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.*･｡. UNSAID EMILY.*･｡.
————MY SO-CALLED DEATH
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002.
EVERYTHING AHEAD.
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   Wally Clark might've been the only boy who wasn't quite like the rest of them.

   Or maybe Emily was just biased.

   But as he stopped in front of her, hands on his hips, Emily wondered how many other teenage boys would seek her out three times a day for thirty-two years to talk to her and keep her company— even if only to moan about Denny winning today's game of hide and seek.

"Low blow, Emmy. Really low blow."

Emily smiled, but didn't turn to look at him. She kept on stretching, palms on the floor.

   Even though there wasn't much need to stretch anymore, she still liked to do it. Emily liked routine. Around this time everyday when she was alive, she would be warming up for regular cheer practice.

   Turns out, old habits really did die hard.

Even when she didn't stretch and practice, she still sat out there and watched the world go by. Maybe that was another poor coping mechanism, something that kept her too closely connected to her old life, but she wasn't sure what else to do — cheer was her life. For a really long time, at least. She was unsure of who she was without it. She honestly didn't really know who she was with it.

Maybe that was why she kept looking back. That thought made her feel funny inside so she opted to ignore it and put more effort into stretching her legs.

    "Hi Wally," Emily chimed.

"Don't hi Wally me," he replied, shaking his head. There was something about his voice though. A certain tone. One that reassured her that he wasn't actually disappointed. No, Wally was just being dramatic, like he often was. "Not after betraying me like that."

   She pouted slightly, "I didn't betray you, Wally."

     "Then how come I feel betrayed?" He asked, but it was far more rhetorical than anything. "You know, I didn't think you would condone cheating, but..."

"I don't," she replied as she slowly slipped into the splits, which was true. Emily had never cheated on anything. Not even a test. She wasn't a cheater — it was one of few things she knew about herself for sure.

He pouted at her.

    "So why'd you tell Denny where I was hiding?"

    "I didn't know you'd actually be there," she shrugged, smile turning a little sheepish. "So does it really count as cheating?"

   Wally hummed in thought.

   She finally glanced up at him as she leant over to hold her ankle, stretching her hamstrings. He was trying to look really undecided, but he'd never been the best at acting. That was likely why he was a football player and not a theatre kid, she decided. He wasn't all too good at being anyone who wasn't his authentic self. Emily had always admired that about him and maybe even slightly envied it, too.

    "Okay. I guess I can forgive you," Wally teased lightly. His usual smile slipped onto his face. He looked angelic with the sun softly shining behind him.

    "That's big of you," Emily joked.

    "It's who I am," he shrugged, offering her a hand up. She happily accepted it and let him pull her to a stand, removing any blades of grass from her shirt for her. "Besides— I'll just beat Denny next week, anyway."

   Emily didn't doubt it.

   That was Wally Clark, for you — competitive, ambitious. Split River's football star of '84.

   Emily liked that he'd stayed himself all these years. Wally never let death change him.

   Maybe because he already knew who he was.

   Sure, he was only a teenager, and he never anticipated the end that came for him, but he'd lived a pretty full life. Wally wasn't ready to die, not really, but he once told them in a group session that he didn't have regrets. While Rhonda scoffed at the idea and Denny made a face, Emily believed him. Wally was the fullest person she knew; he lived unapologetically at all times, in real life and in afterlife.

   Not many spirits could say that.

   Emily certainly couldn't.

    "How'd you fit anyway?" She asked him, shaking off any thoughts that impacted her mood.

"It was tough, but I'm super determined." Wally joked. It made Emily nod in agreement, her eyes sparkling. His smile widened at the sight.

"I guess that's why you were the champion—"

"Was? I still am," he poked her side gently as they walked towards the school, passing the football team as they jogged onto the field for their afterschool practice. The cheer team weren't far behind and Wally noticed Emily watching them with longing in her gaze.

Even after thirty-two years, there were still days where she yearned to go back. To be alive.

Wally didn't blame her.

After all, those cheerleaders were living her life — or the one she once had, at least. But instead of cheering on their football team at pep rallies and fixing her ponytail between classes, Emily was dead. Stuck in some sort of teenage hell, with no choice but to carry her pompoms through the halls and watch football games from the sidelines. Emily tried to come to terms with it, to smile and make progress in group sessions, but it was hard. Really hard.

Nothing behind me, she recited Rhonda's favourite Kerouac poem in her head, everything ahead of me.

    "Speaking of champions," she announced almost abruptly, tearing her eyes away from the cheerleaders as they stepped inside. She put on a big smile.

