How to Date Dead Guys (The Witch's Handbook Book 1) Page 4

  “Kevin,” Chrissy croons, zooming over to his side. “You got back so soon.”

  “Yeah.” Kevin puts his arm around Chrissy. “Mike barfed in the second bar we went to, so they kicked us out. He’s done enough partying for one night, whether it’s his twenty-first birthday or not.”

  We turn to Mike. He sits upright, his knees bouncing up and down.

  “Take off your shoes―you’re going straight to bed,” Kevin instructs as he heads into the kitchen with my roommate. “Hey, Chrissy, are you hungry?”

  It takes Mike a long time to take off his shoes, as if he can’t remember how to do it. He glances around the room. Then he smiles at me, and I start feeling really guilty about spying in his room.

  Without warning, he jumps up and stumbles toward the front door. Turning back to me, he clumsily places his finger on his lips and winks.

  Then he runs outside, leaving his shoes behind.

  After a moment of indecision, I dash after him.

  ike races down the dimly lit sidewalk. His white socks flash ahead of me in the darkness. I chase his clumsy path back toward the bars. I don’t catch up to him until his right sock falls down and he stops to pull it up.

  “Hey… Emma. Where are my shoes?” Mike searches the sidewalk.

  “You left them at your house.” Wow. He doesn’t remember that? He must really be wasted.

  “Oh… Don’t make me go home,” he begs. “I don’t wanna go home yet.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” His rapt expression mesmerizes me. Please say something romantic. I adore you. Please say you feel the same.

  He opens his mouth to speak.

  I hold my breath, staring into his eyes.

  He clears his throat. “How old are you?”

  I sigh. Not only is the question unromantic, but he already asked me this one before and just forgot the answer. “Nineteen.”

  “Do you have a fake ID?” Mike fumbles in his pockets.

  “No.” I’ve never wanted a fake ID. Until now.

  “It’s almost closing time. Let’s see if they’ll let you in, anyway.” He staggers up to a huge bouncer at the first bar we come to. He flashes his driver’s license in the man’s face.

  “Happy birthday… Mike.” The bouncer sounds bored. He also looks kind of scary. His thick head has been shaved.

  “Thanks. This is my cousin, I mean my sister. She’s here for my birthday.” Mike stumbles over his words.

  “Hello, Mike’s cousin-sister. Where’s your ID?” The bouncer extends his beefy hand.

  I step back without thinking. I can’t help myself. Big people freak me out. I always imagine they secretly want to punch me.

  “She lost it,” Mike fibs.

  The bouncer crosses his meaty arms.

  “Actually, she’s a foreign exchange student from Germany. Since she’s allowed to drink back home, she can drink here, too, right?”

  The bouncer leans closer. “Sprechen sie Deutsch?”

  “Ya-ya, guten tag,” I mutter. What is Mike thinking? I don’t know German!

  “Actually, she’s only got a week to live,” Mike rambles.

  Even I glare at him for that one.

  “Get out of here, you two!”

  We wander down the bar-lined street cluttered with inebriated college kids.

  As we pass one of the dance bars on the street, Mike stops to listen. “Hey, I like this song!”

  He grabs my arm and drags me into the bar. We manage to squeeze in with a large group without anyone asking for my identification. I’ve never been in an actual college bar before. Somehow I imagined it would be cooler than this. Everything is painted black with strategically placed colored lighting. It smells like the dorm garbage and recycling closet, and my shoes stick to the floor.

  I don’t even want to know what it is doing to Mike’s socks.

  Mike finds someone he knows. The pounding music makes it impossible for me to hear anything they say. I get shoved around the room by the crowd. Some bleary-eyed guy asks if I want to dance.

  Before I can refuse, he starts dirty dancing all over me. Gross!

  I just walk away, pushing through the sweaty crowd. He doesn’t even seem to notice I’ve left. He just keeps grinding away.

  Suddenly, Mike reappears. “I’m hungry,” he says and drags me out of the bar.

  “Ahh, fresh air.” I breathe in relief.

