Playlist for the Dead (18 page)

What if she didn’t just know about Athena? What if she
was
Athena?

She couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense; I couldn’t picture Astrid and Hayden together at all. Or was it just that I didn’t want it to be?

I was saved from saying anything by Mr. Peterson finally making his way to the counter. He had to be in his nineties, white haired, liver spotted, and worn out. I used to try to chat with him; I wanted him to remember me between visits, to be one of those people who could get anyone to open up. I wanted to learn more about the Petersons than just the basics listed on the paper placemats he laid out in front of us, which gave the history of the fountain. But either I wasn’t charming enough or Mr. Peterson just didn’t give a shit—he never talked to me other than to take my order, and he never remembered me when I came back. “Know what you want?” he croaked.

“Two chocolate egg creams and a large basket of crinkle fries,” I said.

“Egg cream?” Astrid asked as Mr. Peterson slowly walked away. “As in, raw egg? You sure about this one?”

“They haven’t put real eggs in these things since the 1800s,” I said. “It’s just milk and syrup and fizzy water. But it’s amazing.”

The Petersons may have moved slowly, but they were an efficient unit. Mrs. Peterson was already working on the drinks by the time Mr. Peterson had the fries bubbling away. Astrid tried to chat with them while they worked, only to be ignored just as I always had been.

“I used to try too,” I said, glad that she and I had the same instinct, but secretly relieved that she hadn’t done any better than I had.

Mrs. Peterson placed the drinks in front of us, bendy straws poking out of the foam that sat at the top of the old-school fountain glass. Astrid took a long sip, eyes widening as she swallowed.

“Right?” I said, and she nodded.

“How did you even know to order this?” she asked. “I’ve never even heard of it.”

“It’s an old Brooklyn thing,” I said. “I used to get them with my dad, when we lived back east.”

“I’m not sure I knew that you didn’t always live here,” she said.

“No reason you would,” I said. “I’ve been here since I was eight, but on the other side of town. And up until now I’ve never hung out with a cheerleader.”

“A cheerleader no more,” she said. “But I am a junior. Technically, I’m slumming, hanging out with a sophomore.”

“I’d say you shouldn’t let your friends see you, but Eric invited me to hang out with you guys tonight.” I figured this was my opening. “Speaking of which . . .”

“Actually, there was something I’d been meaning to ask you,” Astrid said, pulling on one of her hair extensions. “It’s potentially embarrassing so I kind of want to get it out of the way.”

Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good.

“Embarrassing for me, I mean,” she said, and I exhaled. “The thing is, we’ve hung out a few times now, and it’s been really fun—I don’t think I get along with anyone as well as I get along with you.”

“Me too,” I said, waiting for the “but.”

“But”—To hear it out loud made my stomach drop—“you’ve had tons of opportunities to make a move, and yet nothing. Am I totally reading this situation wrong? See what I mean about embarrassing myself?” It was true; she was blushing furiously. Except that was not at all what I’d expected.

“You
wanted
me to make a move on you?” I finally managed to say, after metaphorically falling off my stool and picking myself up off the filthy linoleum floor.

Of course Mr. Peterson chose that moment to plunk a giant basket of fries right in between us. “Ketchup?”

“And pepper,” Astrid said.

“You put pepper on your fries?”

“On the ketchup.”

“You’re a strange girl,” I said. “But, you know. My question. You haven’t answered it yet.”

“The answer was implied,” she said. “You haven’t answered mine.”

Good point. “But I’m confused,” I said. “What about Eric?”

“Eric?” She looked confused. That was a good sign.

“I thought he was your boyfriend.”

Apparently my timing was bad; Astrid had just put a heavily peppered french fry in her mouth, and she started laughing so hard she choked. Not quite Heimlich-level choking, but definitely potato-flying-everywhere, tears-pouring-from-eyes choking. I picked a chunk of potato off my shirt and waited for her to settle down.

