The Ghost Greaser

That night the car I was driving is crashed when I racing with my rival in high school, Joe. It just ridiculous teenagers problem, just graduated from it then still try to act tough and stuff, now it ended up with nothing but regret. I always like to do wild things, not because it looked cool to act on it, but I just feeling free from all the doubts in my mind, from all the bad lucks that I cannot even write. But now it feels different. The beetle car I used to look on the streets changed with the japan car. I don't know which year is it, but the weird clothes everywhere, the dancing is quite not elegant as I have during my time. Denim and jeans everywhere, the long hair creep with some dark glasses, what the hell this guys. But now I realize I don't see any kind of heaven or hell, but I feel less weight. But still I can feel the physical being, or maybe because I decide it. That night I went to the same spot where my car crashed, what a chicken race. I sit on the front side, and somehow my body is solid to the spot. Then I try to touch it with my palms, still I can feel the same polished car now turned into ashes. I touch the tree besides it, still the same tree from two decades ago, and somehow I can feel the sense of time, and look at the calendar. "Hold on a second. Does that mean I can talk with somebody?" I ask to myself.

This could be great, real great. I sleep on the part of the branches, still solid as hell. I touch the night owl, and still I can feel it's fur. "Man, I ready to get some action tommorow," I talk again. I go to the same high school on the present time the next morning. I see the difference once I get into the front gate. I see some guys with act tough outside, well I know they just pretending. Let see who piss on their pants few seconds after this. They have a mullet hair some people said, I thought they just like some shortcut lab kid with bad attitude.

The first kid named Kirk, the one with big balls I can see it from the outside of his pants. And the other one named Josh, a half native american with some great forearms. Only two, yeah. But I really respect that.

I just see them on the locker room painted with some sprays, green and black with unidentified letter and pictures. But sure there are some half naked posters, still unusual back on my day.

"Hey Mcclaren," Kirk confronts a kid with tied hair with thick glasses. "Get lost Dave," he said. Dave is the frontman of their group, the shortest one, but still plump and quiet. They pick on him while he just mind his own business, then walks away. They still follow him anyway. It turns out I cannot follow them, I'm still invicible.

I still want to watch the view, without interrupting the events. Not that bad, few years before it used to be harder. They put Claren on the trash can, filled with some tomatoes and stew. Well it looks gross for me, but not enough to give me some emphaty. No no no, I won't help him this easy. Claren doesn't talk, doesn't reacted, but instead I see some fire cubes on his hand. The bell ringing, all of them get into the class. Claren change his attire, except his pants. Not the same as I thought, this kid has some great arms with some veins, how the hell he stays quiet. I get into the class, pass through the doors, just to be curious if I can see the inside of the solid images. They start a history class, with Mr Stricland still being the staff teacher on our school. Doesn't expect he gets this bald, he used to be long haired, rock n roll style from the 70s, but we don't know it back then. I follow some trends along decades after that incident, and get to some studios to play all the instruments freely.

"How the French Revolution started?" Still Mr Strickland with passive questions indoctrinate students with some passive questions, as if it's already confirmed. "Pancake all over the stew," he said. Everyone laugh, including me. But then three of those pricks blow some chicken furs onto his face. "Alright, stop it you both, Mr Strickland refers to Rick and Josh. "Smart kid," I said. I think Claren needs some help, but I don't know how to help him. So instead I just watch him over. While I following him during the evening, nothing really bad happens. But I see something strange, he throws some stones while sitting near the edge, the same edge when I was in that race. "Nice view you got here, Ren," I said. It's quite strange that I feel sleepy, I shouldn't. Or maybe my physical being just being solid again, but that would be scary. "Who are you? Where are you come from?"

He's being confused with my presence. "I'm not from this earth," my mouth just spills everything. "You know, 'death'?" He's not even scared, but I think the way I dressed makes him confused.

"Well, I don't believe you," Claren said. "Well, you shouldn't," I replies.

"I prove it," I go to the road to find some space. Immediately there is a truck right infront of me. But I'm still scared of it, even though I can run pass through it. "Get off the way," Claren being emphatic.

"Alrgiht, I believe you," he said. Claren uses his bycicle and some newspapers on his back. "Where you will put those stuff on?" I ask. "This to make a living for me," he said with some sighs.

"You look not interested on that stuff," I reply. "What should I do then?" He asks with no hope. "Come with me," I offering some place to working on. "I see you in a garage working on something," I saw him few months back. "How do you know it?" He's being suspicious on me. "I'm watchin you, I know what you feel about Michaella," he's punch the wall with his palm to prevent injury. "I can help you with that," I said. He looks scared. "What do you think?" I ask him. "You look very handy with those, but," he continues, "I don't think I'm worth use on that kind of stuff, my hands are not handy." Claren looks so scared, but I'm quite sure he's not really mean by it. Probably some guys said he's uncapable with something, which I experienced as well.

"You know, Claren, I used to be very bad on these things," I'm refering to the bike and pedal.

"And you don't need to work on it right away, urgently," I assure him. "Why?"

"It's all part about playing," I said gently with confidence, just to transfer it to him.

"You don't need to think about all of those expectations, or the wild stuff about this, or the fatal mistakes you can caused," I said. "How do you know?" He asks curiously. I just put my hands, scrubbing all over the cables, then cut it with some light (the one to burns cigarettes), then scrub it with my fingers. "Wow!" He looks fascinates. "See? I even just doing this simple trick out of nowhere, without really think about a thing," I assure him again. "And you maybe can get the chick you want into," I just left him without a word after this, just take a look a picture with some figures I think I know, Steve Mcqueen or Bruce.