Chester the Ghost

My therapist said writing about Chester and what I saw could help me process everything. Might as well.

Chester Nicholson, my best friend since kindergarten, showed up to high school after summer break with pink hair. He was more protective of me than last year, telling my bullies he would become a ghost when he died and ruin their lives. Random shit like that. This almost always resulted in him getting a black eye alongside me, but it never stopped him.

He sat on my orange beanbag, a Turquoise Xbox controller in his lap, chugging the last of his can of cola. “I’m going to chop Eric’s dick off.”

He was not drunk. I would offer to steal a couple of beers from my old man’s six-pack reserves in the basement, but Chester always asked for something non-alcoholic.

I didn’t know the combination, anyway. I just like Chester thinking I had a rebellious side.

My TV flashed a spectrum of colors around my dim room. The video game character-themed calendar hanging on my wall next to my computer was flipped to a picture of Freddy Fazbear. Below the animatronic bear read “October.”

I looked down at Chester from my SpongeBob bed.

His face was illuminated by a purple glow as he guided his character, a decapitated human-like spectral figure, into a futuristic city.

Chester assumed the identity of a pirate for that night only, but the pink curly hair wasn’t part of it. His pink hair was his signature. The red-and-white striped shirt two sizes too small, light blue jeans, and black eyepatch with crossbones were, however, a fashion statement. 

“Chop his dick off?” I chuckled. “For calling me gay? I’ve been called worse.”

“Fine. I’ll chop his finger off.” He smashed the can and tossed it into my trash bin across my room, missing by at least a foot. He cracked his knuckles as he blushed. “Oops.”

I chuckled. “Bro! Chill.”

Chester turned to me, accidentally walking his character off a bridge. “I don’t get it. He called you gay. Again! How are you nonchalant about this?”

“He calls me gay all the time. ‘Gay Nate.’ Whatever.”

He turned back to the screen and air-jumped at the last second. “Has he ever spread lies about us kissing behind the bleachers?”

I glanced at him. “You heard that?”

“I hear everything, bro. I know everything people say about you and me. I swear to God, he messes with you one more time, he’ll pay. Pisses me off how everyone hates on you because we’re tight.”

I stopped myself from agreeing. I focused on the TV. “It’s fine, dude.”

“We are friends, right?”

The question felt like it came out of nowhere, but I knew he wanted to take things to the next level. He’d check up on me a lot more than usual. He’d talk to me whenever he could. I didn’t know what to tell him.

A cube-shaped spaceship landed next to my character on my side of the screen. Dark orchestral music began blasting through the speakers. The in-game sky turned red under a full moon as a swarm of mutated creatures opened fire at me.

“Oh, shit!"

Chester and I spent the next five minutes in one of the fiercest firefights two fifteen-year-old boys could experience, paraphrasing from marketing spiels. We high-fived when Chester shot the last enemy dead.

“You really saved me, dude. I thought for sure I was cooked.”

Chester put an arm around my shoulder. “I will always protect you.”

I hated how sentimental he was. But my god, he was so cute. The diagonal scar running diagonally across his face made him look like the cutest badass around. Battle wounds recounting the time he saved his sister from a vicious dog.

I stared at his lips. I didn’t want to care about what other people thought anymore. His smile faded as he stared at my lips.

My bedroom door swung open. Light chased the darkness and our moment away.

Chester cleared his throat. I followed his lead. My mother gave me a death stare as she leaned against my bedroom door.

“Come on, mom,” I said. “Please? Five more minutes?”

My mom sighed, continuing to glare at me. “I said no, Nathan. A storm is coming, and Chester needs to get home before it starts. I gave you ten more minutes twenty minutes ago.”

I looked out the window. Orange and yellow hues tore through a canvas of dull grey clouds, like a painting only 3 quarters erased. My neighbor across the street had adorned her patio with a half dozen carved pumpkins, an AI-generated cartoon ghost hanging from the awning, saying “Boo!”

“But mom—”

“Dude, relax,” said Chester. I turned to him. He cracked his knuckles and smirked. “We’ll play tomorrow after school.”

“Why can’t you have more friends like Chester?” my mom asked. She turned to him. “Thank you.”

I groaned. Part of me wanted to keep Chester in my life, but what if he really did have feelings for me? I feared he liked me back, because if he did, I would fall even harder in love with him than I already had. And there was no reality where that wouldn’t result in the end of my life—my parents would disown me, and I’d get kicked out of youth group, losing pretty much all of my friends.

We walked downstairs, stopping in the hallway when a white bedsheet with eyeholes ran up to Chester and sprouted arms from underneath its body, wrapping him in a hug. “Bye, Nathan’s boyfriend!”

The phantom threw its bedsheet body off itself to reveal its final form: Tina, my sister.

Chester side-eyed me and laughed as he returned the hug.

I rolled my eyes and balled my fists. “For the last time, Chester and I are just classmates.”

“He has pink hair!”

Chester snickered again. “And that tells you I’m gay?”

“Yeah! Pink is a girls color. Everyone knows that.”

