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Second Place Winner: Lisa Sommers

Confessions of a Teenage Ghost - download as a pdf      It’s been thirty years since I’ve been home. A lot has changed, but some things are the same. That big house over there, that should be my house. I should be raising my family now. I should have married my true love. I should have, but I didn’t. Thirty years is a long time and I’m ready to come home...and I’ll make my presence known.      June 1974, Graduation is Here      Everyone is in cap and gown waiting for the ceremonies to begin. My friend Katie came up to my parents and handed them a bag filled with stuff.      “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Finch. Janet left this stuff at my house when she stayed over last weekend. She called me Monday and asked if I could pack her things up. It’s just her Simon and Garfunkel record, her mood ring and Bob her pet rock. I’ve been trying to get a hold of her to let her know that I’ve got her stuff ready, but I haven’t been able to reach her. Is she okay?”      My father spoke up first.      “She’s fine Katie. She just came down with a bad case of the flu. Bed rest, fluids, and no phone calls. She’s pretty upset that she couldn’t be here today.”      “I would imagine.”      “But we’re going to collect her diploma and awards and show them to her when we get home. Maybe that will brighten her day.”      That came from my mom.      They took pictures, collected my awards, and received my diploma for me. They did everything good parents should.      When they got home they took my bag of stuff from Katie’s house and all my graduation things and threw them in the attic. I never saw them.      June 2004, Graduation Again      A new group is about to graduate from my south side high school. Since I couldn’t attend my own I’ve decided to watch this one from afar.      Everyone seems so happy. I miss that, I miss being happy. As I’m looking through the mass of students I see a girl that looks like me. Even though we should be thirty years apart, we look exactly the same. I never age. I’m timeless.      I watch her. I study her. I read her mind. I look into her heart. She is exactly like me: smart, slightly bossy, but as pure as the Virgin Mary- no matter what the rumors said about me I know I was pure.      I watch this girl, Ashley Johnson, walk up to receive her diploma. I look over at the band and they begin to play the school song. Everyone looks over to see why the music started. Even the band members look confused. But I know why the music started... because I told it to start.      Ashley, just as bewildered by the music, takes her seat. The second she sits, the music ends as suddenly as it began...and just like I wanted it to end.      August 2004      There’s a little girl living in my house. She’s the sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen, but she’s a little bit of a handful, just like I was. I enjoy watching her, sometimes I even play with her. The first time I think I scared her. I didn’t mean to, it’s just that she didn’t see me coming...no one does anymore.      One day we were playing outside. Our toy of choice was a little pink bouncy ball. We stood on the slanted driveway, my back to the garage door so the ball could bounce off the wall and return to her. She didn’t understand that I couldn’t catch it. God only knows what her mom would say if she saw a bouncy ball stop in mid-air! Her mom hadn’t been allowed to see me yet. It would have been too painful for her.      Anyway, I was finally regaining some of my happiness while I was playing with Angela. She was so full of life, so giggly. But that day when we were playing with that ball, something went wrong. It had bounced off the wall for the 70th time that day and went sliding down the drive to Angela, but she didn’t catch it.      The ball went into the street. Angela went after it. Just then her mom walked outside as a car come speeding around the corner.      “Angela!” Her mom was screaming but Angela’s attention was completely focused on the ball and not on the car that was zooming around the corner. Angela’s mom went racing toward the street, but something stopped her. I stopped her.      The car flew down the street, right in front of her eyes and then out of sight.      “NO! ANGELA!” There were tears in her mom’s eyes.      But Angela was okay. She was across the street sitting on the neighbors’ lawn. She looked slightly bewildered. Her mom raced over to her and pulled her into a hug.      “Oh my God! You’re safe. You’re okay.”      “Yeah, that lady over there helped me.”      “What lady?” her mom looked in the direction that Angela was pointing, in my direction.      “That lady over there, the one that gave me this.” Angela held out her hand to show her mom the present she had just received.      “Where did you get this?”      “I told you,”Angela said as she stood up stubbornly, “that lady over there. Look she’s coming over!” Angela skipped over to me and took my hand.      “Honey, there’s no one there.” I could hear the edge of concern in her mother’s voice.      “Yes there is! She picked me up and put me on the Patterson’s lawn, then she gave me this ring!” she held up her hand again. I had given her my mood ring.      “Angela,” I said softly, “she can’t see me.”      “Why not?”      “Honey,” her mom said, “‘why not’ what?”      “Why can’t you see her!?!?!?!?”      A look of comprehension dawned on her mother’s face. She finally knew I was there.      “Hey, Janet. Long time no see. I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but thanks.”      I smiled as Angela asked, “What’s that noise?”      The noise was my Simon and Garfunkel record. ‘You’ve got a Friend in Me’ was always one of my favorite songs.      I watched as Angela and her mom walked back toward the house. Angela had obviously asked who Janet was, I could hear her mom telling her a version of the truth.      “Janet used to live in this neighborhood, in our house in fact. In 1974, when she was a senior in high school, she ran away. No one ever heard from her again.”      “Did you know Janet?”      “Yes I did. She was my best friend.”      I smiled as Katie took her daughter inside.      There are many stories about what happened to me. Some say my father killed me because I was pregnant, which I wasn’t. Some say I killed myself because I was depressed, which I wasn’t. Others say I ran away because my father abused me, which he didn’t. Still others say my boyfriend killed me because I cheated on him, which I didn’t. The strangest one I’ve heard was that I was sent to a convent.      I was mysterious in life so why not continue that in death. It doesn’t bother me anymore what people say about that crazy girl that disappeared thirty years ago. I’m home now and I’m content. I think I need to rest for a while.