Death in Spades Page 8

  “Listen,” Andy says, finally turning around to face me. His arms are full of clothes, with a pair of faded old sneakers on top. “You’re invisible to everyone but me, right? And I’m invisible to everyone else. Nobody notices me if I just fly under the radar, and that’s the way I want it. When everybody’s watching me, I just… I can’t deal with it. If they laugh at me once, that’s no big deal, but that back there? They were looking at me.”

  “They were looking at you before, too, Andy. They see every little mistake you make and turn it into something horrible. You’re just too busy protecting yourself from flyaway balls to notice it.”

  I realize as soon as the words leave my mouth that I’ve said something I shouldn’t have. Andy just poured his heart out to me, more or less, and all I did was pick on him the same way those kids back in gym class did. Except I was worse, because all I did was tell him the truth.

  “Being invisible sucks,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “You wouldn’t want to be like this. You’ve still got a life left to live, yeah?”

  I hear a scoff and some rattling as Andy clicks his lock back into place. His backpack is by his feet, and he puts his gym socks and shoes into it but keeps the rest of his clothes on.

  “Do I? Did you?” It takes me a few seconds to realize what he means by that. “Can you honestly tell me that you regret what you did? Killing yourself? Because if you can tell me that, then I’ll back off. Otherwise, you have no right to tell me how to live my life.”

  I’ve never seen Andy this angry; I had actually assumed he couldn’t get this angry. He kind of looks like a kitten with its claws out – a hint of danger, but about as intimidating as a stuffed bear. His green eyes are wide and his nostrils are flared. If he used this kind of rage on the kids that make fun of him, maybe he’d finally be able to get them to leave him alone.

  Doesn’t he understand that I’m just trying to help?

  I pause, weighing my words. I could be honest and hurt him, or lie and spare his feelings. He deserves honesty, but I don’t know if I can do that to him right now.

  “I do, sometimes.” I settle on a mixture of truth and lies. “I wish I had tried a little harder to make things work when I was alive. I wish I’d stood up for myself more and looked at the bigger picture. I was only sixteen, you know. I could have had a life, marriage, kids, the whole deal. Sometimes that bothers me, like today.”

  “But…?”

  “But sometimes it doesn’t,” I finish, not bothering to elaborate. Either he gets it or he doesn’t.

  I’m not entirely lying, you know. I really do have moments when I think about my life and wish I’d given it just one more try. But then my memories start floating back into my head and all I feel is relief that I don’t have to deal with any of that anymore. I don’t like this Limbo, or wherever I am, but it’s got to be better than my

  life was. I wouldn’t have taken the chance if I didn’t think it would be.

  “I never asked you to help me,” Andy says sharply, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “Everything was fine, and I knew what my life was, and then you came in and messed it all up. And now I don’t even know anymore.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about, but clearly it’s making him upset. He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffles, trying to disguise it as a cough. The sound of scuffling shoes and hard volleyballs hitting the floor echoes through the open locker room door.

  “I’m sorry, Andy. I crossed the line. I shouldn’t have interfered.”

  Mellie’s words ring in my ears, her warning about interfering with the people I meet. I should have listened to her. If I had – if I’d just treated Andy like Esther or David or any other name-less death I’ll encounter – I wouldn’t be feeling so heartbroken right now.

  Why am I so attached to this kid? He’s a skinny freshman with a feminine face and a fear of pretty much everything. He’s odd and probably crazy and he drives me up the wall. But I think, if I were alive, we would have been friends. I think we still could be.

  Andy just shakes his head and walks away, carrying his clothes to the bathroom stall he changed in earlier. I stay where I am, watching the door as it closes behind him.

  “Go away, Terra!” he shouts through the gap, then says, softer, “Please. I just need a little time alone.”

  A hand falls on my shoulder and a shock runs through my back. I don’t have to turn around to know that Mellie is right behind me, her fingers pressing into my collarbone.

  “It’s time to go, Terra.” Her voice is serious, but not angry. I don’t want to go with her – not if she’s going to reprimand me and I’m never going to get to see Andy again. But the way she says it tells me that I don’t have a choice. She lets go of me and the sensation of sparks vanishes.

  I take one last look at the closed bathroom door, and then I follow Mellie through the wall and out the front door.

  Chapter Ten

  I haven’t seen Andy in three days.

  Not that I’ve really had time to go looking for him. Mellie has kept a close eye on me since then, and the death count has been high enough to keep me busy. Three deaths in three days – an auto accident and an overdose. It’s the suicide that hits me the hardest.

  The first two deaths were easy. Two older men were in a head-on car crash and both were killed instantly. I didn’t even have to do any of the hard work; Mellie was there with me and explained what was going on to both of them at the same time. All I had to do was watch and listen. One of the guys’ face smashed through the front windshield of his car, crushing his skull and sending blood splattering everywhere. The other man broke his neck in the impact and was otherwise barely injured. The sight was hard to look at, but David’s death was worse. Either I’m getting good at my job, or I’m losing my empathy. I don’t think I like either option.

