Usually, when Hannah and I need to talk about something, it's casual, and typically, we can talk in our bedroom without being interrupted or overheard.

Right now, though, with the house empty, Hannah must have decided that we needed to talk as soon as possible, and I'm glad she did. Has this morning been eating away at her like it has me?

I'm so desperate to talk with her; it hurts, but Hannah looks as upset as I feel, and that's the deciding factor for me; I cross the room and throw my arms around her.

"Hannah, I haven't been able to focus all day. I'm a mess, and you're a mess. So please, just tell me what's wrong."

Tell me what I did; tell me how I can fix it. Please still be my friend.

Please.

"Me, John! I'm what's wrong. Fuck! I'm hurting you, and you don't even know it! First, by accident and now on purpose. I'm going to ruin your life!"

What?

"Hannah..."

She cuts me off. "No, no. I need to tell you everything, John." Hannah breaks out of our hug and drags me over to the couch. There's an echo of a yearbook, one I've been putting off looking into.

Hannah's senior year, her last year.

"Okay, show me."

Hannah flips open the yearbook and starts thumbing through the pages. She pauses for a second on her memorial page, and I place my hand over hers, leaving the page open.

"You're more than just a memory, Hannah." I've never looked at her memorial page before or even looked her up online. Anything I need to know about Hannah, I can learn directly from the source. "We don't need to talk about your past."

"Yes, we do; that's why Rebecca still hates cheerleaders all these years later; why you should hate me, John, because I've been hurting you, I hurt you last night, I hurt you this morning, and even worse, if I don't hurt you now, I don't know if I can ever stop hurting you."

I knew there was something with Miss Lynch, but based on Hannah's reaction, it's way more personal than I thought. There are way too many things she just said that we need to talk about, but if I had to pick and choose. "How did you hurt me last night?" Does it have something to do with my memories?

"Your headache, that was me."

That doesn't actually help. Did Hannah hit me with something? No, that doesn't make sense. So what does that leave? Thankfully, Hannah keeps going.

"You've been acting weird for a while now, ever since I possessed you. Tiffany is where it really became clear that something was wrong." Hannah moves our hands and flips to another page. 

 

 Tiffany Stevens – Homecoming Queen

It's the Tiffany I remember or have been remembering? This is so confusing, but the photo is absolutely her; I remember going to the mall with her a lot, actually.

"When I saved your life, John, some of my memories bled over. Slowly, you've been acting more like me." Hannah laughs, and it's bitter. "I was so happy at first. You were making friends, being the person I've always wanted you to be; you're even on the team now. After yesterday, though, I knew I had to do something."

I sort of suspected, but I still don't see any of it as a bad thing. Hannah's a much happier person than I am, even as a ghost. I've lived more because of her than I ever did before. Hannah's memories don't explain everything, though, only some of it. A lot of things happened yesterday, and I'm still wrapping my head around all of it. The pill bottle in my bag might be new, but it's just as connected.

"What part of yesterday?"

"You're not a girl, John. I am, that's the problem. My memories are making you go along with this."

What? Why is Hannah saying that, it actually hurts, like I’m being crushed and pulled apart at the same time. "That doesn't make sense, Hannah. If it were just from you, why would Payton or Mom be going along with it?" I can see where she's coming from. Everything has been happening pretty suddenly, and maybe that explains why I felt so comfortable yesterday. The clothes just felt normal, not weird like I expected them to. It was just a shirt and a skirt—not all that different from my regular clothes.

Hannah throws her hands up. "Love for you. If I thought you were trans, John. I would be celebrating and helping you, but I did this to you. Trans people always know that they're trans; they don't just suddenly think they are. It doesn't work that way. What am I supposed to do, support you while you ruin your life? What if you start transitioning, and in a year, two, five, my memories fade, and you're left with regret?"

Could Hannah be right? Is this all because of her? Even discounting Mom and Payton, there's Amelia to consider; her sister is trans, and Amelia doesn't seem to have any doubts either. I don't know enough about being trans to refute what Hannah is saying, and that bothers me a lot. Hopefully, Kristy will send me her research tonight so I can get started. Regardless, I'm going to talk to Penelope about all this on Friday, minus the ghost parts. I really don't want her to think there's something wrong with me.

