Playlist for the Dead(37)

I could tell he wanted her explanation to be a good one, one that was fitting of who he believed her to be.


Athena: There’s a party next weekend at Stephanie Caster’s house. We can meet there.

ArchmageGed: If you really know who I am, you’ll understand why that might not be the best place.

Athena: It wasn’t my idea. That friend I told you about—she thinks it will work. There will be a ton of people there. No one will pay attention to us.

ArchmageGed: Why can’t we go somewhere and be alone?

Athena: Because I’m afraid.

ArchmageGed: Of me? I promise, I’m not scary.

Athena: I’m not so good with people. And I’m afraid that when you meet me I won’t be what you wanted me to be. I really want to talk to you in person, but I need to feel safe.



She was pretty self-aware; she knew herself well enough to know that being honest with someone at home in front of a computer screen was very different than dealing with them in real life.

But she’d given me one of the pieces of the puzzle—why we were at that party in the first place.

Who was Athena? Had she even showed up? How did she know how to find Hayden in the game?

My mind was racing again. I didn’t know where to start figuring out the answers to all my questions. I finally looked away from the computer to realize that I could see the sun rising. It was almost time for school—I really had stayed up all night. The questions would have to wait. I closed my eyes. With the computer still sitting on my chest, I started to drift off. But right before I fell asleep, I came up with one more:

How did Astrid know about Athena?



“WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HOME?”

I opened my eyes to see sunlight streaming through my window and Hayden’s laptop still sitting on my chest, though it had long since gone into power-save mode. My iPhone alarm had gone off but apparently I’d just slept through it; I could hear a song from the playlist in the background. Mom was standing in the doorway of my room, frowning at me. She must have just gotten home from work; she was wearing rumpled pink scrubs with little monkeys all over them.

“Overslept,” I said, my voice cracking. I wasn’t really awake yet. Not surprising, given that I must have fallen asleep at like five in the morning.

She sighed. “Get dressed quick. If I drive you we can get you there just in time for homeroom.”

I felt bad; she looked as exhausted as I’d been feeling lately. I brushed my teeth, put on extra deodorant, and threw on my clothes as fast as I could.

“Were you up playing Mage Warfare all night?” Mom asked, as I got in the car. “Or is something else going on? Were you thinking about Hayden?”

She’d pretty much covered it. “All of the above,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“Tell me what’s happening.” She ran her hands through her rumpled curls and I could see that she hadn’t had time to brush her hair before herding me off to school. I felt bad for keeping her from going to bed; I knew how it felt.

I looked out the window as she drove, at the run-down houses in our neighborhood that gave way to downtown as we got closer to school. The leaves had long since turned, and the streets were littered with them, damp and crushed under people’s feet and car tires. A few people had started putting up Halloween decorations; I turned away when I saw a fake gravestone with R.I.P. written on it in big, shaky letters. I wanted to tell her everything, but she’d just get worried, and she had enough to deal with. “I’ve just been thinking a lot,” I said, instead. “About Hayden and everything. Do you believe something happens to people? After they die?”

“Like heaven? Harps and fluffy clouds?”

I’d been thinking more about ghosts, specifically ghosts shaped like wizards, but I didn’t see any reason to mention that. “I guess.”

“No, I don’t really believe that,” she said. “I think we need to focus on the lives we’re living now. The dead live on in our memories. And our dreams. I dreamed a lot about my mother after she died, and I still do. Good dreams, and bad ones too. But I didn’t mind even the bad ones. It made her still feel real to me.”

Maybe that’s what had happened. Maybe I’d fallen asleep sitting up, that time I thought I’d actually seen the Archmage. “How real? Like she’s in the room with you?” I was holding my breath.

“Not literally,” she said, pulling into the school parking lot. “But real enough that even now I sometimes wake up and forget she’s gone. And sometimes I feel like she’s watching us. Like she’s seen you kids grow up, and she’s happy. But that’s just wishful thinking.”

“Maybe not,” I said, as I opened the car door. The air was cold and smelled like dead leaves.

Mom smiled. “You never know. Have a good day at school, okay? We can talk more later if you want.”

I knew it wasn’t going to be a good day at school, though, not after skipping out yesterday. I couldn’t avoid Mr. Beaumont forever; my homeroom teacher gave me a stern look and said I needed to go see him right away. I braced myself and went straight to his office.

“Nice to see you again, Sam,” Mr. Beaumont said, sitting in one of the big comfy chairs and indicating that I should sit in the other one. “Though I’d asked you to come yesterday. I didn’t expect to have to come and get you.”