  The one I’m witnessing right now – that’s what tells me that

  my emotions are still intact. Because, unlike with the car accident, I

  can feel this one.

  A 23-year-old named Jared, with a generic tattoo of a skull and crossbones on his left shoulder and inky black hair that’s so messy it reminds me of Andy. But that’s where the similarities between the two stop. Jared is tall and burly, with a wide-set, masculine face and a scraggly goatee growing on his chin.

  I find him on the floor of his bathroom, an empty bottle of pills still loosely clenched in his hand. His apartment is tiny and heavily decorated, the walls covered in band posters and the tables littered with food boxes and paper. He’s a college student – a set of textbooks lie next to a bulging backpack on the living room couch. No note, no blood, no warning sign; I walk through his apartment looking for him, preparing myself for the worst without knowing what I’ll find.

  He’s still alive when I find him, eyes half-closed and body slumped against the wall opposite the door. I don’t need to read the label to recognize the prescription-strength medication in his hand. He obviously took enough pills to kill himself, because otherwise I wouldn’t be here.

  He stares up at me in shock, his mouth open, when I phase through the bathroom door and hover in front of him. The pill bottle falls out of his hand and clatters across the floor, coming to a stop next to the toilet. He’s drooling out of the corner of his mouth and his eyes are rimmed red. In the time it takes for me to fully process what I’m seeing, his body jerks and goes limp, sliding down the wall

  and to the floor. His eyes are still open, but just barely; he looks exhausted.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” I tell him; I’ve become a great liar since I died. “My name is Terra, and I’m here to help you. Okay? Can you tell me your name?”

  At first he shakes his head, sputtering, but then he stares at me resolutely and mumbles, “Jared.”

  “Jared. Okay. I’m gonna get you out of here, alright? I know things suck right now but I’m going to get you somewhere better.” Another lie; I can’t promise him anything. He could be going to Hell an
d I could be bringing him one step closer. But I have to think that someone like him – someone like me – can have a chance at redemption. Otherwise, what’s the point in trying?

  “Okay,” he says, another spasm racking his body. He looks like he’s going to throw up, and I almost wish he would – maybe if he puked up enough pills, he would live. I was pulled here because it’s his time to die, but I was also pulled to Andy and he’s still alive.

  With his eyes closed and his head down, all I can see is Andy. And I want so desperately to help him, but I can tell from his posture and the way his body is trembling that it’s too late. The pills are already in his system; it’s only a matter of time now.

  “What are you?” Jared asks, slurring his words. “An angel?”

  I would have laughed had this been a different scenario. “Me? An angel? No way. I’m pretty sure that’s out of the question by now. Just think of me as your friendly neighborhood Reaper. But without the cape and scythe.”

  He looks about as shocked as he can manage with how weak his muscles are becoming. The way his mouth stretches in the dim light creates shadows of a harlequin smile. It’s haunting.

  I sink down to the floor, my feet barely grazing the bathroom tile, and walk towards him. He doesn’t even fight me when I put my hand on his shoulder and let my fingers sink into his skin. I wonder if he can feel it – the sensation of me pulling out his soul. His chest heaves one last time, his arms shaking at his sides, and then his body stills completely.

  Jared’s skin is a shade darker as a ghost, but otherwise there’s no noticeable difference between his body and his soul. He looks around, fear in his eyes, and I watch the realization sinking in. It’s like a stop motion picture of the grieving process – denial, anger, bargaining, sadness, acceptance. A vibration of static lingers in my fingertips where I touched his body.

  Mellie phases through the wall, smiling down at me from her position several feet in the air. Jared watches her with wide eyes as she floats down to eye-level with him, standing between us with her feet off the ground. She looks so beautiful like this. She looks like an angel – an angel of death. The title suits her more than Grim Reaper, anyway.

  She gives Jared the same speech she gave Esther and David, but it takes a few minutes longer to convince Jared to come with her. He isn’t freaking out like David did, but I think he’s in shock more than anything else. His death was expected, just like mine, but the afterlife clearly wasn’t something he was counting on.

  It occurs to me that he probably wanted to disappear, just like I did. At least he isn’t going to be stuck in this place forever; I’ve

  started giving up hope of ever getting out of here. Maybe I’ll take Mellie’s place one day and train newbies on how to pull souls from

  dead people. That sounds like the worst day job ever.

  After Mellie leaves – taking Jared with her like she did with David – I sit on the edge of the bathtub and look at the body he left behind, thinking. What did I look like when my sister found me? Obviously I was there, and I saw myself when the ambulance took me away, but I didn’t see it through Olivia’s eyes. Dead people look different, depending on who’s seeing them. When David died, I felt so sick I would have puked had I had a stomach, but with the other two car crash victims I felt eerily calm. Maybe it’s because David was so young and clean and full of life. Jared was too, and so was I.

  And Andy. I wonder how Andy’s doing.

  Maybe I could just sneak away for a few minutes. It’s late in the afternoon and he’s bound to be home in his room by now. I could be there and back before Mellie even notices I’m gone.