   Everything ahead of me.

    "Charley said the art block finally got more glitter," Emily informed him, hands folded behind her back. She swayed as she walked beside him, gently nudging his shoulder with her own, "Prepare to be dazzled by your homecoming poster this year. It's gonna be amazing,"

   Wally beamed at her.

   He knew she was just changing the subject, but he had to admit — she was good at it. Emily knew he couldn't not talk about homecoming when it came up. It was Wally's favourite time of year, despite it also being his death anniversary. His commitment to it never wavered.

    "Yes!" He fist pumped, "I love glitter!"

    "Me too!"

   They both jumped at the new voice, turning to look up at the girl perched on top of the lockers.

    "Oh, hey Dawn."

    "I ate glitter once," Dawn told them with a wide grin. The pair shared a confused glance but listened anyway. "It tasted like rainbows, I think."

    "Sounds... great," Emily nodded along, "Are you going to session today?"

    "Nope," Dawn shrugged. It wasn't really a surprise. For as long as Emily had been around, Dawn never attended any of Mr Martin's group sessions. Maybe she didn't seek advice on crossing over. Maybe she was content. "I'm gonna go look in the locker room for someone's phone. I haven't checked Kim Kardashian's Instagram in a week!"

    "Um," Wally blinked, "Who's—?"

   Emily just smiled at her, "Have fun, Dawn."

   She grabbed Wally's arm and pulled him with her, waving back at Dawn as they rounded the corner. While Emily quite liked her and her quirkiness, they didn't have time for one of her long-winded explanations. If they got her started, Dawn could talk about the Kardashians for days.

    "Who's Kim Kardashian?" Wally asked Emily when they were far enough away.

    "She's famous," Emily told him.

    "Oh cool," he nodded, "What's she famous for?"

    "I..." her brows furrowed in thought. Wally thought that she looked cute like that. "I actually don't know. Dawn said some people just get famous now,"

    "But they don't do anything?"

    "Maybe she's an academic?" She suggested.

   Wally nodded slowly, "Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Like Amelia Earhart?"

    "Wally," Emily's lips curled into a fond smile. Somebody else would've laughed, like Rhonda or Charley, but not her. Emily wouldn't. "Amelia Earhart was the first woman to fly across the Atlantic Ocean,"

   Wally's mouth formed an oval.

    "Dang," he muttered, "Good for her."

————

   Emily disliked the gymnasium.

   It wasn't all that surprising. After all, it was the place she'd died thirty-two years ago, but she'd never really complained about being there. Not out loud, at least.

    Mr Martin had been running group sessions there longer than Emily had been dead, so she didn't expect them to just up and move because she was a little uncomfortable. Where else would they go, anyway? It was the one place they could set up the chairs and talk candidly face to face. Gathering in the library or on the bleachers just wouldn't really have that same effect, so she just dealt with it.

   Besides, Emily liked attending the group sessions far more than she disliked the gymnasium.

   That's what she always told herself, anyway.

"You really squeezed between shelves in the library?"

Brushing off her discomfort, Emily smiled at Charley. His brows were knotted as he peered between Wally and Denny, like he was still trying to understand why they took hide and seek so seriously after all these years.

Charley had died a few years after Emily had. An allergic reaction to peanut oil, apparently. She'd told him how sorry she was when she'd been his spirit guide, how awful it must have been, but he told her the pain had nothing on a broken heart. He was sensitive and melancholy, and Emily adored that about him.

Wally nodded, "You bet I did."

Charley frowned.

"How did you even fit?" He asked him.

"That's what I asked," Emily hummed, shrugging when Wally didn't give an answer.

"Does it matter? He didn't land a win," Denny teased the boy with the same smug grin that he'd worn since he'd been appointed as the new hide and seek champion. It was pretty childish, but he'd little else to care about. When you were in limbo, that was as good as it got.

"Dude," Wally pulled a face at him, "You only won today 'cause Em has a sixth sense for where I'm hiding. She could sniff me out in a crowd, bro."

Emily blinked.

"Um," she looked around awkwardly, "I don't—"

"Oh yeah?" Denny cut her off.

"Yeah," Wally shrugged confidently. "I've won this thing a thousand times. I'll win again."

The other boy scoffed.

"What man? You wanna go again?" Wally stood from his chair and held out his arms, challenging him in that way that guys did on the football field. "Let's go, right now! Hide and seek round two, Denny!"

Denny mirrored him, "Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Is this actually happening?" Charley muttered, glancing over at Emily with a face that screamed what the hell? but she just smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Can you two just kiss, already?" Rhonda.

