“Andy, what’s going on?”
His eyes look darker under the hood of his messy hair. “Everyone knows,” he says softly, looking down at his hands.
I don’t have to ask him what he means, but I wish I did. I wish there was some other secret of his that might have gotten out, but I know exactly which one it is. The entire school – they all
know. Everyone knows his secret because I wasn’t around to protect him. I could have stopped this, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. Like usual.
“How?” My voice croaks, and I clear my throat too loudly. “Did your mom…?”
Andy nods, his face shadowed by the lockers overhead. Instead of fidgeting with his shirt, his fingers are shaking in his lap.
“You heard what she said. She was going to make me wear that shirt she bought me – some lacey, pink thing that I told her I didn’t want but she insisted like she always does. And I refused, so she told. The teachers already knew, but she went and announced it, and – ”
His voice breaks, high pitched and raspy. He looks on edge, glancing around every few seconds like he expects someone to jump out and attack him. Which, depending on how long the entire school has known his secret, may not be entirely off base.
“Hey,” I say, more tempted than ever to lay my hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’ll get through this, right?”
“I don’t know, Terra.” His voice is so small, and his eyes are starting to water. I want so badly to reach out and comfort him, but even more than that I don’t want him to die, so I hold myself back. “It’s bad this time. It’s never been this bad before.”
If I didn’t know what being depressed is like, I wouldn’t have any idea what he’s talking about. But I’ve been there – Hell, one of my bad days turned into the day I killed myself. I know what being at the end of your rope feels like, more than anyone else. And I also know that once it happens, there’s very little you can do to change it.
There’s nothing I can do or say that will help Andy right now. I can’t take bad the horrible things his mother did, and I can’t stop the other kids from picking on him now that they know. I can let him skip school, just for today, but he can’t run away for the rest of his life. Especially when the alternative is going home to the horrible people he calls his parents.
A small group of students – three boys and one girl – walk past, glancing at Andy as they go by. One of the boys smirks snidely at him and the girl mutters something under her breath that sounds incredibly derogatory. Andy ignores them, but the hurt in his eyes is clear. I can’t imagine what kind of human being thinks it’s okay to treat other people like that. So what if Andy was born a girl? What does that have to do with anybody else but him?
“You know, we can just leave. You don’t have to be here today. We can go wherever you want – you pick. Just not here.”
“No, it’s okay.” His head falls back down again and he’s back to fidgeting. “I just want to sit here for a little while, okay? I don’t want to do anything right now.”
He sounds so defeated, it nearly breaks my heart. I suddenly feel so selfish, taking my own life when there are people out there like Andy who are struggling much more than I ever was. I never had to deal with discrimination, and my parents – or my dad, at least – were always supportive of me; I could have come home saying I wanted to join the circus, and my dad would have been the first in line to buy tickets. Andy can’t even be who he really is at home because his family will never accept him for something he can’t even control. It makes me feel sick.
“Okay,” I say, focusing on keeping my voice steady. I sit down on the floor next to him, crossing my legs and keeping my distance. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
I know he needs to talk about what happened, but I also know better than to press the issue right now. Everything is so raw and fresh, and if sitting quietly is what Andy needs to do, then I’ll sit with him for as long as he needs. I just don’t want to leave him alone – especially not now.
When I decided to kill myself, I thought that my life was as bad as it could get. It turns out I was wrong, and I don’t know what to do with that information.
The second bell rings and Andy flinches, nearly slamming the back of his head into the bottom row of lockers. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and clamps his mouth shut – keep quiet. Maybe being ‘invisible’ will be an advantage for him now; if he can just fly under the radar for a little while, maybe everyone will forget about what they heard. Maybe life will go back to normal – whatever ‘normal’ is.
But, as usual, the universe is against kids like us. Andy can never catch a break, and today is no exception. I barely have enough time to move out of the way before Andy is being lifted up by the collar of his shirt and pushed back into his own locker, his head cracking against the rough metal.
“Hey, tranny,” a low, masculine voice says as the bulky boy
hoists Andy up into the air again. “Or are you just a fag now? Makes no difference to me; you’re a freak either way.”
Andy grimaces and closes his eyes. The boy who’s got a hold on his shirt is muscular and tall, with short blond hair and a face that looks like it’s been smashed in more than once. His eyes are flaming with the kind of hatred I’ve only seen once before – in Reece’s father’s eyes just before he shot his own son. Andy’s in serious trouble.
This could be it – the moment he’s supposed to die. This jock could be about to punch the literal life out of him, and I’m supposed to just stand here and watch. I don’t think so.
Andy shoots me a look that plainly says ‘leave,’ but I stay rooted to the spot. The burly kid slams his fist into Andy’s chin, knocking him backwards with a crash of metal on bone. Andy sinks to the floor, wiping blood away with the back of his hand, and refuses to look the bully in the eye.
That seems to make him even more upset. He swings out his leg, his foot making contact with the side of Andy’s ribs with a sickening thud that echoes in the hallway. I take a step closer, but Andy shakes his head imperceptibly, holding up one shaking hand as high as he can. The blood on his fingers is so dark it looks almost black.
