by Stacey Jay
"Taste your blood?" he asked, not sounding as grossed out as I'd thought he would.
"Yeah. Trish said she saw Samedi take a little... taste."
135
Blerchk. My brain bar was no longer tasting nearly as yummy.
"Wow." He shook his head and started writing something in his notepad. "She totally thinks you're guilty too. Or at least she did."
"What?!"
"She was checking to see if you'd been eating other zombies. If you'd been chowing on anything but animal brains, your blood would have tasted funny and Samedi would have known you were the one responsible."
"Me? But I--"
"Look totally guilty. I mean, didn't the harvesting start the day after you came here? And there's the issue of who you were hanging with. I bet Samedi thought the two of you were working together. I had the same thought myself, though I mostly thought Trish was working alone. I didn't think you were smart enough. At least not at first."
"Okay, spill it," I said, refusing to get distracted by the bashing of my intelligence. "What do you have on Trish? You keep saying she's shady and suspicious but--"
"She is shady and suspicious."
"Why?" I asked, frustration making my voice louder than it should have been.
"Shh!" Gavin glared first at me, then at the rest of the room, only continuing when he was sure my outburst hadn't attracted attention. "Her first roommate died last year under very sketchy circumstances. I'm guessing she didn't share that with her new BFF."
136
Oh. God. No, she hadn't. But that didn't mean anything, right? Maybe she'd just been waiting for the right time... like there was ever a right time to tell someone a lot of people thought you were a roommate killer.
Gavin continued with a smug look on his face. "Nobody could ever prove Trish had anything to do with it, and Principal Samedi and the investigators from the High Council said it was just an accidental case of milk overdose, but no one would room with her after that. That's why she has a single even though she's only a freshman."
Trish hadn't said anything about being investigated either, but I could totally understand that. No one wants to brag about being on the wrong side of the interrogation desk. "Milk overdose? You can really die from that?"
"It's the lactic acid. It does something to the soft tissue of some zombies, makes it degenerate really fast or something," he said, making the word "degenerate" sound way sexier than I'd imagined possible. But then, he could probably give a speech about mealworms and transfix the female population. "They thought Trish's roommate had been injected with a concentrated dose, but couldn't find a needle hole."
I nibbled my bottom lip, letting Gavin's story digest. "So... she was innocent as far as anyone knows?"
"Well, yeah, but--"
"So, there you go. She was probably innocent then, and we know she's innocent now."
Gavin looked guilty again. "Yeah. She wasn't my favorite person, but seeing her like that..."
137
"We both fell silent, giving Trish the moment of respect she deserved.
"She said she was following a lead, but she didn't tell me what it was." I leaned closer, suddenly worried someone might overhear our conversation. That weird "watched" feeling from a few nights ago had returned with a vengeance. And it might have been my imagination, but I thought I caught of whiff of stank as well.
I didn't dare start sniffing too obviously, however, for fear Gavin would think I had some sort of chronic sinus condition. I'd once refused to dance with a boy in sixth grade because of sinus issues and knew what a serious turn-off repetitive sniffing could be. Almost as bad as smacking your food or slurping the milk from your cereal out of the side of the bowl.
"You can't even guess what she was looking into?" he asked, pulling my mind away from my list of Most Annoying Human Habits. "You two were snooping around the office, right? Did you find anything?"
I filled Gavin in on the tardy records revealing that both Darby and Clarice were late to class the day Penelope lost her brains. "I'm thinking Trish had something on Darby and Clarice. Or at least Clarice. Something more than what we found in the office. Clarice wasn't in our room when I got back after midnight, and I bet--"
"But Clarice is so... I don't know, she seems like she's all talk," Gavin said, though I saw him print Clarice's name on his paper. "Do you really think she'd have it in her? To gouge out three other girls' brains?"
138
"I don't know, but she was certainly hacked off at Trish the other night. She threatened her, right in front of me, and she's been acting really weird."
"Weird how?"
"She spends an awful lot of time hiding out under a black blanket, grunting at her chicken bones. And she'll start crying for, like, no reason at all, and she seems to have some sort of allergy to the color pink. I think my Hello Kitty pajamas made her break out in hives."
Gavin smiled. "That sounds pretty normal for Clarice. She's just... not all there."
"The girl voted Least Likely for Anyone to Want to Room With two years in a row?"
"Except for Trish, yeah. But at least Clarice never killed anyone."
"That we know of. She might have decided to start," I said. "And I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop acting like Trish is a criminal. I never got any creep vibes from her, and I'm usually good at picking up on things like that."
"Creep vibes, huh? Like the ones you got from me?" he asked, a hint of hurt in his expression. "You thought I was guilty, right?"
"No, not really," I confessed, my nonbeating heart doing that weird squeezing thing again as I met his eyes. "I mean, the evidence was pointing your way, but in my gut I was pretty sure you were innocent. Otherwise I would have never been able to..."
Ohmygod! What was up with the verbal spew? I'd nearly confessed my undying
crush-i-tude right to Gavin's
139
face. I clearly needed a lot more sleep and some raw brains and maybe a pedicure. (Pedicures always improve my brain function. I think it has something to do with the stimulation of acupressure points in the foot or something. Or maybe it's the exfoliation factor. Surely shedding dead skin cells had to boost your mind power.) "Never been able to what?"
