Playlist for the Dead

by Michelle Falkoff

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  MOM, RACHEL, AND JIMMY were all hanging out in the living room when I got home. “Did I miss a party?” I asked. There was an empty box of pizza on the coffee table. “Is this becoming a weekly thing?”

  Mom lounged in her usual chair, the one that Hayden had always liked. “Did you meet with the guidance counselor? The school called, you know.”

  “Forget the guidance counselor,” Rachel said. “I heard you’ve been hanging around with Alison Whitman.”

  Word traveled fast. “She goes by Astrid now.”

  “Is that the girl who came over before that party?” Mom asked. “She has an . . . unusual sense of style.”

  Rachel snorted. “Weird, you mean.”

  “You’re one to talk,” I pointed out. Rachel’s current ensemble included yet another tiny skirt, plus eye shadow in so many shades of pink, purple, and orange that her eyes looked like the sunset I’d just seen.

  “Peace, all,” Jimmy said, which was also hilarious since he appeared to be wearing some sort of studded dog collar. He didn’t exactly look like the U.N. But it seemed to work, or at least it bought me a minute to drop my stuff and sit down on the couch.

  “What did you and the guidance counselor talk about?” Mom asked.

  I glanced over at Jimmy. “Glad to know we’ve got such a good sense of boundaries around here,” I said. “Beaumont said it was confidential.”

  “Nice try,” Mom said. “Nothing’s confidential from your mother.”

  Yeah, I hadn’t expected that to work. “We talked mostly about Hayden. And some weird stuff that’s been happening at school.”

  “Like Trevor Floyd getting beat up after that party you went to?” Rachel asked. “It’s all anyone’s talking about. You know what the rumors are, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “What rumors?” Mom asked. “I know I’m not around as much as I’d like, but that means you kids need to do a better job of keeping me informed.”

  Rachel laughed. “Relax, Mom. The rumor is that Chickenbutt over here is responsible, but look at him. There’s no way he could beat up a guy that big.”

  “Piss off, Rachel,” I said.

  “Language, Sam!” Mom gave me a stern look.

  Rachel had called me Chickenbutt since I was little, because I’d always been so scrawny. It was true I hadn’t filled out much, if at all, but it was kind of offensive that she didn’t think I was capable of doing something. Making an impact. I mean, I wanted it to not be true, but still.

  “You’d be surprised what people can do when they’re pushed,” Jimmy said. “Not that I’m saying you did anything, Sam. Just saying.”

  I knew what he meant, and I felt oddly grateful to him for saying it.

  “Sam, you came right home from the party, didn’t you?” Mom asked, brow furrowed.

  “Of course, Mom.” Even though I was getting more and more worried about that all the time, there was no need to give her something else to worry about. “So are there any other theories about who might have done this?” I asked Rachel. “Besides me?”

  “Well, some people think they aren’t connected,” she said. “People kind of knew about Jason already. And you know Trevor. He’s always been an a—” She looked over at Mom. “—a very not nice person.”

  “Could have been his ’roid dealer,” I said.

  “I think people usually get steroids from their gyms,” Jimmy said. Mom gave him a “you-would-know” look, and Jimmy held his hands up. “No personal knowledge here. Just city living.”

  “Do you miss it there?” I asked. Anything to change the subject.

  “Yeah, I do,” he said. “But I’m hoping to head back there for college.”

  Mom’s eyes widened. “College?” she asked hopefully. “For some reason I assumed you weren’t in high school now.”

  “Because I look like a dropout?” He laughed. “I had enough credits to graduate a year early, between my AP classes and some college courses I’d been taking on the side. They gave me a diploma before I left. I’m spending the year taking some online science classes and working on nailing the SAT so I can get a scholarship. I’m going to be a doctor.”

  He said it with confidence—not “I want to be a doctor,” or “I’m hoping to be a doctor,” but “I’m going to be.” And I believed him.

  “See?” Rachel said. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Mom.”

  “Guilty as charged,” she said.

  Apparently I wasn’t the only one who was finding people surprising these days. It made me wonder whether everyone had these secret lives, these aspects of themselves that didn’t match who they seemed to be. Just thinking about it made me tired, though, and I remembered that I’d all but pulled an all-nighter the night before. I had to make up some ground. I was just about to make my excuses when Jimmy said, “Sam, you got a minute?”

  “Sure,” I said, though I had no idea what he wanted. “I was just about to go upstairs and try to crash early. Mind if we hang out in my room?”

  I saw him look over at Rachel, and she gave a little nod. So they’d planned this.

  We went upstairs; I sat on my bed while Jimmy looked around at all my stuff. “Nice book collection,” he said. “You a big reader?”

  “Used to be,” I said. “I’m more into video games now.”

  He smiled. “Rachel mentioned that. You know she blew me off when you guys were playing Halo, right?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Me neither,” he said. “But I was glad you guys were bonding.”

  Who was this guy? “I don’t know if I’d call it that.”

