There's one classroom that's always been abandoned. It's just a part of the school. No one knows why it's there. Some people say it's haunted. Some people say that's ridiculous.

It is haunted, actually. By me.

I'm not sure what I look like, so I cannot accurately describe myself. I do know that I have a body, which I can sense and feel most of the time. There are no mirrors in this room, not much of anything, really - only peeling white paint and a window with bent shutters. I don't know what else there is. I am unable to leave this room, as I have seen others do.

But I can vaguely remember some things. I know I've been elsewhere before. I know there should be more. But I cannot recall what.

Often I just be. Sometimes there are janitors or teachers needing a break. Other times there are students. This is a high school, after all, and they need somewhere to make out, or talk, or just to breathe.

Two people hurry into the room, and I perk up, glad to be distracted from my usual boredom. A very beautiful girl is trying to stifle her laughter. Her hair and skin are brown, her eyes shine with different colors. It's a warm day, so she's dressed lightly, with simple shorts and a t-shirt. Some people simply shine, and she is one of them.

She's tugging along a boy, blond and muscular and, well, a jock. There's not much more to add. He has a scar on his lip, however. I want to ask him where it's from. But I can't speak. It simply won't work when I try.

"Piper, we'll be late," the guy says, glancing back at the outside.

The girl's eyes sparkle. "Live a little. It's not like the teachers care, anyway. Ms. Lupa would marry you if she could."

A little bored, I settle back. I've been in this room long enough to know what comes next.

"I guess you're right . . ." the guy says.

"Exactly. And I can come up with an excuse, you know me." Piper grins, and leans forward to the guy.

I begin to look away, to give them their privacy, but I turn back when I hear the guy saying, quiet, "I don't want to be kicked off the team, though."

"Jason, that's not going to happen. You're their star player!" she says, a little desperately.

I raise my eyebrows (yeah, I have eyebrows, I just don't know what they look like). I've heard people talking about a Jason recently, and their descriptions of a fun, popular senior don't really match with this meek - albeit muscular - guy. And I'm pretty sure I've heard the name even before then. Well, it's a common name. I think. I can't be sure of anything.

"Piper?" Jason says in a rush, looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but I really . . . can't."

Piper shakes her head, and she looks disappointed before she pulls herself together. "Still?" she says softly.

Jason isn't meeting her eyes, but I have a clear view. They're blue, and tired. "I'm sorry, I really thought I was okay."

I frown. I don't know why, but I feel uneasy. I want to know more, but maybe it's not my business.

"It's alright. Let's get to class." Piper twines her fingers through Jason's, and after a moment hesitation, he nods quickly and they walk out.

I'm feeling very troubled now. I try to put it out of my mind, but, well, there aren't many distractions here.

The next people to wander in are a group of girls and boys I recognize. They always come here to gossip. Sometimes it's interesting. Usually it's not.

A boy named Mitchell is the first to speak. "I am so jealous," he says.

A girl nods fervently. Her name's . . . Lacy? "I know. But they're so cute together!"

I feel myself starting to doze a little. I don't need much sleep as a ghost (I suppose that's what I am) but I still can when the situation calls for it. And this bore-fest definitely calls for it.

"He's so fucking hot," another person says. "Goddamn it, I could just eat him up."

"We know, Drew."

"He'd have to be, to deserve Piper."

"I heard they're having problems, though," someone says, and everyone is all ears. "Katie told Travis who told Percy who told Frank - who I overheard telling Hazel - that Jason still won't sleep with Piper!"

Everyone makes scandalized noises. I feel uneasy once more, desperate to leave this room. If only I could.

"Maybe he's going to break up with her!" says one boy. "Or she'll get fed up and break up with him!"

Mercifully, the bell rings, and they all scramble to get their things. Sometimes I wish I could mess with them - make them think a brick is floating, or something - but my body goes through everything except the ceiling, walls, and floor. I know; I've tried.

Why do I feel so ill all of a sudden? What does it mean? Does it even mean anything?

