LOGINShare
Chickening Out
Last Updated:
2024-12-13 10:33:06Related chapters
The Boy Who Died Homecoming
Marcie“Chug! Chug! Chug!” I shout with the rest of the crowd at some keg-standing someone or other. The red plastic cup in my hand is almost empty, which means it’s time for a refill. My first. Or third?The keg-standing person splutters foamy beer, and I cheer with everyone else. Who the fuck am I kidding? These parties are fucking great. I have to go to more. And the music is… is also great. I stumble away from the crowd, on the hunt for wherever the bar ran off to.Something slams into my shins, and the room turns upside-down. I’m falling. Oh, shit! Before I can get my limbs together enough to catch myself, someone wraps warm arms around my waist and arrests my fall. I blink a few times and look up at my rescuer.Blurry jaw. Blurry hair—not that long, maybe pink. Or purple? No, wait, that’s the strobe lights, coloring his hair. Regardless, he’s blurry-handsome, and I smile easily up at him from where I sit in what seems to be his lap.“Did it hurt?” he asks.I laugh. I could fall
Last Updated : 2024-12-29The Boy Who Died Repercussions
MarcieSomeone is jackhammering my skull. Not only that, they’re shining a search light right at my closed eyelids, trying to burn away my corneas before I’ve even really woken up. Someone wants me really, truly dead. I crack open an eye—fuck, it’s so goddamn bright—and make out hazy, familiar shapes. That dark brownish lump could be my desk. The dark blue underneath me could be my bed, if I passed out on top of my comforter. The searchlight takes on the distinctive rectangular shape of my window. Everything hurts.A warm, tempting smell winds through the air. Eggs. And bacon! My stomach rumbles. I grumble back at it. We’ll be staying in bed until they turn the searchlight off, thanks.My bladder also protests, and it’s in a far less negotiable mood. With a great act of will, I sit up. My stomach lurches, but last night’s drinks don’t make a reappearance. Thank god for that. I’m still wearing Heather’s dress. Achingly, eyes half-closed, I fumble through changing into sweatpants and a
Last Updated : 2024-12-29The Boy Who Died Date Night
MarcieThe following Tuesday, I breathe out slowly and stare at my open closet door. My clothes stare back at me, no more helpful than the last twelve times I’ve looked at them. My phone vibrates, and I dive for it instead.Is it too lame to say I’m really looking forward to this?I clutch the phone to my chest and try not to squeal. I feel like a kid, but my mystery man—it feels too weird to call him Gwendivere in my head, even though I already know I’ll probably never change his name in my contacts—has been texting me all week, and my stomach fills with butterflies every time. It’s a proper lying on my stomach and kicking up my heels crush. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. Okay, I can, but I’m not thinking about him tonight. I open mystery man and I’s message thread and text him back.Don’t worry. I’ll slay the dragon of lameness for both of us. I’m looking forward to it tooThe message doesn’t even send me into a spiral, wondering if I’ve actually made everything s
Last Updated : 2024-12-29The Boy Who Died Mistake
MarcieNo. No, no, no. I didn’t spend a whole night talking to Ben. I didn’t spend all week texting Ben! My breath races. My heart hammers. He can’t be Ryan because…because….Ben catches my eye and smiles. He’s wearing a pair of jeans so crisp I have to assume he ironed them before leaving the house and a short-sleeved button-down with a tiny print I can’t make out from here. Oh, fuck, he’s walking over. I shove one of my hands beneath the table and squeeze it into a fist so tight, bright crescents of pain spark through my system as my nails dig in.“My dear Lancival.” He half-bows as he approaches. “I should’ve known you’d beat me here. Do you mind waiting while I get my drink?”I shake my head. He can’t be Ryan. He just can’t be. I watched Ryan die, even if I didn’t know that until his mom told me the next day. I went to his funeral. But oh, God, he looks so much like Ryan.He turns away and joins the still-short line. I stare at his back. He holds his shoulders like Ryan did. I thi
Last Updated : 2024-12-29The Boy Who Died Closing Time
