Authors: Jaimie Admans
How the heck am I going to
explain that one when I get back home?
I guess I’ll just tell them the
truth and they’ll be so happy I’m back they won’t care about the details.
I wonder how much money my dad
wasted on the funeral?
“Riley?” Mrs Carbonell is
speaking to me.
I look up at her.
“I can’t just send you home,”
she says. “You must understand that.”
I want to tell her that it
doesn’t matter either way because I’m getting out somehow, but that would
totally blow my plan so I just shrug and don’t answer her.
“Good,” she says. “I’ll set up
that appointment with the school counsellor.”
I don’t really know what else to
say. Eliza Carbonell has a steely look on her face, and I know that I could beg
for the next ten years and she still wouldn’t budge. It sucks. Although I can’t
really fault her logic. She’s right about suddenly popping out of the coffin.
I’d probably give both my parents a heart attack and then they’d end up dead
and that would be no good to anyone.
But if she isn’t going to help
me, then I’ll just have to find my own way out.
I stand up and thank her for her
time.
It’s almost lunchtime anyway.
Maybe I can go and eat myself into a coma until I get out of this godforsaken
place.
CHAPTER 15
I’m in the lunch queue, trying to decide what to get
Narcissa and the microwave to make for me today, when Anthony jumps in next to
me.
“Hi.” He smiles. “Are you okay?
You ran out of class pretty quick.”
I nod.
To be honest, I’m still feeling
precariously close to bawling my eyes out, but Anthony doesn’t need to know
that.
There are a bunch of people waving
to him again.
“You know you don’t have to eat
with me,” I tell him.
“I like eating with you,” he
says. “Besides, the horned woman always gives you extra stuff that I can
steal.”
“Her name is Narcissa,” I say.
I almost tell him about the
microwave but then remember that I wasn’t even supposed to tell anyone she had
a name.
Oops.
We reach the front of the line.
Narcissa smiles at me and winks again. It makes me blush. I don’t like Anthony
in
that
way.
I suppose he’s kind of okay.
And no, Sophie, I did not just
say that.
But he’s certainly no Wade.
“So, you wanna talk about class
this morning?” Anthony asks when we sit down.
I shrug.
“What did you see?”
“Wade,” I admit. I debate
whether to tell Anthony at all. He probably doesn’t want to hear about Wade.
“Oh, right. I should have known.
How is Prince Charming doing these days?”
“Not very good, you’ll be
pleased to know.”
“Not dead yet, I gather?”
“Obviously not,” I snap.
The last thing I need is bloody
Anthony making me feel guilty for still loving Wade.
“Okay, okay.” He holds his hands
up. “Sorry. How is he?”
“Like you care.”
“I do,” he says. “I genuinely
want to know how the guy who killed us both is doing.”
“Really not good,” I admit.
I want someone to talk to. Even
if that someone is Anthony. Caydi is nice enough, but I can’t really talk to
her. She has her own friends and has made it very obvious that I don’t fit in
with them. Plus she didn’t know Wade and she doesn’t understand how I can still
be so hung up on a living boy when there’s so much fun to have here.
“Why not good?” Anthony asks.
“He was hurt in the crash.”
“That’s good,” Anthony says.
He stops when I send him my best
death glare.
“Sorry,” he says. “But
considering that we both got killed, it would be pretty unfair if he had walked
away without a scratch. Even you have to admit that.”
“It’s unfair anyway,” I snap.
This whole thing is unfair.
Anthony is right. Wade got off with a few injuries, while we’re both dead. This
whole thing is Wade’s fault. Yes, the crash was an accident. But it could have
been prevented. If Wade hadn’t been tormenting Anthony, none of this would have
happened.
It is his fault.
“So what happened to him?”
Anthony asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Broken leg, broken arm, quite a
few nasty looking cuts and bruises…”
“Two broken bones and a few
cuts?” Anthony says in disbelief. “And you feel sorry for him?”
“Broken bones hurt,” I say. “At
least we’re not in pain. Not physical pain, anyway.”
“You don’t think that being
taken away from our families and stuck in some school for the dead is painful?”
“Of course I do. But Wade didn’t
mean for this to happen.”
