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his face was hidden in shadow. Staring down at a grave, his body was perfectly still despite the storm of emotions that welled up within him. Anyone else who looked at him would see nothing but the silhouette of a teenage boy, paying his respects to some dearly departed soul.
    I took a step toward him but someone grabbed my arm. It was Grandpa. “Don’t go there,” he whispered. “That boy ain’t nothing but trouble.” 
    I could hear the hatred in his voice, but despite my grandfather’s warning, I wanted to know more about him. I glanced back and the boy finally looked up. My chest tightened as our eyes met. 
    It was him. The same boy I’d seen a thousand times in a thousand dreams.
    Somewhere in the distance there was a low hissing sound that made my skin crawl, like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard.
    Then he turned and quickly walked away. A very big part of me felt there may be a chance my grandfather was right. 
    But I knew it didn’t matter. Our lives were intertwined somehow. No matter what, it wouldn’t be long before we were face to face again. 
    I could only hope I fared better than whoever’s grave he was visiting. As I allowed Grandpa to pull me back to my family, I couldn’t help but notice the flowers the boy left at the gravesite. They were pink tulips. 
    Pink tulips were my favorite.
    So , I finally saw the boy from my visions who is supposed to kill me, and what was he doing? Standing over a grave feeling guilty as all hell. And what goes through my mind? That he was even hotter in person than in my dreams. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, I needed help.

C hapter Four
     
    Oops, You Weren’t Supposed To See That
     
     
    It didn’t surprise me that there were no ghosts in the cemetery. After all, the dead linger because they can’t let go of someone or something, or because they are afraid to move on. Why hang out at a gravesite? Where’s the fun in that?
    So, if you need a moment to talk to your late wife or to speak with your dearly departed mother, there really is no reason to make the trip down to the graveyard. Save the gas. You’re better off going to a place they felt tied to, like their place of business or their home. Or for those who may have passed while in their teen years: high school. 
    Don’t ask me why, but I have yet to visit a school that didn’t have at least a few ghosts roaming the halls. Student or teacher, there’s always some of the dead to be found on school grounds. Kind of brings new meaning to the term school spirit, huh?
    With that in mind, I arrived for my first day at my new school unafraid of seeing these ghosts. After all, I’d never had any reason to fear the dead. 
    Nevertheless, I also happen ed to be scared out of my friggin’ mind. It’s high school! That morning, my sweet, caring uncle said I’d learn to fit in in no time. There could be no possible explanation for that sentence other than the fact he was insane. I didn’t do fitting in.
    I talk ed to ghosts. I had visions. I didn’t hang out and chill.
    I’ve navigated through school and life overall by following three simple rules: Never tell anyone my secret, don’t let anyone get close enough to guess my secret, and always trust my instincts. 
    Sometimes I g ot these feelings out of nowhere to do or not do something. They didn’t come often, but when they did, they were usually worth heeding. I got one of those feelings when I approached the intersection of the hallway, which is why I stopped.
    There was a girl walking right next to me. She was really pretty.  Pretty in that perfect way that makes you want to puke. She had blond hair, blue eyes, was perky and thin, and wore a blouse that proudly displayed her cleavage. From the corner of my eye, I noticed she was looking me over, checking out the new girl. I could see her trying to assess me as a threat. This wasn’t a supernatural thing. Just a teen girl thing. This girl was going to be a major pain. And she may have wondered