I'd Rather Not Be Dead

by Andrea Brokaw

  Cris's watching a movie in his room, his arm around the other me as they snuggle on his bed. Guess he blew off the other girl after all.

  With my back propped against the wall, I watch the pair of them instead of the movie. A few hours ago, I thought I was in love with Cris. But I wasn't. I already feel more for Fray than I ever felt for Cris and I don't think I'm in danger of being in love with him. I hardly know him, but there's more of a connection between us. He understands me, or at least comes close to it. Cris never put the energy into bothering.

  I wonder how Fray's doing. Probably kicking himself. I hope he's kicking himself. But at the same time... I think he made the right call. We're friends. One day, I expect we'll be really good friends. But I don't think I should be letting myself confuse that sort of love with the romantic kind anymore.

  Sprawled out under Cris's window, I try to sleep, but can't. I keep thinking about Fray's wife. I'm sure he didn't mean for me to but I saw more of her death than he told me about and I don't think he killed her. I think the thoughts were hers. I think she let him into her head, then killed herself in front of him. But I can't prove it. And I don't know if I should tell him my theory or not. Which is worse, thinking he wielded the knife that killed her or thinking she hated him enough to do something like that?

  I shiver. Too bad her life force hadn't hung around. Then I could beat the shit out of it.

  Someone's outside the window. My breath stops with the realization. The movie's long over and the other me went home a while ago. Cris sleeps peacefully, unaware of the person outside.

  Heart hammering, I sit up and look out. A man stands in the yard. He's looking right at me. He lifts a hand, waving. There's something about him that demands respect, makes me want to grovel before him. He wants me to come out. I swallow, torn between wanting to know who he is and the urge to run and hide. Instinct tells me this person would just follow me if I fled.

  I let myself out through the front door and walk out to meet the man, proud of myself for not shaking. But... He's gone. Freaky.

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I turn to go back in. Some hunch tells me the man was The Shadow Lord. But why would The Shadow Lord have been waving at me from Cris's yard? And why would he summon me, then leave before I got out?

  When I get to the door, I slam into it.

  It's as solid as a granite wall. I try to push through it, using more and more force, but I pass out before succeeding, waking again to find the sun up and a wind ripping brown and gold leaves off trees. The leaves remind me of Finn and I assure myself it's not something disgusting like their colors being amongst the many in his eyes but because I want to break him into tiny pieces, the way the leaves should crackle apart when I step on them. Of course, they don't crunch under my shoes. Trees exist in Shadow but their leaves don't. I'm not sure I'm ever going to fully understand the rules here.

  “Fray?”

  I look around the front room of the hunting club, wondering if Fray's avoiding me now or if he's just out. He materializes by his booth, watching me with caution. I decide not to get too close to him. Just in case it would make him bolt, though my mind snorts at the ridiculous notion of me frightening a centuries-old ghost.

  “I think I saw The Shadow Lord,” I open, hoping the news will sufficiently break the ice.

  “When?” He frowns and runs his eyes over me, making sure I'm not hurt.

  “Last night.” I hop up to sit on a table near, but not too near, him and tell my brief story. Fray watches me from several yards away, leaning against the table of his booth with arms crossed loosely in front of him.

  “And you couldn't get back in?” he says at the end.

  “I didn't try this morning,” I realize, sitting up straighter.

  Fray shakes his head. “Won't matter. If The Shadow Lord decided he doesn't want you in there, you won't be able to get in. He doesn't change his mind very often.”

  “But why doesn't he want me there?” I decide to leave ranting about him not having the right to control me like that until later.

  My companion doesn't answer. Instead, he asks his own question, looking down at the floor as he speaks. “Why were you there?”

  Tilting my head, I study him. “Jealous?”

  “If it'll make you answer the question, assume I am.” He gives me a smile. It isn't a big one but it does seem real. “Why were you there?”

  “I was thinking, I guess.” Grabbing the edge of the table with my hands, I lean forward and examine my feet as they dangle above the ground. “About the mistakes I made when I was alive.”

  “Was Cris a mistake?” The words are slow and calm, but there's something urgent about them.

  “Not exactly.” I glance up to see Fray watching me intently, then drop my eyes again. “But I made a lot of mistakes in regards to him.”

  “So maybe The Lord wants you to stay away from him to keep you from making more.”

  I squint up, feeling my whole face wrinkle with the expression. “Why would he possibly care? Is The Shadow Lord in the habit of messing with people's private lives?”

  “No,” Fray admits, looking bothered. “He isn't. It's strange he'd interfere.”

  “And don't kings usually just decree things?”

  Fray laughs at me. “Maybe he knew where you'd tell him to stick his royal command.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” My fingers play with the table edge. “Wish I knew why he'd bother though.”

  “We can ask him.”

  I move my head so I can better stare at my friend. “Just call him up and ask?”

  “No.” Fray's eyes start to sparkle with some sort of mischief. “You need an audience to see him. But Halloween's this week. Which means there will be a festival and a receiving line.”

  “A festival?” I repeat. “For all... How many ghosts are there in this hicksville?”