  “Well, you should know that she’s looking out for you,” he said. “And I just wanted to say that I know we don’t know each other that well, but there aren’t that many people in the world who’ve gone through the stuff we have. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I’ve been better,” I admitted. There were actually a lot of things I wanted to ask him, like whether he’d had anything weird happen to him, like whether he’d seen his friend even after he was gone, but I couldn’t find the words to say it without sounding like an insane person. But there was one thing. “When did it get better?” I asked. “When did you start to feel like it was okay to, like, be in the world again?” I didn’t know how to describe the mixture of elation and guilt I was feeling about Astrid, so I didn’t try.

  “That’s a tough one,” he said, and sat down on the bed with me. “It wasn’t an all-of-a-sudden kind of thing. I think I just went through the motions for a while—I tried being normal, going to school and all that, but it wasn’t working for me. I guess I wanted closure, but I was never going to get it, because the only person who could tell me why things had gone down the way they did was dead. Once I made my peace with that, I started being able to think about other things. Moving helped, too—I needed some distance. Does that help at all?”

  “A little,” I said, which was accurate. I didn’t have the option of moving, and while I got what he was saying about closure, Hayden had kind of left the door open—he’d all but told me that there was something to figure out, so I needed to do it.

  “I know it’s not the same for you,” he said. “But maybe it will help to keep busy, do new things. Rachel mentioned that there was a girl . . .”

  “I don’t want to talk—”

  He held up his hands. “I’m not asking. I’m just saying you should go with it. You won’t be able to stop thinking about what happened if you sit home by yourself. Listen, Rachel was telling me about this thing happening over the weekend she thought I’d get a kick out of—something called mudding? Whatever it is, we don’t have it in Chicago. You should come with us.”

  I’d heard of it—it sounded kind of stupid. Guys in trucks basically drag racing in the
mud. Kind of a macho thing. Ryan used to race Trevor’s enormous red pickup sometimes—I guess Trevor wasn’t very good at it. Didn’t seem like something I’d be into, but Rachel’s boyfriends had always been into it, and she must have liked it, too, because she always went with them. “I don’t know,” I said.

  Rachel came down the hall and stood in the doorway, as if on cue. I wondered if she’d been eavesdropping. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Come on, it’ll be something different,” she said. She actually wanted me to go? With her, in public? This was new. “It’s one of the few social events at school where anyone can go and not feel weird. People don’t get all judgy. They just get dirty.”

  “I’ll consider it,” I said.

  “Think of it as a favor to me,” Jimmy said. “I don’t think I’ll be in my element there, you know?”

  Oh, I did.

  Once he left, I debated whether to turn on the computer or just go straight to bed. But there was so much swirling around in my head and I just wished there was someone I could talk to about it. The problem was, the person I really wanted to talk to was Hayden. When would I stop feeling this way? When would he stop being the first person I wanted to call whenever anything happened?

  Maybe it was time to give in. Even if I was delusional, there was a good chance I could turn on my computer right now and someone named ArchmageGed would show up. And maybe he’d be cryptic and annoying, just like Hayden, but maybe he would also listen. Like he’d asked me to do.

  It was worth a shot. I booted up the computer and logged into Gchat.

  SamGoldsmith: Are you here?

  And then I inhaled deeply, and wrote,

  I believe you now.

  It wasn’t entirely true, but it didn’t matter.

  The cursor blinked for a long time, so long I thought maybe I’d fallen asleep when I heard the ping of a new message.

  ArchmageGed: Really?

  I could almost feel hopefulness in the word. It sounded like Hayden.

  SamGoldsmith: Sure.

  I couldn’t help but sound skeptical. I was never very good at lying to him.

  ArchmageGed: Do you need someone to talk to? Is that it?

  SamGoldsmith: Kind of. I’ve been listening to the playlist and I’m trying to figure things out, but I need help.

  That was the truth, for sure.

  ArchmageGed: I’m afraid there’s not much I can do, not from here.

  SamGoldsmith: Where’s “here”?

  This was getting interesting.

  ArchmageGed: Are you trying to start a conversation about the afterlife? I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  If this was Hayden, he was as maddening as ever.

  SamGoldsmith: Can’t you tell me something? Anything? Who’s Athena? What happened to Jason and Trevor? Tell me I’m not crazy.

  ArchmageGed: I can’t tell you that. You were always batshit.

  I almost started laughing, but I was too frustrated.

  SamGoldsmith: Come on, give me something.

  ArchmageGed: What is it that you really need to know that you don’t know already, that matters? Jason and Trevor are assholes who got what they deserve. Athena was a secret I kept from you, and I know that makes you mad, but wasn’t I allowed to have secrets?

  Not from me, I wanted to write.

  SamGoldsmith: Just tell me. Who hurt Jason and Trevor? Was it you? Was it me?

  ArchmageGed: Like I said, does it really matter?

  Was he kidding? Did he not see how much it mattered?

  SamGoldsmith: It does to me. I could be in real trouble here.

  ArchmageGed: You’ll be fine.

  I wondered if he was just telling me what I wanted to hear.

