The Dead Boy's Club

by Rue Volley

  I cleared my throat and offered a stiff nod. My cheeks felt flush. He led me across the street.

  Not a single person working on the decorations even bothered to look at us. I wish they had. It would’ve given me an excuse to ask questions, to stall. But I guess it’s best that they didn’t.

  I needed to end this. Just rip it off like a Band-Aid.

  Killian could take it. He was tall, dark, and handsome. A real catch, to be honest.

  With those eyes, that messy hair, his nice clean scent, and full pouty lips.

  I glanced up at him. Even his jawline is perfect.

  I have to stop.

  Right, this minute.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The small silver bell went off overhead as he held the door for me. The chime lingered—echoed even. Leaving behind a slight ringing in my ears. Sometimes sounds do that to me when my allergies flare up.

  His hand rested at the base of my back, beckoning me inside. His touch sent these tiny sparks through me. I moved forward, breaking the connection.

  A gentleman, too. Why can’t he be terrible? I would prefer terrible. Terrible would fix a lot of things and make this easier. I need for him to annoy me. To say the most awful things, or just be a boy, like the ones in school that I never gave a second thought to — the Middlings.

  My eyes darted around the room. The coffeeshop was practically empty, except for a girl in the back corner who was working on her laptop. She did glance up in our direction but never made eye contact. She seemed familiar. Like I had seen her somewhere before.

  My throat began to ache, so I rubbed it. He noticed.

  “Are you okay?” he asked so soft and sweet.

  My inner voice nagged at him.

  Stop it, Killian. Be the bad guy! Be the villain. I need that from you more than anything right now. You have to make me hate you, and I find it so hard to do that. So very hard.

  But he isn’t, is he? No. He’s the guy who holds doors and saves their little sister's cat over and over again, right? The guy who extends a hand and catches a precious book before it hits the ground. The guy who knows quotes like the back of his hand. He’s also clever, quick—annoyingly cute.

  Everything he shouldn’t be, but is.

  I need to stop and focus. I have to.

  Killian guided me with a soft touch to my side. It caused my nerves to jump, so I sped up, forcing the connection to be broken once again. My throat felt dry, and my hands were shaking. I wish I could control how he makes me feel. I don’t like feeling so unpredictable, but ever since I met him, everything seemed to be changing, bit by bit. I could see it in small things, feel it in most others. I wanted to understand, but should I? Sometimes the best things are mysterious in nature. Surprises can’t be all bad. Right?

  My inner voice chimed back in, desperately trying to keep me from doing something stupid.

  No, Harper. Surprises are terrible. Change is awful. Stay on course!

  Do what needs to be done.

  I sank into the soft booth. It took a good inch away from me. I didn’t remember them ever having booths in here before. They must’ve changed things—upgraded, but then again, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been here. My ears began to ring, and my throat ached as I looked around the room. I didn’t know if it was him, or feeling like I was in someplace that should be familiar, but no longer was.

  He slid in across from me, moving more toward the back. His knee brushed against mine, and the ringing stopped, along with the ache. I adjusted without much thought, again to break the connection. But I didn’t know if I had to touch him to feel like he was holding me.

  I cleared my throat. I knew I should say something—all the right words. I knew I had to end this so that the suffering could end — my suffering, and possibly his, too.

  I had to keep breathing. I placed my hand against my chest. I felt like the sky might be falling.

  So, what now? What words do I use to make this clear, and more importantly, can I say them? I want to, I need to—but he’s so close. He’s real. A real boy, not dead, not easily placed back on the shelf, tucked away all neat and proper. His feelings will be dictated by my actions. His life altered by me. But he altered mine first. He showed up in the graveyard. He interrupted my reading. He did that, not me! I shouldn’t be so—

  “You look so pretty today.”

  His words drew me right back in. My lips parted, and every word I wanted to say slid back down my throat like poison.

  “Th—thanks.” I stuttered. It wasn’t like me. I had a plan, well, sort of. I knew what I needed to do, but doing it was so much harder than I ever imagined.

  I placed my hands on the table and felt the smooth surface, cool to the touch. It served to be a great distraction. Everything in Juniper Hollow is usually cold, even in Summer. My mind wandered. I honestly couldn’t remember the last Summer here, or when the air didn’t seem to carry with it that unmistakable scent of Fall leaves and threats of pre-winter rain.

  “I’d like to give you something,” he added.

  I nearly gasped when he said it.

  I sat motionless, like a deer in headlights.

  He looked down into his lap. I waited a little too long to respond, but guilt captured me.

  “Why?” I whispered.

  His intense gaze lifted. I expected him to be annoyed. Instead he tilted his head.

  “Because,” was his answer.

  I sat motionlessly. “Because isn’t a good answer,” I retorted.

  “Well, asking why isn’t a good response.”

  Don’t push it, Killian. You’re lucky I don’t go screaming out of here, arms flailing, like E.T.

  He leaned in, bringing that clean scent with him. “Will you accept it?”

  “Accept what?” I asked in haste, sounding so foolish it was painful.