MarcieI throw my head back, my sides aching from how hard I’ve been laughing.“I knew you wouldn’t believe me!” Ben says. “I warned you!”“You said she bit you!” I splutter between giggles. “A real, adult, adult model!”“She didn’t understand that I was a real photographer, not a set-up for a scene.” He laughs with me in a rumbling baritone I wish I could bottle.“Hi, uh, sorry to interrupt.”I close my mouth around the last of my laughter and open my eyes to see Anaya, one of the baristas who I’ve had a few classes with, standing next to our table.“Are we being too loud?” My face burns. “We can keep it down.”She shakes her head. “I came to let you know we’re closing up for the night. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here and all.” She puts a check on our table and walks away.I blink a few times then pick up my cup of coffee and sip it to clear my head. I must’ve misheard her. But my coffee is ice cold. And she gave us a check for the pastries that used to occupy the
Last Updated : 2024-12-29The Boy Who Died Confession
MarcieEvery rustle in the bushes or shifting shadow makes me jump. When I finally reach the door, my fingers shake around the keys. My lips buzz like they’re reminding me of what just happened, making it impossible to forget. I just kissed Ben. Ben just kissed me. And I still don’t know if I’m crazy, or he’s exactly like Ryan.When I finally force the door open, Heather twists around on the couch.“Holy shit! Text next time, okay?” she says. “I thought you were getting ax-murdered or something.”I take a deep breath. I’ve really enjoyed having someone in my life who doesn’t look at me like I’m crazy. That’s at least half the reason I stopped living with my assigned roommate from freshman year. That, and her weird obsession with cabbage. But Heather is the only friendly face inside the mile or so to Dana’s office, and I feel like I’m about to rattle out of my skin. I close the door behind me, and the dam breaks.“My best friend in high school was named Ryan Evers.” Oh, God, I haven’t
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died One Minute After Midnight
BenI rub my eyes and adjust the color grade on the action shot I snapped during the last football game by another degree. It’s so close, but it’s not quite right. This is a front-page photo. Scott said so when he saw it on my damn camera. I should’ve done this before I went out with Marcie.Despite my frustration, just thinking about her brings a smile to my face. Sure, I don’t really have many first dates to judge it against—I think—but that seemed like a pretty good first date. A pretty great one. When I kissed her, she just melted, and I got the first sense she was as nervous as me.God, I hope she couldn’t tell how nervous I was.I’ll just text her. Something cute. Low pressure, but trying to see if she wants to go out again.Yeah, like I know how to do that. I sigh and pick up my phone anyway. Hopefully, high pressure with a few nerdy references still gets the job done.My stomach drops as I look at the screen. It’s 12:01. A minute after I’m supposed to call Mom. My fingers slid
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Beautiful
MarcieThe sun shines down on my shoulders as I march along the path to class the morning after my date with Ben. Bright and warm. Just like I’m going to be.Because he’s going to be in class today.After weeks of avoiding the photography syllabus like it’s a snake, I finally took a look last night. Each Ben-class is marked with a little asterisk, like an inescapable black hole.I then checked Professor Washington’s dictatorial attendance policy. “Expedition” classes, which all of Ben’s are, can only be missed once a semester before you just fail.So, I adjust my backpack and practice my smile. I’m totally, completely normal. I went on a bad first date last night. Half the campus probably did. And at least half of those people have to face their bad-date-ee in class today. Statistically, I wouldn’t even stand out on a graph.I freeze at the doorway to the classroom. Ben leans over one of the desks, fiddling with something in a black bag. A camera bag. Nothing scary.My heart crashes a
Last Updated : 2025-01-04
Latest chapter
The Boy Who Died Where It Started
