Playlist for the Dead(46)

“None taken.” I didn’t think he’d set out to make me feel bad.

“I was actually remembering the homophobia more than the suicide,” he said. That had been part of the storyline too; I’d been so focused on the other stuff that I hadn’t considered how the rest of it would affect other people. Like Eric. “No shortage of homophobes at Libertyville High, that’s for sure.”

“It’s not as bad as it was back then, is it?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for him.

“It’s better than it was, but it’s still not great,” he said. “This is still a town where most people belong to one of two churches, and both of them preach the evils of homosexuality on a regular basis. There’s no LGBTQ group at school, even though all the other big high schools in Iowa have them. Most people around here would rather stay closeted than run the risk of, I don’t know, losing a scholarship because your church found out you were gay.”

“But it seems like everyone accepts you,” I said. “Your family, your friends.”

“They do now,” Astrid said.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Eric said.

“They’ll get what’s coming to them eventually,” Jess said quietly. I think it was the first thing I’d ever heard her say.

“Maybe they already have,” Damian said.

I wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but I had a feeling it was Jason and Trevor. I didn’t understand, though—Trevor I could totally believe as a homophobe, but I thought the rumor was that Jason was gay. I wondered whether Eric could have been talking about Jason and that church scholarship—everyone knew how religious his family was, and he was definitely the type to win scholarship money.

The room was quiet after that, but it wasn’t a normal silence. It was filled with something—I couldn’t tell exactly what, but something wasn’t right. Did they all think I’d done it, too? I wanted to say that I hadn’t, that it must have been someone else, but I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t want to lie.

“It’s getting late,” someone said. “We should probably head out.”

“Yeah, we should too,” Astrid said. “Can anyone give us a ride?”

Damian had borrowed his dad’s car, so he offered to drop us off. I thought maybe I’d get to see where Astrid lived, but Damian went by my house first. “Good to see you guys,” he said. “We should all hang out again soon.”

“If I don’t keep Sam all to myself,” Astrid said. She kissed me before I got out of the car.

If she kept kissing me like that, I imagined, maybe the other stuff wouldn’t matter so much. But I felt guilty even thinking it.



MOM, RACHEL, AND JIMMY were all hanging out in the living room when I got home. “Did I miss a party?” I asked. There was an empty box of pizza on the coffee table. “Is this becoming a weekly thing?”

Mom lounged in her usual chair, the one that Hayden had always liked. “Did you meet with the guidance counselor? The school called, you know.”

“Forget the guidance counselor,” Rachel said. “I heard you’ve been hanging around with Alison Whitman.”

Word traveled fast. “She goes by Astrid now.”

“Is that the girl who came over before that party?” Mom asked. “She has an . . . unusual sense of style.”

Rachel snorted. “Weird, you mean.”

“You’re one to talk,” I pointed out. Rachel’s current ensemble included yet another tiny skirt, plus eye shadow in so many shades of pink, purple, and orange that her eyes looked like the sunset I’d just seen.

“Peace, all,” Jimmy said, which was also hilarious since he appeared to be wearing some sort of studded dog collar. He didn’t exactly look like the U.N. But it seemed to work, or at least it bought me a minute to drop my stuff and sit down on the couch.

“What did you and the guidance counselor talk about?” Mom asked.

I glanced over at Jimmy. “Glad to know we’ve got such a good sense of boundaries around here,” I said. “Beaumont said it was confidential.”

“Nice try,” Mom said. “Nothing’s confidential from your mother.”

Yeah, I hadn’t expected that to work. “We talked mostly about Hayden. And some weird stuff that’s been happening at school.”

“Like Trevor Floyd getting beat up after that party you went to?” Rachel asked. “It’s all anyone’s talking about. You know what the rumors are, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What rumors?” Mom asked. “I know I’m not around as much as I’d like, but that means you kids need to do a better job of keeping me informed.”

Rachel laughed. “Relax, Mom. The rumor is that Chickenbutt over here is responsible, but look at him. There’s no way he could beat up a guy that big.”

“Piss off, Rachel,” I said.

“Language, Sam!” Mom gave me a stern look.

Rachel had called me Chickenbutt since I was little, because I’d always been so scrawny. It was true I hadn’t filled out much, if at all, but it was kind of offensive that she didn’t think I was capable of doing something. Making an impact. I mean, I wanted it to not be true, but still.