I remember every word Mellie told me about not interfering with humans. She’s warned me so many times, and I’ve listened to every one because I trusted her. But now that I know what kind of
secrets she was keeping from me, I don’t know whether to believe
her about this or not. She could be lying or she could be telling the
truth. Either way, I can’t just stand by and watch Andy being beaten to death.
The other deaths I’ve witnessed have been quick and relatively painless, and – aside from Reece’s – mostly accidental. Andy is struggling to sit up right now as another blow comes in from the other side, kicking at his left shoulder and crushing it back against the lockers. He lets out a startled gasp that rattles up his throat and crouches down even lower.
Even with Andy’s locker among a set jutting into the side of a wall with nothing but empty space on all sides, somebody must have heard the commotion by now. Any minute a teacher is going to come running down the hall and stop this, any minute. I just have to wait for someone to notice and come to Andy’s aid.
But nobody comes. A couple of students walk down the other end of the hall and look over at Andy, but none of them stop to help. One of them looks too afraid to, her head bent and her footsteps quickening, but the other one – another tall, dumb jock – grins at his friend and gives him a short wave before strutting back to class.
Andy sputters for breath as a punch is landed in the middle of his face, cracking his nose sideways and breaking the skin. Blood pours in thick patches down his nostrils, a cut in his cheek, and his torn chin. He groans and tries to back up, but the solid wall of lockers stops him.
Blind rage obscures my vision, and all I can think about is all
the times this has happened in the past
. Even if he’s never been beaten up before, Andy’s suffered enough. My mind goes back to the volleyball incident in gym class and how badly Andy hadn’t
wanted me to help him, and I hesitate. Mellie’s warnings flash through my head but I can’t make sense of any of them.
All I can feel is anger. Anger at the people who hurt me, who hurt Andy, who do this kind of thing to any other kid just because they’re different. I’m angry at Andy’s mom for causing all of this, at the stupid blond jock for beating up on an innocent kid, and at the teachers for hearing what’s happening and not doing anything. Nobody’s coming to help him.
The muscular boy raises his fist again and pulls his arm back, aiming for Andy’s already-broken nose. Andy closes his eyes and turns his head, blood dripping down his chin.
I take one look at him and everything goes red. My body pushes forward as if on autopilot and slams into the blond boy, knocking him sideways with a startled gasp. I can feel myself flying through him, pulling him down to the floor with me. For a second I think nothing’s happened, that maybe I’ve just winded him, but then a sharp jolt of electricity pulses through me and I look up.
And there’s his soul, pulled out of his body by the sheer force of our collision. It’s hovering above his still body, growing more tangible by the second. The rage fizzles out of me and is replaced by pure panic.
I just killed someone. I just did exactly what Mellie told me not to, and somebody died because of it. I’m a murderer.
Chapter Eighteen
It feels like everything is in slow motion. I look around, fog settling over my eyes. Static fills my ears and I can’t move, I can’t speak and my legs feel weighted down like lead.
I can’t look at Andy – not right now. I know I’ll see disappointment and fear in his eyes, and I can’t handle that. So instead I focus on the body underneath me and the new ghost hovering a foot away.
The ghost I created. The spirit of the boy I murdered. A chill sinks into my spine and I can’t stop shivering. I’m still angry with Mellie for lying to me, but right now all I can think of is how badly I wish she was here. She would have stopped me from doing something so stupid. She would be helping me do damage control and telling me off for being such an idiot.
But if she was here, Andy would probably be dead. I’m positive that the blond boy was out for blood, and wouldn’t have stopped until it was too late. Mellie wouldn’t have stopped it either,
since she basically told me that she wants Andy to die, so it was up
to me. And I just did the exact opposite of what I wanted to.
I came here to help Andy, to save his life, and instead I ended up killing someone. Kind of counterproductive, isn’t it?
At least Andy’s safe – but I don’t know for how much longer. He was hurt pretty badly, and he’ll need medical attention immediately. But I can’t seem to make my body move.
A voice breaks out of the soupy fog surrounding my mind, growing louder the more I focus on it. At first it’s just a jumble of noise, but then I recognize Andy’s voice. I force my ear in his direction, but refuse to look at his body.
“Terra, for God’s sake, get out of here!” he rasps out, followed by the gurgling sound of what I can only imagine is blood in his mouth.
“No,” I say, even though I wouldn’t be able to move even if I wanted to. “I’m not gonna leave you.”
“What the fuck is going on?” the blond jock yells, staring down at his body with wide, frantic eyes. “Who are you and what the Hell did you just do to me?”
I roll my eyes, swallowing down some of the panic in my throat. This is just another ghost, I tell myself, taking deep breaths that rattle right through me. It’s just like David and Esther and Jared. You just have to explain things to him and call Mellie. Except Mellie probably won’t come because you pissed her off. So you’re pretty much on your own for this one.
“You tried to kill him,” I say, jerking my thumb back towards Andy without looking at him, “and apparently I couldn’t deal with that. Not quite sure what came over me. Sorry.”