  ArchmageGed: You have Astrid now, right?

  How did he know that?

  SamGoldsmith: I think so. I hope so. But I still have so many questions. Anything you want to tell me? Secrets you want to share?

  ArchmageGed: You’re mad I didn’t tell you about her before. I understand.

  Of course he did. He always understood. I shivered a little, even though it wasn’t cold.

  ArchmageGed: I wanted you to meet her someday. I knew you’d be good for each other.

  SamGoldsmith: Were we supposed to share her or something?

  I wasn’t completely convinced that she was Athena; there were so many things about it that didn’t make sense. But right now it was the only option I had. And I hadn’t even begun to deal with the idea of me and Hayden being into the same girl.

  The cursor blinked. Was he not going to explain?

  SamGoldsmith: Hello?

  The cursor blinked again. I heard thunder outside my window, and then the crack and flash of a bolt of lightning. It started to rain, slowly at first, then in loud, pounding drops that clattered on the roof so hard I wondered if it might be hailing, too. After what felt like at least fifteen minutes I looked at the clock, only to once again be surprised to find how many hours had passed.

  Finally, the Archmage started typing again.

  ArchmageGed: The answers are all in the playlist. Time for act three.

  And then he was gone.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  I’D HAD ENOUGH OF ARCHMAGEGED and his cryptic bullshit. Between him showing up and me goading him into showing up I was never going to sleep again. And if I stayed as fuzzy as I had been, who knew what would happen? “Time for act three”?

  That had to mean Ryan was next.

  I didn’t know what to do. The more I learned, the more I hated him. He’d been a terrible brother to Hayden, and it turned out he’d been a terrible boyfriend to Astrid, too. Why should I care if something bad happened to him?

  But I wasn’t a big fan of Jason or Trevor, either, and I still felt sick inside thinking about what had happened to them. Sure, they deserved it, to a point, but not like that. Part of the reason I hated to think that I might be responsible was because things hadn’t gone down the way I would have wanted them to. I didn’t like all these secrets; I wanted things out in the open. I wanted the world to know that all three of those guys were bad people; having bad things happen to them wasn’t the same with making them, and everyone else, deal with who they really were.

  I realized, then, that I didn’t want something mysterious and bad to happen to Ryan. I wanted him to have to deal with who he was and how that made him responsible. Which meant I had to stop whatever was supposed to happen next.

  But first I had to figure out what that was.

  I fell asleep listening to the playlist, hoping some clue was buried in the lyrics, but I wasn’t getting it. More songs about sadness, about love, about death . . . I didn’t know what to do except try and figure out where some of them had come from. That meant I had to find out, once and for all, whether Athena was really Astrid. And I knew where I had to start.

  I texted Astrid to see if she could meet me after school; I knew we didn’t share a lunch period that day. And then I picked the most soothing song on the playlist and got some much-needed sleep.

  I spent the day at school alternating between trying to figure out what exactly to say to her and how to avoid the stares and whispers of the other students, who obviously had all heard the rumors about Jason and Trevor. Every time I heard footsteps behind me in the halls I flinched, sure that the police had finally decided to question me. It was only a matter of time.

  The plan was to meet up at the mall. I went there straight from school; I had last period off, and I wanted some time to hang out at the ITC. I hadn’t been there since the day of Hayden’s funeral, and I was used to going there all the time. I hoped the manager wouldn’t ask me about Hayden again, but I could handle it. Besides, the new American Vampire was out, and I’d been making a point of reading it in the store when I could get away with it so I wouldn’t have to buy the hardcovers. Stephen King had written the first one, and
he was one of my favorite writers—I’d read all his early stuff, even the novellas he wrote under a fake name, and I’d spent hours as a kid trying to light fires with my mind, looking at cars and dogs trying to figure out which ones might be secretly evil. I’d tried for years to get Hayden to read them, but there was the whole dyslexia thing, which I should have been more sensitive about. Just another thing to regret.

  The comics and graphic novels were in the back of the store, so I walked quickly through the aisles, past the sci-fi and gaming sections, to avoid the manager. There weren’t many people around, which hopefully meant I could read in peace. I thought I caught a glimpse of that short-haired girl who hung out with Eric, Jess, but when I turned around she was gone. Must have been imagining it—it was so rare to see girls here.

  The fourth volume had just come out, and I gratefully settled into reading about Skinner Sweet, the first of the American vampire bloodline. The series was awesome because it combined all the goriness of the vampire legend with stories about the Wild West and other eras in American history. I’d never been much of a history buff, but it was way more fun learning about it when you thought about vampires being involved.

  I was so engrossed in the story that I almost flung the book across the room when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. Crap. The manager was going to kick me out. I got ready to plead with him to just let me finish this issue, and turned around.

  There was no one there.

  But then I heard Astrid laugh. “I can’t believe that worked on you again!” She was on my other side.

  “What a pleasant surprise,” I said. And it was. I couldn’t help but be happy to see her, no matter what other things I was worried about.