“That means your brother is also gay? And we’re secretly dating?” Chester raised an eyebrow.

“Yep!”

Chester winked at me. I thought it was in jest.

****

Chester clicked his bicycle helmet on and cracked his knuckles. “Hey, Nathan? We’re friends, right?”

I blushed. The question caught me off guard, although I heard it clearly. I convinced myself he was testing the waters. “What do you mean?”

“You told Tina we’re just classmates.” He had always been confrontational.

I flashed a nervous smile. “Come on, man. You know what I meant.”

A single raindrop hit the ground. Both the windchill and the dread of telling Chester the truth gave me goosebumps. The sidewalks were full of yellow and golden-brown leaves. Chester cracked his knuckles.

“We should get going. You should put a helmet on.” Whenever we went anywhere on our bikes or skateboards, he would always nag me to wear a helmet. I always told him to take a hike.

We reached the end of my subdivision and stopped next to a house guarded by skeletons, spiders, a witch, and a few of Tina’s friends. Cars flew down the intersecting street. The aroma of cheeseburgers from the fast food joint Chester and I frequented mixed with the smell of incoming rain.

“Hey, Chester? I got something to tell you.” My voice was drowned out by a sports car without a muffler. It reminded me that Chester’s favorite song was ‘Chasing Cars’.

“You say something?”

My mouth hung open for a few seconds. Then it was like a light switch flicked on. “I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

The way he just looked at me with a blank face and snickered instead of fell to the ground crying disappointed me. I had expected a stronger reaction, but maybe he had seen this coming. “What? Why?”

“People are saying things about us being...more than friends. Look at Tina.”

He shrugged. “Tina is seven years old.”

“It’s not just Tina. Most of the kids at school think we’re dating. What is even going on with your hair? You look like a cotton candy factory exploded during Pride month.” Each syllable made my chest tighter and tighter.

Chester’s mouth moved, but no words came out for what felt like a century. “Why do you care what people think? We could still be friends if you want.”

“The damage is done. I’m sorry, but… I can't keep hanging out with you.” My stomach itself threatened to climb up my esophagus.

Rain began to fall. Chester’s stare made me wish this was all a nightmare. He cracked his knuckles.

Chester started to choke. “I love you so much.”

“That’s the problem,” I said, void of emotion. “I love you, too. As more than a friend.”

Chester’s eyes watered. “We could make it work, couldn’t we?”

I wanted to say anything except: “No.”

Chester turned toward the street and put his helmet back on without latching it. “You should go home. I’m fine from here.”

He looked over his shoulder at me one last time before pedaling into the street. His tears were indistinguishable from the raindrops sliding down his face.

“Your helmet clasp,” I said, although I couldn’t even hear myself over the pitterpatter of falling rain. I started sobbing. Chester would likely never speak to me again outside of class assignments, and it was my fault. I wiped tears from my face as I stomped on my pedals.

I didn’t move more than a foot before the boom of thunder caused me to nearly wipe out. And then the screaming started. Someone shouted, “Call 9-1-1.”

Someone else said a cop was around the corner, that they’ll flag him down.

Turns out, it wasn’t thunder I had heard. A black SUV had a huge dent in its front bumper, streaks of blood covering its hood. About ten feet away lay Chester’s bike, its wheel bent and frame misshapen like a giant had fidgeted with it without enough care.

Chester lay in a crimson pool, his limbs contorted in odd angles, shorts and shirt shredded. His face was an unidentifiable mess of gashes. Brain matter rested in the middle of the street. His helmet sat on the other side.

I’ll never forget how his lifeless eyes seared into my soul like he was condemning me to hell.

A police woman asked who Chester was to me. I told her he was my boyfriend.

****

I missed his funeral with a sore stomach, although I wouldn’t have gone were I healthy. I worried about what message showing up would have sent to people.

Laughter erupted from around the classroom as my chair was pulled out from under me, sending me crashing to the floor. A face full of acne topped with a ginger mohawk folded his arms. Eric, the one who had made Chester and my academic lives a living hell. Black-haired identical boys, the Lacy twins, stood on either side of him. They chuckled and high-fived each other.

Eric said, “Sorry about your boyfriend, gaywad. Poor little gay Nate. Bet you miss sucking your boyfriend’s dick.”

My policy was to just let bullies do whatever they wanted, but today was different. I shoved Eric backward as hard as I could, which was really just a hard tap for me. I knew my scrawny frame and acute apathy were no match for his angry spirit and fat body. “Go to hell, you piece of dogshit.”

Eric gut-punched me and jabbed my temple with his free fist. I fell to the ground but shot back to my feet, intent on killing Eric. Then I remembered my Christian values of turning the other cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t want—”

The twins grabbed me, allowing Eric to punch me in the stomach one more time.

The science teacher hadn’t entered the classroom yet. Vincent’s desk, which moments ago was covered with white and purple flowers, was now a canvas for penises and derogatory insults.

The following three classes were fine. A few loner kids gave me their condolences. Then came my favorite class: Art Fundamentals.

