Read Online Generation Dead by Daniel Waters - Free Book Online

Frisbee or go swimming with in the Oxoboxo.
    It was special enough that Phoebe knew neither of them would ruin it with more complicated feelings. She thought Margi was the one who was crushing, but for some reason would never admit it.
    "You are hotter than me, Margi."
    "Right. Is there anything you tell the truth about? You've got the height, the good skin, the cheekbones. What have I got?"
    "The wardrobe? And the ..." "Don't say it."
    "Well, you do. I think they get more attention than my great cheekbones."
    More banter, and then they hung up when Margi's father yelled at her to get off the phone. Phoebe went back to scratching in her notebook.
    Adam instant messaged her on Sunday night when she was surfing around looking for the latest news on the living impaired. He asked her if she wanted a ride to school on Monday, which was weird because he never asked that. She typed back Sure and punctuated it with a goofy emoticon that was the Weird Sisters' trademark, a round, horned smiley with
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    eyelashes, a tail, and tongue wagging moronically out of the side of its open mouth.
    Cool , was his return message, unadorned. Seven?
    Yu p.
    We should play Frisbee sometime . Then he signed off.
    That, she thought, was really weird. The only time they tossed the disk now was when one of them needed someone to talk to. There were things Phoebe couldn't talk to Margi about, and there were things Adam was reluctant to share with any of his friends on the football team. They were an odd pair--but odd pairs were what kept life interesting.
    That sentiment instantly brought Tommy to mind. When she switched off the light she imagined his faintly glowing eyes in the darkness of her room, and this time she had no fear at all.
    Adam arrived at her house at seven sharp, the STD's pickup coughing in the driveway while he walked into the kitchen and helped himself to a banana. Phoebe, the last one out, wrote a note for her mother telling her not to hold dinner and then locked the door behind her. "Thanks, Adam. How'd you get the truck?"
    "The STD's got Mom's car today," he said. "He brought her into work so he could change the oil. We've got time to get a coffee, if you want."
    "I'm okay, but you can get one."
    He shrugged. "I like the streaks of red. You do it yourself?"
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    Phoebe reflexively touched the spiked tips of her hair and thought of falling leaves. "Of course. Thanks."
    "Yer welcome."
    He backed the truck out of her driveway and took a left, which meant he was going the long way, around the lake. "Soooo ..." she said, "what's up?"
    She now realized how quiet he'd been since Friday. A fair question that night would have been, "Hey, Phoebe, what the heck were you doing in the woods?" But he'd never asked it. He hadn't noticed, and Adam noticed most things around him. She realized she'd been so preoccupied that she hadn't even realized how preoccupied he'd been.
    He shrugged again. "Later. I just want to drive around a little."
    "Sure, Adam. Driving's good. Smell that clean lake air."
    He laughed, and she knew him well enough not to pry it out of him. He would talk to her when he was ready.
    The Oxoboxo woods looked different by daylight, and from the outside. She always thought the trees there were set more closely than in other forests, as if they were huddling together to keep secrets from the world outside their sylvan borders. She and her friends had spent a great deal of their young lives in the woods and the lake. The Oxoboxo was a place where one never felt a hundred percent safe, and that was what made being there so exciting.
    Exciting, at least, until Colette died there.
    "So you never told me how practice was," Phoebe said, turning to look out the windshield. "How was it playing with the corpsicle?"
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    She'd intended it to be a diversion, but she saw by his shocked look that her words struck close to whatever it was that was eating at him.
    "Oh," she said.
    "I thought that wasn't PC. Isn't that what you and Daffy were