by Stacey Jay
MURDER:
n. The crime of killing another person deliberately and not in self-defense or with any other extenuating circumstance recognized by law.
v. To kill somebody with great violence and brutality, to put an end to or destroy something.
Dr. Connor stared at me in the dim light, as if she realized I needed some time for the full scariness of what had happened to sink in, which it did. Big time.
"Can I call my mom and dad?" I asked, sounding about three years old.
Man, did I want to go home right now. I didn't want to investigate anything. I didn't want to discover who had tried to murder Gavin and me. I didn't want to find out
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what kind of cute he thought I was or whether or not he returned my crushy feelings. I just wanted out of this crazy place before it was too late--before I ended up like Trish.
Oh no. Poor Trish. I'd nearly forgotten about what had happened to her in all the excitement of regaining consciousness in the infirmary for the second time in two days.
"Shh, just lie still." Dr. Connor smoothed my hair away from my face with her soft, papery-feeling hands. "We'll call your parents as soon as you're up and about. Though I doubt this is the kind of news they're looking forward to on a Friday morning."
"It's Friday? But I thought--"
"You've been out for over twelve hours. You and Gavin both." She shook her head again, as if I'd done this on purpose to hurt her feelings. She was a whiz with the guilt thing. Even better than my mother. "I have seen far too much of you already, Miss Vera. If I don't give you so much as a Band-Aid between now and the day you graduate, I will be a happy woman." She turned away, but I wasn't alone for long.
"You're awake." Principal Samedi did not sound entirely happy about this development.
"Um...yeah." I blinked, trying to get my eyes to adjust. It seemed so dark. I was in the school infirmary, but even without the fluorescent lights, the white walls should have made the room brighter than this.
"Don't strain yourself. Your eyes are still healing.
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It will probably be a few more hours before your organs are fully functional. You and Gavin were both very, very badly hurt," Samedi said. As if this was not clear to me, what with the giant tube in my stomach and all. "What in the world were you thinking, crawling around behind half-closed bleachers?"
"We were hiding from whoever harvested Trish's brain and threw her in the pool," I said, beginning to think Samedi hadn't gotten the murder memo. "Then the brain stealer realized we were there and tried to kill us by closing up the bleachers."
Samedi was quiet for several seconds, making me wish I could see her face more clearly. Was she shocked? Or was this old news? Could Samedi really have something to do with the brain harvesting epidemic sweeping the school? Trish had certainly thought so. Was that why she'd become the next victim?
"Gavin will confirm this story?" Samedi finally asked, a hint of suspicion in her tone. Oh no. No way, she wasn't going there, not after what I'd been through the past few days.
"He most certainly will. Just ask him." My tone made it clear I wasn't pleased or intimidated... at least not much. After all, what could she do to me with Dr. Connor across the room?
"Gavin will have the chance to tell his side of the story as soon as he regains consciousness." "Oh god, is he okay? He's not--"
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"He's going to be fine," she said, sounding nicer for a second. "We're expecting him to wake up any moment now."
"Good. He'll tell you the same thing. Someone tried to kill us."
"Did you get a look at this person?"
"No," I admitted. "But we heard footsteps, and they sounded a lot like the heavy footsteps I heard in the bathroom the other day."
Samedi made a grunting sound under her breath. "You do have a gift for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Karen."
"Trish and I were trying to help catch the person who was shoplifting people's brains." I figured I might as well come clean. If Samedi was the one responsible, she already knew what I'd been up to. If she wasn't, knowing Trish might have been closing in on the identity of the harvester might help her figure out who was responsible. Either way, I had nothing to lose. "She said she was going to investigate a lead and we'd talk about it during lunch, but then she never showed up so I went looking for her."
"And how did you know to look in the pool?" Samedi asked, that same wary note in her tone. She really seemed to think I had been up to something shady, which was just insane.
I was about to tell her so, when Gavin piped up from across the room.
"She was with me." I turned my head in his direction,
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but couldn't see much. He was just a dark lump lying on a bed against the far wall. "Karen's thinking about joining the girls' team. I was going to show her around."
Lies. Gavin was full of lies, but I didn't say a word to contradict him.
After all, he had tried to save my life. So far, all Principal Samedi had done was ask a bunch of questions and refrain from calling my parents the first time I was attacked by a maniac. Between the two of them--even taking into account his spell theft--I had to trust Gavin. At least for the moment.
"We'd just gotten to the pool when we saw Trish, then we heard a noise in the men's locker room. We hid because we thought it might be the harvester coming back." He groaned and I heard Dr. Connor urging him to lie still. "Guess we were right."
"What you were was lucky." Principal Samedi sighed. "I've warned everyone to stay in populated areas, and I certainly made it clear no students were to get involved in the investigation. I'm disappointed, Karen. You've only been here a few days, but you're old enough to understand the importance of rules."
"I'm sorry. I was just trying to help."
"I won't say anything else. I think what happened to your friend is punishment enough for your poor decision making." Ouch. Low blow, Samedi. "But rest assured there will be consequences if your respect for authority doesn't improve. Quickly."
