How to Date Dead Guys (The Witch's Handbook Book 1)

by Ann M. Noser

  “Are you familiar with an Officer Charlie Walker? He called me late last night.” My father’s gaze flickers over to a pad of paper next to him. “Apparently, he’s been trying to contact us for months, but someone gave him the wrong cell number.”

  “What did he tell you?” I strain to see what is written on that paper. Charlie Walker, you nosy bugger, quit butting into my life.

  “Everything you didn’t.” Dad frowns. “But I think I’d like to hear your side of the story now. Starting with: who exactly was this Mike fellow?”

  “He was…just a friend, the brother of my roommate’s boyfriend, actually,” I mumble.

  Dad raises his eyebrows. “Just a friend? Is that why you followed him so willingly into the river?”

  A throat clears behind me.

  I flip around in my chair to find Mike standing in the doorway. How long has he been there? What did he hear?

  “Did you know Mike, too?” my dad asks the boy he thinks is Jake.

  Mike’s mouth falls open.

  I swing back to face my father. “Could we drop this, please?”

  “What kind of friend would make you do something so risky?” He frowns. “Jake, I sure hope you would never put my Emma in danger, like that irresponsible Mike character.”

  “Nobody made me swim the river.” I sink into my chair as Mike squirms behind me, his stocking feet fidgeting upon the floor.

  “You could have died, too,” my father whispers.

  “I know that. But I didn’t die. I’m still here.”

  “Don’t ever do anything like that again. I couldn’t take it if you left us like that. I can’t even imagine what Mike’s parents have been through. Did you see them afterward?”

  “I saw his mother at the funeral.” I feel a wave of unhappiness pressing on me from behind.

  My father hides his eyes in the shadow of his hand. Strands of his gray-streaked hair fall forward. He sighs as if in physical pain. “Emma, promise me something.”

  “Yes, Dad?” My breath catches in my throat. I’ve never seen him like this.

  He pauses. “Be careful.”

  “I’ll be careful,” I answer promptly.

  “I mean it, Emma. You’ve been acting very strangely, and I fear for you.” He raises his eyes to mine. The grief there causes me to tremble.

  “I’ll try.” This time I mean it.

  wander back to the kitchen where Mom stares at me like a deer in the headlights.

  “I’m super hungry,” I announce as I whip open the cereal cabinet.

  Her gaze follows me as I gather a bowl, glass, and spoon. Mike pauses in the kitchen doorway as if he isn’t sure whether he should enter the room or not.

  “Mom, do you have plans today?” I pour cereal and gesture for Mike to join me at the table.

  “Why? What are you doing?” Mom asks, her voice heavy with suspicion.

  “Uh… I don’t know.”

  Both Mike and I shovel in cold cereal. Thankfully, the crunching noise fills the heavy silence surrounding us. We finish our breakfasts in record time.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” I suggest, as I put away my bowl and spoon.

  “Where are we going?” He follows me to the sink.

  “Anywhere but here,” I whisper back.

  We bundle up and hurry outside.

  “There’s a park nearby,” I tell Mike. “Let’s hike through the woods. It’s private there.”

  Mike glances over his shoulder. “Do you think your parents will follow us?”

  I pick up the pace. “Let’s hurry, so they can’t.”

  Once we reach the park, I sigh in relief. “I know these trails by heart. Just follow me.”

  After a few minutes, we are hidden deep between the watchful evergreens. “No one will see or hear us in here, so we can talk freely.”

  “Good. Because I have a lot to say.” Bernard flickers to the front.

  Steve glimmers forth. “Oh, great. Another round of I’m-so-worried-about-Claire, I’ve-got-to-get-back-to-Claire, I-love-my-wife-Claire-so-much, blah-blah-blah.”

  “Aren’t you in a cheerful mood today?” I peek around the trees, just to make absolutely sure we aren’t being watched. But today nobody’s in the park but us.

  Steve rolls his eyes. “I just don’t understand what he’s complaining about. As soon as we get back to Eau Claire, he can see his wife and take care of everything. It’ll be easy.”

