Jay hated mornings. Not because he was tired or dreaded schoolwork, but because the walk to school was always a reminder of how different he was. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional car or bird chirping. Yet for Jay, they were never empty. Ghosts lingered everywhere—on street corners, in alleyways, even floating above the rooftops.
He pulled his hoodie tighter around his head and quickened his pace, trying to ignore the spectral figures. Most of them were harmless, like the old man who always sat on the same bench, feeding pigeons that weren't there. Others were more unsettling—a woman with half her body missing, dragging herself along the sidewalk, or the floating head of a child that zipped through the air like a balloon. And then there were the orbs, glowing spheres of light that hovered silently, watching.
"I hate this," Jay muttered under his breath.
He'd had this ability for as long as he could remember. At first, he thought everyone could see the ghosts. But when he mentioned the man standing in the corner of his kindergarten classroom or the lady crying in the grocery store aisle, the confused and concerned looks from adults told him otherwise. Over time, people started to avoid him. Parents whispered behind his back, and kids kept their distance.
By the time he reached middle school, the teasing began.
"Hey, Jay, who are you talking to?" a boy had sneered one day as Jay tried to explain to a ghost that he couldn't help them.
"It's his imaginary friends," another chimed in. "Freak."
Now, as a high school sophomore, the bullying had only gotten worse. "Weirdo," "ghost boy," and "freak" were hurled at him almost daily. He'd learned to keep his head down, to avoid talking to anyone—living or dead—when others were around. But it didn't help. People still noticed when he flinched at something they couldn't see or when his eyes followed a figure that wasn't there.
Today was no different. As he turned the corner onto the main road leading to school, a ghostly figure appeared out of nowhere. It was a young man, his face pale and eyes sunken. He staggered toward Jay, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to speak. Jay clenched his fists and looked straight ahead, pretending not to notice.
"You can see me," the ghost rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of Jay's footsteps.
Jay quickened his pace. "Not now," he muttered under his breath. "Not here."
The ghost followed for a few more steps before vanishing into thin air. Jay let out a shaky breath. This was his life: an endless parade of the dead, each one wanting something from him. And no one else could see it. No one else understood.
As he approached the school gates, a group of classmates loitered nearby. Jay kept his eyes on the ground, hoping to slip past unnoticed.
"Hey, ghost boy!" one of them called out.
Jay's stomach sank. He ignored them and kept walking.
"Who are you gonna talk to today, huh?" another taunt. "Maybe Casper?"
Laughter erupted behind him, but Jay didn't stop. He'd learned long ago that responding only made it worse.
By the time he reached his locker, the knot in his stomach had tightened into a painful ball. He hated this ability. He hated the ghosts, the bullies, and the constant feeling of being an outsider. Most of all, he hated that there was no escape. The ghosts were always there, and so was the loneliness.
As the first bell rang, Jay slammed his locker shut and headed to class, his shoulders hunched and his face set in a grim mask. Another day to survive. Another day in a life he wished he could change.