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She had spun on her heel and vacated the infirmary before I could think of what to say. Which was probably for the best. Despite a healthy fear of grown-ups-in-positions-of-power in my former life, I wasn't feeling the love (or fear, or respect, or whatever) for my new principal.
Either she was completely incapable and her incompetence was getting her students killed, or she was in on the whole thing. Neither option filled me with warm fuzzies or the urge to obey her word as law. It also didn't inspire much hope for Trish. If I stopped searching for the truth, Trish was as good as dead. I felt that truth deep in my brain-filled belly.
I had to find a way to stay at DEAD and track down the person responsible for terrorizing my new school before it was too late. But first, I had to nap. Turns out nearly getting killed takes a lot out of a girl. And a guy. Gavin was already snoring across the room.
As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but get a tiny thrill out of the fact that I knew Gavin McDougal snored. Maybe that made me a dork. But if that was dorkiness, I didn't want to be cool.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Library due dates will be strictly enforced. Failure to return borrowed materials in a timely fashion will result in fines and the forfeit of borrowing privileges. Books may be checked out for two weeks, DVDs for one week, and spell books and flesh specimens for up to twenty-four hours.
You must have a note from your teacher to take magical materials or samples of Undead flesh out of the library. If acid, flesh-eating bacteria or maggots are required for your experiment, you will need to check out those materials from your science teacher and keep all potentially dangerous materials in the school lab.
Do not bring food into the library! We are not an alternative to the cafeteria!
--Library Policies, DEAD High
Meet me in the library during lunch. Come alone! G.
--Note found on Karen Vera's locker
G,
hmmmm...
Despite the oddly girly, curlycue quality of the script, I was guessing the note was from Gavin. It had to be. I didn't know anyone else at DEAD with a G name.
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(They're fairly rare. Try to think of another one. I'll wait... Rare, right? Especially for girls. I mean, you've got Gareth or Garth--gag--for boys, but Giselle is the only girl G name I can think of. Or Gertie. But who would name their child Gertie in the twenty-first century? A sadist, or a criminal, or someone with a really tragic sense of humor, that's who.)
I shoved the note in my pocket and furtively checked the space on both sides of my locker. I was alone. Thank. God. The last thing I needed was to be observed reading illicit communications from my partner in crime. Or partner in solving crime, as Gavin would obviously have it. I'd already spent my early morning hours--six a.m. is not a good time to be awake even if you're not getting yelled at--in the office with my parents and Principal Samedi. Samedi had changed her recent let's-keep-this-between-us tune and called my parents at the buttcrack of dawn to tell them that I was in the infirmary.
Once my parents learned I was hurt, they bundled the trips into their car seats and came right away. It was so great to see their faces--all five of them--when I woke up for the second time. Even if Mom and Dad were furious about me snooping around, putting myself in danger, I was still glad I had the chance to get in a few hugs before they'd headed for home and I'd headed to class.
At the moment things were fairly cool, but if Samedi even smelled the ink of a subversive note on my fingertips, I'd be toast. She wasn't happy with me. Not happy
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at all. My eyes had been in perfect working order by the time of our meeting, and I hadn't missed the scowl-glares coming from her direction. There was no doubt how very displeased she was with her newest student.
My parents, on the other hand, though obviously concerned, seemed weirdly resigned to me being stuck at the high school of death. Once they heard I might have been targeted by a psycho who would think nothing of tracking me down at my family's home, they'd backtracked on their intention to cart me home first and ask questions later. With the three babies, they just couldn't risk a homicidal maniac attack the way they could have before the trips were born.
I mean, we could have sought refuge at a hotel or with obscure relatives or something, but my parents didn't think of that and I wasn't about to help them out. As much as it stung to realize that my life and safety didn't seem as important to them as the lives of their smaller, cuter, droolier kids, I couldn't give in to the urge to beg Mommy and Daddy to protect me. Trish and two other girls were counting on me. And maybe counting on Gavin, too.
But he still had some major explaining to do. No way was I letting him off the hook for his theft from Samedi's office. He was going to have to do some fast talking before I agreed to whatever scheme he had planned. Guess the library was as good a place for him to do his explaining as any.
I grabbed a dried brain bar (dehydrated brains with a little oat thrown in, surprisingly tasty as well as portable)
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from the vending machine and slipped into the library, easily finding Gavin seated at a sunny table in the corner.
Sigh. Who was I kidding? I would probably agree to dress like a homeless clown and perform the chicken dance on the popular kids' lunch table if Gavin asked me to. The power of his tractor-beam eyes had increased at least tenfold since I'd last seen him. The look he shot me was so intense, in fact, that I actually forgot how to breathe and walk at the same time, and I ended up stumbling the last few feet to the table.
Geez. When did he get so cute? I mean, he'd always been gorgeous, but today he was... a young zombie god. Surely girls everywhere fell to their knees to worship him as he strolled through the halls.
"Hey," he said, nodding at me though his gaze moved to survey the rest of the library, on the lookout for spies. We were both completely paranoid. It had to be true love. It just had to be.
