Playlist for the Dead (5 page)

It was some chick I’d never heard before, and I had no idea why Hayden would be listening to her.

But the cursor just kept blinking.

Now the hairs on my neck were standing up. I must have looked like a plucked chicken. A scared, probably hallucinating chicken. But the thing was, whoever this ArchmageGed was sounded an awful lot like Hayden. Especially because I had no idea what he was talking about.

As if he’d read my mind.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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ARCHMAGEGED HAD ME SO FREAKED OUT
that I got almost no sleep the rest of the weekend, and I was terrified to turn on my computer—I wasn’t sure whether I wanted the Gchat window to pop up again. In the light of day it seemed clear to me that there was no way it could have been Hayden. Better to focus on things that were real, like the fact that I had to go to school.

For my first day back I put on my favorite jeans, a zip-up hoodie, and my Metallica T-shirt—one of their songs had come on the playlist as I was getting ready, and it made me think of Hayden. They were one of the bands we fought about; Hayden was strongly in favor of their stance against music piracy. “What if you spent your whole life working for something and people thought they were entitled to it for free?” he said. He didn’t have to add that he thought I’d understand, as someone who didn’t have a lot of money, but I knew he was thinking it. He always tried to be sensitive about the fact that his family was loaded and mine wasn’t, but sometimes there was no getting around it.

“If I was already a billionaire then maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal,” I said. “And it’s not like most of the money is going to the artists anyway. It’s all about making record companies rich. It costs nothing to distribute music electronically—this stuff should be dirt cheap by now.”

As usual, though, I was pretty sure Hayden was right. God, I missed fighting with him.

I walked downstairs to grab some coffee before school. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table in her scrubs, both hands wrapped around an enormous mug of what smelled like tea as I walked down the stairs. Tea meant she’d just gotten home from work and was about to go to bed. It was so weird to be on such different schedules. She gave me an up-and-down look as I headed toward the coffeepot, which she always put on for me and Rachel even though she never had any. She could be pretty cool like that. “Is that what you’re wearing?” she asked.

“Something wrong with it?”

She opened her mouth, paused, closed it, opened it again. “No,” she said finally. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight, and you can tell me all about your first day back, all right? And make sure to be on time—apparently Rachel is bringing a friend home.”

“A friend?”

“A gentleman caller,” Mom said, with one eyebrow arched.

“This should be good.” Rachel had horrible taste in boyfriends, and there had been a lot of them. Most of them never made it past the driveway, though, so she must be really into this one.

“Indeed. Now get to school—you don’t want to be late.”

That was debatable, but I left just in time to catch the bus, where I sat alone in one of the front seats, listening to my iPod. That was normal—I always sat alone. It wasn’t that I wanted to, necessarily, but for some reason it seemed terrifying to just sit down next to a random person. Was I supposed to talk to them? What would I say? As long as I could remember I’d been shy around strangers—not as bad as Hayden, but bad enough. I was fine once I knew someone, but I hadn’t really gotten to know anyone except Hayden, at least since I moved to Libertyville. I’d counted myself lucky to have made such a good friend, someone who made me stop feeling so lonely, and for years that was enough. Until it wasn’t anymore.

I’d imagined that everything would be different once Hayden and I got to high school. I felt like we’d both made progress in getting over our shyness; now we’d have a chance to expand our insular little world. In high school, I was sure, there would be a bunch of guys more like us—into gaming and music, maybe a little geeky but not total dorks—and they’d be our friends. Maybe there would even be some girls. Girls like Astrid.

And some of that had been true. Libertyville High was huge—it had kids not just from Libertyville itself but from a bunch of neighboring farm towns, and there were tons of kids who neither of us had ever met, some of whom looked like us and ran clubs that included stuff we were into. Gaming, comics, all that. But I’d counted on Hayden being on the same page as me, and as soon as school started, I could tell I’d been wrong. I couldn’t get Hayden to come with me to anything, and I was too nervous to go alone.

I figured out pretty quickly why Hayden was so inclined to hide out. Ryan and his friends were in my sister’s grade, so they were all juniors by the time we got to school. But Rachel was content to pretend she was an only child, ignoring me when we ran into each other in the halls. Not Ryan. We’d made it through the first few days of school without incident, happy in the knowledge that even though we didn’t have any classes together—I was in the Honors track, but Hayden was dyslexic and stuck in all the lower-level classes—we shared a lunch period most days. And on Fridays, we shared it with Ryan and his friends.

“Oh, look, it’s Ryan’s fatass little brother,” we’d heard Trevor say as we sat down with our lunches.

“How are you liking the new school, Gayden?” Jason said, plunking his tray down next to Hayden. That was their second-favorite nickname for him. The first was an oldie-but-goodie, one Ryan had come up with when they were little kids: Hate-him.

“Leave me alone,” Hayden said, looking around for Ryan. Sad that he’d thought Ryan might be able to help. He realized his mistake as soon as he saw Ryan standing right behind Jason, laughing. “Not funny, Ryan.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ryan said. “It’s kind of funny.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Trevor said. “Maybe we need to step up our game.” He opened up his little box of chocolate milk and dumped it over Hayden’s head. The three of them started laughing.

“That’s definitely funny,” Ryan said.

