I'd Rather Not Be Dead

by Andrea Brokaw

  “Bummer,” the taller girl pretends to pout for a second, then gives her friend a smirk, like she's certain he's just trying to keep whoever he skipped school for secret and doesn't want to leave her alone on a Friday night.

  “You're bailing on us?” one of the guys asks, giving Finn a slightly disgusted look. He's probably thinking the same thing as the girls but isn't amused by it like they are.

  Finn spreads his hands out, like he's helpless. “My uncle really needs this. I promised a week ago.”

  They mumble and groan some more, but eventually let us pass on our way to the hardware store to relieve Finn's uncle.

  Customers keep Finn from calling out to his grandfather, but I have no problems with yelling for Al. Not that it does me any good. If he's here, he's hiding.

  I jump up on the counter, my legs swinging as I watch Finn interact with the people who pass through. With them, he's the same Cooper Finnegan I've known for years.

  Maybe part of my problem with him in the past, the part that wasn't based on the simple fact people like him and don't like me, was that on some level I always sensed there was another Finn in there, that this facade is... Well, a facade. The mask isn't malicious. It isn't manipulative. I don't even think it's conscious. It's not a lie so much as camouflage.

  The sun sets outside and the flow of traffic slows to a trickle as the clock creeps closer to closing time. We're still thirty minutes shy of being officially able to shut down when a man rushes in looking frantically for a toilet flapper.

  Finn's led the guy a few feet from the register when Fray suddenly appears next to me. Finn falters for a fraction of a second but then continues to lead the customer away.

  Leaning against the counter, Fray puts his elbows next to where I sit. He's dressed today in a plain gray tee over a gray thermal shirt. The colors strike me as unusually... Ghostly.

  “Where have you been?” I open with.

  He gives me a crooked smile. “It's the day after Halloween, luv. You didn't expect me to be up early, did you?”

  Breathing out in a amused puff, I pull my feet up and hug my knees. “What were you up late doing?”

  He laughs, the sound rolling easily off of him. “Nothing half as interesting as what I wanted to be doing.” He pauses for a heartbeat. “How was your night?”

  Nice evasion of a simple question. “Crap,” I state with complete honesty. “But the morning was better.”

  His eyebrows go up. “Oh?”

  Something in the twinkle of his eyes says he's seeing things in my mind. Things involving Finn, I'd bet. “Mind your own business.” I concentrate on closing that imaginary book in my head.

  Fray beams and I sigh. “You knew about Finn and me all along, didn't you?”

  He continues to smile at me.

  “Did you know what Rain told me?” I ask.

  “Rain?” He frowns at the linoleum floor. “Your kid sister, right? Not the stuff from clouds?”

  “She had a dream.” I lean close even though there's no one to overhear me. He turns his head to watch. “A dream her big sister went over a cliff and died.”

  His face is still for a few seconds, his eyes locked on mine. “And you don't think it's a coincidence?”

  “It could have been,” I admit. His eyes aren't so much as blinking and our faces are close enough his fills my entire vision, yet I have no idea what he's thinking. “But Finn and I walked out to where I woke up. It's right next to a decent drop.”

  He shifts ever so slightly away and nods slowly. “It's possible then. Does she know when it happens?”

  “No.” My shoulders slump with the negative and my chin drops onto my knees. “But before winter.”

  “Not much time then,” he remarks, scratching a point just below his ear.

  Shaking my head, I agree. “No.”

  With a sad smile, he moves a loose shaft of hair from my cheek to behind my ear. “We'll have to figure something out fast then, won't we?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper, my heart whimpering a little. There's no point in trying and I think we all know it.

  Fray's lips twitch as he moves back enough to glance into the store depths. His eyes dance with amusement when he looks back to me. “You'd best get over to the boy before his customer there decides he has an irrational hatred of cash registers.”

  “What?” Startled, I look over to where Finn stands at the edge of an aisle. He quickly moves his head, pretending he wasn't watching me.