"It was just one time, and you saved my life. Hannah, I don't mind carrying a piece of you forward." Or pieces.

I'm shocked when Hannah shakes her head. "It wasn't just once; even if we discount when I helpe you with your hair, it wasn't just once."

"Hannah, what's going on?" She's scaring me, and that's a horrible feeling like I'm betraying her. 

"I've been worried. When I realised you had my memories, I started trying to fish them out, usually when you were asleep. It didn't work; I think I was just making it worse." She's trembling, and it takes every bit of my self-control to keep from pulling her into my arms. Of course, Hannah immediately pulls me into a tight hug herself.

I thought the tightness of my skin and the itchiness was a stress response, but what if Hannah is right? "I don't know enough about any of this to refute it, but it sounds wrong, Hannah."  Everything is wrong except the hug with Hannah, and she squeezes as tightly as she can.

"We're going to fix it, fix everything, and get you back to normal."  There's a sense of desperation in her voice that sends a shiver down my spine; normal sounds horrible. My normal is sad, alone, and increasingly depressed.

"I don't want you to do anything, and I'm not either." The pills can sit in a drawer; if there's even a chance Hannah might be right, I need to wait until I have more information. "I'll talk to Penelope, my parents, Payton, and everyone, and we can figure this out together." I don't want to wait, but I will.

Hannah looks irritated but nods after a second. "No decisions unless we both agree?"

Maybe it's a mistake to do this by committee, but it's only been me and Hannah until recently; she knows me better than anyone right now, and she deserves some input. "Yes, I'll see the therapist, but I won't start anything otherwise." I just hope I didn't lie because it's awfully tempting to take one or two of the pills and see if they have any effect.

"I can work with that, I do think we need to get my memories out of your head, but as long as you aren't doing something you'll regret, we have time."

Less than Hannah thinks, I can only take Kristy to Homecoming as a girl; I'm not going to waste her evening otherwise. It shouldn't be a factor, but it is, despite Kristy telling me to choose for me. If only it were that easy. Choosing for her, I could do that today; choosing for me is harder. "In the interest of full disclosure, there are estrogen pills in my bag. From the team." There's no need to tell Hannah from who specifically, of course, she rolls her eyes.

"Amelia, then, she'd be the only one with easy access." Hannah hugs me tighter. "This team is so different, so much better than what it became after me, John. I love how accepting and how helpful they are."

That's the perfect segue into one of the questions I've been putting off and haven't really wanted to ask.

"Tell me about Miss Lynch, Hannah. It sounded personal, from her and you." Please tell me you didn't do anything bad, I don't actually think she did, but it would be nice to have the confirmation. Actually. "How about a hot chocolate first? I think we could both use one." Hannah's nervous, and that has me worried, but I have to believe that, at the very worst, she didn't act maliciously, just out of ignorance.

"Sure, that actually sounds nice." 

Once we have our hot chocolate with a lot of marshmallows, Hannah grabs my head between her hands, and there's a prickle of cold at my temples before we're somewhere else. 

I’m someone else.

***

"What a girl wants, what a girl..." The music from my Discman is low, but I can make out the lyrics well enough with my headphones around my neck. This is such a good album.

This year is totally amazing. I'm the cheerleading captain, and I'm in the running for Homecoming Queen. It would be a nice feather in my cap, and I would absolutely rock that crown, but if one of the other girls wins, great for them.

Todd and Michael are checking me out again. Either one would be a fun date, but football or baseball captain? They're wearing their letterman's jackets, too, lucky them. I should steal one, but who's? Maybe a little test. It's so simple to let my books slip out of my hands and slide towards them; I can blame the press of bodies. I can't have people thinking I'm a clutz or ditzy; sure, that works to my advantage sometimes, but cheerleading captain and clutz are total opposites. The last thing I want to do is to give those bitches Tammy and Yvonne an excuse to try and take my spot. Michael grabs my chemistry book almost immediately, but Todd is just staring at my copy of Twelfth Night like he's never seen a book before. He's not off to a great start, but he has such nice hands, and I really like how they feel the few times I've let Todd close.

