I'd Rather Not Be Dead (2 page)

“If I had, do you think I'd be
talking to you?”

He sighs and shakes his head.
His lips press together, then relax. “Guess not.”

Impatient, I dig my nails into
the fabric of my shirt and tap my foot as I wait on him to get to
the point.

“I'm the kid from The Sixth
Sense,” Cooper Finnegan informs the shiny wooden flooring.

I growl.

“I see dead people?”

“Really? Well, boyo for you.” I
always knew he was crazy, I just never cared enough to bother
proving it. “Do any of them know who that girl is?”

He shakes his head. “You don't
understand...”

“No, I get it. You see
ghosties.” If he wants to hallucinate, that's his business. I
couldn't care less.

His eyes move up and lock onto
mine. “I'm seeing one now.”

My body feels like it's encased
in ice.

“What do you mean?” I ask, even
though I know.

He swallows. His eyes shimmer.
“You're dead, Drew.”

“Dead?”

Cooper Finnegan nods. “Sometimes
the trauma that creates a ghost sends the ghost back in time. The
other you, she's you. The living you, before you died.”

The absolute worst thing about
this moment? That I believe him.

He quivers as he stands and
gives me a long look.

“Drew, I'm sorry. I...” He draws
an unsteady breath, shakes his head, and takes a step back. “I'm
just really sorry.”

And he leaves me to think about
what he said, almost running in his haste to get away.

“Yeah, right.” I glower at the
empty bleachers. “Like Cooper Finnegan would care if I died. He's
obviously making things up. Obviously.”

I sit, draw my knees up, and I
cry. I cry until the next period, then I cry some more as the
freshman storm the room for gym class. And then I laugh, because
the only thing I can think is, “But I don't believe in ghosts.”

Chapter Two

The cafeteria at my old school
was at least three times the size of the one at Pine Bridge and we
crammed six times as many people into it. So that's one thing that
Pine Bridge has going for it, being less crowded. It's probably the
only thing better about this place. Well, okay, that and the view.
My old school looked out at the back of a factory that had been
around since the eighteen hundreds. The view out of the windows of
Pine Bridge is more like a post card. Mountains, check. Trees,
check. Happy fluffy clouds, check. There's even a river lazing its
way past under a trestle bridge.

I find myself having lunch and
sit down beside me.

Okay, thinking like that's going
to drive me very crazy very fast. I think I'll try that thought
over again..

I find the other me having lunch
and sit down beside her, trying not to think too hard about why I
can sit on furniture and walk on floors but can't touch things like
people and text books. The other me shakes her head in
exasperation. “I don't have your weed!”

Cris's eyes narrow. “I gave it
to you Monday.”

“No, you didn't.”

They do a few rounds of
did-too-did-not while my head throbs. If this is my past, shouldn't
I remember it? Is memory loss is a side-effect of death trauma?

Death trauma. Shit. Deep
breaths, Drew. Don't lose your cool. One lapse into weepy hysterics
was enough, no need for a repeat. Maybe Cooper Finnegan's wrong, it
would hardly be the first time. Or maybe he's lying. Maybe this is
his idea of a joke.

I turn my stare to him and catch
him looking away. He's all pale and somber and doesn't strike me as
someone who's pulling a prank.

Cris makes an annoyed sound.
“Why does that ass keep looking at you?”

“Because I'm dead,” I
answer.

“How should I know?” the other
me asks.

The real question is why does he
seem thrown off balance? Surely he sees ghosts all the time. I
can't be the only spirit near here, we're in the Appalachian
Mountains. If the Appalachians are famous for anything it's...
Well, it's moonshine. And then blue grass, I guess. Outhouses,
incest, improper English, and lack of dentistry... But somewhere on
the list of things everyone knows, or thinks they know, about this
area is that the hills are haunted. And if people don't know it,
they figure it out the first time they stop at a local tourist trap
and see the wall ghost stories.

As the other me argues with Cris
over whether or not she's encouraging Cooper Finnegan to stalk her,
I get up and cross the room to where Bobbi stands next to a table
peopled by a large section of the football team. “Y'all are totally
gonna to trounce Mitchell. They don't have anyone half as good as
you, Finn.”