I don’t think I sound very apologetic, even though I actually am. I’m sorry for killing someone, because that’s the very last thing I ever wanted to do, but I can’t help but think this kid got what he deserved. It was either him or Andy, and I was not about to let Andy die.
The bell for third period rings and I jump back, my arm going right through the edge of the top row of lockers. Any second now, students are going to start filing out of their classrooms and find Andy bleeding everywhere with a dead body right next to him. And he’s going to be blamed for what happened. Oh God, what have I done?
Something stupid, as usual. I’m even worse at being dead than I was at being alive.
Finally, I force myself to look back at Andy. I really wish I hadn’t.
His entire face is a mess of blood and bruises, bright purple patches and gashes on either side of a nose that’s very obviously broken. His upper lip is split and bleeding, and his hair is hanging over his eyes so I can’t even see if they’re open or closed. One hand is clutching tightly to the left side of his ribcage and the other is limp in his lap. There’s a rip in his shirt that shows both his binder and a large bruise blossoming on his stomach.
A scream rings out through the hallway and the room
suddenly feels colder. A girl with bushy black hair and a shiny silver nose ring runs out of her classroom, shouting behind at her teacher
and alerting every other class in the hall to what’s happened. Her
boots thud on the floor as she makes her way towards us, but she
passes by Andy completely and goes to the blond first, leaning over him and checking his pulse as other students begin to crowd around.
A look of horror crosses the girl’s face just as a teacher – the same one I recognize from Andy’s Spanish class – pushes her aside and examines the body himself.
“Somebody call an ambulance!” Mr. Beck shouts, one hand on the jock’s wrist and the other laid on his chest. Andy makes a choked sound and slumps lower against the lockers, blood in both corners of his mouth.
I want so badly to shout at everyone that he’s dead and Andy’s still alive, and he needs help, but nobody would hear me anyway. And I know better than to reach out to someone again; that’s what caused this whole mess in the first place.
The girl with the nose ring is sobbing now, her head against the shoulder of another student beside her. “He’s dead,” she whispers into her friend’s sleeve. “There’s no pulse. He’s dead.”
“I’m dead?” the ghost next to me says angrily. “Are you kidding me? This is all some elaborate prank, isn’t it? Some kind of senior initiation thing for you?”
“First of all, I’m a junior, not a senior. And second, I’m dead too, genius.” Andy’s wild eyes glance between the two of us, but he doesn’t even attempt to speak. “Maybe you shouldn’t have picked a fight with a freshman who’s friends with the Grim Reaper.”
Okay, technically Andy doesn’t even know Mellie, but I’m as close to a Reaper as I can be without actually taking on the title
myself. And if I don’t want to deal with a ticked off spirit for the rest of my afterlife, I need to establish at least a little bit of dominance
over him. He could just as easily take me out or beat me senseless now that we’re both on an equal playing field. As terrified as I am of my own actions, I’m even more afraid of him and what he could do to me. I’ve already seen what he did to Andy, and that was with my interference.
Andy shoots me a look that clearly tells me that I’ve overstepped some boundaries, but there’s no going back. If I keep talking, keep distracting myself, maybe some of the guilt will go away. Because now that the anger I was feeling towards the blond boy is dissipating, my entire body feels like it’s made of shame.
The crowd of students is pushed back by their teachers, lead back into their classrooms where they press their faces into the glass of the doors to get a
better look at the carnage. Andy groans, and Mr. Beck finally turns his attention to him, his face white as a sheet and his hands trembling.
“Mister Nolan, my boy, what happened here?” He doesn’t sound upset, just shocked, his lower lip quivering every time he opens his mouth. “Did you…?”
Andy shakes his head slowly, the effort straining the thin tendons on his neck. “No,” he rasps out. “He beat… me up. I passed out and… woke up to…”
He trails off, his words slurred and low. Mr. Beck nods and
puts one hand on the boy’s shoulder, carefully avoiding a patch of blood that’s trickled down from his cheek.
“It’s okay, I believe you. I doubt you could have done anything to Jeremy in the state you’re in.”
‘Jeremy’ smirks beside me, his arms crossed. Well, he’s taken to being dead extremely quickly.
“Nerd had it coming,” he mumbles under his breath, wiggling his feet in the air and nearly flipping himself over in the process. “He should’ve known better than to come back here. Nobody wanted him back.”
Andy’s eyes drop to the floor. Jeremy’s grin widens.
“What, the little loser can hear me? Why’s that? Just another freaky part of you, isn’t it, Nolan? Always knew you were a creepy kid, and now you’re hanging around with dead people.”
“You’re just as dead as I am, jerk,” I say, glaring up at Jeremy. His smile turns down a bit and a small piece of my guilt eases. At least I killed someone horrible. I probably saved at least half a dozen other kids like Andy from being beaten to a pulp by this bully.
Andy stays quiet until the ambulance arrives, only making sound when his breath rattles on its way out. A crew of men – and one woman – lift him and Jeremy onto metal stretchers and carry them down the stairs and out the front door. I float along behind them, and Jeremy – to my great disappointment – chooses to follow me. He looks more curious than freaked out, even though he literally just died.
Death in Spades Page 14