"Hannah, you dropped this."

"Oh Mickey, thanks, that's super sweet of you." He's looking down at my top. I wore this halter for that reason, but that's no reason not to use my elbows to make my breasts more prominent.

Given Mike's first and second glances, he approves. A few other boys are looking, too; as long as that's all they do, they're welcome to. Some of the other girls are scowling at me; they're just jealous.

At least the ones who aren't looking appreciatively, that's fine too. I'm not into girls, but I don't mind if some people are. There's a few students that are out now, and more and more all the time, and it's great. I don't blame the people who stay closeted; I'm at the top of the social ladder, and I wouldn't want to come out if I were gay.

Not in high school, anyway, and if I happen to suspect it, well, that is a private thought, not something to be aired or gossiped about. 

Besides, what's the big deal? Let people love each other.

I thrive on being the centre of attention. Mom says I should be on a proper stage, and I am, usually for regionals and nationals. Hopefully, there will be something more global at the university.

I can't wait!

Todd finally gets with the program and passes me Twelfth Night; he's clearly not Duke Orsino or Heath Ledger, for that matter. Now that boy is a hottie. He can sing for me any day.

"Thanks, boys. Are you going to come and watch me practice later?" If I happen to pose, and that draws extra attention to me, well, that's for everyone, not just me. I just happen to be the star of the show. 

"I never miss the chance to watch cheerleaders." 

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"Cool, I'll look for you." And they had better be there; you should never tell someone you'll be somewhere and not show up. "Thanks, boys." Even as I walk away, they can't take their eyes off of me.

Once I'm out of sight, I let a satisfied smile bloom on my lips. Boys are so easy—at least high school boys. I'm hoping that college boys are more interesting. It's a shame women don't do anything for me, at least so far. It sounds like a fun challenge, and the rules are a little different, and the game is more subtle. People do experiment in college, so it might be worth a shot. Only if she knows it's a game, though. I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt.

It's only a game if everyone is having fun. Who knows, maybe I'll learn something about myself. 

Still, let's give Michael three points and Todd one; he eventually got with the program. That leaves Ryan in the lead, at least so far. I could do worse than the captain of the basketball team. So many boys and so little time. 

It's not my fault they're boring. Maybe if I date enough of them, one will keep my interest longer than a month. I have my doubts, but I can have fun with them in the meantime.

College will have a better dating scene and a better crop of boys to comb through. Greek week is going to be a total blast, I'm still not totally sure which Sorority I'm going to pledge to next year, but at least I've started to narrow them down.

April waves on her way to Biology, and I wave back and cover my smile when I see Tiffany join her. They're totally seeing one another, and it's adorable, especially since they think they can hide it from me.

I recognize love when I see it.

I'm not a bigot; I'm happy for them, but it isn't my business either. The last thing the two of them need is for me to tell them I've noticed that they're together, that might hurt them, and they're my friends. Sometimes, I wonder if I should, though, just so I can warn them that they aren't as subtle as they think they are. Who knows what that bitch Yvonne would do. If she wasn't one of the best girls on the squad, I would have kicked her to the curb months ago.

It's my squad, not Yvonne's, and she needs to accept that.

Anyway, boys and their nice jackets—cheerleaders should get them too!

Maybe I should branch out from jocks; that's probably the problem because even the boring ones are really fun to kiss, but if I eliminate the other jocks, who's left? Student council, I suppose, maybe someone from one of the other clubs that aren't officially teams?

That might work. That's for later, though; maybe there will be a cute boy in my next class that grabs my interest.

***

Some cute boys, some cute girls too, now that I'm looking. Well, not looking but paying attention, both in class and in the halls. There's no attraction, no thrill like I get from boys, even from pretty girls.