LilyAt the end of our two weeks with Ryan’s mom, I’m lying in the bed in our hotel room waiting for him. I’m completely exhausted. Since he’s been going over there almost every day, I’ve been amusing myself with what there is to do around Galesburg, and there’s really not a lot. I’m bored enough that being bored makes me tired, but we’re finally leaving tomorrow. Heading back to Ardent, because I still have a lease, though we haven’t really talked about what happens next for us.I guess I could’ve kept going to his mom’s house, but watching the two of them reunite has been… weird. I just keep thinking about my mom, whom I cut off with everyone else. She didn’t even kill my dad via choices she might’ve been manipulated into making. I’ve picked up my phone half a dozen times, intending to text her and see how things are. But I don’t know what follows that. I can’t imagine going back to Dillsboro for the holidays, reappearing at family gatherings like nothing happened. It just kind of f
The Boy Who Died Coming Home
RyanThe day after they release me from the hospital, I drum my fingers on my knees as the suburban streets I thought I knew all my life but really only knew for six years whip by outside. Heather and Everett dug up nearly everything I could want to know about Julia and Arthur Daugherty but much less about their apparent partner, Marissa McGuire. Or Beverly Evers. Or Laurel Andrews. My mother.Lily puts her hand on mine. “Stop fidgeting. If you mess up your stitches, they’re going to kill me.”I smile. “Kill you? Why? I thought your quick thinking saved my life?”She shakes her head. “It was a through-and-through, and it only got your large intestine. Painful, likely to get infected, but not immediately deadly.”“We waited their ten days!” I tap my other fingers on my other knee, even though it makes the recently stitched surgical scar in my side burn.“I am driving.” She scowls at me quickly. “Do you want to not die in another car crash, just to prove that you’re immortal?”“Sorry!”
The Boy Who Died Last Chance
LilyIf I thought running through this warehouse was torture with Dana chasing me, I was an idiot.“Ryan!” I scream.Still no answer. I retrace my steps back to our little hideout, take off in the same direction he did. My heart hammers. Is he hurt? Should I have taken the gun? Am I going to round the next corner and come face-to-face with Scott—Arthur? Am I already too late?I pour on whatever speed I have left, looking for any clue.There! That stupid cheese dust Ryan threw at them, smeared on the wall. I hang a sharp right.“Ryan!” I shout again.Nothing. With each step, I feel like I’m falling through time. The park on prom night. The car before his funeral, when I refused to go. The street I almost followed the hallucination into. The time I got lost on a field trip, and he was the only one to come looking for me. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.I am not going to lose him again.The smell of iron pulls me to an open office. I whip inside and skid in a puddle of blood.Blood spatters like it ne
The Boy Who Died Staring Crazy in the Face
MarcieI sprint down one of the identical halls of this part of the warehouse, Ryan’s T-shirt whipping around my otherwise naked body, my heart hammering in my throat.Being shot at from an SUV was crazy. Finding Ryan was crazy. The shooters following us to this warehouse is crazy. But one of the shooters, one of the people who tried to kill Ryan in the first place, being the therapist I’ve trusted with my life nearly every day of the past six years?I’m starting to think I don’t actually know what the word crazy means anymore.Scott thunders after Ryan, and I pray he’s got more of a plan than running and hiding. The “newspaper editor” looks furious.Oh, fuck, did he kill Mrs. Mathers?Heels click along the hallway behind me, and I put all thoughts of the ex-editor out of my mind. Apparently, my bare feet aren’t quiet enough. Dana—if that’s actually her name—is coming after me.I blink, and I’m in that crappy little park on prom night, watching two women drag Ryan away. Was she really
The Boy Who Died Fearless
Ryan“Fuck!” I leap up, toss a T-shirt to Lily, and sprint for the door between this room and the one with the table and chairs, hoping to shut it. I don’t have a plan past that. The reason we picked the second office is because it has no other entrances or exits, not even windows.Someone fires a gun, and I throw myself to the side. The bullet thuds into something, and thank fuck, Lily doesn’t scream. No matter what else I remember—or what I’ve recognized—I know immediately that my body isn’t used to this. I wasn’t secretly dodging bullets while everyone else was in eighth grade. Which means I’ve pretty much got Ben’s skills to rely on.We’re fucked.“Present yourselves, and we’ll handle this cleanly,” a feminine voice says.“Dana?” Lily whispers.I glance at her. She’s put my T-shirt on, but it barely reaches mid-thigh on her. And she looks completely lost. So am I. I don’t know anyone named Dana, or—No, I kind of know that voice. I heard it once. My skin goes cold as I place it wi