  Mike points down the block. “Do you like gyros?”

  “What’s a ‘yur-oh’?” I hurry along beside him as we approach the small restaurant. “And didn’t you puke a half hour ago?”

  “I don’t remember…but now I’m hungry.” Mike rattles the glass restaurant door trying to push it open. “Emma, there’s something wrong with the door. I can’t get it open.”

  I step forward and easily open it. “See, it says ‘pull’ right here above the door handle.”

  “Oh…okay.” Mike shuffles up to the counter while I choose a seat.

  After ordering, Mike plops down across from me in our small booth. He keeps glancing under the table.

  “Are you still looking for your shoes?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Where are they?”

  “You left them back at your house.” I point in the general direction, wondering if Kevin and Chrissy have noticed we’re missing yet. And if they care. Mike is really drunk, and I could use an extra hand in case things get messy.

  Mike stares at me blankly, with glazed-over eyes.

  I change the subject. “How’s your mom doing?”

  “Great. Her tests were good.” Mike fidgets. “What about you? Why don’t you ever talk about your family?”

  I’m surprised he even noticed this.

  “Well, I’m an only child.” So it’s boring. You don’t even want to hear it.

  “Are you spoiled?” His eyes appear so innocent as he asks the question I hate most.

  “Actually, I think it would be nice to have siblings. I don’t understand why everyone thinks being an only child is so wonderful. You like your brother, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.” Mike’s eyes widen in surprise, startled either by my question or sudden hostility. Fortunately, the gyros are ready, and Mike unsteadily heads up to the counter to get them. He drops mine down in front of me.

  “Um…there’s a lot of onions in mine.” That is an understatement. I have never seen so many onions before in my whole life.

  “Just try it.” Mike takes a huge bite of his sandwich.

  I tentatively nibble and am pleasantly surprised. As I eat, I try to ignore my self-conscious fear of chewing in front of guys I like.

  “Are your parents still together?” Mike asks.

  My mouth is really full. I just nod.

  “That’s good.” Mike stops eating and focuses on the Formica table. “My dad died in a car accident when I was in high school. He traveled a lot for his job, and there was this big snowstorm. Mom raised us by herself after that.”

  Again Mike catches me with a mouth full of sauce and onions, so I just nod, this time in sympathy. How awful to have your dad die.

  “Chrissy says you’re super rich, but you don’t go to private school or drive a fancy car or anything. Is that true?”

  Sometimes I hate Chrissy. She would go around saying things like that.

  I poke at my gyro. “My dad started his own hardware and lumber store, and it went nationwide.”

  “Yeah, I know. There’s a Roberts superstore in every big town in the Midwest.”

  “I wish Chrissy wouldn’t have told you that.”

  “Why?”

  Anger boils over inside. How can he be so oblivious? “I just don’t like people to know.”

  “Don’t blame her, okay? It’s probably my fault,” Mike says sheepishly. “I asked her.”

  I set my gyro down. “You asked Chrissy how much money my parents have?”

  “No. I asked if you were seeing anyone…and then she told me how rich you were.”

  “Oh.” I blush, flattered an
d annoyed at the same time.

  Mike stares at his sandwich. “Will you work with your dad when you’re done with school?”

  “No, I was sort of thinking about medical school.” That’s the plan this week, anyway, and it would make my parents happy. “But I’m not sure. The whole idea of giving physical exams to naked people makes me uncomfortable.” Did I just say “naked”? I hide my embarrassment by taking another bite of sandwich.

  “I wish I knew what to do with my life. Kevin knows. He’s going to be a cop and marry your friend.”

  “Chrissy? Really?” Should I tell her? She’d love to hear it, but she’s not my favorite person at the moment.

  “Kevin said when Chrissy walked into our cookout party, she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.”

  “Then I guess you don’t approve.”

  Mike takes another bite, then talks with his mouth full. “Why?”

  “You don’t believe in love at first sight.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mike drops some of his sandwich on the floor. He kicks it under the table with his sock.