  Fray laughs some more. “Twenty six. But the festival... It's sort of in a different place. A part of Shadow you can get to from anywhere on our mountain.”

  “Which makes the guest list how long?”

  “Several hundred.”

  Shaking my head, I think about that. “Why haven't you told me this before?”

  “It's not the sort of place you want to go when it isn't crowded,” he tells me, his expression suddenly stern. “It's dangerous, Drew.”

  The big-haired bartender appears from the hallway, lugging a case of potato chips to feed the stand behind the bar. She dodges Fray on on her own but I have to shift to keep her from passing through me.

  “Dangerous how?” It's not like we can really get hurt, we're already dead. But then I remember we can be moved past Shadow. We can die again.

  My mentor nods. “There's plenty of things that would love to help you pass away a second time.”

  “Monsters that scare the monsters.” I smirk. “Fun.”

  He folds his arms, tilts his head, and fails to look amused. “I'm serious, Drew. I need you to promise not to go alone.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad.”

  His gaze stays on me for a long time before he stands up and dusts his hands against his jeans. “I'll pick you up. Noon on Halloween.”

  “Noon? Who has a Halloween party at noon?” But Fray's gone before the question gets asked.

  The big-haired bartender goes to the front door and flips the closed sign to say the club's open. Guess I slept through Sunday somehow.

  Without anything better to do, I walk to school. Cooper Finnegan's in senior development, a laughable 'class' that tells us how to fill out college applications forms even though most of my classmates should be preparing for a career in low-end retail. The other me should be there as well, getting developed, but her desk sits empty.

  My reception isn't exactly warm. Not quite cold either. Uncertain. Finn watches me come into the classroom, then stands before I make it to him. I have no idea what word goes with his expression as he walks to Mrs. Harrison and tells her he needs to leave, but he has a pass in under twent
y seconds.

  I shake my head as he passes me. “How do you do that?”

  He shrugs as soon as he rounds the door. “Some folks like me.”

  Arms folded, I walk beside him, wondering where he's going.

  His eyes lock onto the linoleum. “Look... Drew...”

  “What?” the other me snarls, appearing from nowhere to block our path. Finn nearly collides with her.

  “Um...”

  “Look Drew what?” Her fists jab onto her hips and her eyes churn with loathing. Where does she find the energy to be so angry all the time? Finn stares in horror, like a trapped baby seal waiting for the club to fall, but TOM doesn't seem to feel any pity for him. “Why are you following me?”

  “I wasn't...”

  “Then why were you talking to me?” A reasonable question since she doesn't know there's two of us.

  “Don't tell her, Finn.”

  His eyes flicker to me.

  “She'll just tell everyone what you said.” I look at my other self. What happened to make this me so different from her? “They'll all think you're crazy. You'll never hear the end of it. It'd be like giving her candy.”

  “Well?” TOM taps her foot.

  “I wasn't talking to you.” Finn gives her a disgusted look. “You're hearing things.”

  She lets out a sound that's nearly a squeak. “I don't imagine stuff. You followed me here and then said my name.”

  “Followed you? You've got to be kidding. Or delusional. Why would I be following you?” His tone makes it absolutely clear he equates her with some sort of foul smelling fungus.

  I rub my arms, not terribly happy with this exchange.

  “That's what I'm asking!”

  Oh, what a comeback.

  “Look, Drew, you're paranoid. If I were you, I'd be asking what the hell my loser drug pimping boyfriend had given me.” His glower zooms in on her outraged flush. “And if its side effects were going to lead to a repeat of the pool house incident.”

  Both TOM and I gape at him. The pool house incident... My first time with Cris. My first time period. It was at the county pool, where Cris had a summer job. It was a public place but it was after hours and in a locked room. I'm not sure which has me more in shock, that Finn might have been there that day or that he's mentioning it now, and implying there were drugs involved. There weren't. Just stupidity and lust.

  I think.

  Although...

  No. I shake my head. I might have been slightly drunk, but Cris wouldn't have... Couldn't have... Didn't... Finn's rounding the corner at the end of the hall before I even notice he's moved. The other me's just as shocked. She licks her lips, shaking her head in mute denial, but I know the thoughts in her head. She's thinking about how floaty she felt that day. How Cris said it was alcohol and sun. She's thinking about how it wasn't the first time he'd put the moves on her, just the first time she hadn't pushed him away and pretended it was a joke.

  Of course, Cris didn't need to drug me. But he could have rationalized himself into doing it, couldn't he? I can see his thoughts too. He wouldn't have seen it as a bad thing, an evil and loathsome act. No, he would have seen slipping me a little something and lowering my inhibitions as simply helping me relax. Which might even be an accurate way of looking at it. Considering what happened after that first time, I think it's pretty obvious I really did want to be with him. He would've just been helping me to get past my fear.

  Somehow, it doesn't seem to be bothering me that he might have given me something that day. But it really, really pisses me off that he would have kept it from me.

  “What the hell do you know, Cooper Finnegan?” the other me whispers. “Nothing.”

