Playlist for the Dead

by Michelle Falkoff

  “I know,” she said. “Why don’t I come to your house first and we can walk over together? Then maybe you won’t feel weird about going.”

  “That would be great,” I said, exhaling. I’d wanted to ask her if we could meet up first, but I’d been too nervous. So much for awkward sexual advances—I couldn’t even make awkward friendly advances. “Eric won’t mind?”

  “Not at all! He can drive us home.”

  For a second, I’d hoped she’d say that he wasn’t coming, that they’d broken up, but I reminded myself that she was my new friend, not my future girlfriend. Even if that might have been nice. Or amazing.

  Now I just had to wait for her to show up. Of all nights for Mom to be working the graveyard shift, this was the worst, because she hadn’t left the house yet.

  “Look at you,” she said, and messed up my hair.

  I ducked back. “Cut it out!”

  “Don’t worry, it still looks . . . I’m not sure what it is you’re going for here. It still looks messy. Is that what you want?”

  “It’s not messy,” I said. “It’s spiked.”

  “Sweetie, your hair’s a little too long for that. But it looks great. Really.”

  She totally didn’t mean it, but I didn’t care.

  “Now I have to get parental. Where is this party, and who’s going to be there? What time are you coming home?” She said it all rapid fire, like she was joking, but I knew she was serious.

  I didn’t see that it mattered, given that she’d be gone all night, but whatever. I gave her the details I knew and told her I had no idea who would be there or when I was coming back.

  “You’re just daring me to give you a curfew, aren’t you?”

  “Would you really do that?” She never had before. Then again, there hadn’t been much of a need.

  “Do I have to?” She frowned and put her hands on her hips.

  She didn’t, really—the town already had a curfew of midnight, so it wasn’t like I could stay out any later than that. Which I reminded her.

  “I guess that will do,” she said. “It’s already after eight. You should get going.”

  “I’m waiting for someone.” Crap, I could feel myself blushing.

  “You are?” Mom looked excited. “That’s great! Who?”

  “Um,” I said, “just someone.”

  “A male someone or a female someone?” She looked more intrigued than concerned. It was true that I’d never so much as mentioned a girl to her before; we’d had the talk years ago, the first time I’d asked her a question about babies, but other than that we’d steered clear of conversations about dating other than to make fun of Rachel’s choice of suitors.

  The doorbell rang before I could answer her question. I ran to answer it but Mom was closer and beat me there. “Hello,” she said, “I’m Sam’s mom. You can call me Sarah. And you are . . . ?”

  “Hi, I’m Astrid. Nice to meet you.”

  She didn’t seem at all annoyed to be meeting my mom, which was nice. And she looked fantastic—her whitish-blond hair was down and glittered with silver, gold, and bronze streaks, and she was wearing a silvery top and shiny gold pants and carrying a bronze backpack.

  “Is this a costume party?” Mom asked. “I think Sam might be a little underdressed here.”

  “Mom!” I yelled, but Astrid just laughed.

  “No, it’s just a regular party. I felt like getting fancy is all. This isn’t the kind of outfit I can wear to school.”

  “No, you’re right about that,” Mom agreed. I listened for her tone but she seemed amused. “Well, you’re very sparkly.”

  “That’s what I was going for,” Astrid said, and laughed again. “Sam, we should really get going.”

  “Okay. See you later, Mom.” I prayed she wouldn’t do something annoying like try to kiss me before I left.

  “Have fun,” she said. “And make sure to keep your phone on. You never know when I might need you.”

  I rolled my eyes as I shut the door behind me.

  “Your mom’s really sweet,” Astrid said.

  “She’s a total pain,” I said, but secretly I agreed with her. “What’s in the bag?” I pointed to her bulging bronze backpack.

  “That’s the beer,” she said. “It’s BYOB. No keg.”

  I hadn’t even thought of that. “I didn’t bring anything,” I said apologetically.

  “No worries. I brought enough to share. I don’t drink much, anyway.”

