I'd Rather Not Be Dead (17 page)

“Stalling, huh?” I sigh
dramatically. “Never a good sign.”

A faint smile flickers across
his lips.

“Fine.” I offer in my best
fake-mother tone, “How was school, dear?”

Finn rolls his eyes and does an
excellent disaffected, “Alright.”

“And, what am I mad at you for
today?”

He laughs, shaking his head.
“The usual.”

I'm curious what he thinks the
usual is but I'm scared to ask. “And what're you mad at me
for?”

The laughter stops. “Guess
that's the usual too.”

Our eyes meet while neither of
us can think of what to say. My mind won't even form the questions
it wants to ask. Finally, Finn clears his throat, takes a deep
breath, and goes back to the first subject he was trying to avoid.
“I talked to Grandpa and Glory about you while I was at the
store.”

Swallowing, I finally toss the
blanket back and sit up, folding my legs and pulling the pillow
into my lap so I can hug it. “What did they say?”

“Well...” His eyes are on my
socks, narrowed a little at the tiny hearts on them. “They say The
Shadow Lord does have the power to keep you here. And Glory thinks
he might be doing it because you weren't doing a good enough job of
haunting me.”

“Not doing a good enough job of
haunting you?” I repeat. My grip on the pillow loosens when my
shoulders droop in astonishment. “What am I supposed to do? Jump
out and scream boo more often?”

Head tilted, Finn slides his
eyes up to me as a smile teases his lips. “No. You're scary
enough.”

I'm suddenly very conscious of
the fact my hair is a mess. I must look like a zombie. Or Medusa.
Finn's smile gets wider as my hand goes, completely without
permission, to smooth down my tangles.

“I think Glory's point was you
don't put in enough time, not that you don't do enough when you're
around.”

I force my fingers to stop their
grooming and dig them into the pillow on my lap. “Thus, locking me
in until I've put in my full forty hours?”

“Right.” Finn nods. “For the
record, I was feeling sufficiently harassed already.”

“I'm sure you were.” My
grumble's met with a grin.

“Grandpa... Thinks that's
possible.” He draws the words out. “But he came up with a lot of
other things it could be too.”

“Like?”

There's a pause long enough for
a very slow breath. “It could be a punishment.”

“For having incredibly bad taste
in boyfriends?” I suggest.

Finn smiles. “That appeal should
be easy since he wasn't really your boyfriend, right?”

“Right.” My fingers dig further
into the pillow while I imagine sinking claws deep into Cris's
flesh, ripping him apart with my bare hands. With a growl, I shove
the imagery away. I'd never have the heart to do it even if I
could. “I haven't done anything bad.”

“Yet.”

I squint. “What do you
mean?”

The chair squeaks as Finn
hunches forward and puts more weight against its back. “It's easier
for shadows to bend time,” he answers me, watching my hands as they
knead at the pillow. “If you do something later, The Shadow Lord
might already know about it. Which is another possibility, that
he's trying to keep you from doing something in the future.”

“Like what?”

“Usually it's something
dangerous.” He frowns at the window, like he's seeing past events
on the glass. “There are a few ghosts trapped in homes around town.
One of them kept trying to push people onto the train tracks. One
liked to write in sand, trying to get attention.”

“How's that dangerous?” I blurt,
thinking it's actually a decent idea. And not far from when I was
trying to type.

Finn gives me a long look. “If
people believed in ghosts, they'd put more effort into killing
you.”

I swallow as ice pours over me.
“Right.” It could be that one. Very easily.

“Or...” Finn continues,
straightening his posture and making the chair creak some more. “It
could be you're too strong.”

“Too strong?” I snort. “I faint
at least once a day.”

“But what do you do before
then?” His eyes wide, he shakes his head in amazement. “Glory
thinks you're probably the third most powerful ghost in this region
of Shadow. Right behind your friend Fray and The Shadow Lord
himself.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I'm serious, Drew.” He leans
forward again, his gaze intense as it latches onto mine. “She told
me about the fliers. She barely managed to move one of them and you
ripped down a whole street's worth.”

