dead.”
“It’s just that there was finally time,” Charlotte mumbled, glancing at Eric. “Time to do the last things we wanted to do.”
“Don’t worry, Charlotte,” Markov chided. “You’ll live.”
Charlotte didn’t find his little joke funny in the least, and he realized that immediately.
“You completed your internship and now, now it’s time for a little on-the-job training,” he added.
“Think of it as a working vacation,” CoCo soothed, offering a unique take on things. “Sort of an executive perk, like walking the Dior showroom after hours.”
“Or the plumbing supplies aisle at Home Depot,” Bud added, keeping it real.
“Or crashing an after-hours house party,” DJ beamed. “Uninvited.”
“We get to go back, knowing what we know now…,” Violet said, unusually chatty.
“There’s nothing to stop us,” twins Simon and Simone said in unison.
Charlotte was all alone now in her convictions. Even Pam, her B.D.F.—Best Dead Friend—had flipped on her.
Markov was determined to get things back on track.
“Well, sorry to disappoint you all, but it’s not going to be a dead-kids-gone-wild kind of thing,” Markov instructed. “You’re each going to have an assignment.”
“What now?” Charlotte relented, asking on behalf of the assembly.
“As I already told you,” Markov informed, “you are going back.”
“Back where?” DJ asked.
“To where you came from,” Markov said. “Hawthorne.”
Charlotte suddenly perked up. Back to Hawthorne meant back to Scarlet.
“Why there?” Eric asked, disappointed. “Couldn’t we go someplace, you know, cooler?”
He was hoping for a bigger pond to swim in. One where he might be able to showcase his mad guitar skills at last and just maybe get a taste of the fame that escaped him.
“Start small and work your way up,” Markov advised, talking as much about Hawthorne as about Eric’s “career.”
“I don’t need a dress rehearsal,” Eric gruffed.
“This isn’t a debate society or a democracy,” Markov snapped, his expression darkening. “You are being sent where you are needed.”
“I don’t get it,” Kim persisted. “To do what, exactly?”
“Whatever is necessary,” Markov said simply, perusing the list he had been holding. “You’ll just have to figure it out.”
Charlotte was alarmed immediately. If they were going back, something must be wrong. All reservations about returning melted away. She put on her game face.
“You were right,” Eric mouthed to Charlotte, no longer so anxious to get back. “This is bogus.”
Charlotte didn’t react at all. She seemed focused, motivated. He had never seen her like this. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about her eagerness to return all of sudden, given the gossip from Mike and DJ about her ex.
“Listen up, people,” Markov barked. “Here are your assignments.”
“Is this some kind of test?” Suzy asked, nervously picking away at her phantom forearm scars for the first time that she could remember.
“That’s one way to think of it,” Markov said brusquely. “I prefer to call it a mission.”
“Mission?” Charlotte asked. “What kind of mission?”
“Your mission is to help the living deal with their problems,” Markov detailed, ignoring the interruption. “Not to solve big issues like war and peace, but rather the petty problems that plague their lives and consciences—the little things that paralyze them and sometimes stop them from living.”
“Little things?” Charlotte asked, hoping for some clarification.
“There is nothing bigger,” Markov answered.
“Wait, so we’re the ones who are dead,” Eric said, “and we’re supposed to help these living losers see how good they have it?”
“Right,” Markov said. “It’s what you’ve been preparing for here.”
“But we’re not experts,” Charlotte complained. “Who will help us help them?”
“The new class will be here as your lifeline,” Markov assured them.
“It’s just that there was finally time,” Charlotte mumbled, glancing at Eric. “Time to do the last things we wanted to do.”
“Don’t worry, Charlotte,” Markov chided. “You’ll live.”
Charlotte didn’t find his little joke funny in the least, and he realized that immediately.
“You completed your internship and now, now it’s time for a little on-the-job training,” he added.
“Think of it as a working vacation,” CoCo soothed, offering a unique take on things. “Sort of an executive perk, like walking the Dior showroom after hours.”
“Or the plumbing supplies aisle at Home Depot,” Bud added, keeping it real.
“Or crashing an after-hours house party,” DJ beamed. “Uninvited.”
“We get to go back, knowing what we know now…,” Violet said, unusually chatty.
“There’s nothing to stop us,” twins Simon and Simone said in unison.
Charlotte was all alone now in her convictions. Even Pam, her B.D.F.—Best Dead Friend—had flipped on her.
Markov was determined to get things back on track.
“Well, sorry to disappoint you all, but it’s not going to be a dead-kids-gone-wild kind of thing,” Markov instructed. “You’re each going to have an assignment.”
“What now?” Charlotte relented, asking on behalf of the assembly.
“As I already told you,” Markov informed, “you are going back.”
“Back where?” DJ asked.
“To where you came from,” Markov said. “Hawthorne.”
Charlotte suddenly perked up. Back to Hawthorne meant back to Scarlet.
“Why there?” Eric asked, disappointed. “Couldn’t we go someplace, you know, cooler?”
He was hoping for a bigger pond to swim in. One where he might be able to showcase his mad guitar skills at last and just maybe get a taste of the fame that escaped him.
“Start small and work your way up,” Markov advised, talking as much about Hawthorne as about Eric’s “career.”
“I don’t need a dress rehearsal,” Eric gruffed.
“This isn’t a debate society or a democracy,” Markov snapped, his expression darkening. “You are being sent where you are needed.”
“I don’t get it,” Kim persisted. “To do what, exactly?”
“Whatever is necessary,” Markov said simply, perusing the list he had been holding. “You’ll just have to figure it out.”
Charlotte was alarmed immediately. If they were going back, something must be wrong. All reservations about returning melted away. She put on her game face.
“You were right,” Eric mouthed to Charlotte, no longer so anxious to get back. “This is bogus.”
Charlotte didn’t react at all. She seemed focused, motivated. He had never seen her like this. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about her eagerness to return all of sudden, given the gossip from Mike and DJ about her ex.
“Listen up, people,” Markov barked. “Here are your assignments.”
“Is this some kind of test?” Suzy asked, nervously picking away at her phantom forearm scars for the first time that she could remember.
“That’s one way to think of it,” Markov said brusquely. “I prefer to call it a mission.”
“Mission?” Charlotte asked. “What kind of mission?”
“Your mission is to help the living deal with their problems,” Markov detailed, ignoring the interruption. “Not to solve big issues like war and peace, but rather the petty problems that plague their lives and consciences—the little things that paralyze them and sometimes stop them from living.”
“Little things?” Charlotte asked, hoping for some clarification.
“There is nothing bigger,” Markov answered.
“Wait, so we’re the ones who are dead,” Eric said, “and we’re supposed to help these living losers see how good they have it?”
“Right,” Markov said. “It’s what you’ve been preparing for here.”
“But we’re not experts,” Charlotte complained. “Who will help us help them?”
“The new class will be here as your lifeline,” Markov assured them.
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