“So we’re both dead and he
walked away with two broken bones and you feel sorry for him.”
“I doubt he did much walking
with that broken leg,” I snap at him.
Anthony sighs and throws his
hands up in the air.
For a moment I think he is going
to get up and walk away—and I wouldn’t blame him if he did—but he doesn’t.
“Forgive me for saying this,
Riley,” he says instead. “But Wade is a jerk. He always has been and always
will be a jerk. I know you love him and everything, but you could do so much
better than him.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like I
have much choice now, is it?”
“And whose fault is that?”
Anthony says. I can tell he’s getting frustrated now, and I can’t deny that he
has a point.
“I’m sorry,” I say eventually.
“I know what Wade did to you was wrong and you have every right to hate him,
but there’s another side to him that you never got to see, and that’s why I
loved him.”
We’re quiet for a moment.
“You just said loved,” Anthony
says. “With a
d
on the end. As in, past tense.”
“Slip of the tongue,” I mutter.
And it was. I swear it was.
Wade could be a sadistic git,
sure. But he could also be kind and sweet and loving when we were alone.
And we all tormented Anthony. It
wasn’t just Wade.
“You really could do so much
better, Riley.”
“What, like you?” I growl.
“No,” he says. “I didn’t mean… I
mean, I don’t… It wasn’t meant to—”
“Just forget it,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” he says again.
“It’s just that I know Wade. I know a hundred guys like Wade. You weren’t
anything special to him. He’s probably already trying to get into some other
girl’s pants and you’ve only been gone a little while.”
“That’s not fair,” I protest.
“And it’s not true. Wade’s not that kind of guy. We were committed.”
Anthony shrugs.
He’s hiding something. I can
tell.
“What?” I demand. “You want to
say something, just say it. It’s not like you could make me feel any worse.”
He’s silent for a moment, like
he’s thinking about something.
Then the buzzer rings for afternoon
class.
“Argh,” I say out loud.
“Sorry,” Anthony says.
“What for?” I demand again as we
stand up.
“Nothing. Just think about
moving on, Ri. That’s all.”
God, are all boys this
frustrating or is it just the ones I’m stuck with?
CHAPTER 16
Group therapy is our lesson that afternoon, and it’s a weird
one. I don’t know what I was expecting when I walked into the building that
used to be our gym, but it probably wasn’t this.
There are five people sitting on
red plastic chairs in a circle. Standing in the centre of the circle is an
older man.
“Ah, new arrivals,” he says.
“Make room, folks. You two grab a chair from the back and come join us.”
We do as he says and squash into
the circle next to each other.
“Don’t worry,” he says to us
kindly. “We’re all new here. Except me, obviously. You’d be a bit worried if I
was new too, huh?” He laughs like this is the funniest joke he’s ever made.
No one else laughs.
“Well, well,” he says, still
spluttering to get himself under control. “My name is Mr Perkins, but you can
call me Oscar. As you’ve probably guessed, I am the school counsellor and am
here to help you adjust at this difficult time. We all understand what everyone
else is going through. Back in the living world, your friends and family will
no doubt be receiving grief counselling, so we see no reason why you should not
be entitled—and more than entitled, in fact, required—to have the same. No
reason to think that you are not just as bereaved as those you’ve left behind.”
I see one girl across the circle
roll her eyes.
I look around me while Mr Oscar
Perkins twitters on.
Apart from Anthony and me, there
are two other girls and three boys. They’re all about our age, maybe a couple
of years younger.
Mr Perkins is still talking.
“Let’s all go around the circle an introduce ourselves. Don’t worry, I don’t
expect you to all stand up and say ‘My name is Oscar and I have a problem’.
This is just a bit of getting to know each other. We all know how difficult it
can be to make friends in a new place, especially a place like this that can be
so far from what you’re used to. Just tell us a little bit about yourself.
Share how you died, if you like. At least it’s one thing we all have in common.
Here, I’ll start.”
He stands up and says, “Hello,
my name is Mr Oscar Perkins. I’ve been working her for thirty years. I died
before any of you were even born. I have a bad relationship with my pancreas.”
He points to the boy sitting
next to the girl who rolled her eyes earlier. “See? Easy. Let’s start with you,
William.”