  “Can't blame him for being jealous,” Fray drawls. “I'm clearly the more handsome of us. The wittier. The wiser... Hey, why do you like him more anyway?”

  I smack Fray's shoulder. “He doesn't live somewhere with deer heads on the wall.”

  “I knew it was something shallow like that.” He winks at me, waves toward Finn, and vanishes.

  Finn's started on his way back over here already, customer in tow, so I stay put and wait for him. His eyes focus on me while he walks but he forces them away when he gets behind the till. The tight smile he wore for me is replaced by a broader, easier, and less genuine one as he rings up the purchase and runs the man's credit card. He's still smiling as the man leaves but the expression drops the instant the door shuts.

  Silently, Finn bends his head and starts to count the money in the till, apparently deciding to close out a few minutes early. Not sure if I should be saying something, I sweep the floors while he works with the cash register and makes sure everything's in order for the morning.

  “What did Fray say?” he asks as I come to a stop, surprising me with the sudden sound.

  “Um...” I lean the broom against the wall I found it on. “Nothing really. He wasn't too happy Rain didn't get a date for us. And he wasn't at all surprised to hear about you and me.”

  Finn watches me silently for a few heartbeats. “But he did hear about that?”

  Squinting in confusion, I cross the space between us. “It was right there at the front of my mind when he popped in. You know, like it's been all day?”

  Turning hastily, Finn goes to the security monitor on the wall and punches a bunch of buttons on it. “Come on,” he says. “We have thirty seconds to split.”

  Still confused, I shrug and go to the door, waiting for Finn to open it in case there's anyone around to notice.

  The shopping district's virtually deserted. A handful of businesses still have lights on, but most of the stores have shut up already and there's nothing interesting until the theater six blocks up. Finn locks the door and then stares at it like he's forgotten he was in a hurry to leave.

  I reach my hand into his jacket pocket in a way that's already become comfortably familiar. He squeezes back at my fingers, then starts down the street.

  “I'm sorry,” he says, his eyes on the sidewalk and his thumb rubbing the side of my hand.

  “What'd you do now?”

  He smiles faintly. “I'm sorry for being an ass about Fray. It's just... You two are so...” His head shakes. “Never mind. I was being a jerk and I'm sorry.”

  Squeezing his hand, I wonder what to say. Fray and I are flirtatious. It's just the way we are, but I don't think I want to get into how I know for certain the flirting was never meant to go anywhere.

  “Your line,” Finn says, “is 'Why start apologizing now? You've always been a jerk.'”

  I laugh. “And too stupid to count. That was two lines.”

  “That's my girl.”

  “Good lord,” I whisper. “I'm Cooper Finnegan's girl?”

  He grins at me. “Don't let it go to your head.”

  “Go to my head?” I exclaim, my eyes wide with dramatic horror. “It's a good thing I'm dead because if anyone saw me with you, I'd die of embarrassment.”

  “Ouch. Uncle. You win. Just stop before you make me cry.” He tugs me into an ally that will hide us from being spotted from Main Street.

  “Oh, big strong football player can't handle-”

  The taunt is silenced as he pins me against a rough brick wall and s
lams his mouth over mine. It's several minutes before he takes his lips away. “Knew that would shut you up,” he teases.

  “Hey, if that's my reward for mocking you...” I grin wickedly.

  He rolls his eyes and heads back onto Main Street. “I'm a glutton for punishment, aren't I?”

  “I've always thought so.” Bouncing a little, I catch up to him and slide my hand back into his pocket. “And I'm very grateful for it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Our comfortable silence is broken near the theater by a group of people from Fort Jesus flanking the drive to the parking lot behind the building with placards demanding we not watch the horror movie opening this weekend.

  “You heard anything about this?” I let go of Finn's hand to run up to the signs and examine one featuring a somewhat cliché-looking movie poster with a big red slash over it. “Maybe it's good if they're bothering to protest it.”

  A handful of kids from school are with the group, Ricky Woodman among them. And, yes, there's Tanya, shuffling uncomfortably in the back. “You don't mind harassing people on campus, but picketing a theater is beyond your comfort threshold?” I ask her.

