Queen of the Dead

It was something I didn’t like to think about, and since Will knew better than to try to make me heel, it wasn’t really worth consideration anyway. Except when Liesel brought it up just to rub it in my face, of course.

“What do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth. Damn it, my make-out high was wearing off.

“We need the medium to do something for us,” she said without so much as a backward glance at Eric. He rocked on his heels in the background, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets, looking uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for him, tied to this harpy for all eternity, or at least the foreseeable future, just because his hormones got the better of him. Once again, my rule about not dating someone unless they’re worthy of you proves true. You know… don’t go out with someone you don’t really like — or like only for one thing — because you could die and then be stuck with him/her forever. Talk about hell.

“Yeah, I know,” I said to Liesel. “I got it. Get Mrs. Pederson to forgive you for stealing her man and doing the nasty with him before getting him killed.”

Liesel and Claire LaForet Pederson, who also happened to be the Brit Lit teacher at our former high school, hadbeen best friends growing up, until Liesel had pulled herman-stealing crap and then died. Of course, none of that explained why Eric was still stuck here. Technically, from what I’d been able to gather from Liesel’s nonstop yammering at the various times she’d stalked me like this, Claire and Eric hadn’t actually been dating. Claire had just called dibs.

Look, I am…or I was a power player at Groundsboro High. I know the ins and outs of our social hierarchy likeI know the contents of my closet. Give me fifteen minutes, and I could probably do the same thing at any other school, too. You have to know who the competitors are, how to makefriends…and the right enemies. (A good enemy, or frenemy, for that matter, will earn you more cred than you could possibly accumulate with years of just the right clothes, hair, etc.)

But one thing you don’t do? Mess with another girl’s crush. Yes, it gives you a reputation boost temporarily, and if you end up in a relationship with him (see my best friend, Misty, and my ex, Chris), then most people will excuse it as “true love.” But that’s risky. And to do it just because you can? Because you’re bored, lonely, needing a self-esteem fix? When it falls apart, expect instant whoredom.

Because you’ve just announced, in so many words, to every girl in the school that you have no intention of respecting the unspoken, agreed-upon boundaries of dibs, and their crushes could be next.

Yeah. Not a good idea. Ever.

“You’re like nine hundred thirty-six on the list or something,” I said. I’d sent Liesel to the end, just for being a pain in my ass. “As they say, today’s not your day and tomorrow’s not looking good, either.” I was pretty sure Will had that on a T-shirt somewhere.

“You need to move us up,” Liesel said sharply.

I pretended to think about that. “No.”

“You did it for Mrs. Ruiz,” she pointed out in a shrill voice that was just so grating. “You put her right at the top.”

“And look at how well that worked out,” I muttered.

She frowned. “What?”

Evidently, the undead gossip train, which usually moved with bulletlike speed and accuracy, hadn’t reached her with the latest details yet.

I sighed. “Nothing.”

“We’re running out of time.” She touched her feathered and heavily sprayed bangs carefully, making sure everything was still in place. A nervous habit left over from life, most likely, when stuff like the wind messed with your look. Unless, of course, you’d used twelve cans of hairspray.

I narrowed my eyes at her and then at Eric behind her. “You look fine to me.” Neither one of them appeared to be in any more danger of disappearing than before. Their forms were as solid as ever.

“Claire started dating someone,” she said. “His name is Todd.”

I raised my eyebrows.

Mrs. Pederson’s divorce a couple of years ago had been legendary, especially after the day she’d shown up to teach, allegedly half-looped on some kind of mood upper. Fortunately, it had turned out to be a Saturday. Unfortunately, more than enough people were in the building — practices, yearbook, detention, etc. — for the rumor to be alive and kicking on Monday.

“So…you want to stop her? You can’t be happy, so she can’t be happy until she forgives you? Will would never go for that.” I turned away.

“Whose side are you on?” she called after me.

“Not yours,” I said over my shoulder.

“Yeah, I noticed. We’ve all noticed.”

I turned at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“All you care about is what he does.” She folded her arms across her chest. “We don’t even matter to you.”

I assumed that the “we” she referred to was the general ghost population of the Decatur/Groundsboro area rather than just Eric and her specifically.

“I’m his guide,” I pointed out.

“But you’re one of us,” she shot back.

I shook my head.

“You think you’re better than us just because you work for the breather?” she demanded.

“Work with,” I corrected with an edge. “And no, I think I’m better than you because I am better than you.” I kept walking.

“You’re not alive anymore, you know!” she shouted after me. “Not like he is. And being his guide doesn’t make you any closer to it. You need to stop pretending. It’s pathetic.”

I stopped dead and spun to face her again. “I’m sorry?” She was baiting me, I knew that, and yet I could not stop myself. She didn’t know anything; she was just lashing out at what she thought might be a weak spot. And yet, tonight, that one particular area just happened to be larger and more vulnerable than usual.

She moved closer, her dress rustling loudly in the quiet summer night air. “You’re no different from the rest of us, except you think letting the medium use you makes you something special.”

“Any using going on is mutual, I assure you,” I said tightly.

She rolled her eyes. “Really? You think he’s going to want you around forever? Someone no one else can see? You work for him. The rest of it is temporary. You’re just conven—”

I suspected that would have been “convenient,” but I launched myself at her before she could finish. We went down in a tangle of tulle in Will’s neighbor’s yard. God, I hoped Will wasn’t watching. But even if he was, I couldn’t let this go.

“Don’t you see? It’s not right what he’s doing,” she insisted, even as we struggled and rolled in the grass.

“I’m not doing it for him. I was sent back from the light to—”

“You mean, you got kicked out!”

I reached for her throat, to shut off her words and her air. Unfortunately, we couldn’t really hurt each other.

“Hey, cut it out!” Eric reached between us and pulled us apart, one hand on the back of Liesel’s dress and the other on the collar of my shirt. “You’re disappearing.”

We both looked down at ourselves. Whole sections of Liesel’s torso were see-through, and my legs were gone from the knee down. Damn it.

“You seem very determined to make up for your mistake, which I admire,” I offered begrudgingly.

“I like your hair,” she said with equal disdain.

But it must have been genuine, on both of our parts, because the fading out stopped.

“Look, we don’t want Claire to be unhappy. Just the opposite,” Liesel said quickly as if she thought — correctly — I’d start walking again now that I had my legs back. “We have a very limited window here. She doesn’t date very often, and when she does, it hardly ever goes this well. Right now, she’s happy and excited about Todd. So, she might be more open, more—”

“Forgiving?”

“Exactly.” Liesel nodded like her head was loose on her neck.