Here's part two.
19/09/2013
Wow. I’m actually writing again. Huh. I thought I’d got that out of my system. Oh well. Guess I better tell you some more. What do you want to know? My friend’s name? The one that haunts my house and lives in the graveyard? What? Grave humor not your style? Don’t want to hear the one about the skeleton and the midget? Oh, don’t look so scared! I’m not having a breakdown, trust me.
I lack credibility, huh? At least I’ve still got a pulse. Rachel doesn’t. That is, was, her name. She used to change it a lot. Not officially, just go to a party or nightclub (I know, we’re not eighteen, show me a place that cares) and introduce herself as Roxanna or Cheyenne or Brianna.
Her hair was caramel brown but she’d dye it all the time. Black or dark blue, with funky coloured streaks. She’d drink heavily at parties then make me skip school with her to nurse her hangover. Or cover it up by getting drunk again. She’d copy my homework and cheat on tests. She’d sometimes smoke a joint at lunch and jig at least once a week. She’d get into crazy dares and crazier guys…
I knew all that. I didn’t really mind. I was happy enough knowing she always confided in me.
Hah.
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