I'd Rather Not Be Dead

by Andrea Brokaw

  “Yes, Glory.” I reach out to tickle Juliet as she wraps her paws around the fuzzy ball. “What does she think of your little ghost-viewing fuzzies?”

  He laughs. “I took Juliet into the store once. Glory saw her, shrieked, and ran away. Wouldn't talk to me for over a month.”

  I drag the ball along the ground, making Juliet chase it. “She usually talks to you a lot?” I try to sound like I don't care about the answer but I'm not sure I manage it.

  “She's fundamentally my step-grandmother.” The corners of his mouth tug upwards, like he wants to smile at my question, but doesn't want me to know about it.

  “She has dirt on you, doesn't she?” I chuckle wickedly as he visibly flounders for a response. “Good dirt, huh?”

  “Let's watch a movie.”

  I howl with laughter. “Nice use of subtly to change the subject, Cooper Finnegan.”

  “Thank you, Drew McKinney.” He grabs a huge book from the shelf over his computer desk and flips through it. He grins back at me as he slides something from it.

  “What're we watching?” I ask, but he puts me off with a shake of his head, moving to keep his body between me and the disc.

  It's not until we're sitting on the futon couch under his loft bed and he presses play that I get to see what it is. Laughing, I smack him. Hard. Then I pull my legs up in front of me, hug them close, and watch the 1980-something classic Ghostbusters.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Finn switches off the TV and stands in front of it, looking at me as I lay propped half-asleep against the arm of his sofa. I guess this would be the point where I'm supposed to leave.

  There's a strange numbness at the thought. Earlier in the week, the prospect of wandering exhausted in the middle of the night would have made me cry but it would appear I've finally moved away from that. Should I be worried about the apathy?

  “Would you want to stay here?”

  He doesn't ask where I've been staying or if I have anywhere to go. Tactful. That's why he's so much more popular than I am. It's not just that most of the school thinks I'm evil because I showed up in town clad in black and wearing an ankh around my neck. They all like him better than me because he knows how to say things without offending everyone in earshot. Assuming the everyone he isn't offending doesn't consist entirely of me...

  Part of me wants to turn his offer down just to spite him, but I seem to have moved away from doing things simply to annoy Cooper Finnegan. Is it maturity, practicality, or just lack of caring? Whichever, it's not like it'd bother him that much for me to leave and I'd be much happier staying in a house I was invited into, in a bed that exists, in a place where no one's likely to sit on me as I sleep.

  With a little yawn, I sit up. “Cooper Finnegan, are you asking me to move in with you?”

  His smile is faint, and maybe a hair melancholy. “I was thinking you could stay in my sister's room.”

  “Oh...” I draw the syllable out slowly. “In that case, please?”

  Nodding, he moves toward the door. “It's right downstairs.” He hesitates a second before leaving the room. “My mom...”

  “She's a medium,” I finish. “Glory told me.” Then I remember what else Glory said about that. “But she can't see me?”

  Finn's eyes shift as he puts his answer together. “She takes pills. They block most of it. But they aren't perfect. And...” He run a hand through his hair and gives me a tired look. “Sometimes she forgets to take them. If she notices you, just tell her you're a friend of mine. Don't mention the whole Shadow thing. Please?”

  “Of course.” It's not until we're heading down the stairs that I realize I just agreed to pose as his friend without even making a snarky comment. Even more bizarre, the word's seeming accurate. Weird.

  The first door in the hallway goes to a room filled with books. “So one of you knows how to read?” I ask, wanting to feel more like myself.

  He tosses a wink at me. “Nah, we use the books to build mazes for the ferrets.”

  “That explains all the gnawed spines.”

  The door across from the library is closed. “Mom's,” Finn says with a nod to it before opening the last door on the left and taking a step into the room. “I hope these accommodations will be acceptable.” He smiles at me when I follow him into the room.

  He stops smiling when I start falling.

  “Drew!” The voice comes to me through the ceiling as I lay on my front in the middle of the teddy bears' living room. My palms sting and my forehead hurts where it banged into the floor.

  Finn comes crashing down the stairs and barrels into the room, flipping on the light so he can see. His eyes fly straight for me. “Drew?”

  “There's no floor in that room.” Feeling smart for figuring that out, I roll onto my back and sit up while Finn gapes down at me. “I'm fine, Finn.”

  “You sure?” His eyes bounce around my face, taking in all of it but not looking at any one bit for more than an instant. He looks like he's honestly worried, like he wouldn't happily push me off a cliff. He really seems to like me today.

  “I'm dead,” I remind him. “You think falling one story's going to hurt me?”

  “I don't know... Did it?”

  “I just said it didn't, you moron.” But I'm smiling at him while he helps me to my feet.

