Playlist for the Dead(9)

I looked at the computer screen again. It was still there. My job was usually to come up with something witty in response, but I just stared at the blinking cursor. There was no way it could be Hayden.


ArchmageGed: You there?



Of course I was there; where else would I be? Hanging out with all my other friends? Oh, no, wait—I didn’t have any.


SamGoldsmith: Who is this?

ArchmageGed: Who do you think?



That was the thing—I couldn’t think of who it could be. No one from school knew us well enough to imitate Hayden. Someone from Mage Warfare? We chatted inside the game all the time, so someone could have seen us use that name. But the chat request hadn’t come from inside the game. This was my private email account. No one from the game had that info except Hayden.

Someone at school could have gotten it, though. Could it be one of the bully trifecta? Was this Ryan’s way of getting back at me for talking to him? As much as I disliked Ryan, though, I couldn’t imagine him being evil enough to sneak away from his family the night of his brother’s funeral just to screw with my head. Trevor was too stupid to pull off something like this, and from what Hayden had told me, Jason had his own stuff going on. It was possible; it just didn’t seem all that likely. But I couldn’t imagine who else it might be.


SamGoldsmith: Well, I know who it isn’t.

ArchmageGed: Are you sure?



Sure I was sure.


SamGoldsmith: Look, I don’t know who you are or why you’re doing this, but cut it out. Things are crappy enough as it is.

ArchmageGed: Not messing with you. I’m here to help.

SamGoldsmith: What’s that supposed to mean?

ArchmageGed: Just what I said.



SamGoldsmith: I don’t see how you can help when you won’t tell me who you are. This was just too weird. Signing off now.



ArchmageGed: Wait, don’t.



And for some reason, with that, I had the sense that I really was talking to Hayden. I mean, I knew it was impossible, and yet it sounded so much like him, teasing me for a while but quick to get serious, especially if he could tell I was getting annoyed at him. My heart started racing.


SamGoldsmith: Are you ready to be straight with me now? Who are you?

ArchmageGed: I’m ArchmageGed.



Interesting. He hadn’t said he was Hayden.


SamGoldsmith: Prove it.



The cursor blinked. The air in the room seemed to grow colder, and the goose bumps rose on my arms again. I looked at the clock on my computer screen. Somehow it was two in the morning. I’d been sitting here for hours and hadn’t even realized it. Hell, I was probably hallucinating; I’d barely slept in days, and it didn’t look like I’d be making up any ground tonight.

And then, all of a sudden, a song began playing, the music streaming through my computer speakers.

It was that Skylar Grey song I’d never heard before from the playlist. But the playlist had stopped playing hours ago. The room had been quiet since I turned off the game. The song felt almost like an assault on the silence.


ArchmageGed: See?

SamGoldsmith: That doesn’t tell me anything. I don’t even know that song.



It was some chick I’d never heard before, and I had no idea why Hayden would be listening to her.


ArchmageGed: That’s the whole point. There’s a lot you don’t know. But I want you to.

SamGoldsmith: So tell me!



But the cursor just kept blinking.


SamGoldsmith: Are these songs supposed to mean something? Seems pretty obvious to play me some dumb chick music about invisibility when I can’t even see you.

ArchmageGed: Lots of people want to be invisible. Maybe they even think they can pretend to be. But someone always sees.



Now the hairs on my neck were standing up. I must have looked like a plucked chicken. A scared, probably hallucinating chicken. But the thing was, whoever this ArchmageGed was sounded an awful lot like Hayden. Especially because I had no idea what he was talking about.


ArchmageGed: You’ll figure it out.



As if he’d read my mind.



ARCHMAGEGED HAD ME SO FREAKED OUT that I got almost no sleep the rest of the weekend, and I was terrified to turn on my computer—I wasn’t sure whether I wanted the Gchat window to pop up again. In the light of day it seemed clear to me that there was no way it could have been Hayden. Better to focus on things that were real, like the fact that I had to go to school.

For my first day back I put on my favorite jeans, a zip-up hoodie, and my Metallica T-shirt—one of their songs had come on the playlist as I was getting ready, and it made me think of Hayden. They were one of the bands we fought about; Hayden was strongly in favor of their stance against music piracy. “What if you spent your whole life working for something and people thought they were entitled to it for free?” he said. He didn’t have to add that he thought I’d understand, as someone who didn’t have a lot of money, but I knew he was thinking it. He always tried to be sensitive about the fact that his family was loaded and mine wasn’t, but sometimes there was no getting around it.

“If I was already a billionaire then maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal,” I said. “And it’s not like most of the money is going to the artists anyway. It’s all about making record companies rich. It costs nothing to distribute music electronically—this stuff should be dirt cheap by now.”