I'd Rather Not Be Dead (13 page)

“Why?” I try to get closer, but
he backs further away.

There's a pain in his eyes
that's too deep to be anything I caused. “I've fallen for someone
who could never love me back before. I'm not doing that again,
Drew.”

My blood tingles with chill. I
could try telling him that love and sex aren't the same, but he
knows that. That's his point, I think. That to him it has the
potential to be more while for me it wouldn't be anything beyond
physical. That's not entirely true. Even from just the kissing, I
know there's a more to it. Intimacy with Cris was never like that,
never so serious and... It was never a true emotional connection.
With Fray, it would be. But, he's right, it wouldn't be love. Not
the romantic kind. Not for me. “Fray...”

He shakes his head with a tiny,
unfelt smile. “Don't, luv. Don't apologize for something that isn't
your fault.”

I swallow. “I really do like
you.”

The smile gains strength,
although it stays just as sad. “I know. And thank you. For wanting
me. You're right about it being a very long time since anyone
looked at me like that.”

He swallows and there's a
visible crack in his resolve. “Go, Drew. Please?”

“Alright.”

I want to hug him again, in a
completely platonic way, but I know better.

Chapter Thirteen

With my new ability to move
through space, I zap myself to the town's movie theater. The place
offers only three screens and no stadium seating, but three movies
I've never seen before offer a whole afternoon's worth of
distraction.

Unwilling to lie down on the
sticky theater floors or even the worn carpet of the lobby, I walk
into the night, not sure where I'm going. The sky's clear, the
stars bright. When I first moved to Pine Ridge, I was astonished by
the number of stars. There are so many of them up here, so little
light pollution for competition.

Without meaning to, I find
myself standing outside of Cooper Finnegan's house, looking at the
attic windows. A light's on up there, one that flickers like a
television.

I catch a movement downstairs
and assume it's his mother until the figure comes into focus.
Cooper Finnegan. In the hideous living room with the demented teddy
bears. He's on the phone, pacing around as he talks. Who's he
talking to? Is it Bobbi?

He stops and looks out the
window, directly toward me. But he can't see me, can he? Not with
the lights on inside, reflecting against the darkness and the
windows.

I turn and stalk away. If he's
talking to Bobbi, what's he telling her? Promising her? Making her
believe? Fray was right, blast him. Bobbi didn't look like she'd
mind being used. And while I think she honestly feels something for
Finn, I doubt she would if he weren't The Cooper Finnegan, the most
popular boy in school. If he were just some guy with an attachment
to sarcasm too subtle for most people to catch and too deep a bond
with his ferrets, would she still want him? If he had half as many
piercings as Cris, would she look at him at all or would she ignore
him like she ignores Crispin Smith?

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 twenty
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.