Afterlife Academy by Jaimie Admans Page B

Anthony
being popular, especially when everyone hates me.
    The teacher who comes in is a
young man. Most of the adults here seem to range from old to ancient. Apart
from Narcissa, and honestly, who knows how old she might be, but I suspect it
might be about a hundred years older than she looks.
    “Hello,” the man greets us.
“Welcome to Visualisation class. For the benefit of our new arrivals, I am Mr
Nathan. I understand that this class may be hard for you and you should be
aware that nothing is required here. This is all about relaxing our minds and
bodies and allowing our brains to let us see what we want to see. There is no
pass or fail, so don’t worry about that. If you don’t want to participate, you
are welcome not to come.”
    Personally I think all teachers
should be that easy-going and all classes should be optional.
    “Now then,” he continues.
“Visualisation is when our minds allow us to see the people we have left
behind. We know this is a sensitive topic, so we do handle it with the utmost
care. You all have group therapy sessions on your schedules, and there is a
school counsellor available at all times for one-to-one sessions if you feel
the need to talk about what you have seen. You are absolutely not forced to participate
in this class. It can be hard to see friends and family carrying on their life
without you, so no one is required to visualise. We’ll start with a relaxation
exercise to open your minds. And let’s try to keep falling asleep to a minimum,
hmm?”
    Everyone laughs at that.
    This is the most important class
for me. It’s good we’ve got a nice teacher.
    “I want you all to relax. Just
close your eyes and imagine that you’re in your favourite place from when you
were alive. The nicest place you’ve ever been. Visualise yourself there. Feel
the motions, hear the sounds, smell the smells.”
    I visualise lying on Wade’s bed.
His arms were around me and we had a Marilyn Manson CD on. His choice. His
parents were out for the day so we’d skipped school for the afternoon and gone
to his house. We’d kissed for a while and Wade had copped a feel. We were lying
down, just relaxing. Wade fell asleep and I laid there with my head on his
chest, listening to his heart beating and breathing in the smell of his
aftershave.
    “Now then,” Mr Nathan says
quietly. “I want a volunteer. Who wants to visualise their loved ones? Once
again, I must make extremely clear, this can be a hugely difficult thing to
see. You do not have to do so if you’re not completely sure.”
    My hand flies up in the air.
    “I’m sure,” I say when he points
to me. “I have to see them. I have to know my boyfriend is all right.”
    Mr Nathan nods.
    I go to get up but he tells me
to stay in my seat.
    I’m sure he’s going to get the
crystal ball out soon, but he doesn’t. Instead, he tells me to sit down with my
eyes closed and to clear my mind of all distractions. Then he says that I have
to concentrate on who I want to see and to think about a vivid memory involving
the person.
    I do as he says. It seems like
I’m sitting there for ages just thinking about the same memory of the afternoon
lying on Wade’s bed. There is nothing in my mind. Honestly, I have no idea how
I’m supposed to see Wade without some sort of magic crystal ball or something.
    But suddenly there he is. I see
him. I’m sitting in class, in a chair in the old technology block, and I can
see Wade as clear as day behind my closed eyelids.
    It takes my breath away.
    If I have any breath, that is.
    He’s as beautiful as I remember
him.
    And broken.
    Really broken.
    I thought he might have been in
hospital, but he’s not. He’s on the couch in his parents’ living room. He’s so
clear it’s like I’m sitting right opposite him. It’s like I could reach my hand
out and touch him, but I know I can’t, and that thought makes a lump rise in my
throat.
    Poor Wade.
    No, he’s not dead, unlike some
people. But he’s hurt.
    His