  He adjusted on the cushioned seat and exposed his whiter than white teeth. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t look for fangs, because I did. I know it was silly, but I couldn’t help myself. Everything he did was oddly intriguing. The way he came and went. The way he talked to me. The way he stared. His reactions were not ordinary.

  His brow furrowed in curiosity. “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  That was a loaded question, but I know he had just caught me inspecting his pearly whites. I parted my lips, but no excuse came to mind, so instead of making something up, I was honest. I figured I had nothing to lose, and maybe, just maybe, it would make him leave and save me the trouble.

  I pointed to my teeth. “You don’t have fangs.”

  He looked me over. The grin never faded. I’m so glad that I can amuse him.

  “Do you think that I’m a—” he leaned in closer, clasping his hands together on the table before him, “vampire?” he added with a hint of mischief.

  The typing paused in the corner. The girl with the long black hair and thick black-rimmed glasses had been working away on her laptop. The light from her screen lit up her face, and she glanced over at the two of us. It didn’t last long. She lifted a hand, and the barista approached her table. Words were exchanged, too low to make out, and before long the barista was making her another cup of coffee. Oddly enough, my hunger, or any other need, had faded as soon as we sat down together, and the barista never bothered to come over to help us.

  Maybe she knew something was up. I probably look ill. I certainly feel that way the longer I sit here trying to figure out how I’m going to break this thing that we have.

  Killian waited for a response, but I had nothing intelligent to say, so I raised a brow and removed my hands from the table. His were sitting way to close to mine, anyway. He mimicked me, drawing his down into his lap.

  “Harper, are you trying to change the subject?”

  “No, you asked, I answered,” I said.

  His flattery wasn’t a concern of mine.

  I reached up and ran my thumb across my bottom lip. He watched me like I was the only thing that existed. If not a vampi
re, then he’s certainly a good substitute.

  “I read way too many books,” I added, hoping it would fix it.

  He chuckled. “There’s no such thing as too many books, Harper.”

  I agreed, and the half-smile on my face confirmed it. “Of course, I know that you’re not a vampire, but where did you come from?” I reached up and ran my fingers across the smooth surface of the table. I could feel the grooves in the wood.

  He tilted his head. “I told you what happened. End of story.”

  I shook my head. “No, that isn’t the end; in fact, it isn’t a story at all.”

  He leaned in and reached for my hand, but I removed it and placed it in my lap. His eyes lowered, along with his brow. This whole thing with him was overwhelming. And now—well, now he wanted to give me something!

  Was it a ring? Oh, my Goddess. I may die. Seriously, I might! Liv was right. Killian was going to do something so over the top and stupid. I’m fifteen!

  “How old are you?” I blurted it out, and the lights flickered overhead. It’s a natural occurrence in Juniper Hollow, so I didn’t think much of it. Killian scanned the coffee shop for a few seconds, and then his eyes landed back on mine.

  “Guess,” he whispered.

  I stopped breathing. Was he toying with me? Was he immortal and playing a game? My mind raced to every conspiracy theory known to man.

  “Tell me.” I choked it out. My throat burned.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  I narrowed my eyes, and the lights flickered again.

  “I’m fifteen, of course.”

  He tilted his head. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

  What a strange question to ask. “Of course, I—yes, that’s my age.”

  He studied my expression, soaking it in. Why does he have to be this way? It was a simple question. “I think age is just a number.”

  I leaned forward. “So, are you trying to tell me that you’re hundreds of years old?”

  “Why does it have to be me?” he retorted.

  “I—you need to—” I tried to spit it out, but he had flustered me.

  “Well.” He reached down with a timid smile curling the edge of his lip. My stomach churned. I couldn’t take it. I thought I was in control of this situation, and somehow it had gotten away from me.

  “I’m really thirsty. Like dying.” I was stalling him.

  He cleared his throat and then brought his hand from beneath the table, luckily, he had nothing in it. I’m too young to get married! I may pass out. He can’t do this to me. We barely know each other at all, and my parents don’t even like him. Not at all! Even my mother, who is so caring and nurturing, had rejected him.

  But worst of all—I didn’t trust what I’d say to something like that! Of course, I should say no, but did I trust myself to do that?

  NO, I DID NOT.

  His eyes searched mine. “Well, you can’t die on me. I’ll get you something.”

  He removed himself from the booth. He stared down at me, making me feel even smaller.

  “What do you want, Harper? Because I know what I want. I’ve always known.”

  I stared blankly.

  He asked again. “Harper?”

  My ears began to ring.

  “Harper?”

  The noise began to rise in the coffeeshop like there were a lot more people in it than I could see. I blinked a few times as white shadows moved around the tables. What was happening?

  Killian lowered to one knee, and I could see his face hovering close to mine. My head began to spin.

  Oh, this was it! He was going to ruin everything with some grand romantic gesture, and I was going to make things a thousand times worse by not running. By saying something so ridiculous like YES.

  I fidgeted with my hands. They felt sweaty. My heartbeat sped up, and my face felt flush.

  I may be slipping into a full-blown panic attack.

