Between Read Free Page A

it’s a dream, why don’t you pinch yourself?”
    I stare back. I feel so small and desperately sad, I can barely speak. But I manage to shake my head a little bit, to coax a single word from my mouth. “No.”
    I don’t want to pinch myself. I’m afraid that if I do, I won’t wake up. Deep down, I know I won’t wake up.
    I take a deep breath. I can feel my lungs filling with air; I feel alive.
    “You’re definitely a goner.” He’s so flippant about it, so matter-of-fact, that I almost want to slap him.
    “Okay. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that this is all real. If I’m actually dead, why don’t you prove it?” I narrow my eyes in defiance at him. “Seriously.”
    He’s amused. “The sight of your corpse floating in the water isn’t proof enough for you?”
    “I’m not saying that. I’m saying there’s another explanation. There has to be.”
    “Put your hand on my shoulder,” he says.
    “I thought you didn’t want me to touch you.”
    “I don’t. But I’m making an exception.”
    “Why don’t you want me to touch you?”
    “Would you just—”
    “No. I want to know, Alex. Why don’t you want me to touch you?” And then I can’t help myself; the words are coming out before I have a chance to think about them. “A boy like you? You’re a nobody. I’m Elizabeth Valchar . Any guy would give his pinky finger to have me lay a hand on him.”
    Why am I treating him this way? We’re here together, with no one else in the world to talk to, and I’m being mean to him.
    He stares at me for a long time, but he doesn’t answer. I know I sound conceited, but it occurs to me that what I’m saying is true. That’s right—I’m pretty. Beautiful, actually.
    Alex stares past me, at the water. “You say you feel like you have amnesia. But it’s interesting what you can remember. You know I was a nobody. You know you were popular.” He brings his gaze back to me. “What else do you remember?”
    I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
    He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. You will eventually.”
    “What does that mean?” I demand.
    But he doesn’t answer me. Instead, he says, “Just do it, Liz. Put your hand on my shoulder.”
    So I do. Then he closes his eyes, which leads me to do the same. I feel like my whole body is being sucked into a gelatinous vacuum. I almost yank my hand away from his shoulder, but just as I’m about to pull it back the vacuum is gone, replaced by—oh God—the cafeteria of my high school.
    It’s crowded with students, but right away I spot my old table: it’s next to the potato bar, on the far end of the cafeteria near the double doors leading to the parking lot.
    “There you are,” Alex says, pointing at me. “You and the cool crew.”
    I can see myself; it’s almost like being in reality, except not. There I am, and here I am, watching. I’m sitting with my closest friends: Richie, Josie, Caroline, Mera, and Topher. They were all on the boat with me last night. They’re still inside right now, sleeping.
    “Oh God,” I murmur, “look at my hair.” Even as the words are leaving my mouth, I know they sound ridiculous.
    “Your hair is fine.” Alex sighs. “It’s exactly the same as everyone else’s.”
    I realize that he’s right: my girlfriends and I are all wearing our long blond hair with the sides pulled back, a slight pouf at the top of our heads, the result of a good twenty minutes of painstaking teasing and hairspraying in the morning. The look is called a bump, I remember. It was popular a few years ago. The only variation on the look is Caroline’s hair, which is decorated with red and white ribbons, whose shades exactly match the colors of her cheerleading uniform.
    “What year is this?” I ask. “We can’t be older than—”
    “Sixteen. This was sophomore year. You know how I can tell?”
    “How?” I hate to admit it, but even though we might be ghosts, even though I know nobody can see us, I feel awkward being here