Andy

The next morning, I woke up in a dream state.

I had stayed up most of the night, listening to music, lying in bed on my side, watching the window, waiting for Andy to climb in, out of breath and slam the glass shut behind him, because no one else could hear him. But he never came.

I had to face the heartbreak that morning when I woke up, and he still wasn't there, sleeping lazily in the reclining chair. He wasn't anywhere, and I whispered his name to be sure he wasn't.

Absolute silence.

It was, in a way, like losing your pet dog. You can always hear them, pitter-pattering around the house, barking at stuff, and occasionally paying you visit in your room. Always coming when you called their name, and they were always there for you. Same applied. I couldn't hear him messing around with my stuff, trying on my cross jewelry in my mirror or investigating my makeup collection while listening to my music on my phone with headphones. He wasn't laughing or grinning. It was silent.

I drug myself from the warm sheets of my bed, and damn near forced myself to get dressed. I had to wear a nice dress for church. It was Sunday, after all. I put on a dark blue, long summer dress and my converse. It wouldn't matter because they wouldn't show anyways.

My mom poked her head in fifteen minutes later and asked if I was almost ready, just like the day before. I nodded in a reply and slowly made my progress until we were out the door.

Everything moved in a blur, yet the day dragged on. I kept waiting, kept thinking I saw someone sit beside me, or laugh with a deep voice, and I'd look around, but he was nowhere...

People came up to me after the service and commented on my performance. Some thanked me, others said I sounded nice. We ran into Amy and Chris on the way out, and I awkwardly avoided their gaze. Because I'd look at his mom, and see his impossibly blue, bright eyes, and I'd look at his dad, and see his kind, genuine smile.

Of course, they thanked me again, and had to have another hug. But the difference was, neither of them smelled like Andy. The smelled like perfume and cinnamon. Andy smelled like sweat, cigarettes and mint.

As we finally walked through the front doors of the chapel, I looked to the sky, but it was wide, blue and cloudless for miles. The worst of the storm was gone now, and had taken Andy with it. That was my theory: It had rained every day since his death, and on the one-week anniversary, it was bright and sunny, without a trace of all the rain we'd gotten yesterday.

"Hey Ash," My Dad interrupted my thoughts as we walked to the car. "It's about time you get your license."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He agreed, squinting at the sun. "You've been sixteen for months now, it's time to take that next step into adulthood."

I nodded. Normally, I would have been absolutely psyched, because it had been my dream to have my license since the beginning of time, and now that the opportunity was here, I didn't feel motivated anymore.

"Okay." I agreed, trying to rack my brain for some positive bits to add on, but all I could come up with was "At least then, I don't have to take the bus to school or walk anymore."

Dad grinned and patted my shoulder. "Right! Won't that be great?"

I put on a smile, because it wasn't his fault for my somber mood, and I chose to let this whole thing bring me down, even after I swore it wouldn't. Dad smiled back at me, and I looked at his bright, excited brown eyes, and wished I could tell him everything without him throwing me into an asylum.

Would my parents do that? I wondered. Would they betray me straight off and decide that seeing spirits was enough and they didn't want to claim me as their daughter anymore? Andy had already confirmed it wasn't just me who could see him, he chose to make it that way. But if I told anyone I could see him, they'd want proof, and he wasn't around to give it. The artifacts I had of his existence were all things I could have stolen from his parents home like a crazy person, and people would just think I was weird.

Normally, that thought wouldn't bother me, in fact, I usually embraced being weird. But today, I just wanted to be perfect picture, cookie-cutter normal like the rest of them.

