Dead & Gone (DARAGON)

Send me an angel ~

"Chedster?"

"Five more minutes. I don't wanna get
up."

"Funny, that's what you said five
minutes ago."

"No, but this time I mean it."

"Nice try, Angel, but that's not going to
work."

"You're not the boss of me."

"Whatever you say, lil' lady."

Then a bucket of freezing cold water hit
me in the face. My eyes flew open.

"What the—"

"Wakey, wakey, rise and shine," sang
Patrick.

"Oh my god I will murder you!" I
jumped to my feet and tried to grab him,
but he was way too quick.

He tsked. "Again with all of this killing
talk. So much pent-up aggression. I think
maybe we need to find you a good
psychologist."

I was breathing heavily, soaking wet. I
flopped back on the ground and rubbed
my eyes. I shivered. Every single inch of
me was covered in goose bumps.

"Here, want my jacket?" said Patrick.

"Do not even talk to me," I said, still
rubbing my eyes. "You are evil and must
be destroyed." My eyes finally came into
focus and I saw that it was just past
twilight. The sky was a silky shade of
lavender—tinged black and blue and
yellow around the edges like a faded
bruise. In every direction, glowing jacko'-
lanterns grinned back at us, and
flickering streetlights gave off an eerie
golden haze, house after house after
house.

"Trick or treat," said Patrick. He jumped
up and grabbed the big tree branch
above his head. Started doing pull-ups.

"Trick," I said, noticing a familiar porch
swing right across the street. The red
door. White stucco. The tree-covered
driveway where I used to park my bike
almost every day after school. "This is
definitely a trick."

"Wrong answer," he grunted. "The
penalty of which shall be five mini
Snickers bars and three bite-sized bags
of peanut M&M'S." He let go of the
branch and dropped to the ground with a
thump. "Man. I am seriously out of
practice."

But I didn't hear him. I was too busy
trying not to throw up.

Jacob's house. We were sitting across
the street from JACOB'S house.

How? How is this possible?

In all of the exploring I'd done with
Patrick, I'd never been able to find my
way back to this spot. In my slice of
heaven, there were subtle changes and
shifts that made it different from my old
world. Roads didn't connect exactly like
I'd remembered. Street names didn't
match up. There were holes. Pieces
missing.

Important pieces.

My house wasn't where it should have
been. The high school was older, more
decayed. Even Jacob's house was
missing—like someone had come
through my memories and purposefully
messed with everything that had meant
anything to me when I'd been alive.

After a while, I had simply stopped
trying to find them. I suppose I'd
forgotten what I was looking for.

But now, zoom-two-three, here we
were, back in the Real Deal Real World.
My head ached like I'd just woken up
from a killer concussion.

I turned to Patrick. "Where are we?
What happened?"

"Oh, you mean that whole fuzzy
headachy thing? It'll go away, don't
worry."