All Chapters of The Boy Who Died: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

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.”

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

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

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

Marcie“Thanks for squeezing me in.” I smile tightly as I step into Dana’s office the next day.“It’s no issue at all.” Her answering smile is much more earnest. “I was planning on doing paperwork this weekend anyway. You’ve just given me an excuse to drive in and actually get done quickly.”I take my usual seat on the couch and fidget with the drawstring on my sweatpants. My head pounds, and I feel like death warmed over. Hangover breakfast wasn’t nearly enough to pick me up after the night I had. Especially because I have to walk to Dana’s office, and Ben-Ryan could be anywhere.She pulls out her notebook and takes her regular seat across from me. I might be crazy—I definitely am crazy—but she almost looks excited to see me. Maybe she just knows I’m ready to stop lying to her.“I went to the rivalry game last night,” I start.And the whole awful story tumbles out. She tuts when I admit I was drinking but doesn’t say anything specific about my meds. She asks if this is the same Ben f