I approach him with caution, stepping on tip toe as if I’m trying not to be heard or seen. I tend to forget sometimes I am neither. No one notices me as I walk towards his desk, his back turned to me. He doesn’t hear my approach and it feels weird to be moving among a classroom where no one knows you even exist. They didn’t take notice of me when I was alive and they certainly have kept it up now that I’m a spirit.
I am standing at his back, reaching out, my fingers nearly touching his shoulder. For a moment , I am afraid of what will happen if I try to use his body as a host for my spirit. Will my soul be the dominant one and shove his to the side so that I will be in control? Or will I be a helpless observer, a mere presence within him that can’t control any aspect of his physical form? Possibly, we would coexist, but would be be aware of each other, or would our two personalities meld and mesh into one? Heaven forbid, I could even be trapped in that one body forever. Unable to escape and roam free again.
I pull my hand back. Though he seems the perfect boy to be, I’m not sure I want to be perfect forever. I just want to let the girl of my dreams know I adore her and maybe have the chance to have her adore me back. I’ve seen how she admires him. How he makes her smile and laugh. This may be my one and only chance to know firsthand of her affections. I used to sit in my seat dreaming I could kiss a girl like her. Now, here’s my last chance and I’m still too chicken to act.
I take a deep breath. Screw it. I’m not to going to blow this. I thrust my hand towards the boy’s back. I touch his skin, but cannot feel it. I am sinking into him, being pulled now by a force that compels me to become a part of this person. I am passing into him like smoke from a cigarette inhaled into the lungs. For a split second, his body jerks as if it knows an intruder has arrived, but then settles down and lets me in.
Once inside, I attempt to move his frame, and I tell myself to move his hand, but it’s now my hand too, so it obeys my command to scratch the crotch of his (my?) pants. I jerk the hand back quickly. It’s weird to feel his body. It’s like I’m touching someone else and it makes me feel violated somehow. I look around the room and know the head of this body is turning with me.
The other students seem to find this unusual. My host must be a very attentive student and not given n to distractions. Some of them curious looks on their faces. None of the faces belong to the girl I want. She is not in this class. I will have to wait out this period before going in search of her.
It’s then I feel a push, as if someone has just given me a shove in the chest. But its not something physical. This body hasn’t moved. No, this has come from within. The host is fighting back.