But answers are not forthcoming. I watch the last person leave the room. Then I'm alone once more.

It's night, but as always, I'm not very sleepy. Any light I get comes from the windows. Sitting in this darkness every day for years on end is enough to drive one person insane. I'm okay, though. I don't know why. It's peaceful.

It's not peaceful, however, when I hear the jangling of keys and the sound of the door opening. A girl walks in hesitantly, carrying a bright flashlight that lights up the whole room. Her hair is curly and gold, and she's frowning.

"I know you're there," she says. "It's me. Hazel."

I stare at her. I want to say something, ask her who she is, but, as always, I can't speak.

"Oh, right." She fumbles a little to grab a gemstone from her pocket. "Okay. I'm going to let you talk now," she says. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and says clearly, "Hades, I call upon you to grant Nico di Angelo the power of speech."

"What in the world are you doing?" I immediately say, the words surprisingly fluid.

She jumps, and tears are welling up in her eyes, but I don't - I can't - "Nico?" she whispers.

"Who is Nico?" I say, confused.

"Oh no, no." She looks upset, and starts pacing. "Tell me what you remember, anything."

I frown. "I don't know. I've been here for years, a lot of people have come and gone."

"No, I mean, before." She can't see me so she's facing the wrong direction. "Before this room. Please, at least remember me." Her voice cracks.

I will myself to float in front of her. It's not helpful for her - my voice echoes all around the room - but I can see her face. Her lips are quivering.

Who is she? Why can't I remember?

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't know you."

She shakes her head, hides her face. "I - I should go." She moves stand up. Panic balloons in my chest.

"No, wait!" I hurry to say. She stops, thankfully. "Tell me, please, who you are. Why you're here. I -" I swallow "- I don't even know who I am."

She hesitates. I can't let this go. She may never come back to this room, and I need to know.

"Please, Hazel," I say, softer.

Her showers sag as she slides down so she's sitting with her back against the wall. "Your name is Nico di Angelo."

I listen, and file it away carefully, even though it doesn't sound very familiar.

"I'm Hazel. Hazel Levesque. I'm your sister."

I'm startled by that. "Sister? But your last name's different."

Hazel smiles dryly. "People were always surprised when we told them we were siblings, but that was because you are - were - white, and I'm black. But we're my brother, alright -
or, to be accurate, you're my half-brother. We share a father."

She sighs. Her eyes are the color of liquid gold, but there's something dimmed about them. "Speaking of our father, he's part of the reason you're here. Our father, he's magical. Literally."

I can't help but scoff.

Hazel rolls her eyes. "Really. But it's weird stuff, it's death magic. And jewel magic. And earth magic. I don't really understand it. I never really wanted his abilities passed on to me." She smiles. "But you accepted them so easily. You were like his younger self, you know. Black hair, thin as a twig, bags under your eyes - your eyes were exactly the same." She drifts off a little as she remembers things I cannot.

"What happened?" I ask. It seems so different from my current boring existence, it's like another person's life, and I can't help but feel detached from it.

"Something went wrong. You were trying to help a friend, but the magic wasn't right, and -" Hazel sighs. "You died."

"But I don't feel dead," I say. I've never known exactly what I was, but that doesn't seem quite right.

"Well, our father has a way with dead things," Hazel says with a humorless laugh. "He reassembled your spirit, almost. But your actual physical body was destroyed. What you're feeling right now - it's magic. It's not real."

I rub my hands together, to assure myself that they're real. "This is ridiculous," I say. "But if you knew all this, why did you wait years to come find me?"

"I was never interested in our father's works, like I said," Hazel says. "But after you, I dedicated myself to it. I was fourteen."

"How old are you now?" I ask.

Pain flashes a little in her eyes, and I feel a stab of guilt, for my ignorance of myself, for hurting her. "Seventeen." She clears her throat. "Anyway, I finally completed basic training, last evening. I came here as soon as I could."

I don't know what to do. "I don't understand," I say. "That's it? Why can't I leave this place? Am I stuck like this forever?"