That really would have made things easier for Tiffany and April if I were gay. If three of the most popular girls in school came out as gay at the same time, it would hopefully keep everyone in line, but that isn't an option. Tiffany's a good leader and an amazing co-captain, but she isn't as good with social games as I am or Yvonne; coming out would cause her problems.

The weather's decent, so we're out in the quad today. Some of the girls stay inside, but all the varsity starters are out here, or they had better be. One team, one purpose; we're a complex machine with different moving parts to achieve one goal.

Spending time together, even during downtime, is essential. Anyone who doesn't show up for lunch had better have a good excuse. There's an extra body today, but I can't tell who it is from behind. I know everyone on the team. Yvonne looks at me with a wide smile, and it makes me immediately suspicious.

What is she up to?

"Hannah! You know Rebecca, right?" Yvonne's tone is sugary sweet. If I were a boy, she'd be batting her eyes at me. Yvonne is never subtle, but she does scheme. But why would Rebecca Lynch be here?

I've seen her around school; we share classes, and she's in a few clubs, mostly art-related, but I think she's also the secretary of the student council. Rebecca isn't one of the popular girls, but she's not an outcast by any means. Honestly, it's nice to have her here; it's only Yvonne's involvement that has me suspicious.

"I've seen her around; I didn't know you were acquainted. Hi, Rebecca. I'm Hannah, as Yvonne said. Are you thinking about joining the team?"

We don't have any openings for starters, but if someone wants to join the team for their senior year, I can make it work. Having a couple extra girls as alternates isn't going to hurt anything. What's the harm?

Rebecca stares at me for a second before she glances down at the grass. Did I embarrass her? "No, Yvonne and I were paired in class, and she invited me to join her for lunch; I'm not pretty enough to be a cheerleader."

"You totally are." And she is. Maybe not super athletic like some of us, but Rebecca is fit and has great hands and piercing blue eyes. Of course, she's pretty. Plus, she's genuine, which puts her miles ahead of bitches like Yvonne, who might technically be prettier. "You should come to practice, though, even to like hang out."

Rebecca looks a little shy; maybe she's intimidated? Especially since everyone's staring between us, but she nods. "Sure, I'll come."

"Great, that's so great!" Tiffany's looking at me, maybe with confusion, and she shares a look with April, who shrugs. Rebecca is looking anywhere but at me. I wonder why? And Yvonne currently reminds me of a shark.

"Hannah, hey." Oh, look! It's Ryan. He looks great, maybe a little sweaty. I wonder if he was doing drills?

"Oh, Ryan, hey. Coming from the court?" His hair looks great. I kind of want to run my fingers through it. There's a subtle bit of curling.

"You know it, we have a game next week. I'm making sure everyone is at their best." That's what a good captain does, motivates her team and keeps them at their best; well, his team in Ryan's case, and it seems to be working; the basketball team is actually winning games this year, unlike some other teams.

There's a lot of eyes on us, even more than before, and I brush my hair back behind my ear. Ryan moves a little closer, and I run my hand down his arm. The weird thing, though, is that Yvonne doesn't look as happy as she did a minute ago. Does Yvonne like Ryan? I thought she had a college boyfriend. Maybe it's petty, but I pull Ryan in for a kiss that's anything but chaste. He smells a little spicy from sweating, but not in a bad way; it's really nice, and I run my fingers through his hair.

Score.

Maybe I will let Ryan take me to Homecoming; as we break out of the kiss, I notice most of the team watching us and giggling, everyone except Yvonne, who looks angry, so mission accomplished there, bitch and Rebecca, who's flushed and is looking away.

Oh no, I hope I didn't embarrass her!

I'll grab her after lunch and apologise.

***

This isn't how my senior year was supposed to go! Seriously, I died? What the hell. I had everything, and now I'm not anything. It's still something I expect to wake up from and find out it was all a strange dream.

Yvonne took over my team, which is probably the worst part. Tiffany should have stepped up as my deputy and planned to, at least until Yvonne confronted her and made some suggestive comments about Tiffany and April's close friendship. I think the worst thing is that Yvonne doesn't actually believe that they're gay; it doesn't fit her worldview, but she saw a weakness and went straight for the throat.

