How to Date Dead Guys (The Witch's Handbook Book 1) Page 7

  I breathe in and out, trying to calm myself before I answer. “I’m not sure.”

  “Maybe we should start over.” He extends his hand. “Hi. My name’s Sam Metzger, and I’m pretty sure I’m dead.”

  Before taking Sam’s hand, I make sure it looks normal and hasn’t withered to rotten flesh or bones. When I finally shake it, I’m surprised to find his hand is warmer than mine.

  “I’m Emma Roberts.” I search his unfamiliar face for answers. “Wait a minute. You said last May… Are you that Chemistry TA who drowned trying to swim the river just before graduation last year?”

  “That’s me, all right… But I jumped. I wasn’t trying to swim. I’m not that stupid.”

  I wince.

  He doesn’t seem to notice. “Hey, I guess I should thank you for bringing me back.”

  My heart stops. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’ve been asleep all day, so I had a lot of time on my hands. First, I borrowed some clothes. Mine got soaked in the river.”

  “You’re wearing my clothes?” I gawk at him in my blue sweatpants and T-shirt.

  “Yeah, well, you sort of dress like a boy anyway, and apparently, we’re about the same size.”

  “How convenient,” I mutter, trying not to sound appalled. I hope he’s not wearing my underwear, but I’m afraid to ask.

  “I waited a long time for you to wake up. At one point, I had to move some of your, uh, witchcraft books out of the way to get more comfortable on your futon. Then this fell out.”

  Sam hands me a piece of paper with a rough copy of the summoning spell I wrote on it.

  “I see.” My hands tremble, and my head swims. This can’t be happening! “Well, now you’re back, and that’s great. I hope you didn’t wait all this time just to thank me. You’re certainly welcome, and now you’re free to go.”

  I really wish he would leave. Then I could start pretending this whole thing never happened. I’m pretty good at pretending. It comes from reading too much.

  “I didn’t wait here to thank you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s great being back. You see, I jumped off that bridge and then changed my mind before I even hit the water, but by then it was too late. Isn’t it crazy how you can be so sure about something one minute and completely change your mind two seconds later?”

  “You changed your mind even before you hit the water?” I envision falling, then trying to stop midair.

  “Yeah, well, it’s a long way down.”

  I look at him, realizing exactly what he means. “I guess you’re right.”

  “You made the river spit me back out. Why’d you do it? I’m grateful of course, but why me? I don’t even know you.”

  “I was trying for someone else,” I mumble.

  “But you got me instead.” Sam shrugs. “Well, that figures.”

  The sick feeling isn’t going away, and now I feel guilty on top of everything else.

  “But look at this. Maybe you can tell me what’s going on.” Sam moves to the mirror, and I follow. “I’ve been staring at myself all day, wondering why two people reflect back, both wearing the same clothes.”

  He’s right. The Sam standing in front of me is pale and skinny, with dark hair and glasses. But the Sam in the mirror has medium-brown hair, eyes both brown and green, and a build neither slight nor muscular. The two of them look nothing alike.

  “So that’s why you look so different.” I stare at his reflection.

  “What do you mean?”

  I struggle to explain the unexplainable. “I’ve seen other dead people before, but you look different, more real or something, than they did.”

  “You’ve seen other dead people before? That’s kind of creepy.” Sam turns back to the mirror. “So, can you guess which one of these guys is me?”

  “Aren’t you the one with the glasses?”

  He nods. “Yes, at least that’s who I used to be. I’m not sure who I am now.”

  “Well, that’s the one I see. I wonder who everyone else will see? I guess we’ll find out, sooner or later, once we leave this room.”

  Sam pushes his glasses up his nose. “I can touch my glasses, so this must be real… It’s all very confusing. Why do you think the clothes are the same but the other person isn’t wearing any glasses?”

  “That’s because glasses are a curse from hell,” I grumble. “I wish I could see like normal people.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Sam chuckles, and I’m instantly less scared.

  “Sam, do you mind if I ask you why you jumped?”