We got into the car, driving under the hot sun to go get lunch. I leaned against the window, recognizing the familiar intersection as we drove through it, and for a moment, I could swear I still felt the rain on my skin, the smell of smoke in my lungs, and the feeling of desperate hope in my heart.

~~~

The next morning was just like the rest of them. Except today was Monday, which meant I had to return to school.

I had spent the rest of my Sunday in the music room, letting an old Beatles CD play faintly in the background while I practiced and brushed up on every song I'd ever learned on piano, and admittedly, played The Mortician's Daughter twice, hoping it'd be enough to summon Andy from the grave, and he'd tease me about being obsessed with the song, but like my previous attempts, he didn't show.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. I should be happy for him that he chose a final ending for himself, and went to find his adolescent years best friend in the next life, but I couldn't make myself feel that way. To be honest, I felt jealous of Ashley. And I never felt jealous of anybody. I accepted why other people were doing things better than me and why they were more successful, and I congratulated them. But now I was just upset that Andy had left to possibly chase a pipe dream.

Pulling a lame, random outfit together from my closet, I begrudgingly got dressed.

After I had, I looked at the denim jacket, still lying on the window seat, and contemplated a moment, before grabbing it and putting it on over my shirt, and then putting my hoodie over it. If I was correct in assuming it was Andy's trademark appearance, then people might recognize it and want to know where I got it, so it was best to keep it hidden for now. I only needed it as a reassurance item, anyways.

I did my makeup dark, to reflect my mood. Which usually never deviated from smiles and rainbows. It was unusual for me to feel less than myself, to feel unhappy. I'd never really faced depression in the past, because I was never bullied or anything. I always blew off what negative things people had to say and carried on, but this was something else entirely. I couldn't tattle to the principle on this, I couldn't tell my parents someone called me ugly in the halls, because this negativity lived in my head, and I couldn't get it out.

I walked out to the curb and waited for the dorky little yellow bus to pull around the corner. I already had my headphones in, blasting the most unhealthy thing I could have: Motley Crue.

It couldn't be healthy to keep his existence living in me. Listening to his music, looking at his pictures and wearing his jacket. It was like an obsession, except I was taking it as a loss.

I chose to take the bus, because the route to the school on foot already was tainted with Andy. From the night we'd walked there together to dig up his capsule, to the days I walked to school in the morning, I'd just start to remember more about him than I was comfortable with.

I could close my eyes, and still remember how he looked. Every detail about him permanently burned into my mind. But for how long it would stay like that, I wasn't sure.

Approaching the bus doors, I could already hear the screams and excited squeals of the other teenagers inside over my loud music, and it made me think something: Teenagers scare the shit out of me.

I boarded anyways, and had learned years ago to avoid eye contact as I walked down the aisle to the back of the bus, where the nerds sat, talking about my kinds of things, music, movies, video games and books. I never actually threw myself into their conversations, but I always listened to them and thought they might make good friends, but I never approached them.

Leaning back in my chair, I pulled up my legs and scrolled through my music. I had also taken the time to import the Black Veil Brides album onto my phone so I could listen to it anywhere.

After a few moments of hesitation, I finally hit play on what had become my favorite track off the album, The Mortician's Daughter. It was so soft, and Andy's voice sounded kind, and the message he delivered was hopeful, because in the end, his character does find his way home.

"Hey, loser."

I looked up almost too eagerly, already used to Andy's rude but joking introductions. A damp wad of paper hit me in the face, and the jocks sitting in the front of the bus broke up into a chorus of laughter, high-fiving each other. I felt anger burn in me for a second, but burn out just as quick. I didn't have to stoop to their level, even though it made me wonder what the fuck I'd done to any of them. Bullies would be bullies and they wouldn't care who it was they did it to.

I looked down and ignored them.

Another came, and more laughter followed. I narrowed my eyes at the floor, creating an imaginary scenario in my head of what Andy would do if he were here. Would he make his presence known and beat the crap out of them, or do something hilarious that they were unaware of?

I focused on that to keep from getting angry, but then the insults started.

"I saw your cover video last night. You suck so much only the dead want to listen to you." A jock named Kirk sneered, a cocky grin on his face.