“Oh, you sweet sheltered thing,” she said. “You clearly have severely underdeveloped gaydar.”

Gaydar? Gaydar! My new favorite word!

“Eric’s my best friend. He used to have a very serious boyfriend, but that ended recently, which means he and I are both very, very unattached. I guess we do spend a lot of time together, so I could see where you might think—but no. Never. And I have to say, I’m extremely relieved there’s a good explanation for all of this.”

Double that for me. My heart started pounding so hard I could feel it behind my eyes. “So you’re saying that if I made a move . . .”

“You’ll never know unless you try, buddy.” She was still smiling, and was I wrong or was she leaning in toward me?

So she hadn’t been nervous because she was worried I’d ask about Athena. She was nervous because she was into me. I couldn’t believe it. This was it, the moment I’d hoped for. I was so nervous my hand shook a little bit as I pulled a cheap paper napkin out of the dispenser on the counter, leaned in toward Astrid, and wiped a stray piece of ketchup-covered potato from her cheek. “That’s better,” I said, and then, finally, I kissed her.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

“WOW,” I SAID,
when we came up for air.

“Wow is right,” Astrid said.

I kissed her again. Her lip ring felt cool against my lips, not nearly as weird as I’d imagined. Because I’d imagined this a lot, I realized, even more so than I’d been aware of. Kissing her felt entirely familiar, despite the fact that I’d never actually kissed a girl before.

I could have sat at Peterson’s all day, eating fries, drinking egg creams, kissing Astrid, but I’d sought her out for a reason. Maybe there was something I was missing about the whole Athena thing, just like I’d misunderstood Astrid’s relationship with Eric. I just didn’t know where to start.

“So, the other day—” I started.

“When you should have kissed me and you didn’t?” Astrid asked.

“No, not that,” I said. “When we got back to school—”

“And you should have kissed me but you didn’t?” She was teasing me; she thought I was flirting, and I hated to let her down.

“You’re not going to let me live that down for a long time, are you?” I asked, although I worried that I was making too many assumptions about “a long time.”

“Nope,” she said, and kissed me again.

It was almost impossible for me to tear myself away. But I had to get my priorities straight. There were so many things I needed to figure out. I had no idea whether understanding Hayden’s relationship and what had happened to it would help me figure out what was happening to the bullies, but if there was any chance of it, it could be the only thing that would save people from thinking it had been me. Myself included.

I pulled my face from hers, but I was still sitting close enough that our shoulders almost touched. I reached out and gently twisted one of her extensions in my fingers. “I always wanted to know what those felt like,” I admitted.

“And now you know,” she said, but it was like a screen fell over her face. She must have seen something in mine. “But that’s not what you wanted to ask me.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said.

She bit her lip, which was already a little red and swollen from all our kissing. “Go ahead. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

I hoped so. “That day at school, when I told you about Hayden’s computer. You were right. The password was Athena.”

She nodded slightly. “I’m not surprised.”

“And you never told me how you knew him. Hayden.” I was holding my breath; I had no idea what she would say. I had no idea what I wanted her to say.

“Does it really matter?” she asked. “He’s gone. None of this is going to bring him back.”

“I know it won’t,” I said. “But I still have so many questions. I need to at least try to understand. If you know more than I do, you have to help me.”

She sighed. “It’s a long story,” she said.

“I’ve got all day.”

She paused, and then let out a long breath. I guess she’d been holding hers, too. “All right, here goes.” She picked up a french fry and dipped it in the peppery ketchup; I could tell she was buying herself some time. I hoped it didn’t mean she was going to lie to me. “Remember the other day, when I told you about that guy I was so into?”

I nodded. I’d assumed it was Eric, but now I knew I’d been wrong.

“It was Ryan Stevens.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. A powerful surge of jealousy went through me, which didn’t really make sense given that their relationship was over and hers and mine was just beginning. I reminded myself to listen, like Hayden had said.

