by Tonya Hurley
Scarlet raised her hand just as Ms. Pierce was about to begin her lecture for the day.
“Yes, Scarlet,” the teacher said, acknowledging her.
“I was up late reading my Deadiquette book last night and I understand all of it, except for one thing,” Scarlet explained.
“What’s that?” Ms. Pierce asked.
“Can you please tell me about ‘Early Decision’?” Scarlet requested, preparing for a negative reaction of some sort from the usually genial school marm.
Ms. Pierce’s expression hardened slightly, and she seemed at a loss for words momentarily.
“Early Decision?” she muttered, clearly taken aback. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Tilly, Gary, Bianca, and the rest all looked over at Scarlet with bemused looks on their faces, curious about the fact that the new girl had been able to stump Ms. Pierce, who until now seemed to them to be all-knowing.
“It was in an old Deadiquette book in my room,” Scarlet explained. “The very last page.”
Scarlet held up the application from the back of the room for Ms. Pierce and the whole class to see.
“I know what it means,” Polly called out, breaking the silence and putting her two cents in. “It’s when you decide to leave a party before your boyfriend’s real girlfriend gets there.”
Polly’s analysis sounded a little more biographical than anyone cared to hear and was instantly dismissed by the other students.
“I think it’s when you have to decide if you’re gonna do a lip trick off a shark tank at the zoo,” Andy interjected, bringing his own daredevil perspective to the discussion.
“You are both right,” Ms. Pierce said surprisingly. “In a metaphorical way, of course.”
“Huh?” Scarlet said, voicing what the rest of the class was already thinking.
“Early Decision is a process by which a single student may bypass Dead Ed,” Ms. Pierce explained carefully.
“Oh, is that all?” Tilly asked, her famously impatient personality burning brightly like the harsh UV rays that killed her. “You mean I’ve been waiting around here for nothing?”
“It is not something we teach, Tilly,” Ms. Pierce answered firmly. “Because it is dangerous for the applicant as well as the rest of the class.”
Scarlet tried to get things back on track.
“You said Polly and Andy were both sorta right?” Scarlet asked.
“It is about leaving for the Other Side before one is deemed ready,” Ms. Pierce went on, somewhat vaguely, “negotiating the biggest obstacle of all.”
Nothing could be worse than where she was right now, and besides, was anyone every really ready, Scarlet thought.
“Why is it so dangerous?” Scarlet asked naively. “Everyone here, well, almost everyone, is already dead.”
“You do reveal yourself, Scarlet,” Ms. Pierce said. “There are things worse than death, but not truly being one of us, you cannot yet fully appreciate what I am trying to say.”
“I’m listening,” Scarlet said.
“You are taking up a seat meant for someone else,” Ms. Pierce explained, getting right to the point.
“Okay,” Scarlet muttered, insulted by the demure teacher’s directness. It wasn’t the first time she’d been accused of taking up space, but this was different.
“But leaving may be worse than staying,” Ms. Pierce went on.
“Not for me,” Scarlet quipped, her choice seeming perfectly clear.
“Don’t be too sure,” Ms. Pierce continued, a stern tone in her voice. “By coming here, you have placed us all in jeopardy. You’ve made your problem our problem.”
Scarlet looked around the room and saw the anxiety on all the kids’ faces.
“I was only trying to save my sister.”
“That is admirable,” Ms. Pierce said sympathetically, her voice softening. “But there are often unintended consequences of even the most noble actions.”
“I understand that now” was all the response Scarlet could muster.
“I’m not sure you do,” the teacher advised. “If you are accepted early, there is no telling where you will wind up. Conversely, if your application is rejected …”
“Yes?” Scarlet asked, hanging on her answer.
“We only get one chance to cross over, Scarlet,” Ms. Pierce informed. “Each of us alone, or all of us together. Dead Ed exists because the odds of success are greater if the attempt is made as a group, a more prepared group. We take great pains to bring everyone along, make sure they’ve learned the right lessons from their lives and their deaths.”
“You’re losing me,” Scarlet pleaded, her head spinning.