"I bet even Biersack was rolling over in his grave, thinking to himself, 'God, take me to the light!'." His friend shouted dramatically.

They were just words... Words like knives, thrown haphazardly to damage and hurt me more than I already was. I held my breath to keep from lashing out at them, and saying something so absurdly hateful, angry and aggressive it'd get me expelled.

By the time the bus pulled up in front of the school, I felt wounded. I had succeeded in ignoring their hurtful words, but they stayed with me as I stepped off the bus and went to my first class.

I ignored everyone who approached me, because to be honest, I didn't have the mental capacity for them today.

After History, I pulled out my phone and hid in the girls bathroom for a while. I just wanted to share this story with someone, it was killing me keeping it a secret.

I scrolled through my contacts, and found CC on the list. Selecting his name, I began to work out my rough text, dancing around the details for now.

CC,
I'm not sure I can even explain what it was that was a force behind me yesterday. It's something I'd rather discuss in person, but I doubt you'd believe me. If you want the story, meet me at the cafe on Main Street at noon.

I had already decided that I'd be ditching the rest of the school day. It was clear, there was nothing here I desired to do anymore, and I needed just one more day of rest. Chances were, no one would notice if I was gone, anyways.

Elizabeth and Mark approached me after biology to both congratulate me on my show, and ask for details about the funeral. I answered as vaguely as possible, because to be honest, I wasn't really there. I was more caught up in what Andy had been doing the whole day than paying attention to the small details that played out throughout the service.

While they headed to lunch, I turned against the tide of teenagers, hurrying to the cafeteria to get a good seat before the other classes were let out. I glided through the crowd, imagining I was invisible, and it worked. No one looked my way as I shoved through the double doors at the end of the hall and took off into a sprint up the street, headed for the Cafe to wait for CC and see if he'd show.

For now, I wasn't technically 'ditching'. As of early high school years, students are free to eat off of school campus, however, if I was not back after my hour was gone, I was breaking school rules, and could get in trouble. But the idea of trouble was oddly comforting and brought a smile to my face.

I'd already shoved my ear buds back into my ears as I walked up the sidewalk, searching the awnings above for the title of the cafe. When I finally spotted it, another block down, I picked up my pace, not to waste any time.

I slipped inside like a shadow, and went to the booth beside the big glass windows, and sat there, crossing my hands on the table, nails painted a metallic dark green, crisscrossed on the wood table top.

My hair was frizzy from the breeze, so I lowered my hood and smoothed it out, and looked out the window for a familiar face.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, a waiter came over and asked if they could get me anything. I agreed on a coffee, which I don't normally drink, but I had nothing better to do, plus it would help me blend into the surrounding crowds better and make me look slightly less like a ditching teenager.

After another ten minutes, I checked my phone for the time and messages. No replies. It was already 12:35, and I wasn't sure how long I wanted to hang around for. I tapped my fingers impatiently in a pointless rythm on the table, wondering if CC had decided that his curiosity wasn't worth the trouble of tracking me down. I wouldn't blame him, especially with how I ended my message. It didn't tell him what he was in for or what to expect. For all he knew, I had no info for him at all and he was just wasting time to come sit here with me.

Another five minutes and I was about to leave, when a man in a hoodie and leather jacket stepped through the door, pushing his black hair off his forehead, he searched the crowd of faces until he noticed my unmistakable bright green hair and narrowed eyed stare.

He wove around tables and waiters to get to my table, and scooched into the booth facing me. He crossed his hands on the table top in an identical fashion to the way I was, and watched me nervously, as though he didn't know what to say, or he was waiting for me to speak first.

"So..." He sighed, trying to relax against the leather backing of his chair. "Must've been urgent if you asked me to come all the way down here."

I shrugged. "If you call it 'urgent', I call it a meeting place close to school."

"Are you ditching now?"

I checked the time. "In another fifteen minutes I will be. If you would have hurried up." I cracked with a grin, "Doesn't matter, though. I was going to skip out, anyways, I mean, I got called out on the fucking bus this morning. I don't need their shit on top of everything else."

"I get it." He agreed, nodding.