  “You don’t know that,” interjects Bernard.

  Steve throws up his hands. “It will certainly be easier for you than for me. I don’t have any idea what happened. I’ve searched on the computer, and there’s nothing about me. It’s like I just went missing, and nobody cared to find out why.”

  “We’ll figure it out, somehow.” I put a hand on his shoulder. Poor guy.

  Mike flickers forward, and I quickly remove my hand. “You don’t have to worry about me, Emma. I don’t want to be any trouble for you.”

  “I don’t mind helping―” I begin.

  “No, you’ve done enough already.” Mike turns away.

  He must really hate me or something. I just don’t understand why.

  We hustle through the park for well over an hour, then return home long after my toes have gone numb. Mike heads into the kitchen for something to drink, and I continue toward my bedroom.

  Funny, I don’t remember shutting my door. I push it open.

  Upon entering my room, I discover my mother rummaging through my dresser drawers. Everything on top of my desk is askew.

  “Hey, Mom?”

  “Wh-what?” She stands up quickly, shutting all the drawers in a great hurry, as if I haven’t already noticed they are open.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “I’m…cleaning.” Mom pretends to wipe some dust off my dresser with her bare hand.

  “You don’t have any dust rags or cleaning supplies with you.”

  “So what? It’s my house, remember?”

  “What are you looking for, anyway?” I note that the Book of Shadows remains safely undisturbed on my bookshelf, where I tucked it next to my hardcover Harry Potter collection.

  “I’m not sure.” Mom’s voice wavers. “Maybe drugs. Maybe something else. Just anything to explain your odd behavior.”

  “I’m not on drugs!” Does she really think I’m acting that strange? “How could you even think that?”

  “Your father is so upset.” Mom’s eyes tear up. “This isn’t good for his heart. You know, he’s not a young man anymore.”

  My pulse quickens. “What’s wrong with his heart? Is he going to be okay?”

  “Only if you are. Emma, I think we need to stay in closer contact from now on.”

  Oh no. This really isn’t a good time for me.

  “We could visit you more at school. I want to see your apartment. We’ll take you out to eat, bring some groceries, and meet all your friends.”

  “I don’t have that many friends.”

  She frowns. “I thought you said things were better for you at college than they were in high school.”

  “They are―and I’m all right. You don’t have to visit me if you don’t want to.”

  Her eyes narrow. “What are you trying so hard to hide?”

  “Nothing.” My voice doesn’t sound very convincing.

  She steps closer and searches my face for an uncomfortable length of time. “Are you at least being safe?”

  Oh no! Not again!

  “Answer me, Emma. You’re too smart of a girl to make some sort of foolish mistake you’ll regret later.”

  You mean like letting someone drown and then raising him from the dead later, along with a half dozen other people? Yeah, I might be regretting that a bit now.

  She throws up her hands. “Emma, are you even listening to me? I swear, you get a look in your eyes like you’re on a different planet, or something.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yeah?” She tenses like she expects me to tell her I’m already
pregnant.

  “You have nothing to worry about in that department.” Trust me. Jake’s gone, and Mike’s not even remotely interested.

  “I better not!” She drags her hands through her hair. “Oh, I don’t know what to do with you anymore! And who is this?”

  She digs her cell phone out of her pocket and clicks on an image of me dancing with the real Jake―not the borrowed body. Correction. A picture of Jake supporting my full drunken weight, since my entire blood supply had been taken over by alcohol. Even my eyes seem to be floating in some intoxicating liquid.

  “I look awful!” I exclaim.

  “I realize that, darling, but who is that guy you’re dancing with?” Mom flips through a dozen pictures of us together. “I swear I took some shots of you and Jake, but all I ended up with were ones of you and this stranger I swear I never invited to the party in the first place.”

  “I don’t know, Mom. I kind of drank a lot that night and don’t remember much of it.” Liar.

  As Mom starts deleting all the photos, my stomach jumps into my throat.

  I grab at the camera. “Mom, stop!”

