Those new-age people totally lied. There was no bright light at the end of a dark tunnel. No angels waited to cart me off; no dead family members lingered in the shadows. There was nothing, absolutely nothing… until I felt something tugging on me, pulling me back into my body. It didn’t hurt, but I felt strangely empty—almost like a part of me had stayed in the black abyss. Maybe I’d left my soul somewhere in the hereafter.

When I’d pried my eyes open, I’d seen Dad first. He’d looked a mess—really dead, and Olivia couldn’t reach him. The paramedics, the doctors—none of them had had problems touching me. I remembered thinking maybe I’d dreamed about dying.

When I’d gotten home, when everything was so jacked up and felt surreal, I’d realized I hadn’t dreamt crap. Sushi had been the first victim. With his smashed-up nose and one eye, the cat happened to be the ugliest thing I’d ever seen, but I loved him. I picked him up, and he died about sixty seconds later. Several dead houseplants later, I realized something was wrong with me—very wrong.

I stopped touching things. Just like that.

Oddly enough, Olivia’s ability to bring back the dead had vastly different outcomes depending on what she used it on. Animals ended up with eyes like mine, but they didn’t carry the death-touch like I did. I wasn’t sure if that would be the same with anybody else she’d bring back, and I really didn’t want to find out.

The shrill sound of the first bell drew me out of my thoughts. I gathered my stuff and followed Adam into the crowded hallway.

“So why were you late this morning?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I overslept. It happens.”

He sent me a doubtful look, and I felt terrible lying to him. My gaze dropped from his face to his shirt. It read: I BELIEVE IN TROPHY WIVES. Nice.

I changed the subject. “Do you think we’ll have a quiz in history?”

He nodded, eyes a bright blue behind the wire frame glasses. “Yeah, did you study?”

I shuffled out of the throng of students, smiling up at Adam. “What were you saying?”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Did you study?”

“Oh. Olivia was being especially needy last—”

“Freak,” said Dustin Smith, varsity football captain and all-around douche bag.

“You dated her,” cut in another boy. “She’s your freak, Dustin.”

The “dated her” part was sad, but true. When I was fifteen, popular, and still could touch people, we’d had a thing. Dustin and I had kissed… a lot. Then I’d turned into the black widow. So the chances that I’d die a virgin remained pretty high.

A freak and a virgin—couldn’t get any better than that.

“Man, I’m trying to forget that part of my life,” said Dustin. “Can you not bring it up?”

My fingers curled around the strap of my bag as I stared at the dirty floor. Keep staring at the floor, I thought. Looking up only makes things worse. But I never listened to the sane, reasonable voice in my head. Almost against my will, I lifted my head and glared at Dustin.