“We met when I was a freshman. I’d just joined the cheerleading squad, and he’d just gotten moved up to varsity. It was so flattering to be hit on by a sophomore, and all my girlfriends thought he was so cute. I did, too. He really seemed to have his shit together, you know? He was smart, good-looking, athletic—everything I was supposed to want, right?” There was a bitter note in her voice. I wasn’t sure what that was about. “I used to hang out at his house. That’s where I met Hayden.” Her voice softened again. “He was so sweet. At first he was shy, wouldn’t talk to me much. But after a while he warmed up, and he’d let me come in his room.”

“Where it looks like the Death Star threw up,” I said, smiling at the idea of it.

She laughed. “Yeah, it was pretty geeky in there. And when he started talking about Mage Warfare . . .”

“. . . you wondered how you could ever have thought he was shy.”

“Exactly. Couldn’t get him to shut up about it, but it was charming. I couldn’t understand why he and Ryan didn’t get along.”

“The whole football-versus-geek thing didn’t clue you in?”

“Oh, sure, there wasn’t much common ground, externally. But you’ve met their parents; you know what they were like. Their standards were exacting, impossible to meet. Ryan tried as hard as he could and I knew it was killing him; Hayden just refused. Different strategies, same problem.”

I’d never thought of it that way before.

“I did what I could to bring them together, but it never really worked. It didn’t help that Ryan’s friends were such assholes.”

“Amen,” I said.

“Anyway, that’s how I got to know Hayden a little.” She stopped, bit her lip again.

“What happened with you and Ryan?” I could tell she didn’t really want to talk about it, but I had to know.

She looked down at the dirty linoleum floor. “We dated for about a year. Right up until . . .”

“The car accident,” I said. No wonder she didn’t want to talk about it.

“I was so lost after my dad died,” she said. “He’d gone out for takeout, and I kept thinking that if I knew how to cook, or if I hadn’t been hungry, or if I’d wanted pizza instead of Chinese . . . so many things I could have done to stop it. You know?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.” Oh, how I knew.

“And I get now that it’s not my fault, or at least that it’s no more my fault than anyone else’s—the woman who hit him because her car was too old for antilock brakes, the weather gods for the freezing rain that made the roads so slick. But I was a mess, and I needed to get out of myself. That’s where Astrid came from.” She waved her hand from her head down to her feet.

“Astrid is wonderful,” I said softly.

“Astrid is necessary,” she said. “And I thought Ryan would understand. He had his perfect-kid persona to shield him from his parents; Hayden had Mage Warfare to get away. Astrid wasn’t so different. But his friends, his horrible fucking friends . . . they made fun of him for going out with such a weirdo. My friends were no better; they didn’t understand why I needed to change, and they got me kicked off the cheerleading squad for not meeting the dress code or some stupid thing. When Ryan finally broke up with me I felt like I had nothing.”

“He broke your heart,” I said.

She snorted. “Sounds so stupid, doesn’t it? But yeah, I’d expected better from him. I thought he was different than Jason and Trevor, but it turns out I was wrong. And I’ll never forgive him for it.”

As happy as I was to hear that Ryan was well out of the picture, the way she talked about him made me nervous. I never wanted to hurt her like that, but there were still so many things I needed to know. Like the most pressing question of all: Who was Athena? Could she really be Astrid? How close had she and Hayden become?

“Look, I know there’s a lot of stuff you want to know,” she said, “but this conversation is kind of bumming me out, and I was just starting to enjoy feeling happy. Can we maybe talk about the other stuff later?” She leaned over and kissed me again, and I knew my other questions would have to wait as long as she wanted.

“All right, kids, time to pay up.” We were interrupted by Mr. Peterson. “We’re closing shop.” Was it my imagination, or was that grimace on his grizzled face a kind of smile? And what time was it, anyway? The clock said it was after six; apparently my loose grasp on the passage of time wasn’t limited to when I was at home.