  “Why? I don’t want these pictures of some stranger. And you already agreed you look awful.”

  She can’t do this to me. I don’t have a single picture of Jake! And I’ll never see him again! “Could you at least text them to me?”

  “Why? I thought you said you didn’t know this guy.”

  “I don’t.” My mind goes blank. There is nothing I can do, no appropriate lie to come up with. “Fine. Just erase them, then.”

  I watch the screen as Jake disappears over and over again. If only I had borrowed Mom’s phone before she noticed those pictures, then I’d have something to remember him by. Now I have nothing.

  Mike strolls into my room. “Hey. What’cha doin’?”

  “And, mister, you better watch out. I’ve got my eye on you, too.” Mom points at him as she storms through the doorway. “It’s my little girl you’re involved with, so be careful.”

  My bedroom door slams shut behind her.

  Mike grimaces. “What’s that all about?”

  I swallow hard, trying not to cry. “I busted Mom nosing through my room.”

  “Really? Did she find anything?”

  “No.” I walk over to the bookshelf and pull out the Book of Shadows. “I don’t think she even noticed this.”

  “I wish you’d get rid of that,” Mike says.

  “No way!” Steve glimmers forth. “I realize you only care about Mike, but what if you need that to help the rest of us?”

  “I don’t only care about Mike. I’ve cared about every one of you that came back.” Jake’s laughing face from one of the photos flashes across my mind.

  “Well, just don’t throw away that book!” Steve demands.

  “I won’t.” I tuck it back in its hiding place. “Don’t worry.”

  “Good,” Steve says.

  “This is all Officer Walker’s fault,” I complain. “I just know he’ll be waiting for me when I get back to school.”

  I finally check my e-mail. Abby had written a couple messages. I feel guilty, since I’ve basically ignored her all Christmas break. The first e-mail wishes me a Merry Christmas, and the second gleefully relays Amanda’s downfall.

  “I just so happened to be walking real slowly down the hall outside Amanda’s British Lit classroom when the professor informed her she would get an ‘F’ for the term. She started bawling. It was totally awesome. She’ll have to repeat the course with the same instructor next semester. Isn’t that great?”

  A smile creeps across my face. I got Sam a little bit of the revenge he deserves.

  I read on: “I was giggling so hard I didn’t notice Amanda exit the room until she ran into me. I’ve never seen her without perfect makeup before―it wasn’t a pretty sight, let me tell you―mascara streaks down both cheeks. I gave her my best evil eye and said, ‘Serves you right’. She just sneered―which only made me giggle all the more because she had lipstick on her teeth―and said, ‘Tell your friend she’s dead’.”

  I sigh and click onto the next e-mail. I’ll just have to add Amanda to my ever-growing list of problems. Bernard needs to see his wife, Steve wants me to help him figure out how he died, and Mike doesn’t have a clue what to do with his afterlife.

  I’m a busy girl.

  fter a few more days of hiding out in my room watching movies or shopping for my new apartment and an extra cell phone for my “groupies”, Christmas vacation finally ends. I’ve never been so happy to go back to school. After a series of strained parental hugs, Mike and I pile into the car and drive off.

  When we arrive at my off-campus apartment, Mike helps carry everything inside, then paces the rooms. “Emma, do you want to go for a walk? I feel cooped up in here.”

  I scan the piles of bags and boxes. “I can’t. There’s too much to do. But you don’t have to hang around if you don’t want to.”

  “Thanks for taking care of everything,” Bernard says as they hurry out the door.

  Thank goodness they’re gone, I think as I hide my tampons and sanitary napkins in the hall closet behind giant rolls of toilet paper and shampoo bottles.

  As I return to the living room for yet another box to empty, I hit the “play” button on the answering machine. Abby’s voice rings out, welcoming me home. After I finish putting everything away, I should go downstairs to visit.

  I hide my journal deep within the depths of my underwear drawer, then set Grandma’s bowl on top of the dresser and fill it to the brim with my hair ties. Wishing I’d been able to keep just one of Mom’s photos of Jake, I write on the whiteboard newly hung over the phone in the living room:

  “A memory is a picture that the heart takes.”