  Both Tanya and Ricky look exhausted. And they're going out of their ways not to look at each other. Romantic drama amongst the Christian right? Oddly enough, I would have credited Tanya with better taste.

  The Bible thumper in question spots Finn, who shoots me an annoyed look for pulling him this way instead of letting him cross the street away from the crazies, and hands her placard to the woman beside her before trotting over. “Finn?” she asks, wide eyes teased with tears.

  I frown, wondering both at her tone and expression. I can't read either of them beyond telling she's upset.

  “Yeah?” He stops to look down at her, the corners of his eyes creasing in muted concern.

  Trembling, Tanya wrings her hands, looking lost. I could say something insulting about that, but it would be too mean to pick on someone on the verge of breaking down, even if she wouldn't hear me.

  “Don't waste your time,” Ricky tells her, striding over with an aggressive glower.

  Finn gives him a funny look, confused by the hostility. “It's almost like he knows my evil's spread to you,” I observe.

  Even more pale than she was a second ago, Tanya shakes her head. “I'm not.”

  “Um...” Finn's eyes move between the pair as they glare at one another. “Don't worry, I'm not watching the movie. I'm on my way home.”

  “This isn't about the movie,” Ricky snaps, his eyes still on Tanya.

  Tanya's spine is so rigid it's creating a secondary tremble in harmony with her overall shaking. Her gaze moves pleadingly to Finn, but he doesn't appear to have any more clue what she wants from him than I do.

  “Are you okay, Tanya?”

  Her mouth opens, but before she can speak, Ricky cuts her off. “Of course she's okay.”

  Yeah, that's reassuring, isn't it?

  Finn frowns at Ricky before moving his eyes to study Tanya more closely. “Tanya?”

  “I'm fine,” she whispers, sounding cowed.

  She starts to retreat, walking backward, but her eyes are on Finn's like she's trying really hard to tell him something.

  “I don't believe her,” I state, relatively certain Finn doesn't either.

  “Excuse her,” Ricky says. “She's been working too hard. I keep trying to get her to slow down, but...” He shrugs. “Women, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.” Finn doesn't say anything beyond that but the look he gives Ricky is full of accusation.

  The nuances in Finn's expression seem to pass right over Ricky's head as the boy laughs and trots back to his starting position. He keeps an eye on Tanya while Finn starts past, but he looses sight of her when Finn stops between them.

  “Wait by the ads,” Tanya hisses quickly. “Not for me. For-” She stops abruptly and tries to look innocent as Ricky moves to lock her in his sites again.

  “What the hell?” I ask the universe in general.

  Tanya switches gears, moving through the gaggle of protesters to a place in the front, where she starts chanting about salvation. I shake my head at her. “That girl's been going at the communion wine.”

  “Juice,” Finn mutters as he starts moving again. “Baptists substitute juice for wine.”

  He's frowning when he stops by the row of posters advertising the coming attractions.

  “You're doing what she said?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I don't know. I'm trying to figure out what's up with her.”

  Folding my arms, I lean against the wall and look over to the gathering. Tanya's still in front, Ricky hovering in the back and sending her lethal glances. I've always referred to The Crusade as a cult, but are they turning into one in reality? Or is this some form of domestic abuse? Or... Or what? And who's Finn's supposed to be waiting on? How long are we going to stand here waiting to find out?

  There's a line at the box office, a fairly long one despite the protest. Or possibly on account of it. Even in a place like this, rallies against films are excellent publicity. Several people I know are waiting in the queue, including Bobbi, Cris, and the other me. No, they aren't all together. Bobbi's ahead of TOM and Cris, with her friends. Cris's staring at her like an addict. He'd better get over that before she notices and takes out a restraining order.

  Finn tenses as he turns to scan the line. I don't know if it's because the old me is with Cris or because the current me is looking at them. Either way, it's annoying and I smack his arm lightly. “Hey, you're The Cooper Finnegan. No one with 'the' in their name should be as insecure as you.”

