LOGINShare
Crazy in… Like?
Last Updated:
2025-01-04 13:17:39Related chapters
The Boy Who Died That’s Not True
Marcie“Oh my God, I told you not to get in a fight on the forum.” I laugh as I trudge up the stairs after another long day of classes, looking forward to having the apartment to myself.“Tell the forum not to be wrong!” Ben replies. “I replayed my game last night just to make sure. Morgengraun never says they’re in Camelot. It’s a Mandala effect!”“Mandela effect.” I correct him, grinning. “Maybe it’s good they keep you behind the camera instead of typing.”“Ooh, big talk from the nurse. Aren’t you just doctors who couldn’t hack it?”I shove my key into the door. Despite how harsh Ben’s words sound, I can still hear him laughing as quickly as he can, trying to hide his distraction in the middle of the Arkly offices. It’s crazy to me how quickly we understand each other. How easy it is to rib each other and know no harm is intended.“Ah, close,” I say. “Doctors are actually people who wanted to be nurses but needed like a thousand more tests to be allowed in the same buildings as me.”
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died A Night to Remember
LilyI grab another rock from the pile next to me and try to skip it over the drainage “river” below the bridge. Skip, skip, spash. As always. No matter what I do, I can’t get the fucking wrist movement right. In a fit of frustration, I shove the rest of the rocks into the water at once. The water splashes up, dampening the soft pink hem of the dress I thought was so stupidly beautiful when I put it on this afternoon, and I don’t even care. I stand up, wobbling in my heels, and turn to face the Morrow Hotel.God, I didn’t even walk far enough away that I can’t see the lights through the, like, six trees that separates me from my prom. My prom! What the hell am I even doing out here? I should go back.The thought makes me nauseous enough that I grab the banister of the teeny-tiny bridge to stay upright. Honestly, I don’t know what’s making me sicker, the veritable mountain of fried shrimp Theresa and I collectively housed, or the way Michaela Tucker has been throwing herself at Ryan al
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Grounded
MarcieI suck in a glass-sharp breath, and I’m back on the orange couch.The orange couch? I don’t know an orange couch. I’ve never had an orange couch.“Hey, I’m here,” someone says soothingly. “I’ve got you.”I don’t know that voice. Or do I? A thousand voices echo in my head, and I know it’s one of them, but none of the names and times match together anymore. I’m a jigsaw puzzle with all the pieces shaken apart.Shaking. I am shaking. I was shaking.“The women took Ryan to the hospital,” I mutter.“Okay,” someone says. “That makes sense.”That makes sense. Of course it does.“They took him to the hospital, but he was dead on arrival.”I am shaking in a white-walled room. The hospital. No, Mom’s office. Mrs. Evers called her with the news, couldn’t bear to call me directly.No, no, no, I’m on an orange couch. Mom’s office doesn’t have an orange couch. I inhale, and there’s no smell of the dentist’s antiseptic, no powdery latex stink. It’s too warm for Indiana in October.“Is it Octo
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Between a Rock and a Soft Place
Ben“Yeah, I’ll copy the flyer for you.” I shoot Liam, one of the junior photographers, a smile and accept the single, neon advertisement for his band’s underground show.“Thanks, man.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Printer credits are a bitch.”“Don’t I know it.” I smile one last time and twist away from him toward the copy room. I don’t know anything about printer credits. My school didn’t have them, and as an adult here, I don’t even have access to those credits. But Liam’s a nice guy. He doesn’t need to know that.As I walk, I check my phone. Still nothing from Marcie. I doubt there’s anything wrong, but her suddenly calling me Theresa is unsettling. Hopefully, she’ll text soon. I duck into the copy room.Just in time to see some ridiculously tall emo guy sliding in through the window.“What the fuck?” I look around, but I’m alone in here.The emo guy’s shirt catches on the sill and pulls up, exposing his pale stomach and—my mouth goes dry—a fucking gun sticking out of his pants.
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Rivalry
Marcie“Go, baby, go!” Heather shrieks from the stands next to me, her voice nearly swallowed up by the crowd.I stomp my feet and cheer aimlessly. I lost track of Everett ages ago, but I can tell one of the boys in blue has the ball, and they’re sprinting down the field, which I think is… good? Somehow, in the stands, the cold air stinging my face, wearing more bright blue than I could’ve sworn I owned before I started going to these games with Heather, I don’t really care. Being here isn’t about understanding the game beyond the scoreboard looming over the field, declaring it the final quarter, and the Ardent Alligators are losing to the Bennett Bears by three points.It's about feeling alive.The guy in blue throws himself into the end zone, and I scream my lungs out with everyone else around me. The game is ours! It doesn’t matter if we make the kick. I don’t even know how many points the kick is, but I grab Heather’s arms and jump up and down with her as they line it up. The ball
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Hook, Line, Sinker
MarcieI open and close my mouth a few times, grasping for an explanation. Everett knows exactly who Ben is, and there’s no way he’s not going to tell Heather.“I need to talk to you,” Everett says.“No, you don’t.” I pry myself out of Ben’s hold. “I’m, uh, drunk! Yeah, I’m drunk, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”“Will you come upstairs with me?” Everett seems unmoved.Ben steps in front of me. “Look, buddy—”Everett towers up to his full height. Ben’s no slouch, they’re nearly at eye-level with each other, but all of Everett’s muscles ripple under the flashing lights, a dangerous promise.For a split second, I think I might just let them fight. Even knowing whatever Everett wants has nothing to do with romantic jealousy, the idea is kind of hot. Then, I shove myself between them, facing Ben.“He doesn’t want anything like that.” I push up on my toes and kiss him, a testament to how much I might not be lying about the drunk thing. “I’ll just… be right back.”Ben scowls. “If you’re su
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Voyeur
BenI lean against a wall, alternating between watching the stairs for Marcie, sipping some crap drink, and wishing I had a camera to capture this party. The frat guys converted a whole room of their house for dancing. There’s no furniture in here but the DJ booth and a keg by the door to the kitchen. A hundred people in different shades of blue move never quite in unison, like a hive-mind that can’t quite agree. I nod my head like I know the song and check the stairs again.Still no Marcie. It feels like it’s been ages, but I didn’t check the time when she left. At least a little asking around got me the name of the musclehead who carted her off. Everett Beck. Apparently, he’s Heather’s boyfriend. Which could explain the “Theresa” call last week. Between what happened at the Arkly between us and how little we go over to Marcie’s apartment, I can kind of tell Heather doesn’t like our relationship. No idea why, but Marcie is probably upstairs getting lectured about how bad I am for her
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Who’s Crazy Now?
MarcieI wipe my mouth and sit back from the grimy toilet in Everett’s bathroom. Heather releases my hair. Everett dumps what looks like coffee out of a mug, rinses it, then offers me some water. Reluctantly, I accept.Ben and Ryan are actually the same person. Might actually be the same person. This is the proof I was looking for, the proof that made me call Theresa and go through that box. Now that I have it….My stomach clenches again, a tiny threat.“How are you feeling?” Heather asks. “Did you just drink too much?”This time, my laughter is dry and short. “‘Just’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting there.”She makes a small comforting noise.“I gotta ask.” Everett leans against the sink. “I saw you downstairs with him.”“Not a question,” I say tiredly. I feel hollowed out. Ben, Ryan, Ben. Who can I trust?“Are you seeing him?” Heather asks. “Did you have any dates from those apps?”I’ve got nothing to lose. I lean my cheek against the tub to try to cool down. “I deleted them weeks ag
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