I left halfway through to use the restroom. Three pairs of shoes stood underneath a stall. I shrugged, thinking I went to school with a lot of strange kids, and started washing my hands.

I flushed the urinal and zipped my pants, then headed towards one of the sinks.

I looked at my face in the mirror. The bags underneath grew darker by the day. Chester’s disembodied face, full of bloody gashes, always showed up in my dreams whenever I tried to sleep, saying he wouldn’t let me down. I didn’t know what that meant, but my therapist said it was grief, a way for me to process.

The stall door behind me swung open, and out walked Eric. The twins behind him shared smug smiles.

“Hey, guys. Having a party in there?” My voice quivered.

They didn’t reply. I shrugged again and bent over the sink. I turned the faucet on. The water pressure had always been hard, like it was auditioning for the role of “the little firehose that could.”

A hand pushed my face into the bottom of the sink. I tried lifting my head, but whoever held me down tilted it. Water splashed onto my face. Images of Chester rushing to my aid and pulling the assailants off me flashed through my mind. Meanwhile, I sputtered and gasped for air.

“Oh, sorry gay Nate, I didn’t see you there,” said Eric. “Let me help you.”

He tightened his grip on my head and pulled my face closer to the water as his henchmen giggled.

“S-s-stop,” I said. I struggled to speak as I learned what it felt like to receive rudimentary waterboarding.

“Where’s your boyfriend to save you, faggot?”

“P-please,” I managed to lift my head from the sink, but I couldn’t wipe the water from my eyes as Eric’s goons pinned my arms behind my back.

“He’s dead.” said one of the Lacy twins. He faked sobs. “Remember? Fucker killed himself.”

The other Lacy twins giggled. “Roadkill!”

“That’s too bad,” said Eric. He pushed my face back down. “I know what would cheer Nathan up! Something that will remind him of his boyfriend. Show him, Chase.”

I gasped for air as I was yanked upward, my head slamming into the spout, filling it with dull sparks of lightning. Someone let go of my arm as someone else grabbed onto it.

I sputtered and wiped water from my eyes with my shoulder. One of the twins wore latex gloves and pulled a metal bin from his backpack. He opened it, revealing the remains of a bunny, a tire mark running along a flattened portion of its mangled body.

“Guys, stop, please!” The overhead lights flickered on and off.

“‘Stop, please,’” mimicked Eric as he looked at me over my shoulder.

“Doesn’t this make you happy?” asked the twin holding the open box. He inched it closer to my nose. The sweet stench could have awakened a graveyard. Maggots wriggled along it. “Does it make you think of Chester, Nathan?”

I had to stay strong, for my sanity and to honor Chester’s legacy. The best thing I could think of was, “Go fuck yourselves. None of you knew Chester like I did.”

The lights turned off, this time for several seconds before turning back on.

“Let’s hurry up this reunion,” said Chase. He set the open tin down and pulled a scalpel out of his backpack.

“You’re not supposed to have weapons on school grounds, idiot.”

Chase approached me and placed the sharp end of the scalpel against my throat. “Say that again and you’ll really see your boyfriend.”

Eric laughed as the other twin said, “Jesus, Chase. Don’t hurt him.”

Chase poked me. Blood trickled onto my black hoodie.

Chase walked back toward the rabbit and flipped the scalpel between his thumb and index finger. “Nathan, ever had Rabbit toe before? You will today.”

“Leave me alone, guys. What do you want from me?”

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to,” said the other twin. There was panic, perhaps an undertone of compassion, in his voice. “All you have to do is admit you loved Chester.”

Eric added, “And you still jerk off to him at night.”

“Go to hell. All of you.”

“I guess he wants the rabbit. ”Chase mutilated the animal and brought the piece inches from my mouth.

I shook my head, turning from Chase’s every movement.

“Are we actually doing this?” asked one of the twins. “Come on, guys. This is cruel.”

The lights shut off and didn’t come back on.

“I can’t see shit,” said Eric. “Chase, do you….”

Heavy breathing followed by a growl and a thud reverberated around the room as Eric’s voice trailed off. Chase’s eyes glowed pink as he levitated, scalpel in hand. A pink glow surrounded him. Chase floated back down before walking past me.

“Chase? OH FUCK! Let go! What the fuck—”

The sound of a body slamming followed by blood-curdling screams echoed. Both hands holding me fell away, and the gloveless twin sprinted past me and into the hall, crying. He screamed, “Help! My brother has gone crazy again!”

I turned. Chase lay on Eric, attacking him with the surgical instrument.

“I can’t stop,” said Chase. “Something’s controlling me!”

“Stop! Chase, let go—AGH!”

A few more screams and horrible squishing and cracking sounds rang out before a deafening silence consumed the air. Metal clattered before Chase began wailing, his eyes returning to normal.

I thought I saw a third figure in the corner, but there was no one but us three when the lights flooded the room.

Eric’s index finger lay next to Chase’s Converse. He pressed on the wound, blood spilling from underneath. He looked at me. “Get help.”

A hand fell on my shoulder. “Nickelsons stay true to their word.”

I jumped, then turned to look, but no one was there.