  My shoulders sagged; I hadn’t realized I’d tensed them. “Neither do I.”

  “Something else we have in common, then,” she said.

  Was I crazy, or was she flirting with me?

  “I like the T-shirt,” she said.

  I felt myself blushing again. “Thanks.”

  “You know, you haven’t commented on my outfit yet. Were you going to let your mom take care of that for you? Or do you not like it?” She almost looked worried. Did she really care what I thought?

  “No, I do, I mean, I meant to say—” Get it together, Sam. “You look great. Really. Sparkly, like my mom said.”

  She smiled then, a wide grin that made the gem in her lip ring sparkle in the dim light. She was so pretty, and I liked that it was an odd prettiness, that it wasn’t a given that everyone in the world would be able to see it. It made her special. To me, anyway.

  The streets were quiet and dark; this part of town didn’t have that many streetlights. The party wasn’t that far away, so we didn’t have to talk much, which was nice; I was too busy trying to figure out how to talk to Astrid. We walked for a few blocks, past the apartment building they’d been trying unsuccessfully to convert to condos for as long as I could remember, past the all-night 7-Eleven where some Mexican dudes in a cart outside sold some of the best tamales I’d ever had, not that I was any kind of expert on authentic Mexican food. The party was in a neighborhood filled with houses just like ours, little run-down one- and two-family setups with too many people crammed into too-small spaces.

  “We’re almost there,” Astrid said, and pointed to a house a block away. I heard the faint strains of music I actually liked blaring from the speakers and I could tell already that it would be a better party than any of the other ones I’d been to, where they played crappy radio dance pop.

  When we got to the door, though, I hesitated. I remembered the other night, Vampire Weekend playing in my head, along with the sound of Hayden laughing. Was I really ready for this?

  “Come on,” Astrid said, and grabbed my hand.

  The door opened into the living room; the house was laid out just like mine. It was a nice change from those other parties, where everything felt unfamiliar. Here I could almost feel at home. The room was full of the indie kids Astrid sat with at lunch—a few locals from my side of town, and the artsy kids from South Branch. Emo kids with dyed hair and piercings; skinny hipsters like Eric. I almost looked like I fit in. I almost felt it, too. It was a strange feeling, one I wasn’t used to.

  We walked through the living room to the kitchen, where Astrid took the beer out of her backpack, pulled out two for us, then stashed the rest in the fridge. We found a bottle opener and pulled off the caps, then clinked our bottles.

  “Cheers,” I said.

  “To a good night,” she said.

  I took a long sip of beer, almost spitting it out as soon as I remembered how gross it tasted. Maybe someday I’d get used to it, but I didn’t see it happening anytime soon.

  “Let’s meet some people,” she said, and steered me through the crowd. “Here’s someone I think you’ll like. Sam, meet Damian. Damian, Sam. You two get to know each other. I’ll be back.” She wandered off, greeting people as she went.

  Sure, not awkward at all. Especially for the guy who couldn’t even talk to people on the bus. I stared at Damian for a minute. “Dig the facial hair,” I said. Damian was the first high school student I’d ever seen who’d successfully managed to grow a full beard.

  “Thanks, man.” He s
miled and tugged at the end of it. “Most of it’s going to go in Movember.”

  “Movember?”

  “National mustache month. I’m thinking about a Van Buren.”

  “Van Buren?” Was I only going to be able to manage stupid questions?

  “After the president. He had some crazy facial hair going. Big mustache, big puffy sideburns, no beard. Sure to be a hit with the ladies.” He pulled out the sides of his beard to show where the sideburns would pouf out.

  I liked him immediately. It turned out he was taking extra writing and art classes so he could work on a graphic novel, so we immediately started debating the merits of the Walking Dead TV show versus the comic. It was the kind of conversation I used to have with Hayden, and it made me feel happy and lonely at the same time. I wasn’t replacing him, was I? We talked long enough for me to force down another couple of beers, which tasted less bitter now.