  He sighs. “I freaked out when I didn’t get into med school. I always thought I was really smart, but I didn’t get in. Then, I told this girl I’d been secretly in love with all through college that this meant I was supposed to be with her instead. And Amanda laughed at me because I wasn’t even smart enough to get into med school.”

  These don’t seem like good enough reasons to end it all, but I don’t tell him that. I just listen.

  Sam avoids my eyes, fidgeting. “Did you know you have to watch your own funeral?”

  “That sounds awful.” It was bad enough watching Mike’s funeral. Then I glance at the clock on the bed table and panic. “Sam, I’ve missed so much school lately that it scares me. I really have to go today.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll come with you.” He stops short. “Unless you think someone will recognize me.”

  “I’m not sure. Do you want to risk it?”

  “Can I borrow this baseball cap?” He picks one off the floor.

  “Sure. If you think it will help.”

  “Maybe a little.” He slips on the hat. “But I guess I can’t stay cooped up in this room forever. Let’s go.”

  “Okay.” I grab my books and head off to Zoology.

  At first, it seems hard for Sam to walk among other people. Now and then he flinches.

  “I knew them,” he whispers as they pass by without giving him a second glance.

  “They don’t recognize you then,” I say. “That’s probably a good thing, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Sam sighs, sounding disappointed. “Everyone must see that other guy. Except you. You’re the only one who can see me.”

  He stops short as a glamorously dressed group of girls struts our way.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He flushes. “That’s her.”

  It takes a moment before I realize who he means. “Amanda?”

  He nods.

  She has long, perfectly arranged light blonde hair. Chrissy pointed out the girl’s expensive purse to me once in a magazine.

  Amanda parades by, giggling with all of her fashionable friends. She completely ignores us, like we aren’t even important enough for her to acknowledge.

  After her entourage passes, I shake my head. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re terribly unoriginal in your taste in women.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Sam gawks as Amanda fades into the distance. “She’s dated half the basketball team… That is, until her dad cheated on her mom. She swore off men after that.”

  “What? You knew her? Was she your friend or something?”

  “No. I tutored her and most of her friends in basic algebra. She was the prettiest one. One day I found her crying the library. She told me about her parents but made me swear not to tell anyone. Then she asked for my help with a paper that was due the next day.”

  I snort. “It sounds like she just wanted you to feel sorry for her and do her assignment.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that.”

  We reach the Science Building and walk inside. I pause at the door of the lecture hall. “Well, here’s my class. Do you want to wait for me outside?”

  “I have a funny feeling I’m supposed to stick with you. No one will even notice me in this big lecture hall, anyway. We can sit in the back.”

  As we enter, I discover that this particular lecture is a review for the midterm exam the next morning. I franticall
y jot down notes. A restless student next to me shifts in her seat, her face pale and sweaty.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper. I’ve never spoken to her before, but I recognize her from my dorm. I instantly regret saying anything when I remember she always gets off the elevator on the third floor. She could be Chrissy’s new roommate.

  “I’ll be okay, I think, but thanks for asking.” She clenches her pen and scribbles away.

  After the class ends, I whine to Sam. “I’m so behind in my reading for the exam tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry. I took this class from the same professor, so I know how he tests. I’ll help you.”

  Later that evening, Sam conducts a rapid-fire review in my dorm room. He must have been a good tutor. I’m surprised by how similarly our minds work. We even study the same way.

  The next morning we rush to Zoology. Without thinking, Sam walks in with me and sits down.

  When the proctor begins handing out tests, I fret. “Oh no, you should’ve waited outside. Now they won’t have enough tests for everyone.”

  “No, this will be kind of fun. Plus they always print up extra tests. I’ll just throw mine away when we’re done.”

  Sam ends up handing it in instead, but not by choice. One of the proctors grabs it from his hand as we pass the podium on the way out.

  “What name did you put on your test?” I demand the second we get outside.

  “Don’t worry. I already thought of that.”