  ―Anonymous

  After putting a sizable dent in the pile of boxes, I hear a knock upon the door. I open it to see Abby, her cheeks a little fuller than before Christmas.

  “Hi, Abby! It’s so good to see you!”

  “Why didn’t you e-mail me back over Christmas break?”

  “I know. I’m a terrible friend. I’m sorry.”

  Then Abby smiles, and I know she isn’t really mad about it.

  “Were you here all Christmas break?” I put some cute mugs and plates from Target into the kitchen cupboard as we talk.

  “Yep. I got in some extra hours at the grocery store. I like working there. The people are really nice.”

  “So, you haven’t heard from your family, then?”

  “Nope.” Abby changes the subject to what classes we’re taking this semester. “I’m glad we have psychology together.”

  “I hope we have a good professor.”

  Abby smirks. “I’m so excited to see Amanda squirm, aren’t you? Last year, a friend of mine tried out for the dance-line that performs at halftime during the basketball games. Did you know Amanda is the captain?”

  “I’m not surprised. She likes being in charge.”

  “Well, anyway, Amanda acted really mean to her at the audition. She made her cry in front of everyone. Hey, do you think you could make Amanda cry again? That would be sweet.”

  “I don’t feel bad about what I’ve done, but I’m not eager to see Amanda this semester,” I admit. “Actually, the thought of it makes me a little sick to my stomach.”

  “Really? Why do you care what Amanda thinks?”

  “I don’t. She’s a liar and a cheat.”

  “Then there’s no reason to get nervous.” Abby glances around the apartment.

  “Jake took a walk, in case you wanted to know. He should be back soon.”

  “Actually, I’m kind of tired. I have to work early tomorrow morning. And for your information, I no longer have a crush on Sam, or Jake, or whatever he wants to be called nowadays, so you can just stop looking at me that way.”

  “Okay.” I smile, glad there’s one less thing to worry about.

  “Do you think it will be weird living with him?”

&n
bsp; “Why?” You have no idea how weird.

  “Well…” Abby pauses to pick up a crumpled men’s shirt off the floor and then hands it to me. “I’ve never lived with a guy.”

  “We’re just friends.” Except maybe for the real “Jake”, but he’s gone now.

  Steve walks in at this point, shaking his arms and stamping his feet from the cold.

  “Hello, Samuel Jacob,” Abby says.

  Steve just stands there, panic contorting his usually smug face.

  “Hey, Abby.” I move between Steve and Abby so Mike can take over. “Did you notice my cool Georgia O’Keefe artwork?”

  Abby turns to face the two framed pictures on the far wall, just missing the glimmer show.

  “That lake one is my favorite. What do you think, Abby?” I ask, in case Mike didn’t hear me the first time.

  Her gaze flickers between the two pictures. “I think I like the one with the flowers best.”

  “Nice to see you again, Abby,” Mike says, perfectly on cue, as she turns back to face him.

  “Nice to see you, too, but I was just leaving. We’ll have to catch up later. Good night, all.”

  After the door shuts behind her, I spin around. “Steve, what is your problem?”

  “You never told me Abby was pregnant!” he sputters.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “No. I thought Chrissy was pregnant, not Abby. I’m sorry. I screwed up.” He slumps in a chair. “It’s my first time being a dead guy on campus. You’re just going to have to cut me some slack.”

  Then Steve jumps back out of the chair to pace the room, stopping short at my whiteboard. “I don’t like your quote, Emma. It’s too sappy.”

  “Fine! Change it then, if you can think of something better.” I sigh, glancing around at the rest of the unpacked boxes. “Did you have a nice walk?”

  “Yes. The river really is beautiful at night,” Bernard says. “You should come with us next time.”

  “Well, I’m too tired now to do anything except go to bed. Your room is all set up with clothes in the closet and the daybed ready to go.” I point them in the general direction.

  Steve erases and then scribbles on my board.

  “God must love stupid people,