  I felt a poke on my left shoulder and turned toward it, only to find no one there. I heard Astrid laugh from my right side. “That still works on you, huh? Glad to see you two hitting it off.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Sam,” Damian said. “Maybe I’ll see you around school?”

  “Sure thing,” I said, and turned to Astrid. “You’re right on both counts. He seems really cool, and I’m very gullible. And possibly a little buzzed.” It was true; I was feeling looser, more relaxed. This must have been what people were going for. I could almost understand why people went to parties. Or at least why they tolerated beer.

  “From one beer? You really weren’t lying about not drinking much. Here, have another one.” She handed me a bottle.

  “Three, actually. And I don’t lie.” Which was mostly true.

  We walked over to the couch, which was mercifully unoccupied, and sat down. It had seen better days, and the cushions sagged so much I had to restrain myself from sliding into Astrid’s lap.

  “You don’t lie at all, huh?” she said. “So you’ll answer any question I ask, truthfully?” Her couch cushion must have been sagging too, because she kept moving closer and closer to me.

  “I didn’t say that. What about you? Are you a liar?” I meant it to sound flirty, but it came out kind of harsh.

  I thought maybe she’d be offended, but instead she lowered her eyelids. I could see that her eye shadow matched her outfit, all streaks of silver and gold. Even her eyelashes seemed to have gold mascara on them. “I’ve told some white lies. I try to avoid the whoppers, but sometimes it’s just a matter of evasion. How about you test me? Ask me a question.”

  Well, she was giving me an opening. We were sitting so close now our legs were pressed against each other. “Tell me how you knew Hayden.”

  She sat straight up and moved fully back onto her own cushion. It was like an invisible wall had dropped between us. Her hand moved to her head and she started pulling at one of her shiny hair extensions, and I realized she did that when she was nervous.

  “After all that, you’re not going to tell me?” I asked. “So much for not lying.”

  “It’s not that,” she said. “I just want you to have fun at this party, to get your mind off sad things. To not have to think so much about Hayden.”

  “I don’t really think about anything else these days,” I said, and that was only a little bit of a lie. Because I’d been thinking about her. A lot. “But if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”

  “No, I will.” She sighed, and I could tell she was thinking about the day she’d have to do it. I could see the image of bold, confident Astrid slip a little, revealing someone more anxious and nervous underneath. Someone more like me, maybe. “Someday, I promise. Let’s just enjoy the party for tonight, though, okay?” She leaned in closer to me, and the room got quiet, almost as if the party itself knew something important was about to happen.

  And unfortunately, it did.

  “What’s up, loser?”

  Trevor.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  HE LOOMED OVER THE COUCH, enormous and menacing. I pulled farther away from Astrid, who I could see was getting angry, and stood up. Of course he’d come now, just before it seemed like something was going to happen, even if I didn’t know what.

  “What are you doing here?” Astrid asked, her eyes narrowed.

  “Stay out of it, Alison,” he said.

  Alison?

  “Don’t call me that,” she said.

  What was he talking about? And what was he doing here? This wasn’t his kind of party.

  “You were out of line at the funeral, you little asshole,” he said, and pushed me back down on the couch.

  I tried not to flail in the cushions before getting up again, but there was no way to be graceful about it. “So you crashed a party to pick a fight with me? That’s your solution?” I could feel the fury growing in me. He was the one who made Hayden’s life miserable, and now he was mad at how I’d behaved at his funeral? Seriously? “Look at you—you’re a giant. You wouldn’t even feel it if I hit you. It’s so important to you, to preserve the sanctity of Hayden’s funeral, the kid whose life you helped to make a living hell? There wouldn’t have even been a funeral if it wasn’t for you.” Yelling at him was actually making me feel better. I barely noticed that there was a circle of people around us, watching. I wondered what they would do if Trevor really did decide to go after me.

  “You’re one to talk,” he said. “What makes you think you can put it all on me? I saw you at that party, just standing there, watching it all go down. Like you had his back? What makes you such a hero? At least I’m here because I’m looking out for my friend.”