  But Mellie, always two steps ahead of me, is through the wall and sitting on the edge of the tub next to me before I’ve even finalized my plan.

  “You can’t interfere,” she says, her tone serious. “It’s against the rules.”

  A hot bolt of rage spikes through me and I stand, clenching my fists until I start being able to feel it.

  “What rules? Who decided what we can and can’t do around

  here? You’re the only other person in this place.” I take a deep

  breath that feels cool in my chest. “I already ‘interfered’ a little, and

  nothing happened. Nobody died, and I didn’t even get the chance to save anybody, if you’re worried about me disturbing the natural order of things, or whatever.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about. I don’t want you becoming too attached to the living, is all.”

  “And why is that? Because it’ll hurt when they die?” Mellie’s still sitting, staring up at me with her default, unreadable expression on her face. “News flash, Mel – it already does hurt! It hurts every time you make me do this, and I still have no idea why! People died before you came along, and they’ll die after. Why do we have to be around to see it?”

  Mellie looks like she’s on the verge of telling me something important; she opens and closes her mouth twice, but no sound comes out.

  “I can’t tell you that,” she finally says. “I can’t give you the answers you want, and I’m sorry, but it’s better for you not to know. It’ll change things if you do.”

  My curiosity has almost outranked my frustration. Almost. “Change what things?”

  “You and me,” she answers, too quickly. “You’ll hate me if you know. I’ve been here alone for the better part of the last two decades. You have to understand what that feels like.”

  What could she possibly say that would make me hate her? I barely even know her. I don’t really have a strong opinion of her one

  way or another, but I don’t think I have it in me to hate someone. I don’t even hate the kids that drove me to kill myself, or the ones who pick on Andy.

  But I can understand what she’s saying. I can’t imagine being alone for that long.

  “Who did you kill, Mellie?” I ask, hesitant. “And why can’t you move on from it?”

  “That’s part of what I can’t tell you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over it. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re still here. What hope do I have?”

  I was right – she’s given up. She’s been here for at least ten years and she never intends on leaving. What kind of future is that? Spending every day chasing after death; it’s like she’s trying to punish herself for what she did. But I still don’t know why she’s punishing me too.

  Is she one of those people who thinks suicide is a sin? Because she was nice enough to Jared, and I’m sure she’s dealt with plenty of other people who have killed themselves over the last couple of decades.

  “Alright, you give me one answer, just one, and I’ll stop bugging you about it, okay?”

  Mellie looks like she wants to argue, but instead she says nothing. I take her silence as permission to continue, even though I was planning on asking anyway, whether she wanted me to or not.

  “How did it happen? When you killed someone?” I ask quickly, before I can back out. Mellie looks composed, but I can see

  the corners of her mouth twitching down into a tense frown. I don’t need to elaborate; she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  I fully expect her not to answer, because she hasn’t exactly

  been all that chatty today and being mysterious is pretty much her thing. There are plenty of other things I want to know, half of which I’ve already asked her, but this is the only thing I think she might

  actually be willing to tell me. I’m not sure how I know that, but it turns out I’m right.

  “I was friends with a living person,” she begins, slowly at first and then picking up speed the more she divulges; “Someone who could see me. Just like you and Andy. We were inseparable and I was actually happy.”

  I can’t imagine being stuck in a place like this and still finding a way to be happy. I wonder if I could have been happy with Andy, if Mellie hadn’t pulled me away.

  “But if they could see you, weren’t they going to die anyway? You said you killed someone.
It doesn’t count if they were already gonna die.”

  “They weren’t.” Mellie pulls at her hair, unravelling several curls. “We were together for weeks and she was perfectly fine. Nobody was there to tell me not to get too close, so I did; she was like a sister to me. But you know what happens when we touch people.”

  She doesn’t phrase it like a question, but I answer anyway. “We touch their souls.”

  “We pull them out. It’s like an instinct, and there’s no way to

  stop it. She was in trouble, and I went to help her without even thinking about it. I tried to touch her, and she died.”

  Suddenly, I feel like I’m going to be sick; I put one hand over my mouth even though I couldn’t throw up even if I wanted to.

  That’s why Mellie was trying to stop me from seeing Andy. She was protecting me – and him. What if I had slipped up, accidentally made contact with one of the girls in gym class or Andy in the hallway….

  I came so close. I almost killed three people and I didn’t even know I was doing it.

  “I’m so sorry, Mellie,” I say softly. I’m tempted to put one hand on her shoulder, but I’m pretty sure physical contact is the last thing she wants right now. “I didn’t know. I should have been more careful.”

  She shakes her head, her long hair bouncing around her neck. “No, I should have been more careful. I should have told you a long time ago. Before you got so attached.”

  “I’m not attached, necessarily.” Mellie shoots me a knowing look and I clamp my mouth shut. So I’m a little attached. It’s kind of hard not to be when Andy walks around looking like a kicked puppy.

  “So there are people who can see us, even when they aren’t in any danger?” I ask, trying to shift the subject away from Mellie’s guilt.