Not Quite Dead Yet

by Holly Jackson

You go away to college and your best friend who stopped calling and stopped replying—and stopped caring—sets her sights on your brother instead.

Actually, it didn’t matter: next year she wouldn’t even be here anymore.

Jet had time to find the right thing; she had all the time in the world, remember? And then life would really begin, and when it did, you better believe she’d be shoving it down all of their throats in return. Just you wait.

What kind of choice was that? Jet couldn’t even decide what to have for breakfast most days. Die now, or die in a week? Toast or cereal? Both?

She wanted what she’d always wanted. To do something, achieve something big, something undeniably great, to prove that she could. So that life could finally begin. Jet had played the waiting game too long, and now she was out of time.

“Do something?” Mom cried. “What do you mean? Do what?” Something great. Something no one had ever done before. “I’m going to solve my own murder.”

“This is my first,” she said, hands up. “First time being murdered also. Newbie.

“Well, you’ve probably ruled some things out. I’m no detective, but it probably wasn’t aliens or Taylor Swift. She’s very busy.”

Was this what it felt like to be a man? Walking on this creepy dark bridge, not scared for a second that she wouldn’t make it out the other side, because it didn’t really make a difference whether she did or not. The night belonged to her now too. A dead woman walking. And dead women had no use for fear.

“Jet.” Billy turned to her, the storm settling in his eyes, reaching out to take her hand, holding it in her lap. “It was never your fault.”