The first few pages of the booklet were little help. At least I was able to confirm that this was, in fact, a school. I searched for anything that could tell me about how I got here, but the only clue was a small paragraph on the side of the page that mentioned the school sometimes picked people to enroll on it's own. So I guess the school decided I needed to be here.

It wasn't until I moved to the paranormal section that things finally started to make sense. My eyes washed over the page, not really reading so much as skimming for any information that popped out at me. A paragraph about memory loss gave me pause.

"Students who arrived here directly from a past life may experience symptoms related to the sudden change. Some common ones include memory loss, confusion, and the inability or limited ability to interact with physical objects. In some cases, the only part of the student's past life to cross over is their soul. This leads to what is commonly known as a lost spirit, or in laymen terms a ghost."

That would explain the pen thing. This was all a bit too confusing, had I really come from another life, just to wake up in a high school? As outlandish as it sounded, it was the only answer I had.

My gaze swept over the rest of the page and turned to the next one. Nothing else in the pamphlet connected with me as much as the paragraph about arriving from a past life. My thoughts swam with anxiety over the last word, "ghost." I thought about the pen, how I'd dropped it more than once. Difficulty interacting with physical objects, that applied to me. But I was able to open doors, I was able to feel the ocean against my feet, so I could interact with most things. I couldn't let one piece of evidence invade my brain and cause me to jump to conclusions. There was no way I was dead, I couldn't be dead before I even figured out who I was.

I needed to rest. I closed the booklet and felt sick to my stomach. The bed sat as a welcoming spot to lay my head, so I did just that. I knew the sheets would get wet, but I didn't care. I was stressed and exhausted, and I just wanted to rest.

I woke up to a strange pressure on my ribs. I shifted and rolled over, trying to dislodge whatever was on me, and felt a jolt of pain as six sharp points dug into my skin.

I shouted in pain and rolled back over, then opened my eyes and glared at whatever had attacked me. It was that damn cat again, it was sitting on me with wide, tired eyes. It must have dug it's claws into me when I tried to shake it off.

"The hell do you want?" I mumbled, salt water spilling from my lips and further saturating the pillow beneath me.

The thing didn't answer. It just sat on top of me and stared. I glanced behind me and saw my window was open. That would explain how it got in, anyway. I started to sit up, this time picking up the cat and holding it against my body so it didn't feel the need to latch on. It just kept staring at me, silent as sand, as I stood from the bed and placed it on the ground. His eyes were still wide. "you're like me," they said, "you're like me."

The carpet had started to dry a bit, but the puddle under my chair was still very pronounced. How long had I been asleep?

"Mew," the cat let out a low and quick chirp. I turned to look at it. We stared at each other for a couple seconds before it stood and walked over to the window, sitting down again. I stepped over and lifted it to the windowsill, where it climbed out of my arms and gently hopped into the grass. It looked over it's shoulder as if thanking me and walked away.

As odd as that cat was, it was sort of comforting having it around.

I felt like I was making progress on my mystery, but I wasn't liking the conclusion being painted.

I searched the drawers in my room for something to help me communicate to a higher-up in the school and came up empty handed. The crumpled schedule on the desk just a few feet away from me seemed to be my best bet. I smoothed a few of the wrinkles before remembering that was a bad idea, then scowled as the ink once again began to run as it mixed with seawater from my palms. I could just make out the words, "8 AM Monday through Friday, Corporeal Studies I." I've heard of math and science, but what the hell was corporeal studies?

I was starting to give up hope. I had no way of knowing what day of the week it was, meaning I couldn't follow the schedule even if I wanted to. I pushed the paper away from me and moved to the still open window, sticking my head out and leaning as far as I could while balancing on the windowsill.

Just past the lighthouse was a dense forest, and beyond that looked like a schoolyard with an elegant brick and stone building behind it. If I had to guess, that's where my classes were supposed to be.

In order to get there, I'd have to pass through the woods. My stomach felt odd as I studied the cluster of trees, almost as if the thought of approaching them made me sick. But they were just trees, there was nothing there that could hurt me. I ducked back into the window and made my way back to the desk. The schedule was folded as quickly as possible to keep it semi-dry, then stuffed back into my pocket.

I didn't have any other possessions, so there was nothing else to grab. It would just be me against the trees. I stepped out of my room and shut the door behind me.

Dozens of trees hung above me, the leaves almost mocking my cowardice as I passed beneath them.

Their branches stretched high above the path carved in the dirt, yet somehow felt like they hovered inches over my head. It was suffocating and strange. The sun was high in the sky when I’d left the lighthouse, but there was so much foliage between the sky and my feet that barely any light came through. If I was a tad more comfortable this place would be beautiful. Glowing lichen dressed the boulders all around me, and small skittering creatures darted from bush to bush. As beautiful as it was, I needed to leave.

It felt like I’d been stuck here for hours, but the amount of light reaching me from the sun never wavered. As I rounded a corner I felt my stomach drop. Ahead of me was another winding forest path, but I couldn’t see the end. I started to feel claustrophobic. There were too many trees; there was no way I was getting out of here.

Once again I tried to steady myself. If I kept pushing on I would reach the school grounds, it only made sense. Why would they have a path through these woods if no one was supposed to use it? I steeled myself. Took a couple deep breaths. Then continued on my way through the trees.

At last I emerged from that cursed forest, only to find myself in another unfamiliar place. I had indeed reached the school grounds, but the uneasy feeling in my stomach was still present. I thought the anxiety of the trip would wane once I escaped between the trees, but it appears I still have more to worry about.

I stepped closer to the building. Surely there would be a head office or a faculty member that could offer an explanation about why I was here, but I wanted to see if others could interact with me. Most of the people I encountered kept their gaze forward, while others stared at glowing devices in their hands. If I was truly a ghost they wouldn't be able to see me. That's how it worked in old cartoons and bedtime stories, right? I tried getting a students attention, but they stepped around me and continued, as if in a rush, and I was left pondering if they'd avoided me on purpose or if I truly was invisible.

The crinkle of paper made me turn my head. Someone was sitting on a ornate bench just in front of the largest building, flipping through a book. It reminded me of the schedule in my pocket, which I feverishly dug out once more. If I was going to attend one of these classes, I would need to know what time it was. My gaze drifted to the sky. The sun was midway in the sky, suggesting the time was nearing afternoon. I hoped I was right. The half-soaked schedule was stuffed back into my pants as I continued on my way into the largest building.

There was no point thinking about making it to class when I didn't even know where I was. Find someone to help, then worry about class. That is, if I can find someone that can see me.