  The girl who looked so ill the day before walks unsteadily past us and leans against a wall. Before we can react, she slips to the floor in a faint. We rush over and half carry her onto a wooden bench in the hallway.

  As she comes to, I offer her my water bottle.

  “Thanks.” She swallows. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Sam assures her.

  “I can’t believe I fainted. I’m so embarrassed.” She looks straight at me. “Don’t we live in the same dorm?”

  “Yes.” I don’t say much, still focused on the idea she could be Chrissy’s new roommate.

  “I’m Abby Murray. You’re Emma, right?” She takes another drink.

  “Yeah.” How does she know me? Is it because everyone in the dorm thinks I killed Mike? Or am I just being paranoid?

  Sam smiles and offers his hand. “Hi. I’m Sam. Do you want us to take you to the health center?”

  “No. I hate that place,” Abby says. “But would you mind walking me back to my dorm room, if it’s not too much bother? I’m afraid I might faint again.”

  “Sure.” I don’t really want to go on the third floor, in case we run into Chrissy, but I’m not going to make Abby walk back to the dorms alone when she’s sick.

  When we get to Abby’s room, I can tell right away from the bedspreads that Chrissy isn’t her roommate. I let out a small sigh of relief. Sam pulls out a desk chair, and Abby sits down.

  “Thanks. I feel better now.” But she still looks pale.

  I frown and dig a pen and notebook out of my book bag. “Abby, here’s my cell number. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks. That’s really nice of you.” She takes the ripped sheet of paper. “I’m exhausted. I think I’d better take a nap. Thanks, you guys.”

  Sam and I make it to the elevator without running into Chrissy. We push the button and wait. When the elevator doors opens, there stand Chrissy and Kevin.

  Crap.

  Kevin glares at me as he brushes past. Chrissy opens her mouth, as if to say something, but doesn’t speak. She just follows Kevin down the hall.

  “What’s that about?” Sam asks.

  “Let’s just get back to my room. Then I’ll tell you everything.” I yank him into the elevator with me, and the doors shut behind us.

  Once we get back to my room, I confess to Sam every embarrassing, self-incriminating detail. I need a friend, and at the moment, he’s my only ally. Sam seems like a pretty good guy, for someone who might or might not really be dead.

  “Yeah, that sucks, but I don’t see why anyone would blame you for Mike’s death. It seems to me he brought it on himself. Not that it isn’t sad, of course.” He reaches for another slice of pizza. “This is really good.”

  “I’m glad you like it―have as much as you want. I really couldn’t handle going to the cafeteria tonight and maybe running into Chrissy again.”

  He leans back in his chair. “Why don’t you start a journal?”

  “What? Why?”

  “You’ve got a lot of issues. Besides, it always helped me. My therapist told me to do it.”

  “Hmmm…” Maybe I shouldn’t journal. Sam killed himself last semester, so it obviously didn’t help him. Maybe it just makes things worse.

  “Do you think I should call my mom and tell her I’m back?” Sam’s question interrupts my thoughts.

  I pause a moment before answering. “Probably not until we know more.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I don’t want to freak her out or anything. Hey, I know what I want to do tonight. Let’s visit my old roommate, Frank. I want to make sure he’s okay.” Sam heads for the door.

  “Who are you going to say you are?” I fret.

  “We’ll figure that out on the way there. It can’t be that hard to make something up.” He shrugs. “By the way, I’m sorry I’m not the guy you were hoping for when you performed that spell.”

  I flush. “It’s not your fault I screwed up.”

  “Maybe you didn’t screw up. Think about it. There are probably lots of people who want to come back, and you must be a pretty good witch to be able to raise the dead.”

  Hmm. I’m not sure I like being called a witch, but he might be right. I throw our crumpled, greasy napkins into the pizza box.

  “When are you going to try again?” he asks.

  “Try what?”

  “To bring Mike back.”

  The room darkens as the evening sun slides behind a cloud. My pulse quickens. I glance over at the Book of Shadows. The fabric cover glows soft and inviting. A few tantalizing notes of music sing in my head.