  That brings forth an expression somewhere between amusement and despair. “You have some strange ideas about me.”

  “Yeah, for a while there I was thinking you were tolerable,” I tease.

  One side of his mouth slides up into a smile that doesn't touch anywhere else. “I keep expecting you to decide you're wrong about that.”

  My insides clinch at the pained honesty in his words. “I won't.”

  “Talking to posters?” the other me asks. She's dressed up by our standards, in a skirt that falls around her knees and tights with little hearts made out of bones on them. Her hair's in pigtails for an anime punk sort of look.

  “Why not?” Finn asks.

  “Because they don't talk back?”

  He grins. “Thus the attraction.”

  Her eyes narrow. She's likely wondering if he was somehow insulting her with that. She probably assumes he was and she's angry over not understanding exactly how.

  His shoulders slump a little and he gives me a look that clearly reads, “See? I didn't do anything!” With a sympathetic smile, I reach for his hand to give it a squeeze.

  We start to walk away from TOM but she grabs Finn's arm. We both stop, staring at her hand against his jacket sleeve.

  “Could you give me a ride home?” she asks.

  Finn falters, thrown off by the request. “I didn't bring the truck.”

  “The Hillbilly-mobile in the shop?” TOM glares as if he'd only be on foot to inconvenience her.

  “She's just pissy because she doesn't have her own car,” I assure Finn.

  The other me lets out an annoyed sigh and looks over her shoulder. Cris slumps against the far wall, arms crossed as he glares over here. “Could you pretend you're giving me a ride?”

  Finn follows her eyes. “Why?”

  “Dammit, Cooper Finnegan, it's none of your business why.” She stomps up the sidewalk, leaving Finn looking shell shocked.

  We hurry after her. “You asked me for a favor,” Finn says. “I don't have the right to ask why?”

  “No, you don't.”

  She seems to realize that's ridiculous by the change in her expression, but she doesn't volunteer the information. So I do. “Cris was staring at Bobbi's ass in line.”

  “Oh,” he utters dully.

  “Oh?” the other me asks.

  “You're trying to make
Cris jealous,” he lets her know.

  “Duh.” She rolls her eyes. “You thought I actually wanted to spend time with you?”

  “Perish the thought,” he says with a grumpy scowl. My hand squeezes his inside his pocket. “Why pick me though, there were other people around. Maybe even some you can stand.”

  She snorts. “Right. People I can stand are in such great abundance around here.”

  Just before we hit the corner we're going to turn at, I look back at the cinema. Cris's eyes are glued on us, but his aren't alone. Both Tanya and Ricky are staring as well. Ricky and Cris look annoyed, the latter simmering on the edge of being really and truly pissed off. Whereas Tanya... If I'm not completely mistaken, she looks hopeful. What the hell does that girl know?

  I nearly turn around to run back, but it's obvious there's no point trying to learn anything from her with Ricky around. Assuming I'm still trying not to die before Monday, Finn should be able to get her on her own at school.

  We turn off Main Street, lose the sidewalk, and start walking along the side of the road toward our houses. The other me hesitates for a few yards, but then speaks. “I picked you because Cris's lone consultation in life is that I can't stand you. He's already so jealous of you it makes him sick.”

  “He's jealous of me because you can't stand me?” Finn asks, squinting a little.

  “Idiot,” TOM breathes. “No, he's jealous of you because everyone else worships you. He'd give anything to have everyone adore him. To have Bobbi adore him...” Her feet stumble and her jaw sets itself. Pulling a package of cigarettes from her pocket, she lights one without slowing down.

  Finn doesn't seem to know what to say, although I don't see how TOM's words could possibly come as a surprise to him. “You sure making him angry is something you need to be doing?” he asks eventually.

  I catch onto what he means before the other me does. Numbly, I shake my head. No... No, I'm still not going to believe Cris pushes me off of that overlook. He'll yell about this, he'll curse, he'll punch walls. But he won't hurt me.