  “Well, you hate Romeo and Juliet. And they’re the classic example of love at first sight.” And so am I. All you had to do was play Frisbee, and I was a goner. How pathetic!

  “That’s different.” Mike shrugs. “They died.”

  “Actually, your brother met Chrissy in the workout room and invited her to the party. So, maybe it wasn’t love at first sight.”

  Mike drains his soda. “Kevin seems really happy with her, almost too happy, as if he’s been bewitched or something.”

  I laugh shallowly and then hide my face behind my sandwich.

  “I’m still thirsty.” Mike leaves the booth to get a refill. A moment later, he stumbles back to the table, his face all lit up. “Emma, I just had a great idea! Let’s go swimming.”

  “Swimming? Where?” Is he crazy?

  “In the river.” Mike spills some of his soda as he slides into the booth.

  “The river? Isn’t that dangerous? Haven’t people drowned trying to do that?”

  “Nah, it’s easy. Kevin and all our roommates did it.”

  “Even Large Larry?” I have a hard time imagining Mr. Chips swimming.

  “Who’s Large Larry?” Mike peers under the table at his filthy socks.

  “Uh…Tall Tom?” I correct myself. “Chunky Charlie?”

  “You mean Big Brad?” Mike laughs. “Yeah, he’s done it, too. Don’t worry, Emma. It’ll be fun!”

  It doesn’t sound like fun to me.

  We step outside the tiny restaurant. Mike asks me again what happened to his shoes, which makes me even more nervous.

  “Let’s go this way.” I choose a long, circuitous path down to the river, hoping that if we walk long enough, Mike will sober up a bit before swimming.

  “I don’t feel so good.” He leans against a telephone pole.

  “Do you think you’re going to throw up again?” I cringe. How can I be a doctor if I can’t handle vomit or nudity?

  Mike’s face turns green. “Ugh. Maybe I drank too much.” He kneels down in some shrubbery to puke.

  “Yeah, maybe.” I pat his back and listen to him retch. Definitely. Oh, you poor guy. Don’t you know when to quit?

  After a while he stands back up again, breathing hard. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay.” But gross.

  He smiles weakly. “Thanks for taking care of me. You’ll make a good mom someday, you know.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” And I’m not sure if it’s a compliment or not. You’re a great girl, but not sexy or anything, because you remind me of my mother.

  We continue through the dark night until we reach the riverbank. Moonlight dances upon the black river, glinting off the racing current. The water sparkles hypnotically, as if daring us to swim. If Big Brad can do it, you can do it, too, the river murmurs, inviting me in.

  “I don’t think this is such a good idea.” I stare at the river. What about that creepy dead floating guy? What if he’s still in there? No, that’s ridiculous. But I don’t want to swim anyway.

  Mike sways for a moment and then plops down on the rocky beach.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I’m just tired.” He leans forward and covers his face.

  “We could just go home.” I hope he’ll say “yes”, then get embarrassed, wondering what he thinks I mean by that. “I mean, not together of course.”

  “No, I’m good.” Mike struggles to stand up again.

  “You’re not really going to do this, are you?”

  “Well, Kevin did it.” In the moonlight, Mike’s face resembles a little boy’s.

  Big deal. I scan the long length of the bridge and the nearby bike path, to see if anyone is watching. There’s no one else around to help me. “Is there anything I can say to stop you?”

  “No, but you don’t have to swim if you don’t want to.” He unsteadily pulls up his filthy socks.

  “Fine.” I make an impulse decision to follow him in. I slip off my Converse shoes and set them on the rocky beach. No sense in ruining my favorite shoes.

  “You’re going, too?” Mike sounds surprised.

  “Yes.” I hope I don’t live to regret this.

  “That’s great!” Mike hugs me so tight I can’t breathe.

  Maybe this will be worth it, after all. Although I’m still scared, a tiny part of me wonders what it would be like to swim the river. But I tell myself that isn’t why I’m doing it. Someone has to take care of Mike, and I can’t bear to just stand there on shore and watch him drown. I have to make sure he comes out the other side alive.