  After a long moment, I tear my eyes away. “No, I’m done with working spells. No offense, but dealing with one dead guy in my life at a time is enough.”

  I toss out the trash in the hallway, and we head outside. I keep an eye on the river as we hike down the hill and over the bridge to the off-campus housing. Our steps slow as we reach the uneven sidewalk on the street where Sam once lived.

  Sam points. “Hey look, there’s a ‘for rent’ sign in Frank’s window and his lights are on. He’s the student manager here. Let’s pretend we’re looking for a place to move into together next semester.”

  It’s easy to fool Frank. He has no reason to doubt our story. Since he’s graduating at the end of the semester, he shows us his own apartment. The air hangs heavy with the fragrance of cleaning agents, like he put in a huge amount of effort to give a good impression, but forgot to air the place out.

  Sam keeps adjusting his glasses.

  The Star Wars theme beeps from Frank’s back pocket. “Oh, sorry. I need to take this call.” He moves into the next room.

  “Stop fidgeting with your glasses!” I whisper once Frank is out of earshot. “Frank can’t see them, remember?”

  But Sam isn’t paying attention. He gawks at a large envelope in a mail rack hanging on the wall. I spot the University of Wisconsin–Madison logo on a corner of the envelope.

  Frank gets off the phone and rejoins us in the living room.

  “Are you going to medical school?” Sam asks. “I didn’t even know you applied.”

  “Wh-what?” Frank cocks his head to one side.

  Sam gestures at the fat envelope in the mail rack. “I mean, you didn’t mention it to us. If I had gotten into medical school, I’d be so excited I’d tell everyone I ever met. Congratulations. That’s great.” Sam’s tone is too flat to be believable.

  “Oh, that.” Frank glances at the mail. “No, that’s no
t mine. That belonged to a buddy of mine, Sam Metzger, and arrived just a few days after he died. I’ve never opened it. It doesn’t seem right. It’s a big heavy packet of stuff, so I’m sure it’s not a rejection notice.”

  Frank brings it over to us. A few address changes have been crossed out and rewritten under Sam’s name. “I keep wondering if I should give it to Sam’s mom, but I don’t know if it will make her feel better or worse, so I haven’t done anything at all.”

  Sam’s face blanches. He turns away to leave, his voice thick and sickly. “We’ll call about the apartment if we’re interested.”

  “Yes, thank you for showing it to us.” I trail after Sam.

  He pauses in the doorway. “I think your friend’s mom would want to know. You should give it to her.” Then he strides away down the sidewalk.

  I scamper after him.

  “Why did you bring me back?” Sam groans. “This is awful! I can’t believe I got accepted into med school and just didn’t wait long enough to find out. When I never heard anything, I called the admissions office. They said that if I hadn’t received my packet, then I hadn’t gotten in. They weren’t sending out the official rejection notices for another two weeks, but I couldn’t bear to wait that long. It would be too humiliating.”

  Sam hangs his head. “Man, Amanda was right. I am stupid. All I had to do was wait, and I could’ve been a doctor. Now I’m nothing!”

  “I’m so sorry, Sam.” I reach out to touch his shoulder, but he moves away. Man, this sucks. I think I’ll drop the whole medical school idea. It obviously makes people crazy.

  We haunt the paths along campus for hours, but nothing I say soothes him. Finally, we return to my room.

  Even though it didn’t help Sam, I start a journal while he sleeps. As my emotions spill onto the page, my burden lifts. I imagine myself burning my damning words of self-accusations and self-pity in some witchcraft ritual to ease my guilt-soaked heart. After an hour, I set it aside on my desk. Since Chrissy is no longer my roommate, I have no fear that anyone else will read it before I have a chance to destroy it. I know I can trust Sam to leave it alone. Besides, I’ve already told him pretty much everything anyway.

  After unloading all my most private thoughts, the Law of Threefold Return comes to mind. I write it on my whiteboard: