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I became aware of the
pain caused by the wound. I continued to walk, like a mindless
zombie, while getting a plaster from my bag to slap it over the
bleeding area. The reason for doing so was to stop the bleeding so
that no one would notice it. It didn’t matter to me if it got
inflamed.
    When I turned around a corner, I
saw her.
    That ghost was standing at the
other end of the dark, windowless corridor lined with rusty
lockers, beside the stairway that led to my classroom. She was
facing the wall, not moving one bit.
    I began to walk towards her.
Inside me, there was a fear of the unknowns. At that moment, it was
eclipsed by my need of someone who could understand me or fulfil my
wish of fading into obscurity.
    Why are you following me? Can
you hear me? Can you bring me to another world?
    There was no reaction from
her.
    Face me if you can hear me!
    Regret set in the second I was
surrounded by a cacophony of groans. Those sounded like the slow
turning of a wooden wheel. It was as though the wooden planks were
going to snap due to the pressure.
    In a sudden, violent motion, her
head was jerked to the side. I could hear the cracking of the
bones, and those sounds were ricocheting in my brain. It hurt.
    She weakly rolled her head
backwards to face the ceiling. Then her head cocked further back,
as if in tune with the winding motion of the wheel.
    The noise disturbances
continued, as did the tilting back of her head. The rest of her
body maintained the same stiff and straight position. She didn’t
stop in her attempt to face me even when her head was at an
unnatural angle of eighty degrees to the upright position. Her head
kept on cocking downwards.
    My eyelids slammed shut.
    Stop it!
    When I finally gathered the
courage to open my eyes, she was gone.
    I made a run for my classroom
and reached there in minutes. I was half expecting to see the ghost
in that same corner. She was, except that she was staring directly
at the back wall instead.

Chapter 8 Boys?
    The first
year students were chatting about the prospects of entering the
National Interschool Gymnastics Competition, the impressive
background of our gymnastics coach and of course, how hot the boys
of St. Andrew's gymnastics team were rumoured to be. The name
“Jareth Michael” was mentioned a few times.
    As we trekked to the
neighbouring school, I was trailing behind them, thinking about all
the possibilities of things going wrong for me.
    Would my shorts spilt between
the seams? Would they feel that I was an uncooperative snob if I
refused to do the stunts? Would I fall? I might break my bones … I
would be missing classes if I got hospitalized.
    Given what had happened the day
before, I was intending to go back on my word to Mandy since I was
in no good mood to participate in group activities. All I wanted to
do were hiding in a corner, avoiding those jeering looks and
wallowing in self-pity. However, the girls proved to be a lot more
supportive than what I had expected. They had commented about how
mean the principal was, without knowing a thing about the bus
incident and my injury. Kelly even went on a tirade against the
oppressive figures of authority.
    At that moment, I was glad to
have them as classmates. They might not like me, thus minimizing
the interactions with me, but they never made obvious gestures of
ostracism either, unlike my elementary schoolmates. That alone gave
me the extra motivation to stay on in Lawson Girls’ High, never
mind the corner girl and the principal.
    Mandy whirled around to check up
on me. “Natalie, are you okay?”
    “Yes. Good.” I touched my
loosely secured bangs to confirm that they were well-clipped in
place, ensuring neatness and perfect concealment of my wound.
    “Don't worry. I think you’ll do
great.”
    I smiled in response, and then
she turned back to chat with the other girls.
    A senior student of our school
was waiting for us at St. Andrew’s main gates. When we met up with
her, she introduced herself as