Unanswered by Liza Mynx (icecream ebook reader .txt) 📖

but I could just feel that there was someone, or something, in the room with me, watching me.
“I’m not,” I heard someone whisper. It was very faint, and almost inaudible, but it was still a whisper, and I heard it.
I spun around, trying to see where the whisper came from, but there was no one in the room but me. I think.
“H-hello,” I stuttered, partly from being so cold, and partly from the fear that froze me in that spot.
No one answered.
“Mom? Mrs. Kim? Mr. Rob?”
Nothing.
It must be all in my head. I must have just imagined it.

I turned to leave, and froze. My body went so cold, I felt like I was going to get frostbite. I didn’t know a person could be so cold in Winston Salem, North Carolina in the middle of summer.
There, in the doorway, was a person. A boy, standing about six feet tall, with dirty blond hair, and dark blue eyes. He stared at me, looking more terrified then I felt. I tried to move my mouth, but it was frozen, too.
Then, he was gone.
Even though I saw him for only a split second, I knew instantly who it was.
Chris.


2. How?

“That’s impossible!”
“Mom, I swear! He was right in the doorway!”
We were in my living room, and I had just told my mom about seeing Chris.
I cringed when I thought of his name.
“Sweety, it . . . it’s just . . . ” She sighed. “It just can’t happen. We saw him at your school today . . . ”
“He was there! I know it sounds weird, but it’s the truth!”
My mom shook her head and looked down at the floor.
“Maybe, maybe it’s what you wanted to see.”
I gasped. “You think I’m a freak who imagines dead people!
My mother’s eyes almost popped out of her head in shock, then she calmed herself down as she explained her accusation. “No, no, no. Of course not. Chris was a very good friend to you, and you just lost him. Maybe, you thought about him, and saw a picture of him. Like your mind was playing a trick on you.”
There was anger building up in me, and my too-easy-to-read face gave me away again.
“It’s very common,” she said quickly.
“Oh, I see! Because it’s common, it has to be what happened to me, right?! Thanks for making me feel good, mom!”
I stormed out of the room, not knowing wether I should feel devastated, infuriated, or both. I should feel devastated because of the whole situation. I should feel infuriated because my mom basically called me a freak.
Think of as many excuses as you want, mom! Either way, it still means the same thing!
I plopped down on my bed and stared at my wall, not thinking about anything. I wanted to get away from all of this, the sorrow, the anger, the confusion. All of it.
The thing is, I don’t know how to do that.
I didn’t want to think about him at all, but I couldn’t help myself. There was a question that I wanted answered.
How?

How exactly did he die? The police hadn’t said anything about that. They just said that they were sorry for my loss, and if they ever needed me they would give me a call.
Let me think this through.
All right, Chris was on the floor in front of the stairs at the front of the school. I know that for certain. Another thing I know is that it was early this morning because I over heard the police talking about it, they guessed it happened about two hours before they got there at 6:30. The only other thing I know is that Chris’s spirit is alive, and he isn’t happy. He told me that.
I sat up, thinking of something.
I wonder if I can call his spirit. Summon him. Could I? Probably not. Should I try? Probably.
I opened my mouth to say his name, but a thought stopped me.
What if everything I saw and heard this morning was a trick of my mind, like my mom said . . . Oh no! I’m starting to think like her!
“Chris,” I whispered so softly, I barley heard myself.
Nothing.
“Chris,” I said a little louder.
Again, nothing.
Where was the cold air? The fear that I felt earlier? The feeling that there was another presence in the room with me?
“It probably was just my imagination.”
My mom was right. It was impossible. My mind was playing tricks on me.
It can’t be impossible. It just can’t! I want to see him, dead or alive. I don’t care!
But, it was impossible.
Yeah right.