  We wade in, disrupting several bobbing ducks as we leave the pebbled beach. I glance up at the bridge and consider how long it takes me to walk across it to get to art class. Swimming across the Chippewa River is going to take forever. This will be hard, but I have to do it to help Mike.

  The cool water climbs up my legs as I push forward. Fifty feet from shore, the ground drops away. As always, I have to hold my breath before plunging into the water past my belly. Brrrr. Funny how it’s only September and the river has already lost all its summer warmth.

  My wet clothes hang heavy and unfamiliar. I splash, sending out wide circles as my legs kick underneath. Every few seconds, I check on Mike’s position. I try to stay close to him, but the current carries me away.

  The night swallows us. The only noises I hear are the pounding of my heart and the worries racing around my head.

  Where’s Mike? There he is. Okay, we’re over halfway across now. Not far to go now.

  Suddenly, I can’t see him anymore. I spin around in the middle of the river in a panic. The bridge towers like a hungry monster over us. On either side, the trees loom dark and menacing.

  “The Chippewa River is beautiful but dangerous…” The sign’s warning flashes through my mind.

  At the exact moment I open my mouth to scream in terror, Mike’s head bobs back up out of the water.

  “What are you doing?” I shriek. “You scared me half to death!”

  “I lost my sock.”

  “Who cares? I’ll buy you a new pair―just don’t do that to me again!”

  Now I just want out of this stupid river, but we’re only halfway across. My arms flail against the current. My throat tightens. I fight the river, which pushes me along.

  Mike paddles beside me, but I can’t see his face in the darkness.

  The moon slips behind thick clouds. Everything turns to liquid black. All the sparkles on the water disappear. This isn’t fun anymore.

  Not that I ever thought it was a great idea in the first place.

  I want out.

  Somehow I’ve gotten ahead of Mike. My mouth fills with water. I gasp for breath, choking on the waves. I fight to slow down, but the river rushes me toward some big rocks on the opposite shoreline.

  I glance back once more to reassure myself that Mike is okay. A minute la
ter, I drag myself up on some large slabs of cracked concrete that have been left on the opposite shoreline. The rough rock tears at my hands and scrapes up my knees, but I don’t care.

  I’ve made it to the other side.

  I’m free of the river at last.

  I turn back for Mike.

  But he’s gone.

  y jagged breaths fill the air. I wait on the rocks for Mike’s head to pop back out of the water. I figure he must be struggling with his stupid socks again.

  But he never resurfaces.

  Where is he? Legs shaking, I scramble to my feet. Maybe he got carried downstream.

  Stumbling my way along the rocky riverbank, I call out Mike’s name. No one answers me. Tree branches snag my hair and lash my arms and legs.

  A few people peer over the edge of the bridge as I start to scream out his name. More words tear out of me, but none of them make any sense.

  Then I hear the blessed sound of someone crashing through the bushes nearby.

  Oh, thank God. It’s Mike. He’s all right! My heart sings with joy.

  A tall stranger bursts through the underbrush. I stare at him in disbelief as he runs up to me and grabs both my arms.

  “Are you okay?” The stranger shakes me as if to force words out of my frozen mouth. “You’re all wet.”

  “You’re not Mike!” I cry out.

  “Who’s Mike?” He holds me up as my knees turn to water. “Where’s Mike?”

  “He’s in the river,” I whimper.

  The moment his hands drop, I try to jump back into the water.

  The stranger grabs his cell phone with one hand and me with the other. “You can’t go back in there. You’ll drown.” He holds my arm tight and makes a frantic call to 9-1-1.

  I struggle against his vise grip, lunging for the river. “You don’t understand. He’s really drunk. I never should have let him swim!”

  “Stop yelling! Help is on its way. You can’t go back in.”

  “He’ll drown if I wait!” I yank against him, trying to rip my arm out of his grasp.

  “Stop fighting me! There’s no way I’m letting you back in the river.”

  “I have to save Mike!” I try to push him away, but he’s stronger than me. We scramble on the large rocks, grappling with another. I kick at him and fall, freeing myself from his grasp.