Playlist for the Dead(19)

“That’s not the kind of explanation I was looking for, and you know it,” I said, still annoyed.

“Well, sometimes life is unfair.”

Stupid cryptic rational Hayden. “You’re wearing that?” I asked.

He looked down. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Nothing, really. Jeans, sneakers, and a Vampire Weekend T-shirt. He actually looked all right—maybe he’d even lost a little weight? Had he been trying and I hadn’t noticed? “Didn’t know you were into those guys, that’s all. Aren’t they a little poppy for you?” Hayden usually liked sad, whiny music. Vampire Weekend was my thing.

“Maybe I’m feeling more upbeat today.”

“Well, good for you,” I said. Sure, now he was feeling upbeat. I’d been trying to get him to go to parties forever, parties with people that we might actually like. And now, the one time he was willing to leave the house, we were stuck with the Stephanie Caster crowd. I knew I should just be grateful that he was willing to branch out, but for some reason it annoyed me. Why did everything have to be on his terms?

“Why are you being such an asshole?” It wasn’t like Hayden to get all confrontational. He must have been really excited about the stupid party to get so irritated with me.

“Didn’t mean to pee in your Cheerios. Sorry.” I got up from sitting on his bed and sat at the desk, scrolling through iTunes on Hayden’s fancy MacBook. “Here, you want upbeat? We’ll do upbeat.” I clicked on “Diane Young.” “In honor of your shirt,” I said.

“That’s pretty aggressively upbeat,” he said.

“Lyrics are still a downer, though. Saying someone’s got the luck of a Kennedy is harsh.”

“Are we going to sit around talking about lyrics all night? We should probably get out of here.”


No. I forced myself to snap out of the daze I’d been in. I wasn’t at the party with Hayden; I was home, alone, in my room. And I wasn’t ready to think about this yet. I tried rebooting the computer to make the music stop, but nothing happened. The song kept playing, its rapid-fire drumbeat echoing against the walls.

Creepy. Almost creepier because the song was so happy sounding. Almost like it was mocking me.

My Gchat window pinged.


ArchmageGed: Come on, you can remember the whole thing.



It wasn’t going to happen. Not now. I couldn’t handle another night without enough sleep; that had to be why all this was happening. None of it was real.

And yet the song kept playing.

I tried shutting down iTunes again, clicking out of Gchat. Nothing.

It sounded as if the song was getting even louder. Which was impossible.

My heart was pounding and when I looked down I realized my hands were shaking. Finally I slammed my laptop shut. The music ended as abruptly as it had begun; the silence seemed almost loud. Loud enough to keep me awake, but I really had to go to sleep.

Except when I turned around, someone was sitting on my bed.

I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. The person on the bed was a man, young but not handsome, with long reddish-brown hair that almost matched his skin.

ArchmageGed.

Or at least someone who looked almost exactly like the wizard figurine I’d bought. I looked up at my shelf—but the figurine wasn’t there.

It made no sense. I felt myself starting to panic. How did he get in my room? There was no way this could really be happening.

“Who are you?” I asked, finally, but he didn’t say anything. He just looked at me. Then the air around him seemed to shimmer, and the room got cold, almost like there was a breeze blowing in, though my windows were closed. And yet I was sweating.

I closed my eyes and felt my head pounding, almost like my brain was trying to come out my ears. This was not real. It couldn’t be.

I tried to monitor my breathing, to keep from panicking. In. Out. In. Out. Slowly. I had to find a way to be rational. Hayden’s vision of ArchmageGed was, I knew, a kind of dashing magician, a glamorous alternative-universe David Blaine. If he were really ArchmageGed, wasn’t that who I would see? I’d always pictured him as more like Gandalf, a tall old man with long gray hair and flowing robes; if this were all my imagination, the person on the bed would look like him.

I was a little calmer now. I opened my eyes again.

The figurine was there.

But the wizard was gone.



Remember, the party’s tonight. Come early.



All day Friday I stared at Astrid’s text. She’d really meant it when she said I should come. It was Friday afternoon, and though I hadn’t forgotten about the party, I just wasn’t sure it was a good idea to go.

I’d spent the rest of the week completely freaked out about the Archmage situation. What had really happened in my room that night? I’d been so wired that I hadn’t slept at all, and I’d been up most nights since trying to figure it out. Now I felt like a zombie. I needed to talk to someone about it, but there was no way I would even consider Astrid, and the only other people I could imagine—Mom, Mr. Beaumont, Jimmy—would all think I was crazy. Which I was starting to think I was. No, I had to put it out of my mind. I knew I should probably just stay in, especially given what happened last time I went to a party, but maybe this was the kind of distraction I needed.