“Simply put, if you fail, we all pay,” Ms. Pierce advised. “You may not be the One to help us, but you could very easily be the one to damn us. And yourself.”
“I won’t fail,” Scarlet said. “I can’t.”
“I can submit this for you, Scarlet,” Ms. Pierce said quietly, “but you must realize that there is no guarantee.”
“I’m willing to take the risk,” Scarlet said, presenting the application tentatively, her hand shaking. “I need to try to make everything right again.”
Scarlet turned to face the class. It was their souls she was gambling with too, after all, and she felt she owed them an acknowledgment, if not an explanation.
“I hope you understand,” she said, polling their expressions for her answer. “I have to try.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” A.D.D. Andy asked, questioning an action for the first time.
“Have faith.” Scarlet smiled at him, as all the kids behind her crossed their fingers.
The teacher folded the application neatly in thirds and walked over to a brass plaque on the wall. There was a slit in the faceplate, not unlike the mail slot in an old farmhouse door. Ms. Pierce stood there for a second, then placed the paper half in, half out, waiting for Scarlet’s consent to nudge it into eternity.
Scarlet exhaled confidently, reassuring herself and preparing for what, exactly, she did not know.
Ms. Pierce slid the application gracefully through the slot, and before she could turn back to Scarlet, Scarlet was gone.
Chapter
11
She Sells Sanctuary
I’ll pick up the pieces
I’ll carry on somehow
Tape the broken parts together
And limp this love around
—PJ Harvey
We are all rubberneckers in Life.
Minding other people’s business, transforming their problems into entertainment for ourselves and basically cheating them out of their own tragedies. We devour horrible and intimate details ravenously like baby birds at feeding time, only rarely connecting the unfortunate dots that bring the bigger, sadder picture into view.
Maddy walked into the break room and right by the other interns without saying a word, as usual. It wasn’t just that she didn’t interact with anyone besides Charlotte, it was that she literally ignored them. Even worse, Charlotte was beginning to treat them the same way.
“What the hell is she doing here anyway,” CoCo prodded.
“Yeah,” Violet gabbed. “Why wasn’t she in Dead Ed with us? Does anyone even know the first thing about her?”
In fact, nobody did. Even Charlotte, who’d been so obsessed with herself, or busy answering Maddy’s questions, that she’d never even thought to ask how or why Maddy was there. The girls were in mid-gossip when she walked in.
“Speak of the devil,” Prue said, turning her head to Maddy.
The other girls giggled and continued their conversation.
“Is there a problem?” Maddy asked firmly, silencing them.
“Yes,” Pam said just as sternly. “You. Charlotte was happy when she got here.”
“And then what happened?” Maddy interrupted brusquely. “You all had your happy endings and no time for her. If not for me, she’d have no one.”
“Charlotte is in a vulnerable state,” K
im added rationally, with a bit less venom than the others. “A real friend would not take her calls, isolate her, and feed her doubts and fears.”
“And by real friends, you are referring to … ?” Maddy let the question trail off and burrow into the guilty consciences of the rest of the interns around the table.
It was true they hadn’t made much time for Charlotte since crossing over. Between their new “lives” and work, it was getting harder and harder to spend quality time together. But after all of them had been through so much together, Charlotte had to know how much they cared.
Pam took particular offense to Maddy’s suggestion, considering she’d known Charlotte longer than anyone, even Scarlet.
“I don’t need any lectures about being a friend to Charlotte from some latecomer like you,” Pam argued. “We are doing what we need to do, what we were assigned to do.”
“So am I,” Maddy responded vaguely, and split, abruptly leaving the interns, and the matter, hanging.
Scarlet looked around and saw that she was someplace else. Where, exactly, she had no idea. It appeared to be a slightly dreary gated community — fenced in, with paved sidewalks, and a boot camp vibe. In the distance, she could see a stick-thin single residential tower. It was getting dark, so she headed for the apartment building, the nearest sign of light, if not life, hoping to get some information about Charlotte.
She walked in the entranceway and was stopped by the doorman.