  We look at each other for a few heartbeats, then, at the same time, our heads tilt and we look up at the ceiling.

  “I can see it,” I say. “My house doesn't exist in Shadow and it has this weird shimmer to it. There's no weird shimmer here.”

  “Just a floor that you fall through...”

  “Right.”

  Clearing his throat, Finn takes a step backward. “Guess you don't want to stay in my sister's room then.”

  “Or she doesn't want me staying in there.” That's a disturbing idea... My eyes slide from the ceiling to Finn. “Can you do that? Take something that should be in Shadow and make it not real here?”

  “Don't know.” He glances up again, a frown drawing unfamiliar lines in his face. “Mom can't or the whole house would be that way.”

  A shiver dances up my spine and Finn gives me a softly apologetic smile. “I wouldn't let her do that with you here,” he says.

  “I'm surprised you're not calling your sister to find out how to get rid of me,” I admit.

  His eyes roll, then look directly into mine. “That's because you're an idiot.”

  My chest is tight, making breathing difficult. “Guess so.”

  My response leaves him at a temporary loss for words. Guess I'm not the only one wading through confusion tonight.

  Eventually, he recovers. “Drew McKinney, would you like to move in with me?”

  I stare at him until he looks away. “It's not a good idea for you to stay out here. Mom would notice eventually. But she never goes into my room.”

  “I'm thinking.” Taking time to mull the idea over, I turn to walk to the window and try to look out. I was right the other night, you can't see the sidewalk from here with the lights on.

  The whole homeless thing's gotten seriously old. Crashing in random living rooms isn't any fun and staying outside... There's something about it that bothers me even though I don't feel the cold or the wind. People are supposed to be in homes, and while I may be dead, I'm still a person.

  Finn waits for me, looks passively back when I turn to study his expression. “How long do you mean?” I ask.

  The question seems to throw him and his finger comb back his hair as he thinks about it. “I don't know... How long do you want to stay?”

  Sighing, I shake my head. Staying here would get way too sitcom way too fast. “I think I should go.”

  He doesn't try to stop me, but when I grasp the front door handle, it won't turn. “I don't seem to have the energy.”

  “Then allow me, my lady.” Smiling and not seeming at all upset to see me go, Finn moves around me to pull the door open.

  It opens easily. But when I try to walk out, it's like t
he door's still closed.

  “What's wrong? Did you change your mind?”

  “I can't leave.” I push against the invisible barrier.

  “Don't panic.” Finn puts his hand beside mine, sticking it out into the night air. “No one helped you get out last time, right?”

  “No.” I slam both palms against the transparent wall. “The only difference is I was pissed off then.”

  “So wait five minutes.”

  If I wasn't so annoyed, I'd laugh at that.

  “It's the frigging Shadow Lord. Why does he want to mess with me?” I look out into the dark and scream, “Don't you have anything better to do?”

  “What are you talking about?” Finn asks. “What's The Shadow Lord been doing?”

  After one last bang on the barrier I go sit on the stairs, Finn shifting to track my movement. “The other night, I was at Cris's house...” My eyes avert from the change in Finn's expression when the name is mentioned. “I woke up knowing someone was watching me through the window and that he wanted me to go outside.”

  “And you did it?” Without looking away from me, he swings the door closed. “Doesn't sound like you.”

  My lips curve in acknowledgment. “No, it doesn't. But I knew he'd follow me if I ran and he'd just keep bothering me if I stayed, so I went. And he wasn't there. But once I got into the yard, I couldn't get back inside.”

  “Same type barrier?”

  I nod. “Exactly the same.”

  Studying the doorway, Finn folds his arms. The fingers of his right hand start to tap against his left bicep. “You're sure it's The Shadow Lord?”

  Until he asked that, I was. “Who else would it be?” I'll ignore asking who else would have a motive, since I have no idea what The Shadow Lord's would be. But, “Who else would have the power?”

  “Most shadows play their power close to their vest,” Finn says as he steps toward me. His face wrinkles slightly with a thoughtful frown. “It could be any of the older ones. And while The Shadow Lord doesn't seem to have a motive, maybe they would.” His eyes meet mine. “What about Fray?”

  “Fray?” I can't help laughing. “Why would Fray do that?”

  “Could be jealous of Cris.”

  The laughter gets louder before I can control it and make any attempt at speaking. “No. One hundred percent certain that answer is no.”

  Finn's watching me very closely but I don't elaborate for him. None of his business that Fray would hardly be jealous of anyone considering I'd thrown myself at him and he'd shot me down.

  “Besides, jealously can't be the motive,” I argue. “It wouldn't make sense to lock me in here if it was.”

  “Right...”

  I swallow, dropping my eyes to the carpet, which continues to be just as pink as it was a few hours ago. “So, if the offer still stands, I suppose I would like to move in with you.”