  “Well, your friend can do just fine on his own. Now he doesn’t have an annoying little brother to make him look bad at school. He must be so happy.”

  Was I trying to make Trevor hit me? I didn’t have time to think about it before his fist connected with my cheek; it felt like my face had been turned into a baseball and someone had just hit a home run. It probably only took a second before I was back on the couch again, but it felt like it took ages to land.

  “Made your point, Trevor?” I heard Astrid say. “Now get the fuck out of here.” I felt the cushions sag as she sat down next to me. “You okay, Sam?”

  I nodded, but I might have been lying. I couldn’t tell if I was dizzy from Trevor’s knockout punch, or the beers, or the insomnia, but standing up didn’t seem like much of an option yet.

  “We’re not done,” Trevor said.

  “You really want to threaten me in front of everyone?” I said, but he was already walking away.

  I tried to get up and go after him but Astrid put her hand on my leg to stop me, and I was grateful—I still wasn’t sure if I could stand up without immediately falling back down. “Let him go,” she said. “He’ll get his someday. It doesn’t have to be now.”

  “I would have loved to get just one punch in, though. Even if it didn’t do any good.”

  “No need to behave like some dumb guy,” she said. She was starting to look pissed off. “I thought you were better than that.”

  I’d always thought I was, too. But now I was starting to wonder. “I’m not usually like that, I swear,” I said. “Look, remember how I said I’d tell you the truth?”

  She nodded.

  “Let me try it out.” I’d never said it out loud before, but now seemed like the right time. “Those guys were at the party, the night Hayden—you know. They were awful to him, like they always were. Worse. And I just stood there, like Trevor said. I didn’t do a goddamn thing. I never have. Which means this is all my fault. The only thing that makes me feel better is blaming them. I know it’s super hypocritical to have wanted to stand up for myself now, when I never stood up for him, but better late than never, I guess.”

  Her eyes softened a little. “You know it’s not your fault, Sam, right?”

  “How
can you say that?”

  “Tell me what happened,” she said.

  Stephanie Caster lived just a few blocks away from Hayden, in a house that looked like it came out of a movie. Half the walls were made out of glass; everything else was black, white, or metallic. Angular. Which was ironic, because I’d bet that Stephanie was the least angular girl at Libertyville High. She was a basketball cheerleader with a ridiculous body—curvy everywhere you’d want it to be—who’d been a killer gymnast until the ridiculous body showed up. She was the bendiest person I’d ever seen. And yet she lived in a house where every single thing was square. Or rectangular. Whatever.

  “This place is bizarre,” I muttered to Hayden, but he wasn’t listening. The living room was packed full of people, and he was scanning the crowd. Who was he looking for? His brother and his friends weren’t going to be there; it was the only reason I’d agreed to come. I tried not to be annoyed at him for ignoring me; after all, I was the one who’d been pushing him to go out more, so I should have been happy that he was finally willing, right? I’d been getting more and more frustrated with how insular we were, and though we weren’t growing apart exactly, Hayden was spending more and more time on the computer, and I wanted to get out and join the world. For the last few weeks he’d wanted to stay in and play Mage Warfare all the time, and I realized that without him I had nothing. No one else to call, no interests that we didn’t share. The fact was, I was lonely.

  Well, now I was at a party, and Hayden had wandered off to do whatever it was he was planning on, and I really was alone, even in a room full of people. This wasn’t what I had wanted, not at all.

  The keg was in the back of the living room, so I filled a red plastic cup with what seemed like mostly foam and looked around to see if there was anyone I could talk to. But it was mostly basketball and track jocks; the football guys and their friends weren’t there, but neither were the more artsy kids that sometimes came to the few parties I’d considered attending. There were some girls from my classes, but the cute ones were there with their boyfriends. Coming here was a mistake. At least I’d learned that going to parties wasn’t the answer. I just wanted to go home. I slurped up some foam and looked for Hayden, but I didn’t see him anywhere.