“I’m looking for someone,” Scarlet said nervously.
The man looked her up and down and then noticed her “Damned” T-shirt. Damen had brought it to the hospital for her to wear on her “little trip.”
“It’s a band,” she clarified, thinking this was not a good time or place to take any chances.
“Who are you looking for?” he replied tersely.
“Charlotte Usher?” she said sheepishly, half-expecting to get blanked by the doorkeep.
He looked up at the video camera scanning the entranceway as if for an answer, and the red light blinked once.
“Seventeen,” he said, and gestured toward the elevator.
Scarlet was in shock for a minute, frozen in place, not sure whether to run out the door or jump on the doorman and kiss him. She was going to see her best friend. Finally she could really have hope, not just faith, that her journey was worthwhile. Seventeen floors straight up might be the answer to her prayers and Petula’s and her Mom’s and probably Damen’s too … or, she paused reflectively, the beginning of a nightmare.
She suddenly realized that she had no idea where she was or who this doorman guy was. Maybe this had all been a little too easy. Ms. Pierce warned there were no guarantees with Early Decision, didn’t she? Maybe her destiny was not to save Petula or herself — maybe it was to become a snack for some gigantic, seventeen-story evil reality show judge?
Scarlet turned to the doorman again and looked him over, trying to assess his character. He appeared imposing, but not dishonest. She decided he was basically a good soul and not likely to deceive her. And seventeen was “up” after all. The odds, she calculated, were in her favor. Whether she was just looking for an excuse to or not, she dismissed her doubts and went with her gut.
Damen flipped through his magazine, glancing up at Scarlet and Petula at regular intervals. He watched the monitors, ready to alert the nurses or the doctors of any changes, good or bad, before any alarms sounded. Thankfully, he thought, both girls had remained stable for the past day or so, with no emergency intervention necessary. This was a relief to him and to Kiki Kensington, whom he’d called to reassure every few hours.
He rubbed the uncharacteristic stubble sprouting on his face, put the mag down, and reached for Scarlet’s hand, which was hanging through the bedrail. He stroked her forearm and squeezed her fingers, trying his best to elicit some sort of reaction, even if it was just reflexive. And then he stopped caring whether he would get a response or not and just stroked her, lost in his thoughts of her. He was the only one in the world who really knew her. He knew that her favorite holiday was Daylight Saving Time, her favorite band changed based on who could perform best live, and that her ideal day was hanging out in used bookstores, buying vintage jewelry, eating a burger at a greasy spoon and then catching an indie film in an art nouveau theater.
He stopped himself from remembering her as if she wasn’t coming back, and instead began to wonder if there was some way he could help. He stared tenderly at Scarlet’s face and could have sworn he saw the faintest trace of a smile cross her lips.
“Come in!” Charlotte yelled as she heard a light rap on the door. It was virtually impossible to hear, but oddly Charlotte did. She’d yet to have a visitor, and the prospect of maybe Pam, Prue, DJ, Jerry, or any of her friends stopping by was exciting.
As the door slowly opened, a hand could be seen reaching in. The hand was pale and the nails were adorned in super-dark nail polish. She knew those digits like they were her own. Charlotte could not speak.
“What? What is it?” Maddy asked, never having seen Charlotte at a loss for words before.
“Is it the Grim Reaper?” Charlotte managed to dribble out of her mouth in the direction of the door, completely perplexing Maddy.
The door creaked open a little farther, and the hand reached in even more.
“No, not a vampire either,” Scarlet said, flinging the door wide open.
Charlotte stood there, paralyzed and mute from the vision before her. She could not believe her eyes, or more like her heart wouldn’t let her believe her eyes.
“Scarlet!”
“Charlotte!”
Without another word, the two walked toward one another, stared into each other’s eyes, and embraced. It was like they were attempting possession again, only this time, they were holding on to one another for dear life.
“I missed you,” Scarlet said, squeezing hard.
“You have no idea,” Charlotte said, barely able to get a hand free from Scarlet’s bear hug to brush the familiar poker-straight black bangs out of Scarlet’s face.