The two boys frowned at her as she walked into the gym, arms crossed as she slumped down into her seat. Wally and Denny then looked at each other and took a few steps back, clearing their throats. Emily covered her mouth to hide the soft laugh that tried to escape.

"The testosterone in here is literally suffocating," Rhonda drawled, "It'll kill poor pompoms."

Emily sat up a little straighter.

It had taken a while for Rhonda to warm up to her. She'd never been keen on Emily's whole cheerleader aesthetic, nor the fact that she smiled a lot and tried to be so nice, but after around ten years, they finally got there. Emily realised all she really had to do was let Rhonda make her mean comments, maybe smile and nod at a couple sly remarks about everyone else from time to time. It was just who Rhonda was, how she coped, but still— Emily didn't want to ruffle her feathers, she thought it was easier that way.

Even in death she wanted everyone to like her.

Was that sad?

    "Rhonda's right," they all turned as Mr Martin walked in with a clipboard in hand. "We should keep all bickering to a minimum guys. At least in group."

"Sorry," Emily said. Even though she wasn't the one that was doing all the bickering, she still felt her skin grow warm. She never liked disappointing teachers, which wasn't a shock.

But Emily really didn't like disappointing Mr Martin. Not that she had, but he was the only authority figure they had now they were all dead and stuck in limbo, so she tried her best to impress where possible.

Rhonda kicked her foot.

Emily winced, frowning, but all the girl did was give her a reprimanding look. One that told her not to apologise when she didn't have to. When all Emily did was shrug sheepishly, Rhonda rolled her eyes and looked away; somehow sinking down even further in her chair.

"It's not exactly bickering, Mr Martin." Charley said, "I think this is what my old teachers would call boys being boys, but, like, without the hate crimes."

"Yeah, Mr M." Wally sat back down. His knee bumped Emily's, "It's just friendly competition."

Denny nodded, "Totally healthy. Coach always said it was good for the soul."

   Wally pointed at him.

    "Exactly."

    "I'll never get sports," Charlie said.

    "I'll never get toxic masculinity," Rhonda rolled her eyes and pulled a lollipop from her pocket. She somehow had an infinite supply of them. "Can we get this show on the road? Some of us have poetry to write."

    "Your poems are depressing, Rho." Denny said.

    "Your death was depressing," she hissed.

   He frowned, "Ouch."

To be fair, his death was depressing. Being hit by some kid's car in the parking lot because they were high and behind the wheel could never not be depressing. Emily felt for Denny. He was able to laugh about it now, though. Had been for at least fifteen years. Emily wished she could laugh about hers too. It just hurt too much, still.

Her eyes trailed away from the group, instead focusing on the centre of the gymnasium. There was still a small dent in the floor. Her stomach churned.

   Sometimes it still felt like yesterday.

"Emily? Emily!"

    "Oh my god! She's bleeding!"

    "Emily!"

    "Emily?" Mr Martin's voice snapped her back to present day. Everyone was already staring at her.

   Emily forced a smile.

    "Sorry, what was the question?"

    "Just asking how you were doing," the man told her with one of his kind smiles. He had always been very kind to her. Right from the day she'd died. He'd always been helpful too, trying to help them move on and crossover. She didn't think he had to do that, but he did.

    "Good," she told him, nodding. "I'm really good."

    "That's great," he looked around the group. None of the other spirits seemed impressed with her answer. Maybe they knew she lied. Maybe they didn't care.

   The only one with sympathy in his eyes was Wally. Emily wasn't sure how to feel about it.

    "See?" Mr Martin tried to sound optimistic. Emily knew it must be tricky having to deal with a bunch of dead teenagers all day everyday for decades, but he never complained about it. "We're all making progress here."

   They all mumbling replies.

    "Apart from that girl in the basement," Charley said. The group paused, turning to look at him. He frowned, "What?"

    "Girl?" Denny asked him, "What girl?"

    "The one who keeps yelling that she's not dead."

   They all blinked.

    "Blonde?" He said, "Dressed kinda like Kurt Cobain?"

   Rhonda tapped her lollypop against her teeth, "You been eating nuts again, double-denim?"

    "Yeah dude," Wally shrugged, arms crossed. Emily felt his knee bump hers again. She wondered if he was doing that on purpose, a way of making sure she was okay, or whether he'd legs that were too long for his body. "I'm pretty Kurt Kobain didn't die in the school basement."

   Emily frowned in thought.

    "So... who did?"

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