“Then I passed out,” I
interject, shaking my head vigorously. “Hate to burst your bubble,
but I'm not all that powerful.”

“You only think that because you
don't know what's normal.”

I stare back at him for a few
seconds before rolling my eyes and giving up. “Whatever. The Shadow
Lord's scared of my awesome power. But Glory said Fray's stronger
than me and he isn't being held prisoner.”

“True,” Finn acknowledges. “But
he grew into his power. You're going to be stronger than him one
day. Maybe even one day soon. The Shadow Lord could have locked you
up now because he won't be able to do it later.”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe.” All these
maybes are starting to seriously irk me.

“I know,” Finn mumbles to the
floor. “You just want to leave.”

I see something I was either not
supposed to see or meant to see a long time ago. He doesn't want me
to go. And, shockingly enough, I don't want to leave. Sure, I'd
prefer having my own room, but the idea of having a home... But the
truth is I'm having with fun with Finn and his goofy weasels and
cheesy movies. Staying here with him is a lot better than spying on
people who'll never know I'm there. And while a month ago, I
wouldn't have believed I'd ever tolerate the guy, now I find myself
going beyond that and actually liking him.

Straightening his spine, Finn
smacks his palms lightly against the back of his chair before
virtually jumping to his feet. “Let's go make sure you're still
locked in here. Maybe you're just not allowed out after
curfew.”

Without a word, I follow him,
careful not to let the ferrets slide out the door with us.

He opens the front door and, his
eyes on the ground, waits for me to leave. I want to ask if I have
to go or if it's just an option, but I can't. The question isn't
safe enough. So, instead, I'm going to try to walk though the door.
And if I do it... I'll have to keep walking.

My hand stops level to the door
frame and I can't get it to go any further.

Relief washes over me.

“I'm sorry,” Finn says, sounding
honest.

I shrug, trying to act
nonchalant, hoping he'll think I'm hiding my upset behind the
motion.

“Finn, honey, that's you isn't
it?” A woman laughs from the back of the house. Finn gives me a
panicked look, glances around as if trying to find a place to hide
me as footsteps come up the hall.

“Yeah, Mom,” he calls back. “I
thought I heard the door.”

Finn's mom comes into sight
around the stairs and I realize with a jolt that I know her from
the library. She was the one at the circulation desk the other day,
the one whose cheerful love of the place had to have been irking
the resident spirit.

She's tall and slender, not
model skinny but athletically lean. She has to be around forty, but
she doesn't look like she's even reached thirty yet until you
notice the lines around her eyes. Her hair, pale brown bordering on
dark blond, is tied into a sporty ponytail. Her eyes are exact
matches for Finn's, but the smile she gives me has nothing in
common with his. “And I guess you did,” she says.

Someone's forgot her happy pills
today.

“Hi, Mrs... Um, Ms...” It occurs
to me all of a sudden that, assuming she reverted to her maiden
name when she divorced Finn's dad, I don't know what to call
her.

Her eyebrows raise with a hint
of challenge. “Ms. Finnegan.”

Oh. Duh.

“This is Drew, Mom,” Finn moves
to stand between me and his mother. “She's a friend of mine from
school.”

Her eyes light up at that, the
tension in her evaporating all of sudden. The look almost seems
like she's happy to hear her boy has friends. Like she doesn't
realize the whole school thinks of themselves as his friend.
Except, ironically enough, for me.

“We're working on a physics
project,” he adds.

My theory is given more fodder
when his mother slumps a little, like she was hoping he'd say we
were going out, or at least doing something more social than
schoolwork. She recovers to offer me a bright, if somewhat
strained, smile. “Well, I'm glad to meet you.”

Her cheer falters again as she
finally takes a good look at Finn. “You're covered in paint,” she
blurts, her hand jerking almost instantly toward her mouth. She
stops the motion before the hand makes it higher than her waist,
but the move's still an acknowledgment that she just did something
very maternal and possibly embarrassing to her son. At least she
didn't lick her fingers and try to wipe the paint off.

“I'm early,” I tell her. “He
told me he'd need time to change after work, but I guess I
forgot.”

