Remember Me by Christopher Pike Page B

dead, I told myself. I was too young. I had too much to do. I hadn't done anything wrong. Besides, how could I be talking with myself if there was no one left to talk to? It simply made no sense that I was dead. It was illogical.

    I decided I must be dreaming.

    This decision didn't last long. The death state can vary in the extreme, yet it is usually much closer to the waking state than dreaming. I didn't try pinching myself or anything silly like that. I simply paused for a moment and examined my thinking process and realized I could not be unconscious.

    On the other hand, that didn't mean I couldn't help believing that someone somewhere had made a terrible mistake. I tried telling my family just that after the doctor bid them a sympathetic farewell and they climbed into the elevator.

    "Hey," I said as the doors closed and we started up. "I know you can't hear me too well for some reason or other, but you've got to listen to me. That girl in there was not me.

    She couldn't be me. I'm me, and I'm right here. Mom, look at me. I'm all right.

    Dad, that doctor's a nice guy and all that, but I swear, he's messed me up with someone else.

    Jimmy, you know I can't be dead. I wouldn't die on you." I reached out and hugged my brother. My hands did not go through his flesh this time, but they did not touch him, either. I could have been trying to hug a reflection in the mirror. "Jimmy?" I cried, pleading.

    It was no use. They exited the elevator without a glance over their shoulders to make sure I had gotten off safely. But I continued to follow them. What else could I do? There was a handsome blond policeman waiting by the emergency front desk. He wanted to have a word with them. I chose not to listen. I went and sat on one of the chairs in the waiting room. A young couple were there with their three-year-old son, who had split his upper lip open. It didn't look serious.

    The child was coloring in a coloring book, and the mother and father were talking about how much fun they were going to have in Hawaii on their vacation.

    A few minutes later the policeman and my family started for the exit together. I had to pull myself out of my chair to go after them. I didn't have a headache or a stomachache or any other specific physical complaint. I just didn't feel well.

    Outside, I realized dissension had entered the group.

    Apparently Jimmy wanted to go somewhere that the others particularly the policeman—didn't want him to go. It took a moment for me to understand that he intended to go to Beth's place.

    I got all excited at the idea. If we went to Beth's condo together, I thought, we would be able to figure out exactly what had happened. Then we could prove that I was really all right, and people would start seeing me again!

    Jimmy finally got his way. The policeman agreed to take my parents home. My brother embraced my mother and father as he said goodbye. It was hard to look at my mother, even though I could see her much clearer than I had any right to in the dark parking lot. She just kept shaking, and I kept thinking that if she didn't stop soon, her heart would begin to skip beats, and she'd have a heart attack. I felt guilty as I ran away from my parents, chasing Jimmy as he jogged toward his car. But I had no difficulty climbing over the driver's seat into the passenger's seat when Jimmy opened his door. I was already getting good at it.

    We were almost to Beth's house, coasting along the coast highway at a high speed, the ocean off to our left, when the worst possible thing happened. It was worse than seeing a pretty young girl lying on a cold morgue slab and realizing it was me. Jimmy suddenly pulled over to the side of the road and laid his head on the steering wheel and began to cry.

    I had seen my brother upset before, but I had never seen him cry. I would not have thought it possible. Oh, he wasn't so tough that I couldn't imagine him breaking down. It was just that I couldn't imagine him doing it where I