It's my fault. I should have kicked Yvonne off the team and told Tiffany that she and April weren't being as subtle as they should have been. Hell, I should have just come out in solidarity with the girls. Sure, I don't really like girls, but it wouldn't have mattered.

I could have done some real good, not just for my friends, but for the school in general, maybe even Rebecca. The way she looked at me sometimes might have been a crush. I'm honestly not sure; I liked spending time with her, and being with her was comfortable. I have so many regrets; maybe that's why I'm stuck this way. That's how it works, right? Unfinished business? Whatever, it isn't like I can change anything.

No one can see or hear me. I can barely lift a pencil, and it's so frustrating! 

I figured out I can copy things, it's handy. Honestly, it would have been great to have this ability back when I was alive; I would have saved a fortune on clothes! I copied all my stuff and put it in suitcases before Mom started taking stuff down. Not everything, but enough… probably too much, really. It's like she's erasing me, and that hurts, but she's a mess; she and Dad both are.

My copies, my echoes, because really that's what they are, like me. A reflection of something. They help a lot. Maybe it's shallow of me, but I'm so glad I'm not stuck in the same outfit every day and that I can shower and stuff. It helps keep me grounded. It reminds me that I'm still a person.

The school turned my locker into a memorial, which is kind of nice, but in a weird way. I still can't believe it was a bus crash that killed me, and just me, like how unfair is that? At least we won, and I died on the way home from regionals, but, like, I barely got to enjoy the victory. It would have been better to have died at regionals.

Stupid trophy, you were supposed to be good luck!

I'm glad no one else died, but if they did, at least we would be dealing with this whole thing together, probably; who knows how this whole death and ghost thing works. If someone does, they aren't telling, and seriously, where are the other ghosts? I've tried everywhere, hospitals, cemeteries, and nursing homes, and I might have followed a few ambulances. A few quick, sudden deaths and still no ghosts, but it was worth a shot.

Seriously! Where are the other ghosts? There's no way that I'm the only one. Are they avoiding me?

The weather is decent today, so everyone is having lunch in the quad. It's too cold to do it without coats, but it's nice to see everyone together. Tiffany, April, and a few of the other girls barely sit with the team anymore. Yvonne realigned the team, and her friends are all starters now. The coach seemed furious but went along with it, for now. If they can't pull themselves together, she'll revert the changes.

I hope they fail. 

Tiffany should be the captain, not Yvonne, and it shows. She doesn't captain; she commands. That isn't how it's supposed to work. It's a team, not a bunch of followers. Yvonne refuses to listen to any input, and while officially Tiffany is still co-captain, she's barely on the squad anymore. She and April need scholarships for university; it's the only reason they haven't outright quit. I overheard them talking about it.

Oh! Rebecca's here; she seems to be taking my death really hard, as anyone on the squad. I thought we were becoming friends, but I honestly didn't expect her to care; she even has a picture of me in her locker.

"What are you doing here?" Yvonne says, and Rebecca goes white.

"Wh… what?" She's been eating with the squad fairly often, but now that I think about it, it's been the splinter team, not Yvonne's clique.

"Why are you here, dyke. It's just for the cheer team. You aren't one of us."

What the fuck?!

"Yvonne!" Tiffany's shaking, and I'm not doing much better; how dare she. Even if Rebecca is gay, and that doesn't matter, Yvonne is being cruel for no reason.

"Hannah isn't here any more, so no lost little lambs, no pity cases, no dykes. Anyone who doesn't like it can leave, and yes, Tiff that includes you." Yvonne jabs a finger towards April. "Or you." And then Meghan, who also looked about to object. "Or you. This is my team, and if we're going to be champions, we need to be the best. So choose, right now, my way, or you're off the team."

The girls exchange a lot of uneasy glances, in theory if enough girls walked, it's Yvonne who would get kicked off the team, but someone would need to go first, to stand up and be the example.