“It’s Will, actually,” William
says, standing up. “I’m sixteen and I died about three weeks ago. I was killed
by an egg beater. Switched off.” He sits down again.
I stare at him. How on earth do
you kill someone with an egg beater?
Apparently I’m not the only one
thinking that because the girl who rolled her eyes says, “How the fuck do you
die from an egg beater?” in a rather incredulous tone.
“That’s enough, Jody,” Mr
Perkins says. “We’ll have none of that language in here, thank you. And it’s
not polite to question other people’s deaths.”
“Yeah, well, death by egg beater
is pretty fucking stupid,” Jody mutters.
“Would you like to go next
please, Jody?” Mr Perkins asks.
“Fine,” she grouches, standing
up. “I’m Jody, I’m dead. Don’t piss me off. I’m running out of places to hide
the bodies.” She thumps back down in her seat. “Happy now?”
Note to self: Avoid Jody at all
costs.
The boy sitting next to her
stands up. “Hi.” He waves happily at everyone. “I’m Tom. Also sixteen, and I
choked to death.”
“On what?” William asks.
“Four pounds and twenty pence,”
Tom says.
It’s my turn next. I stand up
and look around the circle. “I’m Riley. I was in a car accident.”
“How come you’re so colourful?”
Jody asks.
“I’m not colourful,” I snap. “I
just have normal hair.”
“And nice fleshy skin,” Tom
interjects. “You look like you’d taste delicious.”
Ew.
Note to self: Avoid Tom at all
costs.
“God, what is it with you and
eating shit?” Jody looks at Tom disgustedly.
I sit down again and Anthony
stands up. “Hi everyone, I’m Anthony. I’m sixteen, and I was also in a car
accident. I like maths, science, and musical theatre.”
Jody rolls her eyes again.
I suddenly feel like going over
and punching her. How dare she roll her eyes at what Anthony likes?
Er, not that I have ever done
that or anything.
I didn’t know Anthony likes
musical theatre. I like musical theatre too.
Wade hates it.
“Ah, so you two are the pair
that came together?” Mr Perkins interrupts my train of thought.
I nod.
“How very unusual,” he says.
“Everything about this place is
pretty unusual,” I say, but I don’t mean it in a nasty way for once.
The other girl is next to stand
up. “I’m Shanna. I was supposed to be taking my GCSEs next year, but I was
killed by the fluffy slippers of doom.”
With that she sits back down.
Jeez, these people are weird.
Fluffy slippers of doom? Really?
“And that just leaves you,
Jason.” Mr Perkins points to the other boy.
“Isn’t this exciting,” the other
boy says as he stands. “Yay, we’re all dead! Shall we sing a song?” He starts
clapping his hands like we’re all going to join him.
We all stare at him like he has
three heads.
“What? I’m just trying to
lighten the moment,” he says before sitting down with a defeated huff.
They think
I
need therapy?
Mr Perkins is chortling away.
“Now this is the sort of thing we need in group therapy sessions. Jolly good
idea, Jason.”
It takes him a full minute to
stop giggling.
“Now then,” he says. “I’m sure
you’ve all heard the spiel from multiple teachers about how much we understand
what you’re going through, et cetera, am I right?”
Everyone mumbles in agreement.
“Well, the truth is, we do. We
are all dead. We do know what it’s like to suddenly and unceremoniously leave
your family and friends behind. We do know how hard it is to adjust. We know
that you’ve gone from a school where you were happy and comfortable to a school
that you don’t know at all, full of people you don’t know, and many things you
probably never believed in. Am I right?”
Again, everyone mumbles in
agreement.
“Wonderful. Let’s start with
what you’re finding hardest about being here. Jody, you go first.”
Jody shrugs. “I dunno. You
people are bloody stupid. I ain’t met one person I like yet.”
I think about that. She’d
probably like Gloria, the bitchy girl who tripped me up in the canteen.
“There are plenty of social
events you can attend,” Mr Perkins says. “Have a chat with your resident
advisor to get a schedule. If there’s something you like that isn’t on the
schedule, you can start up an after-school club yourself and see if other
people turn up. That might be a good way to meet some like-minded souls.”