If I Die

five days, and whether I like it or not, you’re the one Nash is going to turn to when he’s half out of his mind with grief. Which means I’m practically doing you a favor.” If my death would benefit anyone, it would be Sabine. “That means you owe me. And considering the timetable I’m on, I’m gonna need payment up front.”

Sabine popped the tab on her can and stared at me. “You’re dying? For real?”

“Not till Thursday.” At first, the thought had made me sick to my stomach every single time it crossed my conscious mind. But after contemplating my own untimely demise roughly four thousand times, the original terror and denial had given way to a hollow, distant acceptance. Thinking about my own death now had about the same effect on me as thinking about the eventual incineration of planet Earth, as it’s consumed by its own sun.

“You’re lying.” Sabine laughed like her life was a joke and I was the punch line. Then she drained half her can and brushed past me into the living room.

I followed her and perched on the edge of the ugliest, most ancient brown recliner I’d ever seen. “Why would I lie?”

She shrugged and set her can on the milk crate serving as an end table. “Habit? You’re not exactly a pillar of truth.”

I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t without proving her point. But to my credit, my lies were really more half truths, and they were always intended to help someone. Whereas Sabine’s compulsive truths were usually intended to hurt someone else or to entertain her.

“I’m not lying.” Another deep breath, and I nearly gagged on the acrid stench of stale cigarette smoke. Which I then spat out, along with an offer I really didn’t want to make. “Read me.”

Sabine sat up straight, her black eyes suddenly bright with interest. “Seriously?”

No. I shuddered, then swallowed my own bitter fear. “If that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

She shrugged. “The offer itself was enough to make me believe you. But you can’t take it back now.” She crossed the small room in an instant, and my jaw clenched involuntarily when she dropped onto her knees in front of me. “You know I have to touch you, right? The stronger the contact, the better the reading.”

“Great.” I held out my hand and she wound her fingers around mine, like I’d once seen her do with Nash when neither of them knew I was watching. Their contact had looked intimate. Comfortable. I wondered if ours would look the same from the outside.

I started to close my eyes, but Sabine shook her head and leaned closer for a better look. Her hand was warm and dry, her grip firm. And as I watched, her pupils bled into the near-black of her irises, and the whole room seemed to dim around us.

A cold wave of fear swam over me, consuming me. It was uncomfortable, like being the center of attention in a room full of hellions.

Then that fear came into focus, and suddenly my own death was the only thing I could think about. Would it hurt? Would there be blood? Would anyone else have to see me die? Would I see them cry?

Would I die alone?

The lack of answers scared me almost worse than the questions themselves. But it was over in a second, and when Sabine let go of my hand, I realized she could have held on much longer.

“Holy shit, you’re gonna die.” She looked stunned. “You’re really going to die, and you’re terrified of death.”

“Is there a more rational reaction?”

The mara frowned, and her eyes darkened again. “Also, you’re planning to sleep with Nash before you go, and you’re scared you won’t be any good.”

Damn it. I could feel my cheeks burn. “Let’s just keep that bit between us, okay?”

Her dark brows rose. “Is that the favor?”

I scowled. “No.”

“No promises, then. And just FYI, you won’t be any good. Not the first time, anyway.” I started to stand, my cheeks flaming now. Why couldn’t she help me, just this once, without throwing my own fears into my face? But Sabine put one hand on my arm and pulled me back onto the chair before I could stomp off. “You won’t be any good, but he won’t care, Kaylee. Because he’s a guy, so any sex is good sex. And because he loves you,” she added, lips curled like the words were bitter on her tongue.

I blinked away unshed, angry tears, but couldn’t bring myself to thank her for softening the blow. Why was she antagonizing a dying woman anyway?

“You know I can’t let this happen, right? You can’t sleep with him, Kaylee. You have to break up with him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, if I haven’t handed him over to you yet, why the hell would I do it now?”

She blinked at me, like the answer should have been obvious. “Because he loves you, and you’re dying. If you don’t dump him now—make a clean break—you’re always going to be the tragic lost love. How the hell am I supposed to compete with a ghost?”

“I don’t care how you compete!” But didn’t I, at least a little? As weird as it was to think about the two of them together, I wanted Nash to be happy after I died. I wanted him to be able to move on. But I couldn’t hurt him to make that happen.

“Fine. Then think about him. He won’t see it now, but you’d be doing him a favor. Helping him move on.”

“It’s not going to happen, Sabine.”

“Is this about sex? No one should die a virgin—I agree with you there. But you don’t need Nash for that. I could make a phone call. Of course, you’d have to break up with Nash for this to work…”

My head spun, and I didn’t know what to yell at her for first. So I decided to ignore the whole thing and focus on the favor I needed.

“Sabine. As much fun as these little forays into my personal life always are—” fun, like public incontinence “—I really need a favor.”

“Beyond me facilitating the timely loss of your virginity? ’Cause I think that’s a pretty generous offer.”

“Yeah. You’re a walking charity. But I need you to find out what Mr. Beck is. And obviously I don’t have a lot of time.”

Sabine watched me while she took a long drink from her can, pointedly not offering me one. “Why?”

“Because I went to see Danica Sussman in the hospital, and she admitted that the baby wasn’t Max’s. And the nurse said the miscarriage nearly killed her, which is evidently pretty rare.”

“Well, aren’t you the little sleuth?” Sabine raised both brows, reluctantly impressed. “I’d start calling you Veronica Mars, if you weren’t quite so mousy.” She grinned when I ground my teeth together, determined to bite my tongue until she agreed to help me.

“So I was thinking maybe you were right. Maybe Mr. Beck is the father. I mean, if he’s not human, the baby wouldn’t have been fully human either, right? And that could explain why her miscarriage was so…awful. Right?”

“I guess.” Sabine set her can on another milk crate and crossed her arms over her chest. “But I hope you’re not basing this on what I said at lunch. That was just a theory. I have lots of time to think those up while people are cowering away from me in the halls and avoiding my eyes in class.” Because unless she was careful to keep it in check, creepy vibes emanated from Sabine like BO from an unwashed jock. “Wanna hear this theory I have about Tod? I think you’re gonna like it….”

“No.” I shook my head sharply and held her eye contact, determined to get through my request with the bare minimum of Sabine’s nosy, spiteful tangents. “I don’t want to hear any more of your theories. I just want you to follow up on this one, as a favor to a dying classmate. Please.”

Sabine watched me in open curiosity. “Why do you care? I mean, you’re going to be dead in a few days. Do you really want to spend your last few days tracking down whoever Danica Sussman cheated on her boyfriend with? Don’t you think it’s possible you’re grasping at a problem that doesn’t really exist to distract yourself from a reality you’re not ready to face?” Sabine stopped and grinned, obviously pleased with herself. “Damn, that was perceptive of me. And I didn’t even get that from reading your fear!”

I sighed. “I fully admit that’s what I’m doing. Don’t you think you’d want a distraction if you found out you were going to die before the end of the week?”