It should be Tiffany; she was my co-captain; the others would follow her lead, at least most of them would, enough, anyway. Tiffany's biting her lip, and I only see April slightly shake her head because I was watching for it. I understand, but I hate this. They're going to a West Coast university together and as roommates. If and only if they keep their scholarships, they can't risk it; not so close to the end.

Right now, I would give almost anything to be a movie ghost, lift things up, toss objects with my mind, or possess someone. Whatever I could to make Yvonne pay, and that instinct, that urge only grows as one by one, my team, my old team, turns away from Rebecca, and she runs off in tears. It's tempting to linger, to see if anyone pushes back, but my team—my former team, I immediately correct myself; they're Yvonne's now, that much is clear, and I don't want to be associated with them—all seem to be falling into line, and not a single one of them follows after Rebecca.

This sucks.

It doesn't take me long to find Rebecca, I don't actually need to use doors, so I cut through the office walls; I manage to catch Rebecca at her locker just as she's ripping the photo of me out of the back, and then she runs into the bathroom. It's empty, but I'm not surprised; everyone is either outside or off campus today. I heard someone say that the lot across the street is going to become a fast food place soon, lucky them.

Rebecca's in the larger stall, pacing at least as much as she can in such a confined space, but she's clutching my photo. "I thought you were different, that your team was different, but you're all the same."

I am different! The girls aren't bad, at least not all of them; they're scared, but I shouldn't be making excuses for them. They just did something incredibly shitty.

"It wasn't me, it's not even my team. Blame Yvonne." Hear me, please, Rebecca, hear me!

She looks at me, and for a single second, I think she heard me. Maybe she sees me (finally) before Rebecca says, "I hate you, Hannah." Rebecca tears the photo into pieces, tosses it into the toilet, and flushes it. Something breaks inside of me, and I go away for a long while.

***

Being dead fucking sucks, the movies never make that clear enough. You'd think after being dead for over twenty years, I would get used to it, but no. For a while, a very long while, I kept living like a person.

I crossed the street at crosswalks, moved out of the way so I didn't bump into people, and even tried to have meals with people. Some people feel invisible, but I actually am.

My echoes help, and so does living at the Mall. I'm constantly surrounded by people, and it's easy to feel lost in the crowd instead of unseen.

The Spencer's has been empty for years, and I've claimed it for me and my echoes. Honestly, it's weird how Malls are dying; who could have guessed?

It's just nice to have a place to return to, a place that is mine. Mom and Dad sold the family home years ago. I don't blame them; they didn't know I was still there.

It still hurts, though.

I'm back in uniform, and it's been making me feel better. Cheerleading is all I ever wanted to do, and I can keep doing it.

"Hannah, Hannah."

I don't breathe, and my heart doesn't beat anymore, but they happen out of habit; both stop when I hear my name.

There's no way.

When I turn in the direction of the voice, my heart starts beating again, just so it can stop. Tiffany?! She walks through me. No such luck; it was a stupid thought. Tiffany, my Tiffany is my Mom's age, or what it was. She walks up to another girl and pulls her into a hug and then a kiss.

That's one positive change: the school has improved. The teams and everyone are just more accepting of all kinds of love. I still have to choke down a sob, and then it turns to anger. Why me?! What did I ever do to deserve this limbo?!

I can't do this today; this year was going so well, too. I'm technically on the team. After too much sulking over the past few years, earlier this year, I decided to do something different. Sure, the captain didn't specifically say I was on the team, but she pointed to all of us on the field and said we were on the team.

Let's just ignore the fact that she had no idea I was there.

This year was supposed to be me having a life again, or at least trying, and it was working; I've felt better this year than I have in ages, but things like what happened right now hurt. I want to scream, and I have so many times, but for now, I settle for storming over and kicking at the garbage can; that at least gets a small reaction.

I've learned a few tricks over the years; I can actually move heavy objects now, relatively speaking, anyway. A few pounds is still better than a pencil.

Fuck it! I'm going to the Mall. I'm going home.