  I struggled to get out of the booth, nearly pushing him out of the way. “No, I can’t—I just can’t!” was all that I could choke out.

  He looked so troubled that it filled me with sickness. My chest ached and my throat burned.

  He rose up so quickly it seemed like a blur. His hand extended.

  “Harper, please—please don’t do this.”

  I could barely look at him as his eyes filled with tears. I struggled to stand, he tried to help me, but I stumbled away from him, glaring at him like he was the devil himself.

  I pointed a rigid finger as the lights flickered and hissed. “You want to change things! Change me! You want to ruin everything!”

  Killian stood there in complete disbelief. What started so innocent and beautiful was now turning dark and twisted. I knew it, but I couldn’t stop myself. Panic rolled through me like a powerful storm, crashing against the shore and destroying everything in its wake.

  I parted my lips as tears rolled down my face. The feelings I had for him overwhelmed me. I shouldn’t feel this way about him. I barely knew him or anything about him.

  But I can’t be. No, I don’t—don’t—I can’t love him.

  I can’t let him take my family away from me. My friends. The town I love. Every word that Liv said ran through my head. My parent’s reaction. Killian lowering to one knee.

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Harper, let me explain.”

  My eyes darted left to right. I could hear murmurs—whispering—the clanking of spoons. The bell went off over the door behind me. I spun around on one heel, but there was no one there. Laughter echoed on the wind. I felt uneasy, out of place. I placed my hands over my ears, trying to block it all out.

  “Look at me, Harper, only me. Let me explain. If you do that, then you’ll understand.”

  My eyes locked onto him, with senses on overload.

  “I want this to stop,” I mouthed as the noise continued to rise all around me.

  He took a few desperate steps toward me.

  I shook my head. “I don’t ever want to see you again!”

  “Harper, no. You can’t mean that. You just can’t. I—I love—”

  I trembled with fear while pointing a rigid finger at his chest.

  “No—NO! Don’t!” I shook my head. “Don’t lie.”

  I was dismantling him—dismantling us. I could feel it, but my fear outweighed my true feelings for him. A light blew out above me as I backed away from him, then another one, and another one.

  I was so scared. I felt so alone.

  I knew how awful it was.

  How awful I was.

  Then everything went silent.

  “I’ll never love you,” I hissed before turning to run away.

  The words burned like fire and left nothing but ash in their wake.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I rested on my knees in the cemetery.

  Alone. Crying. So fearful of what I had done.

  What I did was so unfair to Killian. He had begged—pleaded even, for me to give him a chance to explain. But I refused him that.

  I closed my eyes and could see him standing there in front of me—so hurt and alone.

  My panic attack had caused me to act irrationally, but I had done what needed to be done.

  I knew it was right, but why then, did it feel so wrong?

  It had been days upon days since it happened. I had tried my best to fall back into my old habits. Reading, writing—spending time alone. I had sat in class, staring at a blank page for far too many minutes to count. It seemed to represent my life now. Kids came and went without speaking to me. I was a ghost once again.

  Invisible. Broken.

  I even stopped talking to my friends. They stood off at a distance, giving me whatever space I thought I needed. But it didn’t help to feel so alone.

  My inner voice mocked me.

  He was nice. You’ll never meet anyone like him again, Harper. Ever.

  “Thanks, I know that,” I muttered.

  I lowered the book in my hand and scanned the cemetery. I h
ad come here wanting to read, but I think I secretly wanted him to find me again, but he wasn’t here. He wouldn’t come back here; I just knew it. It feels like he’s gone, as strange as that sounds. He had respected my wish and disappeared. He hadn’t been in school, and I wouldn’t dare ask a soul about him. Besides, he didn’t talk to anyone but me.

  Me.

  My heart sank. My throat ached. I cleared it, but it hurt to swallow. I stood up, brushing off the leaves and adjusting my knee-length black coat that covered my dress. It was pretty, one of my best ones. I even wore my gloves and cutest boots.

  I had hoped—never mind. I’m irrational. I don’t like being this age, or feeling like I do. I wish that everything would go back to normal

  Before Killian Porter.

  I decided to walk the tombstones. I hadn’t done that in quite a while. I moved along, staring at each stone. Some were so faded you couldn’t make out the names, but it didn’t change the fact that these people existed—or mattered.

  The dead don’t have a voice as loud as the living, although they try here in Juniper Hollow. As I’ve said before, we hear so many unexplained things. I can’t imagine working so hard to communicate and not being able to get through—I paused.

  That’s exactly what I had done to Killian. He might as well be dead because I refused to hear a word he said. He was attentive to me, which is something I had never experienced before. I began to walk again, wiping a tear from my cheek. The gravity of the situation was starting to settle in. How could I be so mean? Why did I let Liv upset me? Killian had tried so hard to be with me, and yet I denied him out of fear of what, exactly?

  He didn’t have a ring. He didn’t want to marry me! It was just a present — a kind gesture. I had let Oliver Millhousen upset me with his teasing and then blew it so far out of proportion that the situation got out of hand.

  I stopped, covering my face with my hands. The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. It made my stomach churn and my bones ache. I sobbed.