Betrayal - By Lee Nichols Page 0,19

said. “And quite the charmer.” His voice was low and measured, and not even slightly slurred—but somehow he still seemed drunk. “However, I seem to have misplaced my ability to give a crap. Perhaps you’ve seen it, Emma. I called it Coby.”

“You’re not the only one who misses him,” Natalie said.

“But Emma is the only one who misplaced him.” He tsked at me. “Very clumsy.”

“I didn’t—” I felt my face redden. “I loved him, too, Harry. I wish—I wish none of this ever happened.”

“If wishes were horses, Emma, you’d still be the bitch who killed my best friend.” He turned to Natalie. “So, are you going to sit with me, or with QBK?”

“QBK?” Natalie said. “What’s that?”

“Quarterback Killer. Catchy, don’t you think?”

I swallowed. “It’s okay; you can sit with him. It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled. “Your life is going to be hell if you stick with me.”

“At least you’ve got a life,” Harry said as he pushed past us, shoving me into the door.

“Ow,” I said, rubbing my arm.

“Suck it up, Em,” Natalie said, with false cheer. “The fun is only beginning.”

“Thanks.” We took our seats. “Martha told me you’d be a true friend. I doubt she realized how much I’d need you.”

The teacher closed the door and crossed to the front of the room, firing questions at us in Latin.

“Ego requiro suus.”1 Natalie whispered.

“Mihi quoque.”2

After Latin, I shuffled off to my next class, staring at the ground, trying to avoid the accusatory glances and the “accidental” bumps.

Trig was the hardest; I dreaded seeing Coby’s empty desk beside mine. But when I entered the classroom, I discovered him in his old seat.

Really? I plopped down next to him. Trig’s the last place I’ll go when I’m dead.

I didn’t come for the math.

For what, then? My charming personality?

He didn’t look amused. You talk to Harry yet?

Yeah, he’s got a new nickname for me. QBK.

Coby thought for a second, then snorted in his ghostly way. He’s a mean drunk. Always was. He called me Cheese for six months.

Why Cheese?

Because I hated it. He quieted for a minute, watching Mr. Sakolsky write a problem on the board. Emma, he needs you.

He can’t stand me, I said, scrawling random numbers in my notebook.

I didn’t say he liked you.

How am I supposed to help someone who hates me?

You raised me from the dead. I think talking with a drunk is within your— Coby startled suddenly. Who are you?

Edmund, the man in the brown suit, had flickered into existence beside us. He nodded his head in greeting.

Coby, meet Edmund, I said. He used to teach in this room. He’s the one who helped me figure out I was a ghostkeeper.

You’re the one Neos killed, Edmund said, eying Coby curiously. He’d only killed ghostkeepers before you. They don’t come back, you know.

Coby glanced at me, his brow knit. So if you die …?

Yeah, I said, keeping my hand firmly on the desk when Sakolsky asked for volunteers to solve a problem on the board. If Neos kills me, you won’t see me again.

We’re going to find him first, Coby said. We’ll do the killing.

Such ferocity! Edmund said, with a slight smile. But you know, Coby, one must take care when speaking about … him. Especially with threats. He’s turning the Beyond into his own personal property. And if one doesn’t know one’s way …

Hmm. It hadn’t occurred to me that Coby could use some kind of mentor. Someone to show him around the place. Teach him how to be a ghost.

Maybe you can show him, I said. I didn’t know when I summoned him that—

Emma summoned you? Edmund interrupted with surprise. That explains why you shine so brightly. I thought I sensed someone new here this morning, a powerful spirit. I’d been quite alarmed, but it must’ve been you. Yes, yes, you must allow me to show you the possibilities of the Beyond.

Coby gave me a look like, is this guy for real? And Edmund was sort of a nutball—he had, after all, been a high school teacher—but he knew a lot and he hadn’t given me any reason not to trust him.

So I said, I’ll see you later.

Promise you’ll speak to Harry.

I will, I said. But I didn’t say when.

I watched them disappear into the ether, and Mr. Sakolsky scolded me for staring out the window. The whole class turned to shoot me dirty looks, so I buried myself in the intricacies of trigonometry, wishing all my problems had such concrete solutions.

After class, I retreated to