Playlist for the Dead. Michelle Falkoff

lunch period?”

      “Looks like it, Captain Obvious.” She grinned, but I still felt like an idiot. “Want to come sit with my friends?” She pointed at a table a few rows over and back from where I was sitting. There was a group of kids there I’d seen before, part of the artsy crowd. They spent a lot of time in the studio on the upper level and at a coffee shop in South Branch, the next town over, listening to slam poetry or whatever. It wasn’t my scene. I wasn’t even sure what slam poetry was.

      “No, it’s okay,” I said, trying to dab at the relish without making more of a mess.

      “Why not?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

      Could she not see that I’d just made a total mess of myself? I tried to think of something normal to say. “Um, new people, you know. Not sure I’m ready. I mean,” I panicked, “not you or anything. I just—” I could tell I wasn’t succeeding at trying to sound normal.

      “I get it,” she said, tugging at a red streak I hadn’t remembered being in her hair the other day. I wondered how she knew exactly where it was until I realized it was an extension. How awesome, to be able to change the color of your hair whenever you wanted. She was wearing bright red lipstick to match and it made her eyes look almost unnaturally green. “You should give them a chance sometime, though. They kind of adopted me when I needed some new friends.”

      She didn’t have to add “like you do”—it was implied. I wondered why she’d have needed new friends, but I wasn’t sure how to ask. I looked back over at the table and saw Eric sitting there. Great.

      “Don’t get all judgmental because they’re into different stuff than you are. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Hayden: I bet you have more in common with some of them than you think.”

      Instantly I felt a burst of jealousy, which was ridiculous. Like retroactively, as if Hayden had already found better, cooler friends and left me behind.

      Except that’s not how he’d left me behind. His way was worse.

      “How did you know him?” I asked. I guess the easiest way was just to say it.

      “Hayden?” She hesitated. “Oh, you know. From around. School, you know.”

      But Hayden wasn’t really around. And I was sure he’d have told me if someone like her was in his classes. Was she even in the same grade as us? For some reason she didn’t want to tell me how she knew him, but I had no idea why.

      “Come over and sit,” she said, still twirling her hair extension. “Maybe you need new friends too.” She must have seen the look on my face, though, because she added, “I’m not trying to get you to replace Hayden.”

      “I know,” I said. I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t interested, but I just couldn’t handle meeting a whole bunch of new people. I wasn’t feeling ready yet. It was confusing enough just meeting her. “But not today, okay? Some other time?”

      “I’ll hold you to that,” she said, though I wasn’t sure she really meant it until she added, “There’s a party Friday night. Give me your phone.”

      “Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of bossy?” I said, but I handed my phone over. Our hands touched as she took it from me, and I could swear I felt a spark. It was probably just static.

      She smiled again, and the jewel in her lip ring glittered. “All the time. See you Friday.”

      I didn’t want her to leave, though. “So I watched that movie you told me about? Donnie Darko?”

      “And? What did you think?” She leaned forward and looked right at me. It seemed like she actually cared what I thought.

      Except now I had to say something interesting. I wasn’t sure what, but I’d brought it up, so I had to say something. Still—time travel, giant rabbits? It was kind of hard to follow. I knew the main character ultimately died, but he wasn’t unhappy about it, and I wondered if that’s why she’d suggested it. “It was weird. I think I liked it, but I’m not really sure why.”

      Astrid laughed. She had a great laugh—not some stupid giggle, but a real laugh. I bet Eric could always tell when he was really being funny, and I felt jealous again. “It’s a wacky movie. But I figured you like sci-fi stuff, right? And something about the way he accepted what he had to do, it made him seem brave. Like how I thought Hayden was.”

      Hayden? Brave? “Really?” I asked. I tried not to sound too skeptical, but I wasn’t sure we were talking about the same person. Especially not after what he’d just done.

      She shrugged. “That’s just how I saw him. He took a lot of crap from people, but he always seemed so, I don’t know, stoic about it. I always thought he hadn’t let it get him down. Guess I was wrong, though.”

      The thing was, she wasn’t wrong. That had always been my take, too. I just hadn’t thought of that as bravery. It just seemed like he’d put up a wall so he wouldn’t have to deal with what was happening. And, of course, I hadn’t factored in that everyone has a breaking point.

      “Did you buy that figurine?” Astrid asked. All these questions she was asking—I’d never had someone take such an interest in my life before. Certainly not a girl.

      “Yes.” I was tempted to tell her about the other night, but I didn’t want her to think I was crazy. Not when it seemed like we were on the verge of actually being friends. “It was a good idea. Thanks.”

      “No problem,” she said. “Glad to help out.”

      I wondered again how she understood things so well, what she’d been through that made her seem to automatically get it. Or was that just her? I desperately wanted to know more. And though there was something that felt kind of disloyal in thinking so much about another person after I’d just lost my best friend, I had to think Hayden would have approved. He’d liked her too, after all. Though I wasn’t sure how much. Why hadn’t he introduced us?

      The bell rang, signaling the start of fifth period. Astrid looked at the disgusting remains of my hot dog, post–condiment explosion. “I’m sorry I kept you from eating your lunch. And it looks so … appetizing.” Was I crazy, or did she seem not that sorry?

      I picked up a damp, cold french fry and made a spectacle of chomping on it, glad to have the distraction. “What a waste of a delicious meal,” I said, then decided to be bold. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation finally getting to me, but the words came out of my mouth before I could overthink it. “Someday I’ll introduce you to the best french fries in Libertyville.” My face felt hot and I prayed I wouldn’t start sweating.

      “You’re sure I haven’t met them yet? I consider myself something of a french fry expert.”

      “Positive,” I said.

      “Someday, then,” she said with a wink, and then she walked away.

      

      USUALLY FIFTH PERIOD WAS MY English class, but I’d gotten a note in homeroom saying I needed to go meet with the school guidance counselor. I’d met Mr. Beaumont at some meetings the school made us have when we were freshmen, to get us thinking about what kinds of electives we’d want to take. I remembered him being a little guy, a lot shorter than me, dressed more casually than the other administrators, in jeans and a sweater. I figured he was trying to make students think he was cool, though it seemed like maybe he was trying too hard.

      He was expecting me; the door was open when I got to his office and he was standing near it, hand outstretched. “Hi, Sam,” he said, and waited for me to shake. Weird to have a school official shaking hands, but whatever, so I did it. “Nice to see you again. Have a seat.”

      His