Playlist for the Dead

10. One Step Closer

HE LOOMED OVER THE COUCH, enormous and menacing. I pulled farther away from Astrid, who I could see was getting angry, and stood up. Of course he’d come now, just before it seemed like something was going to happen, even if I didn’t know what.

“What are you doing here?” Astrid asked, her eyes narrowed.

“Stay out of it, Alison,” he said.

Alison?

“Don’t call me that,” she said.

What was he talking about? And what was he doing here? This wasn’t his kind of party.

“You were out of line at the funeral, you little asshole,” he said, and pushed me back down on the couch.

I tried not to flail in the cushions before getting up again, but there was no way to be graceful about it. “So you crashed a party to pick a fight with me? That’s your solution?” I could feel the fury growing in me. He was the one who made Hayden’s life miserable, and now he was mad at how I’d behaved at his funeral? Seriously? “Look at you—you’re a giant. You wouldn’t even feel it if I hit you. It’s so important to you, to preserve the sanctity of Hayden’s funeral, the kid whose life you helped to make a living hell? There wouldn’t have even been a funeral if it wasn’t for you.” Yelling at him was actually making me feel better. I barely noticed that there was a circle of people around us, watching. I wondered what they would do if Trevor really did decide to go after me.

“You’re one to talk,” he said. “What makes you think you can put it all on me? I saw you at that party, just standing there, watching it all go down. Like you had his back? What makes you such a hero? At least I’m here because I’m looking out for my friend.”

“Well, your friend can do just fine on his own. Now he doesn’t have an annoying little brother to make him look bad at school. He must be so happy.”

Was I trying to make Trevor hit me? I didn’t have time to think about it before his fist connected with my cheek; it felt like my face had been turned into a baseball and someone had just hit a home run. It probably only took a second before I was back on the couch again, but it felt like it took ages to land.

“Made your point, Trevor?” I heard Astrid say. “Now get the fuck out of here.” I felt the cushions sag as she sat down next to me. “You okay, Sam?”

I nodded, but I might have been lying. I couldn’t tell if I was dizzy from Trevor’s knockout punch, or the beers, or the insomnia, but standing up didn’t seem like much of an option yet.

“We’re not done,” Trevor said.

“You really want to threaten me in front of everyone?” I said, but he was already walking away.

I tried to get up and go after him but Astrid put her hand on my leg to stop me, and I was grateful—I still wasn’t sure if I could stand up without immediately falling back down. “Let him go,” she said. “He’ll get his someday. It doesn’t have to be now.”

“I would have loved to get just one punch in, though. Even if it didn’t do any good.”

“No need to behave like some dumb guy,” she said. She was starting to look pissed off. “I thought you were better than that.”

I’d always thought I was, too. But now I was starting to wonder. “I’m not usually like that, I swear,” I said. “Look, remember how I said I’d tell you the truth?”

She nodded.

“Let me try it out.” I’d never said it out loud before, but now seemed like the right time. “Those guys were at the party, the night Hayden—you know. They were awful to him, like they always were. Worse. And I just stood there, like Trevor said. I didn’t do a goddamn thing. I never have. Which means this is all my fault. The only thing that makes me feel better is blaming them. I know it’s super hypocritical to have wanted to stand up for myself now, when I never stood up for him, but better late than never, I guess.”

Her eyes softened a little. “You know it’s not your fault, Sam, right?”

“How can you say that?”

“Tell me what happened,” she said.

Stephanie Caster lived just a few blocks away from Hayden, in a house that looked like it came out of a movie. Half the walls were made out of glass; everything else was black, white, or metallic. Angular. Which was ironic, because I’d bet that Stephanie was the least angular girl at Libertyville High. She was a basketball cheerleader with a ridiculous body—curvy everywhere you’d want it to be—who’d been a killer gymnast until the ridiculous body showed up. She was the bendiest person I’d ever seen. And yet she lived in a house where every single thing was square. Or rectangular. Whatever.

“This place is bizarre,” I muttered to Hayden, but he wasn’t listening. The living room was packed full of people, and he was scanning the crowd. Who was he looking for? His brother and his friends weren’t going to be there; it was the only reason I’d agreed to come. I tried not to be annoyed at him for ignoring me; after all, I was the one who’d been pushing him to go out more, so I should have been happy that he was finally willing, right? I’d been getting more and more frustrated with how insular we were, and though we weren’t growing apart exactly, Hayden was spending more and more time on the computer, and I wanted to get out and join the world. For the last few weeks he’d wanted to stay in and play Mage Warfare all the time, and I realized that without him I had nothing. No one else to call, no interests that we didn’t share. The fact was, I was lonely.

Well, now I was at a party, and Hayden had wandered off to do whatever it was he was planning on, and I really was alone, even in a room full of people. This wasn’t what I had wanted, not at all.

The keg was in the back of the living room, so I filled a red plastic cup with what seemed like mostly foam and looked around to see if there was anyone I could talk to. But it was mostly basketball and track jocks; the football guys and their friends weren’t there, but neither were the more artsy kids that sometimes came to the few parties I’d considered attending. There were some girls from my classes, but the cute ones were there with their boyfriends. Coming here was a mistake. At least I’d learned that going to parties wasn’t the answer. I just wanted to go home. I slurped up some foam and looked for Hayden, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

But then, all of a sudden, I heard him. Yelling. It was faint at first; the stereo was thumping out some awful dance music, and the yelling was coming from upstairs, so all I could register was the sound of Hayden’s voice. And man, was he pissed.

