"

"What's that smell?" Macey barks, pulling me off the sofa, and dragging me by the wrist across to the kitchen. Ash is opening the windows, a tray of burnt cakes set on the counter beside him. "That smell is the result of me thinking it would be wise to let you guys keep an eye on the cakes. You had one job, Riley, one job."

I'm about to object-after all I was fast asleep. How would I have been keeping an eye on cakes? But then Ash gives me a look, seemingly knowing what I'm thinking, and shakes his head, warningly.

"Right...I'm sorry." I say to him, placing a hand on her small shoulder. Macey looks up at me, his expression turning from anger to something unreadable. Almost blank. That's his scariest expression.

"I can't leave you two for one hour without something crazy happening, can I?" He slides my hand off his shoulder, and walks over to the burnt piles of cake mix. "It feels like I'm best friends with a bunch of children."

"Technically, we are children. We're under the age of eighteen." Ash states, matter of factly. Macey shoots him a glare, and he shuts his mouth.

"You know what? It's fine." Macey says, quietly. Me and Ash exchange glances. "I can't really be angry, anyway."

"You can't?" I raise my eyebrows. It's not like Macey to let things slide that easily.

"I can't." He repeats, and then he looks at me, and I realise his eyes are filled with tears. "I can't be angry at you, Riley. Because you're already dead."

There is a sinking feeling in my stomach when he says this, but I know he's telling the truth. "It doesn't matter if I'm dead," I say to him. "You can be annoyed at me if you want to. That's what we do, isn't it? We annoy each other. We can still be friends. We can still be together."

"No, we can't, Riley." Ash says from beside me. There is sorrow in his tone, and he doesn't meet my eye. "You're gone. We're in different worlds. You need to let go of us, like we've let go of you."

"No." I shake my head. "How can I do that? We're best friends." I grab Ash by the shoulders, and turn him towards me. Beneath his wavy, red fringe, his eyes are half hidden. But I can see they're filled with tears. Does he even believe what he's saying?

"It's been...it's been eleven months."I can hear my voice trembling. "How did you guys move on from me so quickly? We've known each other since forever. Doesn't that mean a thing to you?"

He does not answer.

I feel a lump rising in my throat. I turn to Macey. He isn't looking at me either. I hate this. It's not supposed to be this way. I want to wake up. I need to wake up.

My eyes fly open, and I inhale. I sit up, and run a hand through my hair. The sun is rising now. The sky is painted with streaks of orange, pink and red.

I didn't even realise when I'd fallen asleep. It's because I was thinking about them just before I drifted off. That's why they came in that dream. And I hate it so much. And it's only when I run a hand down my face and my palm feels the wetness that has trickled down my cheeks, do I realise how scared I am that this dream could be telling the truth.