Read Online Playlist for the Dead by Michelle Falkoff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michelle Falkoff
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than we do at school, and we’re more interested in things we find for ourselves.”
“That’s what makes us weird,” he said, but he laughed as he said it.
I thought about that conversation a lot, after he was gone. We hadn’t talked about the fact that we had different goals in learning on our own: I did it because I could, because I wanted to learn different things than the school wanted to teach me, because I looked forward to the day I could leave Libertyville behind and start over. Mom always reminded me that the best years of my life were ahead of me, that for the jerks in high school this was as good as it got, whereas someone like me would move on to more exciting things. “You’re going to have a beautiful life,” she’d say, smoothing my hair with her cool hand, “and high school will be just a distant memory.”
But Hayden learned things on his own because he was having trouble learning them any other way. I couldn’t imagine how frustrating it must have been to be as smart as he was—brilliant, even—but to have trouble getting his thoughts out of his head. He could communicate with me just fine, but the teachers at school made him nervous, and he stammered and sputtered when they asked him questions. His writing wasn’t much better; he was okay when we Gchatted, in part because of autocorrect, but when it came to working through his thoughts on paper, the dyslexia got him every time. I realized we hadn’t talked much about his plans for the future; whenever I’d asked, he’d shut me down.
Was it possible that he’d always known? What else hadn’t he told me?
Then a weird thought occurred to me. There was someone I could ask.
The Archmage.
Right. I put the thought out of my head and logged in to Mage Warfare, losing myself in the game for hours. I was on fire—I killed so many people I couldn’t keep track of all the angry chat messages I was getting. It was like they gave me fuel; the more these random strangers from all over the world cussed me out, the better I did. It didn’t matter if the players were good or evil. If they got in my way, they were screwed. I was so wrapped up in the mayhem I’d created that it took me a while to realize that the pinging of the chat window wasn’t coming from inside the game.
ArchmageGed: How do?
It was happening again. And I was sure I was awake—I’d drunk so much Coke with my pizza I might never sleep again, though admittedly I hadn’t even begun to make up for the hours I’d lost. I looked at the clock: 1:43 a.m. Later than I realized. I was going to have to call it soon.
SamGoldsmith: Whoever this is, cut it out.
ArchmageGed: You know who this is. Miss me?
SamGoldsmith: Seriously, stop it.
And I meant it. Much as I would have loved to talk to Hayden, I didn’t believe it was really him. There was no afterlife where people got to come back as their fantasy selves. It didn’t even work in Mage Warfare.
ArchmageGed: Come on, the fun’s only just started!
Fun? My best friend was dead and someone was trying to talk to me about fun? That was just mean.
SamGoldsmith: I’m logging out now.
But I waited. Despite myself, I was curious about what was really going on here.
ArchmageGed: Look, I can help you.
Help me with what? Deal with the fact that my best friend was gone? I wasn’t seeing it.
SamGoldsmith: There’s nothing you can do for me.
ArchmageGed: You’d be surprised what I can do. Don’t you wish there are things you’d done differently? Things you’d change?
Of course there were. But there was no way to go back.
SamGoldsmith: Can’t change anything. It’s too late.
ArchmageGed: Not for everyone.
SamGoldsmith: What do you mean?
The cursor blinked while I waited for him to reply.
ArchmageGed: One down, two to go.
What was that supposed to mean?
And then I remembered what Rachel had said about Jason Yoder. I imagined he’d been terrified of being outed, and there was no more straightforward way of getting
“That’s what makes us weird,” he said, but he laughed as he said it.
I thought about that conversation a lot, after he was gone. We hadn’t talked about the fact that we had different goals in learning on our own: I did it because I could, because I wanted to learn different things than the school wanted to teach me, because I looked forward to the day I could leave Libertyville behind and start over. Mom always reminded me that the best years of my life were ahead of me, that for the jerks in high school this was as good as it got, whereas someone like me would move on to more exciting things. “You’re going to have a beautiful life,” she’d say, smoothing my hair with her cool hand, “and high school will be just a distant memory.”
But Hayden learned things on his own because he was having trouble learning them any other way. I couldn’t imagine how frustrating it must have been to be as smart as he was—brilliant, even—but to have trouble getting his thoughts out of his head. He could communicate with me just fine, but the teachers at school made him nervous, and he stammered and sputtered when they asked him questions. His writing wasn’t much better; he was okay when we Gchatted, in part because of autocorrect, but when it came to working through his thoughts on paper, the dyslexia got him every time. I realized we hadn’t talked much about his plans for the future; whenever I’d asked, he’d shut me down.
Was it possible that he’d always known? What else hadn’t he told me?
Then a weird thought occurred to me. There was someone I could ask.
The Archmage.
Right. I put the thought out of my head and logged in to Mage Warfare, losing myself in the game for hours. I was on fire—I killed so many people I couldn’t keep track of all the angry chat messages I was getting. It was like they gave me fuel; the more these random strangers from all over the world cussed me out, the better I did. It didn’t matter if the players were good or evil. If they got in my way, they were screwed. I was so wrapped up in the mayhem I’d created that it took me a while to realize that the pinging of the chat window wasn’t coming from inside the game.
ArchmageGed: How do?
It was happening again. And I was sure I was awake—I’d drunk so much Coke with my pizza I might never sleep again, though admittedly I hadn’t even begun to make up for the hours I’d lost. I looked at the clock: 1:43 a.m. Later than I realized. I was going to have to call it soon.
SamGoldsmith: Whoever this is, cut it out.
ArchmageGed: You know who this is. Miss me?
SamGoldsmith: Seriously, stop it.
And I meant it. Much as I would have loved to talk to Hayden, I didn’t believe it was really him. There was no afterlife where people got to come back as their fantasy selves. It didn’t even work in Mage Warfare.
ArchmageGed: Come on, the fun’s only just started!
Fun? My best friend was dead and someone was trying to talk to me about fun? That was just mean.
SamGoldsmith: I’m logging out now.
But I waited. Despite myself, I was curious about what was really going on here.
ArchmageGed: Look, I can help you.
Help me with what? Deal with the fact that my best friend was gone? I wasn’t seeing it.
SamGoldsmith: There’s nothing you can do for me.
ArchmageGed: You’d be surprised what I can do. Don’t you wish there are things you’d done differently? Things you’d change?
Of course there were. But there was no way to go back.
SamGoldsmith: Can’t change anything. It’s too late.
ArchmageGed: Not for everyone.
SamGoldsmith: What do you mean?
The cursor blinked while I waited for him to reply.
ArchmageGed: One down, two to go.
What was that supposed to mean?
And then I remembered what Rachel had said about Jason Yoder. I imagined he’d been terrified of being outed, and there was no more straightforward way of getting
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