I’ll never forget the look on Hayden’s face as he sat there, milk dripping down onto his favorite T-shirt. Metallica, like the one I wore now. I saw the knowledge wash over him that nothing was going to change, that things would perhaps be even worse than he’d thought. That Ryan wasn’t going to help him. And as the sound of people laughing grew louder, once the other kids saw what had happened, I realized he was probably right.

I thought about that moment as I stepped into the cafeteria for the first time since Hayden died. I’d spent most of the morning nodding off in my classes, but there was this kind of protective bubble around me—I could tell none of the teachers wanted to say anything to me because of Hayden. The kids were friendlier, though—people said hi to me in the halls who’d never spoken to me before, and some even complimented my T-shirt. This strange attention from people who used to ignore me was confusing. It was almost as if they were treating me like a celebrity. Best-friend-of-dead-guy = famous. Like it was some kind of accomplishment.

Before, everyone pretty much had left me alone. I didn’t fit into any of the groups—I wasn’t a grind like the brainiacs in my classes, who looked down on Hayden because they thought he was stupid; I was too uncoordinated for sports but big enough to be hard to knock over; I wasn’t artsy or creative or talented at anything; it turned out that the kids in the gaming club were way too dorky, and they weren’t into music like Hayden and I were. And the kids who were into the music we liked looked down on anyone who was into gaming. We couldn’t win.

Anyone who was anyone at this school fit in somewhere, even if the lines were fluid—jock brainiacs were still cool, the kids who had the best drugs could hang out with anyone, that sort of thing. Parties were fair game for anyone as far as I knew, though Hayden and I hadn’t ventured into that scene very much. Until we did, and look where that had gotten us. No, after that day in the cafeteria I’d figured out it was safest to stick with Hayden, and apparently the whole school agreed with me. Some days I wondered whether, if it wasn’t for him, I would ever talk to a single person.

Now I was a spectacle. I put in my headphones so I wouldn’t have to hear people talking about me as I walked through the cafeteria with my tray, nodding occasionally to the random people who waved as if they knew me. I headed for the table in the back where I used to sit with Hayden, looking for Astrid as I went. I thought I remembered seeing flashes of her blond hair at lunch before, but it might have just been wishful thinking, because I made it to the table without seeing her. I sat down and forced myself to doctor up a hot dog as best as I could, drowning it in ketchup, mustard, and relish to hide the sight of its unnatural pinkness. Which meant that condiments squirted everywhere as soon as my teeth clamped into the roll. I could feel the bright green relish dribbling down my face and onto the Metallica T-shirt. At least I was alone. One of the perks of having no friends was that no one was there to see you squirt condiments all over yourself.

Except I wasn’t really alone. “Do you have any idea what’s in those things?” Astrid said, from over my shoulder.

I finished chewing and grabbed a napkin to wipe off the relish. Astrid plunked herself down in the seat across from me. Way to make an impression, Sam, I thought, but what did it matter? She had that hipster boyfriend anyway. “I try not to think about it,” I said.

“That’s probably for the best. First day back?”

I nodded, wanting to think of something witty to say, but I had nothing. “Do we have the same lunch period?”

“Looks like it, Captain Obvious.” She grinned, but I still felt like an idiot. “Want to come sit with my friends?” She pointed at a table a few rows over and back from where I was sitting. There was a group of kids there I’d seen before, part of the artsy crowd. They spent a lot of time in the studio on the upper level and at a coffee shop in South Branch, the next town over, listening to slam poetry or whatever. It wasn’t my scene. I wasn’t even sure what slam poetry was.

“No, it’s okay,” I said, trying to dab at the relish without making more of a mess.

“Why not?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Could she not see that I’d just made a total mess of myself? I tried to think of something normal to say. “Um, new people, you know. Not sure I’m ready. I mean,” I panicked, “not you or anything. I just—” I could tell I wasn’t succeeding at trying to sound normal.

“I get it,” she said, tugging at a red streak I hadn’t remembered being in her hair the other day. I wondered how she knew exactly where it was until I realized it was an extension. How awesome, to be able to change the color of your hair whenever you wanted. She was wearing bright red lipstick to match and it made her eyes look almost unnaturally green. “You should give them a chance sometime, though. They kind of adopted me when I needed some new friends.”

She didn’t have to add “like you do”—it was implied. I wondered why she’d have needed new friends, but I wasn’t sure how to ask. I looked back over at the table and saw Eric sitting there. Great.

“Don’t get all judgmental because they’re into different stuff than you are. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Hayden: I bet you have more in common with some of them than you think.”

Instantly I felt a burst of jealousy, which was ridiculous. Like retroactively, as if Hayden had already found better, cooler friends and left me behind.

Except that’s not how he’d left me behind. His way was worse.

“How did you know him?” I asked. I guess the easiest way was just to say it.

“Hayden?” She hesitated. “Oh, you know. From around. School, you know.”

But Hayden wasn’t really around. And I was sure he’d have told me if someone like her was in his classes. Was she even in the same grade as us? For some reason she didn’t want to tell me how she knew him, but I had no idea why.

“Come over and sit,” she said, still twirling her hair extension. “Maybe you need new friends too.” She must have seen the look on my face, though, because she added, “I’m not trying to get you to replace Hayden.”

“I know,” I said. I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t interested, but I just couldn’t handle meeting a whole bunch of new people. I wasn’t feeling ready yet. It was confusing enough just meeting her. “But not today, okay? Some other time?”