“Oh.” She nods, her expression
distant. Her eyes go to Finn. Her lips move a few times, like she's
wanting to say things but keeps filtering them.

Putting my hand in my pocket so
it looks like I'm reaching for something, I announce, “I remembered
the thumb drive. Where's the computer?”

“My room,” Finn answers quickly
with a dramatic gesture up the stairs. “Right this way.”

“Call down if you need
anything,” his mom offers.

She watches us go up the
stairs.

“You're remarkably good at
that,” Finn says as soon as his door closes. “Nice touch with the
thumb drive.”

“No, I bombed. Sure, I sold the
homework thing, but I don't think she appreciated the name gaffe.”
I crash onto the couch.

“Yeah, well...” Running his hand
through his hair, he shakes his head at me. He frowns down at his
fingers for a second, looking at the paint flakes on them. “They
divorced four years ago. It was nasty enough that not only did she
revert to her maiden name, but she changed mine and Fiona's too.”
He gives me a lopsided smile that must have come from his dad. “I'm
officially Cooper Finnegan Finnegan now.” He rolls his eyes as he
wipes his hand off on his shirt. “Still can't believe the judge let
her get away with that.”

“Seriously,” I agree. I guess
that explains why he goes by a nickname based on his family name.
It's based on his middle name. A lot of people around here go by
their middle names. It's one of those Southern things I've never
understood. “She could've at least given you a new a middle name
while she was changing things.”

In response to Romeo's pleading
look, Finn sits in the floor to fulfill his duty as a ferret toy.
“She's been forgetting her pills a lot lately.”

He sounds thoughtful, but not
worried. “Is that a good thing?” I ask.

“It could be.” There's a sad
sigh. “The ghosts were part of the reason for the divorce. He
couldn't stand that they were always flocking to Mom. Moving from
Boston to Colorado was supposed to help all that, but there are
plenty of dead people anywhere with living ones.”

“Boston?”

Half his mouth curls. “I only
got here a year before you did.”

But... “You don't sound like
you're from Boston.”

He shrugs. “I was in preschool
when we left. My first memories are from Denver.”

Hmm... My eyes flicker to a
battered pair of skis on Finn's wall. He's got a lot of shirts from
resorts in Colorado, which I always thought he wore to brag about
being able to afford ski vacations. But maybe he just gets
homesick.

“How long since you've seen your
dad?”

His smile says it all, but he
uses words too. “Four years. But, hey, I got several gaming systems
out of him.”

“Yay.” Somehow I find myself
hating Finn's father more than I ever thought I hated Finn
himself.

“It was almost funny that she
didn't start medicating herself until after he'd left. But if she's
willing to go without them, maybe she's getting over the whole
thing.”

“And the teddy bears will go?” I
grasp my hands infront of me in hope.

He laughs. “If we're lucky.”

Juliet leaps on Romeo's back and
the pair roll around while we watch them. “So...” I wonder
eventually. “What do I do now? I can't say goodbye and leave.”

“She goes to bed really early.”
Finn shrugs, seeming unworried. “We'll just tell her we aren't done
yet and let her go to sleep. She's a deep sleeper, she won't expect
to hear you leave.”

“And from now on, I have to stay
in your room?”

The question pains him. “I'm
sorry,” he says yet again. There's been an awful lot of apologizing
going around lately.

“So, got any other movies?”

After taking a second to get the
worst of the blue out of his hair and another second to change
shirts, he puts on something absolutely awful about a cult of
vampire worshipers and we spend the whole film making fun of it. If
every movie in his series of huge binders is as horrible as this,
we won't get bored for years.

Chapter Seventeen

The sun shines bright on
Halloween morning. Not a cloud in the sky, let alone a piece of
cloud on the ground.

As I look out the window at the
glittering daylight, Finn leans over his computer and mutters at
his printer for jamming yet again on the essay he's trying to
print. I smile at the sound of the perfect Cooper Finnegan arguing
with a mindless machine. “Just do it at school.”

“Why have a printer if I'm going
to print shit at school?” The words are snarled, but not
necessarily at me. I think they're meant as a threat to the
printer.