"So... You want answers?" I inquired, getting straight to the point. This wasn't a secret meeting like in the movies, where the spies trade manilla envelopes, a few slightly flirtatious words, and then never see each other. This was me and him sitting down to discuss the death of someone we were both close to, and struggling to find the right words.

"I'd prefer them, if there are any... It just had me curious all day, because I caught you multiple times, smacking the air, smiling at things, and looking in the same direction constantly in the same time frame... What was that?"

I sighed, my stomach churning uneasily. I clasped my coffee cup in both hands, looking at the steam rising off the golden brown liquid inside that I had no intention of drinking. "You have to be open minded." I finally spoke. "That's all I ask."

"Open minded? It's pretty clear what it was, or at least, what it appeared to be." He scoffed. "You see ghosts?"

"Ghost." I corrected quietly, "Just one."

His brow scrunched up in confusion, "Who?" He asked.

My face smoothed clear of emotion as I spoke his name, "Andy."

A million things played out across the man's face as he looked at me. First, anger, for even mentioning him, then sadness, fear, curiosity, disbelief, confusion, and a small bit of joy.

"What? Andy?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure it was even-"

"I know it was." I said holding up my hands. "He could speak and interact with me, and it was like he was real. I could touch him and my hands wouldn't go through him, he could open doors and windows, and still do everything a human could. But the difference was, that to someone like you, or anyone else, anyone he's not allowed to let see him, or doesn't want to, can't see any of his actions."

He looked at the table with a distant expression. Finally he spoke. "How the hell do I know you're telling the truth? Make him appear, then!"

"I can't." I whispered.

"The hell you can't..." He grunted, getting upset. He wanted to believe it, I could see it in his eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to.

"I really can't... I can't see him anymore, either. He chose to cross over yesterday."

Instead of reaction sympathetically, CC snorted in disgust and disbelief and leaned back in his chair, looking at the other people in the cafe. "Damn waste of time." He muttered.

"I can't help what he decided!" I hissed at him, struggling to keep my voice low. "I'm telling you what I fucking know, and what you wanted to hear, remember? You already thought I could see ghosts until I told you which one, now you can't even consider the possibility-"

"Possibility?" He demanded in annoyance. "My friend is dead, and you want me to consider the possibility that he is still on earth in some form?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"He was there, you know..." I whispered after a few minutes of silence, watching CC brew in anger across from me, struggling to keep his cool.

"What?" He groaned in disgust, glaring at me.

"That night at the bar? He was there when Black Veil Brides played the acoustic set of Knives and Pens."

He continued to glare at me, but recognition flashed in his eyes, but he didn't show it, even as shock began to unfold across his face.

"You know it, don't you?" I murmured.

"No." He replied firmly, shaking his head.

"Yes... You heard him. You all did. He thanked you all after your set, and you all turned around and searched the crowd for him. He was there, and so was I. You couldn't see me because of how close I was to him. Anything within a foot of him, instantly becomes invisible. You couldn't see either of us, but you heard him, and you are in denial." I replied firmly, leaning back in my chair, arms crossed tightly across my chest. I would not be called a liar.

"I might not have Andy himself here to prove it, but I do have a source of proof, if you want it."

He looked up glanced up at me then looked down at the table again. I dug through my backpack and produced a small polaroid photo of Andy and his band before a show, all wigged out in their weird makeup and clothing. I slid it across the table to him, and his eyes lit up in recognition.

"A few nights ago, he took me to the school yard to dig up a capsule him and Ashley buried there his last year of high school. That was one of the items."

His hand was shaking uneasily as he ran his hand over the photo, as if he was slipping into the memory for a moment.

"You don't have to believe me, or even like me for that matter. Just don't hate me for saying all of this, okay? You can keep that, Andy would want that." I nodded towards the photo.

He looked conflicted, his brow pulled together in confusion, and I knew that he knew about the school capsule, and he knew that there was no way I could know about it unless I'd heard it from the horse's mouth.

"Okay..." He finally spoke. "I'm not sure if I even agree with the physics of this whole situation, but for what it's worth, I believe you." His eyes flickered up to mine. "Thanks for taking the time to share this with me... I... I don't even know what to say." He chuckled in disbelief, looking down at the photo again.

"I guess... I should've guessed it was Andy..." He smiled fondly after a bit, and it was my turn to be confused.

"Huh?"

"Because when you texted me, you texted CC, and no one but Andy called me that."

Notes