The Boy Who Died Lily
RyanMy heart aches. That name echoes in my chest. “No.”Marcie swipes her tears away. “I think you do, somewhere in there, or you wouldn’t have come to Ardent.”“I want to.” I squeeze her hips, anchoring myself in her. “Tell me… something. About him.”“About you.” She smiles softly. “When you moved to town in first grade, someone accidentally sent your mom the second-grade supply list, so you showed up on the first day with all this stuff other people didn’t have. Markers and glue sticks and shit.”Another echo. Back in the hospital, right after I woke up, the doctors said things would feel familiar before I actually remembered them, but they never did. Was this what they meant all along?“Your cubby was right above Theresa’s,” she continues.“Theresa?” The word feels familiar on my tongue. “T?”Marcie’s eyes light up. “That’s what we called her, yeah. Lil, Ry, and T.”They all sound familiar. No memories, but the unavoidable feeling I know those names. I’ve said them all before. My
The Boy Who Died Ryan
MarcieI feel like I’m in the eye of a storm as I stare around the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Sycamore. Everett is saying something about property values and what this place used to be, but I can’t pay attention.I’ve spent years falling apart at the slightest provocation. At a blond guy in the wrong place, at a cologne I haven’t smelled since—Ryan.Who’s walking next to Everett with his hands in his pockets, who I’ve fallen for every time I met him. I’ve spent years falling apart, and I don’t know what it means, but right now, I’ve never felt more together. Heather sniffles next to me, clutching my hand. Everett seems to be babbling because he can’t figure out anything else to do. But I’m not worried.And I might not be crazy either.“So, anyway, we could hit up the northeast quadrant?” Everett shrugs. “Heard my dad say something about a foreman or a surveyor or something starting over there. They might have some shit.”Ryan nods. I can’t call him anything else now. He
The Boy Who Died What the Fuck?
BenSomething in my chest reverberates when she says the name Ryan. Something else twangs when the SUV whips into the road. I don’t know what to do with any of it, or the insane implication that a football player has been running forensic tests on me in secret.None of that matters now.“Get in the car!” I shout.Marcie, Heather, and Everett just look from me to the SUV. One of its windows buzzes down, and something dark pokes out. Neurons I don’t remember having fire. That’s the muzzle of a gun.No time left. I grab Marcie’s upper arm—the meathead doesn’t even try to stop me—and start yanking her toward my car. Theirs is across the street, and we need anything that’ll stand in the way of us and bullets, even a crappy sedan. Marcie moves when I pull her like she was waiting for instructions. Heather and Everett spur into motion. I slam into the driver’s seat, toss Marcie in the passenger’s. The back door is still open when the first bullets fly.In movies, bullets always sound so spec
The Boy Who Died Not Going Alone
MarcieAfter therapy, I stand in front of my apartment door for a long moment. The Arkly is putting out a special paper tonight for the game, so Heather is at the office. Theresa told me a while ago that she splits Sundays between family time and grading, so I shouldn’t call if I actually want to talk. Everett was really nice last night, but I can’t exactly call him my friend. Which means as soon as I walk inside, I’ll be alone.With my thoughts. And the sinking feeling I can’t just avoid this problem.Something crashes on a lower floor, and I jump. It’s a trash can lid. I memorized that sound ages ago. But right now, it feels like anything could be Ben-Ryan coming to get me. Maybe being alone isn’t so bad after all. I shove my key into the lock and open the door quickly.“Hey,” Heather calls from the kitchen.I blink. “Uh, hi?”“Sorry, I was gonna text, but I literally just walked in.” She pads out of the kitchen, still dressed for work and carrying a bag of chips. “Scott closed the