  And she's right. So he knows Cris and I committed a public indecency. Well, a semi-public indecency. At the time I was certain the room we were in was empty and locked to stay that way. But, at best, he's jumping to a conclusion with the drug allegation. He was just trying to shut the other me up. I can't believe I've wasted this much time thinking about it.

  TOM and I go to our locker, get a folder from it, and go back to our classroom. Cooper Finnegan hasn't come back yet, so I sit in his chair while TOM opens her notebook to furiously scrawl something. A note to Cris, probably.

  After class, I'm proved right when she hands a folded piece of paper to our friend in the hallway. He takes it with a smile. “Does this tell me why you look so pissed?”

  “Yes.” She tightens her fingers around her bag's straps, likely imagining she's choking a certain Shadow Walking quarterback. “I had to go to my locker last period. And Cooper Finnegan followed me.”

  “No shit?” Cris shakes his head in disbelief. “He left class to stalk you?”

  “Yeah.” TOM twists the strap in her hands. “And wait til you read what he said.”

  “Sounds entertaining.”

  The other me laughs. “Or something. I bet you could sue him over it.”

  “I always wanted to sue someone.” Cris gives her a lazy grin, then kisses her forehead and says goodbye before ducking into a room. The other me keeps walking, but I decide to stay with Cris. He reads the note, his expression the opposite of entertained.

  Finn walks in just before the bell, apparently after making it back to Mrs. Harrison's room to pick up his stuff. He sits without looking at me.

  “Yo, Finn,” Cris hisses at him. “What the hell, man?”

  He looks back without blinking.

  Cris should be scared of the hostility in Finn's eyes but he either misses it or doesn't have enough sense. “Why'd you tell her about that?”

  Finn raises his eyebrows as I make a tiny gasp. That was an admission of guilt, wasn't it? And a confirmation Finn would know something to tell.

  My eyes move between the boys as they stare at each other. The students around them watch avidly, clearly hoping whatever is going on is going to turn uglier.

  “I didn't tell her anything.”

  Which is a technicality. He implied it strongly enough he might as well have said it.

  “Well, you sure as hell let her know,” Cris snaps. His head shakes. “And to think I told you about that trying to do you a favor. I was trying to hook you up.”

  What? He wanted to hook Cooper Finnegan up with a date rape drug? If I wasn't so close to crying, I'd laugh. What would someone like Finn need with those? All he had to do was turn those gorgeous ever-changing eyes of his toward a girl and most of them were halfway to undressing already.

  “You really want to talk about this here?” Finn nods toward all the people making no effort to hide the fact they're listening.

  With a disgusted sound and a glower, Cris turns to face the front, folding his arms and sliding far down in his chair. He really did drug me. And Finn knew. And unless he just found out, he helped keep it from me. I must be in shock, because the part about Finn hurts more than Cris's bit.

  As their teacher walks in the room, I walk out. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm not staying here.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There are several cemeteries in Pine Ridge. We have war memorial cemeteries, church cemeteries, cemeteries that are only used by the town's oldest families. And, of course, the main cemetery, conveniently located behind Dairy Queen. I head there since its the place I'll likely be buried.

  My feet drag as I approach my body's future resting place. It feels like I'm walking through a bog. At first I assume it's my mood or an understandable reluctance to get near my grave, but as the air gets thicker and stickier I realize it's something external. It reminds me of when I tried to leave town, except I'm nowhere near my limits now.

  “Hey, new girl!” someone yells, startling me. A gorgeous woman with dark hair and olive skin rushes up the street and gives the gates at the end of the road a nervous look. “Do you know what you're doing?”

  “Looking for other ghosts.” I assume I've found one in the petite Hispanic woman if Finn's the only medium in town. “My name's Drew.”

  “Yes, I know.” She
grabs my arm above the elbow and tugs me back the way I came from. “Come on. Before you summon The Spirit out here.”

  “The Spirit?” Confused, I let myself be led away.

  “It's strongest in the graveyards,” the woman says, as if it's general knowledge and I'm a dimwitted child.

  “Oh.” I shiver. I was never scared of grave sites when I was alive. How funny that I am now I'm dead. “Um... Thank you.”

  “No problem.” She clucks her tongue as she drops my arm, still walking away from the cemetery. “My boyfriend would have killed me all over again if he found out I let you commit suicide without even meaning to.”

  “Your boyfriend?”

  “Al Finnegan.”

  Al Finnegan. That must be Finn's granddad. “Why would he care?”

  The woman gives me a funny look. “Even if the boy wasn't family, it's in our interests to keep our Walker happy. The last thing we want is him leaving like his mother did. Or drugging himself out of seeing us like she does now.”

  “Finn's mom's a medium?”

  She nods with a little affirmative sound. “That sort of thing runs in families.”

  Of course it does. And obviously dead people can't enter cemeteries. And Halloween parties are clearly meant to be held in the middle of the day. What else don't I know?

  “I think you made a mistake,” I say. “I don't think keeping me alive is a good way to make Finn happy.”

  “Then you don't know very much about Finn.”

  I snort. “And you do?”

  The woman smiles. “I know him well enough.”

  There's something in the smile I don't like. Something that makes me want to claw her eyes out.