I moved closer to the staircase, debating whether to go up and find him. Then I heard more voices, voices I recognized. What was the bully trifecta doing here? I grabbed a random guy and asked if the football game had been canceled. “Other team forfeited,” he said. “Those dudes have been upstairs for hours, and they are wasted.”

Oh, no. No, no, no.

“It’s not true! It can’t be!” I heard Hayden yell.

“It’s all right there,” Ryan said. “Just look.”

“I won’t!” he yelled.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Trevor said, and I realized he was talking not just to Hayden but to me—the whole trifecta was walking down the stairs, Hayden in front of them, Trevor’s hand grasping the collar of his shirt.

“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to sound brave, but I was terrified. Those dudes could kick my ass without even letting go of Hayden’s shirt.

“None of your business,” Ryan said.

Hayden made eye contact with me, and it looked as if he was going to cry. I didn’t know what to do. Did he expect me to take those guys on? Ryan had been beating up on Hayden since they were kids, and despite his stockiness—he was short like Hayden but solid—he was the smallest of the three.

“Just go, both of you,” Ryan said. “You don’t belong here.”

With that, Trevor tightened his grip on Hayden’s shirt and lifted him into the air by his collar, which was already frayed. I could see it starting to rip. Ryan just stood there.

And then Trevor dropped him.

Which wouldn’t have been such a big deal, except that a) they hadn’t quite made it all the way down the staircase, and b) I was standing at the bottom. Hayden couldn’t get his balance when he landed in between two steps, and he tumbled down the rest of them, his elbow hitting the side of my knee, which took me down with him. We both ended up in a tangle on the floor; I’d heard the crack of Hayden hitting his head on the wood and worried for a minute that he might be seriously hurt.

The room got really quiet; someone had turned off the music, and when I looked up I could see that everyone was watching us. At first people seemed shocked, though no one was exactly rushing to help. But by the time I’d stood up and figured out Hayden wasn’t unconscious, the giggling had started. Just a few girls, initially; then some guys, and then it wasn’t giggles anymore but full-on laughter.

I stopped. I wasn’t ready to talk about the rest.

Astrid waited a moment after I’d finished talking before she reached across the couch and put her hand on mine. I was so drained from talking about the party that I felt relieved—if she was touching my hand, if she was still here listening to me, then it meant she didn’t think I was the worst person in the world. Even if I still thought so.

“What happened sucks, but it’s not your fault,” she said.

“Easy for you to say.” What did she know, anyway? Nice of her to say it, but we both knew it wasn’t true.

“You don’t understand. I’m not just saying it, I know it.” She was frowning, though it didn’t seem like she was frowning at me.

“Oh, great, now you’re going to be all cryptic, just like Hayden. You think you’re going to make my guilt just magically go away?” I pulled away from her and stood up. I shouldn’t have tried to explain it to her. What made me think she’d understand, anyway?

Just then I saw Eric, walking toward us. When did he even get here? “It’s almost midnight,” he said to Astrid. “We should get out of here.” He looked over at me, all good-looking in his stupid skinny pants and perfectly arranged hair. “Hey, Sam, nice to see you again. Need a ride home? I’m driving.” And he was nice, too. I hated that I could totally get what she saw in him.

“Come with us, Sam,” Astrid said. “It’s been a long night.”

“Thanks, but I’ll walk,” I said. “I could use some fresh air.” I got up without saying anything else, as gracefully as I could manage from that stupid overstuffed couch. Tomorrow I’d want to know what she meant when she said she was sure it wasn’t my fault, but tonight I just needed to deal with the fact that I’d talked about the party, something I thought I’d never do, something I’d refused to think about all week. And now I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I hadn’t even told her the worst part. I needed to be alone. I waited for Astrid and Eric to leave, then headed for the door.

Damian caught me on the way out. “You hitting the road?” he asked.

I nodded.

“A little something for the ride?” He handed me a flask.

Sure, what the hell. Whatever was in it smelled wonderful, like rich caramel, and tasted like ass. My throat burned as it hit, and I could almost feel the booze reactivating the beer I’d drunk, making my head spin a little.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Doing great,” I said. Guess I was a liar after all.

“See you around,” he said.

The cold air hit me as I opened the front door; the temperature had dropped. It felt wonderful, though the shot had made me dizzy. How ironic, I thought, as I started walking, that after confirming just last week that I’d never be able to make friends at parties, I’d gone to a party and possibly made a friend. I’d been right all along, and I’d never be able to tell Hayden. It was almost funny. Actually, it was funny. I started laughing, then realized I was freezing. I looked down at my arms, covered with goose bumps. Which meant I could see my arms. Which meant I wasn’t wearing my sweatshirt. Crap—I’d left it at the party, along with my wallet and cell phone. I had no idea what time it was, and I was getting dizzier and dizzier. I knew I should go back to the party, but I didn’t think I’d make it. I was so, so tired. And I’d just reached the 7-Eleven, which had a bench right in front. I would only sit for a minute. Then I’d go back.