3. Sanity Loss

“Hey, Sammy.”
“What’s up Claire?”
“Oh, the usual.” I sighed. “And, you?”
“Never better,” she half smiled.
We were at school. It was exactly one year ago that Chris died. I only saw him that day. It was the last time I saw his spirit. It was also the last time I talked to anyone but my mom and Sammy.
When Chris died, I sort of built a shell around my life. I never paid attention in school, I never talked to anybody, I started wearing more “covering” clothes. Jeans and
T-shirts all the time. I cut my hair to my chin because Chris always said I should cut it. I felt it was an honor to him, like it was his dying wish for me.
I knew that I wasn’t the only one who changed. Sammy was more quiet now, and she started to wear miniskirt, tank tops, and sun dresses every day. It was way different from her jeans and a T-shirt she used to wear.
It really was weird, we sort of exchanged looks. I used to be the one who wore miniskirts and everything, and Sammy was the one who always wore jeans. I used to have my long, light blond hair in a pony tail all the time, and she wore her short, auburn hair down. Even that has changed. She grew her hair out, and I cut mine and died it a dark brown, almost black color. My hair is worn down, and her hair is always up.
I walked next to her on my way to first period. We were quiet, as usual, as we made our way into the classroom.
“Thank you for joining us this morning Claire and Samantha,” Mr. Kastone said when we took our seats at the back of the room.
We were late.
“Claire, do you have your test back signed?”
“No,” I said, flatly.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have it.”
“Why don’t you have it?” he asked, looking a little more irritated.
“Because I didn’t show it to my mom,” I said with no emotion.
“Why not?!”

“Because I didn’t feel like it.”
“Okay, why didn’t you ‘feel like it’?”
“Because I wanted to see your reaction when I told you I didn’t feel like it. It’s a good thing, too. I pictured your expression just like this, your long face red, and your eyes bursting into flames. The whole evil look works for you, Mr. Kastone,” I said, smiling my sarcastic smile.
Everyone started laughing.
“EXCUSE ME!”
Everyone was silent. We’d never heard Mr. Kastone yell like that. We’d never heard him yell at all! He was usually pretty calm all the time.
“Ms. Jason, may I see you after class?”
“Do I have a choice?”
His face turned purple from all his frustration, but he didn’t say anything further. He continued on to his lesson.
I turned to Sammy and smirked.
“Ha, ha,” I whispered.
“Lightning,” she whispered, holding her hand up.
“Strikes,” I said, grabbing her hand.
“Again,” we said together, pulling our hands down and let go.
There were giggles from some people who were watching us, obviously too bored with the lesson so had nothing better to do then watch two outcasts interact with each other.
I turned back to the board and ignored Mr. Kastone’s lesson on . . . something dealing with numbers.
At the end of class, I tried to sneak out with Sammy, but Mr. Kastone caught me.
“Ms. Jason,” he said in a stern voice.
“Yeah,” I answered as I turned toward him.
“Come here.”
I walked over to the front of his desk. Sammy followed me.
“Samantha, go to your next class, please,” he said, but he kept his eyes on me.
“Why?”
“Now.”
“Whatever. See-ya later, Claire.”
She walked out of the room, turned back to look at me, then proceeded on down the hall.
“What do you want?” I demanded.

“What has gotten into you? I looked at your school records from last year, and, I was amazed that it was the same girl. You were a straight A student, and now you’re a straight D student. What happened?”
“You checked up on me?!”
“I’m your teacher! I have you right!”
“You, you looked at my record!”
“Yes. Now, I answered your question, you answer mine. What happened to you?”
“Ugh!” I looked up at the ceiling, then back at him.“Why do you care?”
“Because, as a teacher, it’s my job to protect you students and prepare you for the future. Right now, your future isn’t bright.”
“So you think I need to be? Bright like the future you try to shape for everyone?”
“Well, not an Einstein, but you should have a good education.”
I walked toward the door.
“Hey, I’m not done talking to you!”
“But I’m done talking to you.”
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?!”
I turned back to him. “To my next class, and to think about my not-bright future.”
I ran out of the door and down the hall to the front stairs. Whenever I need to think, I go there. It’s the one place in school that makes me feel . . . safe. Like someone close to me was watching over me, protecting me.
“Ugh,” I sighed, as I sat down at the bottom of the stairs. “My future’s not bright? Really? Those aren’t the most encouraging words to say to a kid. He is such a retard who needs to get a life.”
I thought about that for a minute, then my mind trailed off. I looked to the spot in front of the stairs, and thought back to the day I walked into school and my whole world was changed for the worse, just by looking at that spot.
I remember walking into school and seeing him there; I play it over in my head like a movie all the time. All other memories of him seemed to fade away until that was the only one I had of him. It kills me to know that the only memory I had of my best friend was the one that was the worst. The police had confirmed that his death was a suicide. I didn’t believe them, and still don’t. Even though I only have one memory of him, I knew him well enough to know that he would never commit suicide. I told them that, too.
They didn’t believe me, though.
I waited awhile, then got up to leave, but something made me freeze in my steps. Literally, I was frozen, too cold to move.
I remember feeling like this!
“Help me.”
“Chris!”
I turned to look for him, but I couldn’t see him.

“Help . . . me . . . ” His voice was fading.
I turned around, and almost screamed. He was right in front of me.
“Chris,”