"Hey Emily! What a bloody criminal!"
"Go away, thickhead!" she screamed.
"Stay away from my cool new Magnetic Marvel Pencil Box, exported from U.S.A, or I'll break your neck."
"I HAVE NEVER STOLEN ANYTHING!" she yelled.
"Still got the attitude after doing unspeakable things?"
"GET LOST!" she bawled.
"Emily Bronte! Why is it your name that rose up in the detention list? I got a call from the teacher."
"Mom... believe me. It was not me who leaked the papers!"
But 'believe' no one did, not even her mother, not her father, not even her best friend.
"It must be Emily."
"Why would she steal my pencil box, Natasha? She is my best friend!" said Ruth.
"Aww kid... don't you know... everyone gets jealous when someone else gets something nice. Everyone... including your best friend."
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU BLABBERING, NATASHA-"
Emily arrived in the class, looking from Ruth to Natasha.
"Emily? What is this? Did you just steal from me? I thought I was your best friend."
WHY WOULD SHE STEAL SOMETHING THAT BELONGED TO HER BEST FRIEND? Emily Bronte never stole anything. She knew that people valued their material possessions and moreover, she could just tell her mother to buy something she found nice instead of stealing it.
She looked at Natasha and was not surprised to see a faint hint of a smirk on her face. Natasha was mysterious all morning and extra clingy with Ruth. And then... during break time, when Ruth was crying out loud, frantically searching for her pencil box, Natasha finally dropped the bomb.
But today, her whole world has bombed. Her best and only friend stood in front of her, staring at her with shock and horror.
She walked out hastily, her bag swaying left and right. She never looked up. She couldn't face anyone.
She fled to the playground, and sat on a bench, watching children having fun. This was her life. Running, fleeing, escaping as fast as she could.
She felt a touch on her shoulder. Ruth. "Emily, is this true?"
"Do you think, Ruth? Do you think I would do such a ridiculous thing?"
"Natasha was so adamant it was you. And all these rumors–"
"Since when did you start believing some random passerby rubbish, Ruth?" said Wilbur.
A figure shimmered in front of them. It was Wilbur, a translucent shape of a fourteen-year-old guy who had curly hair and wore a voyage shirt with blue jeans.
"Wilbur," cried Ruth. "You scare the hell out of me."
For some child who watched Ruth or Emily, it would have looked like she was talking to the air, something done by eccentrics. But she was talking to her only reliable ghost friend Wilbur. He died in a car crash. Since then, he roamed around as a ghost who met up with Ruth during a spirit communication session.
Spirit communication. It was a secret in the twenty-first century world. The ones who knew about it were few, but they adored this communication tactics a lot. Ruth's mother was a spirit communicator. She could summon a bunch of ghosts by muttering a few spells and using some instruments.
"That was what I was born for. Oh wait, I'm dead." Wilbur snickered.
Ruth turned to Emily.
"Was it you? Tell me. I promise I won't say anything. Emily. Emily!"
Emily had stood up from the bench, her hands trembling. Ruth made a frantic attempt to stop her, but she was already gone.
Emily ran, ran and ran, crying bitterly. Her pace matching the flurry of thoughts that ran through her head.
Stupid Emily. Criminal Emily. Betrayer Emily. Enemy Emily. What had she ever done?
She had reached a misty solitude. She looked up and more tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Why is it always me, God?" Emily wailed. "Why me? All the seven billion people on Earth... and you target me. I never did anything! Nothing makes me deserve this pain!"
Thunder cackled, as if laughing at Emily's plight.
"I try... I try to fix things. I try to make them better. But all I ever made was a mess, a mess full of never-ending trouble."
Clouds rumbled, growling in approval.
Emily hugged her elbows, sobbing. "Please... please, just please, pull me out of this mess! I cannot bear it anymore. I cannot bear losing my friends, my loved ones, and... myself to this trouble. I cannot weather this storm. HELP, IF THERE IS ANY GOOD LEFT IN THIS EVIL WORLD! HELP, IF THERE EVER WERE A GOD! I'm going to collapse!"
She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
But she heard a voice, then. It said "Did you just say help?"
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