"Hey." I sat down, talking my muscles through each movement and praying I would recover normal motor function soon. This level of girlie reaction was not healthy or conducive to catching a killer.
"You look...different," Gavin said, still not meeting my eyes.
"Oh? Um... must be the whole getting-crushed thing. Maybe I'm not completely back to normal yet." I tore open my brain bar, completely mortified. I knew I should have eaten breakfast, no matter what Dr. Connor had said about
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giving my stomach some time to heal after she removed my tube.
Of course, a little quality time with my makeup bag would have been a good idea too. Why had I forgone primping in the name of being on time to first period? Mr. Cork was scary, but apparently so was my face.
"No, its not that," Gavin said. "You look..." Electric blue eyes met mine, and I'm pretty sure I had an out-of-body experience. At least I couldn't feel my fingers or toes for a few seconds. "You look really good. That feeding tube thing agreed with you."
Oh. My. God. Was it possible? Was it possible that I had been transformed into a young zombie goddess, similar to Gavin's transformation into a young zombie god? My nonbeating heart was so excited, I swear I thought I felt it pump a few times, defying logic and zombie physiology in the name of Gavin McDougal.
If I'd been alone, I would have totally ripped open my notebook and begun a page of Karen Anne McDougals, but instead I played it cool, giving my not-so-recently washed hair a little flip over my shoulder and shooting Gavin a smile. "Thanks. I feel good, though I still can't believe we almost died."
"Yeah, thanks to you," he said, the sudden scowl on his face putting an abrupt end to my imaginings of what our children would look like (if we weren't both dead and therefore unable to reproduce). "Why were you following me?
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"Because I thought you were the harvester," I said. Little Mr. Perfect thought he was above suspicion, but I had his number. "Now, why don't you tell me why you were stealing spells from Samedi's office?"
"What?" He laughed, an innocent laugh I would have bought if I didn't know better. "I don't know what--"
"I was there, snooping with Trish, so don't try to deny it. I saw you."
"Snooping? For what? Why don't you tell me--"
"No, I asked first. So tell me what you were up to, and why you were really headed to the pool, because we both know I'm not joining the girls' swim team."
"Why not?" he asked, covering his surprise at having his theft discovered rather well. "You got something against athletics?"
"No, I've got something against green hair. Naturally blond hair and chlorine--they just don't mix."
"So you're saying your hair color is natural?" His perfectly shaped (bushy but not too bushy) eyebrows arched in mock surprise.
Oh. My. God. He didn't go there. How could I have been thinking this dude was a god a few seconds ago? He was clearly in league with the forces of evil.
"Is there any doubt?" I struggled to keep my cool. "I mean, look at my freaking roots. Do you see any darkness there?"
"Hey, I'm a guy. What do I know about that stuff?" He shrugged. "But I've heard the phrase 'bleached blond'
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tossed around a few times when mentioning a certain new girl with poor taste in friends."
"I've heard the phrase 'conceited jerk' tossed around a few times when mentioning a certain swim-team dork," I said, though I'd actually heard nothing of the sort. "Quit trying to avoid my questions. And don't you dare talk about Trish that way." That made Gavin wince, and I knew I had him. He felt lousy for that last crack. Now it was time to go in for the kill. "Why were you taking those spells?"
"I... I thought I could figure out who had attacked Penelope and Kendra."
"By working a spell?" I prompted, amazed at my own detective-like interrogation techniques. Maybe I was the one with a future in law enforcement. "A rare and forbidden spell? Doesn't that seem pretty risky?"
"I've been studying magic since I
came here." Gavin got all scowly again. "I know what I'm doing, probably better than just about anyone at school."
"Even better than Darby or my creepy roommate?"
"They're beginners," he said, clearly not impressed. "Worse than beginners--they're dabblers. I doubt either one of them has ever followed the proper protocol. That's why none of their stupid spells work."
"But yours do?"
"Yeah. They do." I swear he stuck his nose up in the air a little bit. He was soooo cocky. It actually reminded me of someone, though I couldn't quite put my finger on who. "That's how I knew to go to the pool. The spell I'd
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cast the night before indicated the harvester would strike near water. And it's not like there's a lot of water on campus besides the pool."
"Then why didn't you go there earlier? Or warn everyone to stay away?" I was getting a little sniffly as my mind flashed on the image of Trish floating face-down in a cloud of her own blood. "If you had, Trish might still have her brain."
Gavin's eyes shifted and he suddenly became very busy digging around in his backpack for a pencil and paper. "I wasn't sure if I was right. I'd never done that spell before and--"
"And you were afraid of being wrong. Trish is dead because you didn't want to look like a doofus."
"That's not true. I couldn't very well tell everyone I'd been casting illegal spells. Samedi's head would explode. She does her best to get rid of anyone who tries to learn about normal magic, let alone--"
"Yeah. That's what Trish said. That's why Trish thought she was responsible for the harvesting." I briefly filled Gavin in on the theory that Samedi was trying to get rid of Darby and Clarice. "But I've been thinking about it, and I really don't think Samedi has anything to do with this, even if she did taste my blood the other day while I was unconscious."
