If I Die

“How he felt about you? It was pretty obvious, Kaylee.”

To everyone but me, evidently. “Is that why you were always mean to him?”

“I wasn’t mean to him. And I have to admit he’s certainly grown on me this week, with everything he’s tried to do for you. But yes. If things were different now—” meaning, if I were going to live “—I don’t think he’d be a very good choice for you.”

I laughed. “In all fairness, you should know that parental seal of approval is not a requirement for a boyfriend. In fact, it’s usually a deal-breaker.”

“Noted.” He sighed. “Seriously, though, what kind of future can you possibly have with a dead boy?”

“I’m sixteen. Even if I were going to live, college is as far into the future as I’ve really thought so far, and it’s not like the distance would be a problem for him.” One of the advantages of the reaper mode of travel…

“Kay, you may not be thinking about the future—you might not be even if yours were going to be…longer—but he is. Tod is eternal, Kaylee. His future is probably all he ever thinks about.”

“I don’t know, Dad. I think he’d rather live in the moment, because he knows how much future he’ll have. It must be overwhelming, facing forever. Don’t you think?” Not that I’d ever know…

“I guess.” He lapsed into a heavy pause, just watching me. “But my point is that none of that matters now. Tod isn’t my top choice for you, and if this were going to be a long-term thing, I’d insist that he follow all the normal social standards—no popping in anytime he wants, no popping into your room ever, and no visits after eleven. But this isn’t a normal situation, and I want you to be happy.”

“What does all that mean?”

My dad sighed and twisted to fully face me. “It means that Tod’s welcome here. Well, not here specifically,” he amended, glancing at the bed we both sat on for emphasis. “But he’s welcome in our home.”

“Thank you.” And suddenly I wanted to cry again. “You know, for a dad, you’re kinda awesome.”

The sudden mixture of pain and regret twisting through his irises was too much for both of us, so he squeezed my hand, then changed the subject. “So…how’s Nash taking all this, with you and Tod? Have you talked to him?”

“I don’t think he’d answer if I called.” I’d texted Sabine from Emma’s, though, to check up on him. She’d reported that he was kind of drunk, and very pissed off, and that I should stay away and let him get over it.

My father sighed. “Well, I can’t blame him there.” And neither could I. “Kaylee, I have to go meet your uncle, and I don’t want to leave you alone….”

“Dad, nothing’s going to happen today,” I insisted.

“You don’t know that. I was going to see if Alec could come over again, but if Tod’s already here and he’s willing to stay…”

“I suppose I could clear my schedule…” Tod called from the living room, and I laughed out loud.

“Yeah, I had a feeling,” my dad mumbled.

“Oh, hey,” I said, jumping up from my bed when he headed for the door. “Take this to Uncle Brendon…” I plopped into my desk chair and pressed the space bar on my laptop to wake it up, then jabbed the print screen button. My printer whirred to life and spat out a black-and-white copy of the Crestwood faculty page, including the yearbook photo of one Mr. David Allan. “Maybe it’ll turn out to be the same incubus he knew.”

“I doubt that, but I guess it’s worth a shot.” My dad took the page I held out, with Beck’s picture circled in red. “Don’t make me regret leaving you two alone,” he warned, as I followed him into the living room.

When the front door closed behind him, I turned to find Tod watching me, and I knew that if my father had seen the heat churning fiercely in the reaper’s eyes, he never would have left the house at all.

“Well, he’s right about that, I guess,” Tod whispered into my ear as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “There’s no more time for regrets.”

I parked across the lot from Sabine’s car on Wednesday morning and avoided Nash’s locker on the way to class, but there was no way to avoid the rumors, and they were already buzzing by the time I got to school. “She cheated on Nash?” a girl from my French class said, clearly unaware that I was walking behind her in the hall. “I would have thought it’d be the other way around. Who was the other guy?”

The girl next to her shrugged, hauling her backpack strap higher on one bony shoulder. “Never saw him before. But he was thoroughly covetable.”

It was hard not to laugh out loud, thinking of Tod’s potential ego boost. Too bad it came at the expense of my own self-image.

“So…does that mean Nash’s up for grabs again?” the first girl asked, and I couldn’t resist—what did I have to lose?

“Yeah, he’s available, but you don’t have a Popsicle’s chance in hell,” I said, falling into step beside them, enjoying their twin shocked expressions. “And if you even try, Sabine Campbell will kick your face in.” Sabine was still fairly new, but already working on infamy. “She’s got dibs.”

Both girls stopped and gaped at me, and I smiled all the way to class.

“So, what happened last night? Did Tod come over?” Emma demanded in a whisper the moment I slid into my chair. And evidently the flush I could feel crawling over my face wasn’t answer enough for her.

“Yeah. He stayed till his shift started at midnight.”

“And…? Did you do it?”

“Shh!” I glanced around the classroom, cheeks burning even hotter, but no one seemed to have heard. “And no, we didn’t.”

“Is it because he’s dead?” she whispered, leaning closer. “Is that a problem? Does his blood still circulate?”

“Em! No, that’s not the problem.” Was it? I hadn’t actually asked. But he was warm to the touch, which seemed to indicate good circulation… “There’s no problem. We’ve been together less than twenty-four hours.”

Emma frowned, like I’d lapsed into Greek. “If there’s ever been justification for an accelerated physical connection, this is it. He’s been waiting for you for months, Kaylee, and you don’t have much time left.” The pained line across her forehead was the only indication of how upset she really was, in spite of an obvious determination to wear her brave face. “And, if I can indulge in a moment of selfishness, we’re running out of time for the ‘guess what I just lost’ phone call. It’s, like a rite of passage.”

“You can’t be serious.”

She shrugged. “I’m not saying you should sleep with Tod just so we can have one last best friend tell-all. But, should you go down that path, I solemnly swear not to judge you.” She placed one hand over her heart. “And to provide the ice cream.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That’s all I’m asking. So…is it weird?” she asked, while the other students settled in around us, most staring at Mr. Beck as he wrote last night’s homework problems on the board.

“Is what weird?” The fact that Tod was dead? The fact that I soon would be? The fact that a couple dozen people had seen my very public breakup with Nash, over a stolen kiss from his brother?

“Being with him, after thinking of him as a friend for so long.”

“It’s kinda weird,” I admitted, not quite able to hide my smile. “But not because I already know him.” In fact, that was kind of cool. We hadn’t had any awkward getting-to-know-you moments, beyond his whole Peeping-Tom admission, which I’d decided to forgive, on the condition that it never happened again.

Now, if I could just get Nash to forgive me sometime in the next day or so…

“So, are you and Tod a couple now?”

“I don’t know. It seems kind of pointless to put a label on it, considering that we’ve only really got one day together.”

Emma’s face crumpled, and I wished I could take the words back. Evidently that was one reminder too many.

“How can you be so casual about this?” she demanded in a fierce whisper, brushing tears from her eye with the side of one finger, like she was wiping off a smear of eyeliner. “It’s like you don’t even care.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” I whispered back, leaning closer to keep from being overheard. “But I don’t know how else I’m supposed to act. This isn’t like dying of cancer, Em. I’m not sick, which is a huge plus, obviously, but I’m not going to linger for another month while I say my goodbyes. There’s no wiggle room, and I can’t tell the