  “Right...”

  Making myself look up, I meet Finn's eyes. The colors fight for dominance in them. “But I get the couch.”

  I hold my hand out and Finn shakes it while the edges of his mouth try to roll up. “Deal.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Silence accompanies us back up the stairs, broken only when Juliet hears us and starts her clucking. The lean line of sable fur really does sound like a chicken. “Hey, there, Poultry Girl,” I tell her. She tilts her head and gives me a strange look before making a running leap at Finn's leg.

  He winces at the nails that dive into his skin, but it's obvious he likes the devoted attention. Finn wouldn't handle my state very well. It'd drive him nuts for no one to notice him.

  With Juliet hanging around his shoulders, he grabs a pillow from his bed and tosses it onto the sofa for me. He looks around quickly and finds a fuzzy black blanket with little skulls printed on it, then drapes it over the couch.

  The gesture makes me want to cry again. It isn't just that he thought to give me the blanket, even though that's sweet of him. It isn't that the blanket is more 'me' than anything I would have hoped to find anywhere near Cooper Finnegan, adding weight to my growing suspicion that there's a lot more to the guy than I've ever noticed. It's also the simple fact that I haven't slept with a blanket since the morning I woke up dead.

  Finn gets the reason for my expression wrong and says, “I'll find out what's going on. First thing in the morning, I'll start asking around. Someone will know how to get you out of here.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “I'm really sorry, Drew.”

  Puzzled, I move from staring at my makeshift bed to peering at Finn. At first I think he's back to the Cris thing, but he looks even guiltier than when he was apologizing over that. “What do you mean?”

  His eyes aren't meeting mine. “I know you don't want to be stuck with me. I'm sorry.”

  I watch him as he starts to shepherd the ferrets into their house for the night. “It's not your fault you're my Place of Power. Or that I can't leave. Is it?”

  “No, of course not.” Locking the cage door, he turns back toward me, but still doesn't look at me. “I'm going to get ready for bed.”

  “Alright.”

  While he gathers things and goes into the bathroom, I lay down on his couch, pulling the skull blanket up over me. I half-expect to need to use energy to keep it over me, which would mean I'd sleep on it instead of under it, but it rests there just like a blanket would cover a girl who was in the same realm it was. I snuggle into the pillow and close my eyes, happier than I would ever admit to be sleeping somewhere comfortable.

  Behind me, I hear Finn come back into the room. He murmurs something to Romeo and Juliet, then walks toward me. And he stands there for a long time, watching me, before at last whispering, “Good night, Drew.”

  He turns off the lights and climbs into the bed above me and for hours I lay still, trying to sleep but uber-aware of the boy in the room with me. Every little move, every creak of his mattress, every deep breath he takes seems to echo in the night. When I finally manage to lose consciousness, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep that lasts right up until someone punches me in the gut.

  “Juliet!” Finn stage-whispers, his footsteps rushing near.

  Dimly, I realize no one punched me. I was merely the victim of an overzealous ferret. My eyes slide up to meet her bright gaze. The fuzzy seems rather proud of herself.

  Finn makes it to the edge of my vision. “Sorry. Thought I had her.” He's fully dressed, sporting a slightly stained Finnegan's Hardware shirt. There's a clump of paint in hisrumpled hair, a bright blue that stands out boldly against the blond.

  I squint at his clock and see it's shortly after seven. I assume from the lack of light coming in around the blinds it's the seven that comes in the evening.

  “I think it's past time I woke up anyway.” Running a hand through Juliet's fur, I wrinkle my nose at her. She touches hers to mine, then jumps off toward the tennis ball peaking out from under Finn's desk, her mission here accomplished. With a pang, I think of Miss Whiskers, who pounced me awake many a time, but always did it in the interests of obtaining breakfast. She never did it just to see me conscious. Clearly, ferrets are more evil than cats.

  “You really sleep all day?” my roommate asks, rolling the chair out from under his desk and straddling it. Resting his arms on the chair back, he watches me with mild concern. “You feel okay?”

  “Do ghosts get sick?” I ask, rolling onto my side and not feeling at all like getting up.

  “I don't think so.” A frown creases his forehead.

  “Then I was just tired,” I say, putting an arm under my pillow. “I haven't quite figured out when I need sleep. I keep passing out.”

  “I've noticed.” He looks at me until the length of our silence seems ridiculous. The ferrets are batting the tennis ball back and forth but they don't get so much as a glance from their human, even when Romeo smacks right into his foot.

  “Did you talk to anyone?” I ask.

  Finn blinks, startled out of what must have b
een an incredibly deep thought. “I don't suppose you mean the people at school? Maybe the guys at work?”

  “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.”