Jack is a ghost.

He died rather stupidly; breaking his neck flaking off a tall tree trying to get his shoes back from being flung up there by his “bullies” (They weren’t doing well). So now he roams around, pulling pranks. Until he met you.

For some reason you could touch and sense him so well you thought he was a real person. Well, he is.

Soon you two fell kind of in love. As love as a ghost can be with a regular human teenager his age. He was a punk rock type of guy which you, a basic but academically and sports forward girl wouldn’t normally go dating. But he loved you.

You sat “under” him in your math class, technically speaking since you were the only one who felt him and the only person who noticed you slightly hovering in the air. He dozed through the lesson, hugging you and burying his head in your hair, until he headed a “ppft” of a balled up paper hitting the back of your head. A jock, who had a crush on you. Boy, was he going to make that smug bitch pay.