He gives her a polite smile, but
takes his attention away from his sandwich for less than half a
heartbeat.

When we were kids, Bobbi used to
stare at the oven as Mom baked cookies with this completely riveted
expression, all full of longing and hope. It's the same expression
she watches Cooper Finnegan with now, but if he notices, he doesn't
give any indication of it. Guess he expects girls to fawn over him
and only notices those of us who don't. He meets my eyes and stops
chewing.

“What are you doing after the
game?” Bobbi asks, leaning close like she's worried she won't hear
his answer.

Cooper Finnegan's throat bobs as
he swallows.

“If I'm dead, why don't I
remember dying? If this is the past, why don't I remember it?”

He turns his eyes to my sister.
“We'll talk about it later.”

She absolutely preens. Stupid
cow.

“I think you're lying.” I take a
seat on the table, next to Copper Finnegan's sandwich wrapper. My
foot rests beside his leg. I can feel his heat through the sliver
of space between us. He feels so warm... I catch myself staring at
his leg and give myself a mental shake. No, not his leg. My leg.
Important distinction.

“You okay, Finn?” one of the
players asks.

He clears his throat and adjusts
his chair, forcing me to change position. “Yeah. Fine.”

Being boys, his friends accept
the answer even though he's lost all color and looks kind of shaky.
Bobbi parts her lips like she's going to argue, but she gets cut
off by the running back. “Do they have anyone as good as me,
Bobbi?”

She smiles for him, but the
expression's nowhere near as bright as the one she wore for Cooper
Finnegan. “I don't see how they could.”

“By raiding the ape house at the
zoo?” The words are pure instinct. I get near these people and I
can't help but think mean things. And mutter them.

“I need some air.” Cooper
Finnegan leaps to his feet and stalks to the exit with no more
warning than that one statement.

“He's a good guy,” he whispers
when I've caught up. “He may not be as smart as you are, but that
doesn't make him worthless.”

May not be as smart as I am? I'm
impressed he's figured out how to read. “Whatever.”

The quarterback's stride gets
longer.

“Where are we going?”

His hands slam into the dull
metal bar of the door and it crashes open, allowing us to blast
outside. The other me's out here, smoking with Cris. People used to
tell me I shouldn't smoke, that it would kill me. Bet I showed
them. I may not know what I died of, but I don't think it was
something as prolonged as lung cancer. Assuming I really did
die.

“Why don't I remember this day?”
I wave my arm toward the other version of me.

Cooper Finnegan shakes his head
as he looks toward her. She notices and scowls. Cris notices and
sends the jock a glare of pure venom. Cris and I aren't a couple.
He's been very, very clear on that score. But he cares enough to be
territorial. That's something.

Cooper Finnegan turns, rounding
a corner so Cris and the other me can't see him anymore. “You don't
remember because of the trauma of your death. Something happened to
you that was bad enough to leave this imprint of your life force
and to knock it back in time. Could have tossed you forward just as
easy.”

Imprint of my life force? Yeah,
right. “If you could come up with something less hokey, I'd be more
likely to buy it.”

“Still an atheist?” His eyes
crinkle in mild amusement.

“I've seen no evidence this is
the afterlife.”

He leans against the building,
folds his arms, and gives me half a smile. “Okay. What do you think
is happening then?”

“I don't know.” I kick at the
ground. “But you have something to do with it.”

His eyebrows go up. “Because I
possess awesome magical powers?”

Okay... No. Nor is he likely to
be a mad scientist posing as a small town sports hero. He's not
someone who could break the laws of physics.

“You honestly think I'm dead?” I
watch him closely for signs he thinks any of this is funny.

Far from looking amused, he
looks saddened as he answers in a flat tone, “Yeah. I do.”

“How?”

He shakes his head at the
ground. “I don't know.”

“How do I stop it?”

“You can't. It hasn't happened
to the rest of us yet, but for you, it's history.” He meets my eyes
with sympathy. “You can't change history, Drew.”

No. I'm not going to accept that
crap. “The future can always be changed. And it's her future.”

