A Pale, White Ghost

I was talking to a girl named Heidi when Theresa, who I didn't know very well back then, skated up to me and joined in our little conversation. The subject of a boy named Adam came up and Theresa looked at me.

"You know what he said about you and Josh, right?" she asked me.

I shook my head no. I had only been in public school for about a year and a half, and I suppose you could say I wasn't very social; I didn't know who Adam was.

"Well, he saw you and Josh walking over to your bus, and he said 'Oh, look, there goes Josh and his pale, ghost girlfriend.' He's such a loser."

I looked down at my feet, at a loss for words. I hadn't really ever been insulted like that. I was brought up to believe that everyone is equal, despite the color of their skin. I wasn't aware that people still believed in that kind of thing, racism, I mean.

To my utter horror, I felt big, hot tears welling up inside my eyes. I had never cried at the skating rink before, not in front of everyone. I couldn't cry, that would be so pathetic; he hadn't even said anything bad, I sholdn't be offended by that, he'd probably meant it as a joke anyway.

Heidi and Theresa saw me and comforted me. They tried to make me feel better. I appreciated them doing that, it was sweet. Some people I didn't even know, who I suspected were Heidi and Theresa's friends, came up to me and asked what was wrong. One girl even said she would always love me for who I was, no matter what anybody else said. I tell you, I had never seen this girl before, but I felt much better when she told me that.

It was in spite of that night that I call myself a ghost.