Playlist for the Dead(23)

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.