“Well, good luck with that.” He
pushes off the wall and starts to leave.

“You aren't going to help me?” I
stare at his back. “You're that happy to see me dead?”

He stops, turns around to face
me again. In the space of a second he's transformed into something
just this side of terrifying. His skin's gone as white as a
skeleton and his expression's turned cold as the grave. As he
lances me with a gaze as wicked sharp as a scythe, Cooper Finnegan
could well be Death himself. “I am not happy.”

“Sure you aren't.” My fingers
claw into my arms as I glare at him, trying not to let fear gain a
foothold inside me. I refuse to be afraid of Cooper Finnegan. And
there's no way I'd let him see it if I were. “I'm surprised you're
not throwing a party.”

He comes a step closer, his eyes
livid. “Everyone would come if I did.”

“All of your little sheep.” I
nod. “Everyone but Cris.”

Cooper Finnegan lets out a cruel
laugh. “He would if Bobbi asked him.”

Ouch. There's a response, but it
escapes me. I'm too shocked he'd say something like that, that he'd
even know to say something like that.

He turns and leaves.

I don't try to stop him. It's
not like I need him. I can figure how to stop my death myself. I
just need time to think.

Determined not to let his
pessimism get to me, I launch myself into motion and pace around
the school. The other me huddles in my trench coat as she waves a
cigarette through the air. She's obviously cold, but as far as my
skin knows the temperature's around the mid-seventies. Not cold.
Not hot. Nothing. Leaves tumble across my path but the wind doesn't
touch me. No way Cooper Finnegan's responsible for this, whatever
this is.

After at least a mile of
stalking in circles, I slip back into the building behind an
underclassman who'd snuck out to make a phone call. I need to find
myself.

It's her free period and she's
reading a novel in the library. I try snatching the book from her
but my hand passes straight through it. Then my hand passes through
hers and I shudder. The feeling isn't bad, exactly. It's warm and
exhilarating. But talk about unsettling.

The other me shifts and gives a
shiver of her own as I sit on the back of her chair and start
reading over her shoulder. I don't remember the book at all.

A few minutes before the bell,
we go to our locker and she pulls out a bag of Doritos. She crams
the chips into her mouth like she's starving. Guess she was too
busy bickering with Cris to eat enough at lunch.

Down the hall, Cooper Finnegan's
standing in front of his locker too. He's just looking at it,
completely spaced out. The bell rings and he gives a start, looking
surprised.

“Boo!” I yell.

He starts again and the other me
lets out a sound of disgust. “You need to back off.”

“Yeah.” I smirk at him. “Stop
looking at her.”

He rolls his eyes and slams the
locker shut without getting anything out of it. He walks toward us,
stops just before me. “Drew?”

The other me wipes her fingers
on her pants, leaving a trail of cheese powder. Then she deigns to
look at him. “Cooper Finnegan?”

His expression is hard to read
as he shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” The other me snickers
as he walks off.

I fling my hands in the air.
“Nothing?”

Cooper Finnegan stops a little
way up the hall and bends over the water fountain as I storm up to
him.

“What was I supposed to say?” He
presses the button on the fountain and pretends to drink. “I think
something bad is going to happen to you? You're about to die? Keep
an eye out for murderers? You would've thought I was nuts.”

Oh. “Or threatening me.”

“Right.” He straightens, gives
me a almost imperceptible shrug, and continues on his way.

There's shrieking back near my
locker, where Bobbi's waving her arms through the air. “I'm not
going to let you steal him from me!”

Both of me laugh at her, as do
several people passing by.

“Like I'd want him.” The other
me makes a face at the notion.

“Then what did he say to
you?”

The other me smirks.
“Nothing.”

“I know he said something! I saw
him.”

Amused by Bobbi's fury, the
other me starts to walk away. Probably to tell Cris what just
happened.

“Is everything alright?” one of
Bobbi's friends asks.

“Everything's fine.” My kid
sister glares at the other me's back.

Bobbi's friend tilts her head in
worry. “He's been watching her all day.”

“Marveling that such a freak
would be related to me.” Bobbi gives her hair a confident toss, her
signature move.