"You're not alive, so there are certain constraints." Hazel shakes her head. "It has something to do with redemption and fate. As for when you can leave - I don't know exactly, but there's a reason you're here. Our father won't tell me much, but he did say it was up to you to leave or not."

"But I can't leave!" I say, frustrated. "I've tried!"

"I don't know," Hazel admits. "It's complicated, and I've only been learning for three years. One thing I know for sure: this has to do with remembering. You have to remember in order to have a choice."

I want to hit something, but my hands will just go through. "How?" I snap. "How do I remember? What am I supposed to DO?" I feel so helpless. There's no way I have a choice in anything. I can't do anything when I'm this way.

"I'm sorry, Nico," Hazel says. And she really does look sorry. "I -" she chokes up for a second, and automatically I want to lean forward and hug her, but I know it won't work. "I know you don't remember me, but I miss you. A lot."

"I wish I could remember," I say. My heart aches a little. "I want to remember."

Hazel smiles a little, but not in a happy way. "We'll see, I guess," she says. She stands up heavily and starts making her way to the door.

"Thank you for letting me speak," I say. "Even if I'm talking to myself."

"About that." Hazel looks bashful. "If you try to speak when someone without sorcerer descent is listening, they won't hear you. Safety precaution. We can't have someone knowing about all this. It always start wars."

I laugh out of surprise. What, they're called sorcerers now? "Oh. Um, alright. Will you, uh, visit me again?" I don't want to sound too needy or desperate - she's got a life, I literally don't - but it's nice being around someone who knows I'm there.

Hazel clutches her flashlight. "I'll try, but, uh, technically, I shouldn't be visiting you. Dad says it's against the rules. Letting fate run its course, and all that. But I couldn't just leave you."

"I understand," I say, trying to not be too disappointed.

Hazel hesitates. "I don't feel right leaving you like this."

The selfish part of me wants to beg her to stay, but I know that's not right. "It's alright, the dark is kind of nice, really."

Hazel smiles. "You know, I never understood that. You loved it, but the darkness always creeped me out." She looks around the room. "Can you come down here? In front of me?"

I land heavily on the ground, but as always, there is no noise. "I'm standing right in front of you."

"Where's your face?" she asks, reaching her hand out.

"Um, a little closer to you - to the left - sorry, my left, your right - okay, yeah, that's my right eyebrow."

"Somehow, you haven't changed very much," Hazel says affectionately. Then she leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. Or at least she tries. She's a little off, closer to my ear than anything else. I can't even feel the kiss. But it still makes my heart fill with comfort.

"I love you, okay?" she says. Her eyes are warm, and full of fire. "We'll figure this out. I know we will. You'll always be my brother."

I can't speak, but this time, it's because emotions are choking up my throat. I feel as though I really could remember, if she'd stay a little longer -

But then she's leaving, walking out the door and taking the flashlight and brightness with her, and then I'm standing in the dark once more.

"Don't go," I say, but my voice is much too quiet, and it's too late, anyway.

I try to remember some things from Before. Hazel, our father. But nothing works. I repeat the name Hazel Levesque until it's morning and my throat is sore and it sounds less like a name but more like gibberish.

As I listen to students passing by, and as a result, can't speak, I remember that odd feeling that had occurred when Jason and Piper were here. Maybe they have something to do with it.

A memory bursts through. I try wildly to catch it. But all I can really make out is an image of Jason's blue eyes. And I saw them not too many days ago. I want to dismiss it as not from Before.

But there's something different about these eyes from the eyes I saw the other day. The other day, Jason seems off-balance, unsure. But the eyes I remember, they seem somehow different. I can perceive that it's Jason, definitely, but they're another Jason. Younger, more sure of himself.

When I think about it, it's likely that there are some people at this high school whom I knew before my - death. (I still flinch at that word.) Perhaps Jason is one of them.

But if that's the case, why can't I remember anything else? Or anyone else?

A whisper of a memory of Hazel touching my shoulder leaves me comforted, and maybe even relieved, but no less confused.

Maybe I'm remembering.