He is aware of me. He is trying to push me back out of his body, forcing me to be nothing but formless spirit again. But I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be unseen any longer. I want to be somebody. Even when alive, I wished to be be someone else, to stand in someone else’s shoes for awhile. Now fate had granted that to me. Now I would finally live.
I stand my ground against his push and fight back. I catch a thought as it passes by. “What is wrong with me,” it asks. “I don’t feel good.”
“Probably just a virus or something I ate,” I suggest, and he buys it, just as if it is his own mind telling him, instead of an outside entity.
This calms him down, and the sense of alarm he felt dissipates. I sigh. He sighs. We are one. For a moment, I wish to look around, to take in everything and see how others interact or wish to interact. But I realize I am no longer the invisible one. I am in a body. I can be seen. I put a hand to my mouth and cough. It is loud enough to cause several of the students to look in my direction.
A girl in the corner wearing a gray leather trench coat and goth makeup smirks in my direction. Though she’s not the type that normally attracts me, it feels good to be noticed. Even one of the football jocks looks at me. He doesn’t smile the way she does, but he nods his head to acknowledge me, and that kind of recognition is nice as well. I think of coughing again, but change my mind. There has to be other less mundane ways to get myself noticed. Before I know it, I have thrown my arm up in the air and am waving my hand. It’s not me who is doing this though. It is my host.
The teacher notices and stops what he is doing. “Yes, Mr. Mattson. What seems to be the problem?”
“Can I be excused? I’m not feeling well.”
The voice sounds strange. It isn’t mine, that’s for sure. But it comes from within me. I can feel the vibration of sound in my host’s throat as it forms into words. It is a weird feeling, but no less strange than sharing a body.
Joey Mattson, one of the most popular guys in school, was excused with no problem. The popular kids could be excused forty times a day and no one said a thing, but if I’d still been alive and in my own body I’m not sure I would have been allowed to leave.
He grabs his books and stands up. It is kind of jarring, as if I’m being yanked to my feet. Vertigo sets in for a minute and I feel dizzy. It seems to swim over him too and for a moment I think he just might throw up. He turns around to look at the football jock, who now has a worried, sympathetic look on his face. The goth girl looks somewhat amused. My host hurries out of the classroom, taking me with him.
To be continued…