The hallway is a blur, at least until someone says. "Hey, watch it." I'd ignore it, but there's no one near him.

There's no way he can see me, but I have to know. "What did you say?"

He looks at me, really looks at me. Appreciative in a way people haven't looked at me in so long.

What?

"You almost walked into me, just. Okay, look. I'm sorry, but just be more careful." He actually sounds concerned.

Students are looking at us, both of us. Okay, the boy, what's his name? I know I've seen him around the school. No one talks to him; well, he doesn't talk to anyone. Girls look at him, boys too, so I know he isn't like me. 

"Can you see me?"

He nods. People are thinning out; there's no one around him at all. But he's talking to me? He's talking to me!

How can I be sure?

I'm suddenly really cold, and the world spins.

***

The cold starts to fade, and the hallway dissolves back into the living room; that was weird and gross; boys are gross. All I can smell is axe body spray; if we ever do this again, there will be no trips down hormone lane.

Gross!

"John, still with me? You're making faces."

"That was a lot, Hannah, so much, but the worst part for me is I can remember what it was like to have Ryan's tongue in my mouth! Axe smells terrible, and it's worse on sweaty boys! Gross!" I take a long drink of my hot chocolate and almost burn my tongue; it's still hot; how long did that memory walk take? I glance over at the wall clock, a minute, at best.

Hannah looks at me before she doubles over and starts heaving with laughter. She didn't have anyone before me, and that breaks my heart. I was always worried that it was the case; she never confirmed that there were any other ghosts, and now I know. 

That's honestly horrible; Hannah being a ghost is one thing, but there should be others, right?

How is it possible that she's been alone?

It's wrong!

"Well, I think it's safe to say that you're still you. Boys are quite nice, John." Hannah's trying not to break into more laughter, and honestly, that's amazing. Right now, at least, it feels like the walls are down between us. “And seriously? All of that and Ryan was the worst bit?”

Being Hannah in her memories felt right, though. There was discomfort, though, but that was usually when she was thinking about boys or doing things with them. I'm glad for her perspective, but honestly, this just moved my might-be trans meter a few notches towards yes. Experiencing Hannah's life as a woman was the most comfortable I've ever felt; it's almost jarring to be back as me.

My skin is starting to tingle, so the itchiness is coming back. I was pretty sure it was related to Hannah, but is it from possession or from dysphoria? Now, I'm less sure. 

Being Hannah felt so right, and right now, whether I use John or Jay, I'm just uncomfortable.

There are other concerns right now, like how Hannah reacted to Rebecca, no Miss Lynch, before and after her death, and the things she had to watch Yvonne and her friends do after her death. Tiffany was the homecoming queen because she stayed in the closet and didn't dance with her girlfriend. Did she ever come out? I knew things were different when Hannah was in school, but I didn't realise how ignorant I was.

Today confirmed one thing for me, Hannah loves me platonically, and her fear right now is genuine horror that she's hurt me, maybe permanently. If I tell Hannah that I'm trans, I think eventually she'll come around. I just need to be sure, but this memory walk made it clear that Hannah is still occasionally stuck in the mindset she grew up in. Hannah doubts my transness, potential transness, because her knowledge is out of date, just like her understanding of sexuality.

Hannah likes boys; that much is disgustingly clear to me. Hannah's welcome to have those experiences back, but she and Rebecca—the name alone—make me feel flushed, and it didn't do that before.

Maybe Hannah is bisexual and never had a chance to explore it; maybe she's something else, I'm hardly an expert, but Yvonne was absolutely using whatever it was against both Hannah and Rebecca before and after her death.

This feels like I imagine time travel might. I witnessed all these events. They're so fresh; it's like they just happened, but I'm back in the present now, and there's nothing I can do to change the outcome. 

It kind of sucks.

If Yvonne has changed, it might not have been for the better. She seems almost the same to me—maybe more refined in her cruelty. It probably doesn't matter; I didn't learn anything to improve my opinion of Yvonne. One thing this whole experience did do, though, is give me an idea for the perfect present for Hannah.