Dying For A Chance Read Online Free PDF Page B

wall of cotton. “Did they kick you out of the afterlife for being annoying?” Before you go and decide that I'm a horrible person you have to understand that I was heavily medicated. I know that was completely rude and I probably shouldn't have said it. I remember seeing a comedian mimic the act of trying to physically catch your words and pull them back into your mouth. This was one of those times. His whistling stopped and for a tense moment I was really afraid that he might have left. I dropped the covers and saw that he hadn't. He sat by the window, barely visible inside the light of the late afternoon. It was the first time that I noticed how sad he really was. Behind all that cocky behavior he was just as scared and unsure as I was. I sat up and awkwardly adjusted the covers around myself. The pain in my leg was growing but I tried to ignore it.
                “Do you remember what happened when you died?” Nic's voice was soft and not at all mocking this time.
                “I didn't die, I'm right here.”
                “That's because you came back.” Nic looked back over his shoulder at me and there was something about his expression, I felt like it meant something important. It was a secret that I should know, something just between the two of us. I wracked my brain trying to think of the moments after the crash and later on in the hospital.
                It felt like a muddy expanse in my mind, a dark swampy area and I definitely did not want to stay there very long. My eyes snapped open after only a moment.
                “I don't remember anything, after. I can remember crossing West 7 th Street. I was late for my interview and my phone lit up, I looked down to check it and then I woke up in this bed. Nothing in between.” Nic looked down at his hands, he looked crushed. I had no idea why.
                “I'm sorry I asked why you're still here, it was really rude and I'm sorry.” I felt horrible, he was annoying but I didn't have the right to make his afterlife miserable. He glanced up from his lap and spun his chair around to face me. He came into focus suddenly as the mist pulled away from him. His smile was genuine and it made his eyes crinkle in a happy way.
                “Thanks,” he looked down at my scattered junk on the floor. “What do you think the nurses would do if this was all picked up before they got in here?” that mischievous smile came back and lit up his face. While he busied himself repacking my exploded purse he started that annoying cowboy whistling tune again.
                “What is that song you're always whistling?” I studied him, now that he was solid I could make out the lines of detail on his face. He was young, maybe 19 or 20 but he looked so serious. The lines of muscle on his jaw were like those generally reserved for older men, Nic didn't have any of that roundness that clung to some guys. His shirt flexed around the generous muscle of his bicep and I caught sight of a tattoo. Sometimes even to live is an act of courage. He was swiftly becoming a very  intriguing person. He paused from picking up my things and smirked at me.
                “You mean you don't know?” his voice sounded scandalized, like it was shocking that I wouldn't know. I shook my head and gave him a lack luster shoulder shrug, I wasn't really interested in cowboy stuff. “I'll give you a hint, it was one of Clint's early films.”
                The sigh that escaped my lips was completely unintentional, I had never watched a Clint Eastwood film in my life. Frankly, I figured they were boring but I tried to play along anyway.
                “Hmm, was it that Good, Bad and Ugly one?” That was the only one I'd heard of, my third foster father was a bit of a John Wayne fan and one rainy Sunday he spent the whole day watching old westerns.
                Nic slapped