“You haven’t changed a bit.”
“No, I haven’t,” Charlotte said, a hint of melancholy in her voice. “I just can’t believe you’re here.”
Charlotte wanted to jump up and down on her bed like a schoolgirl, but resisted for Scarlet’s sake, and because Maddy was watching.
“Me either,” Scarlet said, replaying in her head all the long-shot decisions that had brought her there.
The girls stood staring for a while longer, looking each other over again and again, not judgmentally, like the Wendys or Petula might, but with a genuine affection that was way beyond words. As they hugged one last time, Charlotte was suddenly startled. Something was missing. Scarlet’s heartbeat. Charlotte couldn’t feel it. The sign of life that always beckoned Charlotte each time they performed the ritual was gone.
“Why, I mean, how are you here?” she stammered, barely getting up the nerve to ask.
The smile left Scarlet’s face and her eyes assumed a faraway look. Scarlet glanced at Charlotte and then at Maddy, seeking Charlotte’s approval to talk freely in front of a stranger.
“I’m Maddy,” Matilda said, extending her hand to make an introduction. “You must be Scarlet.”
Scarlet reached out her hand wanly. There was something about her voice, like she’d heard it before, but Scarlet couldn’t quite place it.
“It’s okay,” Charlotte said, sensing Scarlet’s apprehension. “Maddy is my roommate.”
“We’re friends too,” Maddy added, a bit too eagerly for Scarlet’s taste.
“She just knows about you because I talk about you,” Charlotte added, trying to defuse the awkwardness.
“Don’t worry, it’s all good stuff,” Maddy laughed nervously, leaving Scarlet to wonder why it wouldn’t be.
Charlotte noticed the stunned expression on Maddy’s face. She seemed more worried than threatened by Scarlet’s arrival.
“So this is paradise, huh?”
Scarlet said, brushing by Maddy and taking in Charlotte’s new dwelling. She walked toward the large windows that looked out on the cement esplanade and the semi-circular tract of generic, condo-like structures below. It all appeared even more Iron Curtain-ish to her from a bird’s-eye view than from ground level. If this dreary, commonplace locale is “Up,” Scarlet thought, what must it be like where Petula was surely headed.
“Scarlet?” Charlotte asked, fearing that Scarlet might have come to some harm, “Are you … ?”
“I’m here voluntarily,” Scarlet replied.
Charlotte was momentarily relieved to hear that but totally confused by it.
“Suicide, huh?” Maddy said out of the side of her mouth, looking Scarlet’s outfit up and down.
From the looks on their faces, Maddy could tell neither Charlotte or Scarlet was amused by her one-liners. She decided she better chill and listen rather than force a threesome prematurely.
“I’m not dead,” Scarlet said, mentally shooting invisible pins into Maddy like some supernatural voodoo doll. “At least not yet, I hope.”
“Then, why?” The danger Scarlet had likely put herself in was just beginning to dawn on Charlotte.
“To find you,” Scarlet confessed. “You’re the only one who can help me.”
Charlotte was growing increasingly uneasy now as she began to think the worst. What could be so bad that only she — a long-dead teenager, a restless spirit with an uncertain past, present, and future of her own —could make a difference?
“Is it Damen?” Charlotte asked, not sure if she really wanted the answer.
Even after all this time, he was the first person who popped into her mind. She had to give him up, but had never completely given up on the idea of him.
“No,” Scarlet said, noting the wistfulness in Charlotte’s eyes. “It’s Petula,” she replied, letting the grim reality escape her lips for the first time. “She’s … dying.”
Scarlet’s words tumbled over Charlotte like loose bricks from a tall building. In life, Petula had been Charlotte’s hero, and heroes are supposed to be invincible. Charlotte had been unlucky her whole life, and her own Fate, sad as it was, was just a part of that losing streak. Petula, on the other hand, Charlotte thought, was a winner, and nothing bad ever happened to winners. Despite her worry over Petula’s plight, however, Charlotte found herself even more concerned about Scarlet’s decision to cross over.