"Um... follow you. To the pool. I never would have been able to follow you to the pool. I would have been too afraid."
"You should have been too afraid. If I'd been guilty, I could have totally taken you," he said, getting this big brotherly tone in his voice I didn't entirely care for. "You've got to be careful, Karen. You do realize you're, like, abnormally wee, right?"
Abnormally wee? Abnormally wee? "Was he trying to bring out my murderous side or something? Didn't he realize you just don't say things like that to short people? That we found such size-ist attitudes extremely insulting?
"Don't hit me," he said, holding his hands up in front of his face. "I just meant that anyone on campus could beat you in a fight, and I don't want to see you get hurt. That's why I think we should stick together. It's obvious you're not going to stop until you find out who did this, and--"
"But maybe Clarice couldn't," I said, a mental breakthrough banishing my short-person anger and the thrill of knowing my crush was worried about my delicate self being taken out by a brain harvester. "She's not much bigger than
140
I am. Maybe an inch or two taller but not big on the muscles. How could she overpower three girls, all of them taller and heavier than she is?"
"You realize you're blowing holes in your own theory."
"I know." I sighed and dropped my head into my hands. "We just need more to go on, and we have to hurry. If we don't find Kendra's brain right away, we'll be too late. Principal Samedi said she only had three or four days, tops."
"We'll find something. Don't worry," he said, though he didn't sound nearly as confident as I would have liked. "And maybe Principal Samedi and her people will figure something out."
I lifted my head. "It doesn't seem like they're trying t
hat hard though, does it?"
"I don't know. Samedi looked pretty tired this morning." Gavin shrugged. "I haven't seen her around the school much the past few days, but she must be doing something to--
"Wait," I whispered, wrinkling my nose. The stink was definitely somewhere nearby, which meant we weren't alone. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"You smell it? I was wondering if it was just me," Gavin hissed, shoving his pencil and paper back into his bag. "I think I smelled it yesterday too, right after the bleachers collapsed, before I blacked out."
"I know what I just said about Clarice, but she does have some horrendous breath. And I smelled something weird in the hallway after Trish and I broke into Samedi's
141
office," I said, swallowing hard. I tried to play it cool when Gavin grabbed my hand and pulled me between two tall bookshelves.
"What about when you were attacked in the bathroom?" he asked.
I thought for a second, racking my brain for some sort of scent memory, but couldn't remember smelling anything other than standard bathroom-variety odor. "No, I didn't smell it then. Which is weird, don't you--"
Gavin's fingers touched my lips, sending a shiver of electricity across my skin. It was like my lips had never been touched before, as if, prior to contact with the magic McDougal fingers, they were so much lumpy, nerveless dough and only now were experiencing the true magnificence of their lipfulness.
It was enough to make my knees go a little weak, and this was just hand-to-lip contact. If ever his lips should meet mine, I almost feared the consequences. (Though not enough to keep me from praying with every cell in my body that Gavin was pulling me back between the shelves for a pre-investigation make-out session. Kissing had to be better for brain function than pedicures or exfoliation. The locking of our lips was, therefore, practically a necessity! Surely Gavin had realized the same.)
Sadly, however, our love was not to be. At least not right then. We had more pressing issues than lip-locking-- like catching the killer a few feet away.
142
CHAPTER TWELVE
The dead walk beneath.
In the shadows long creeping, secret lives unfold.
--Undead Haiku, author unknown, Zombie Poets
Through the Ages, 2nd Edition
Gavin pointed through the stacks of books. A few rows over, a figure in a black robe stood suspiciously close to the section on black magic. I couldn't see his or her face, but the stink was definitely stronger in this corner of the library. This had to be our would-be killer! I mean, how many people in one school could smell this foul?
My partner in crime-solving must have come to a similar conclusion, because he started inching toward the end of the aisle, trying to get a better look at our suspect. I followed, moving with the same pantherlike grace with which I'd tailed Gavin to the pool. I was getting really good at the lurking and sneaking, if I do say so myself. The only sound was the faint rustle of my robe as I moved.
Unfortunately, the Stenchful One must have had amazing hearing--or a sixth sense that warned about being stalked--because they suddenly bolted.
"Crap! Come on!" Gavin grabbed my hand again and
143
booked it around our shelf and down the aisle where we'd last seen the figure in black.
"We turned the corner in time to see a black door in the wall, decorated with paintings of red-eyed snakes, slam closed as the hem of what looked like a standard-issue school uniform robe swished out of sight. Gavin raced forward, grabbing the handle as if he meant to pursue whoever this was into whatever strange place a creepy door like this led to. But a few tugs revealed that it was locked from the inside.
"I can't believe this." He kicked the door with one non-regulation Converse. "We were so close to getting the freak responsible for all this."
"Not really," I said, hating to burst his bubble but knowing we had to keep ourselves from jumping to conclusions if we really wanted to get to the bottom of our mystery. "Just because this person smelled and the person who shut us up in the bleachers smelled doesn't mean they're the brain harvester. Or even the same person. And this person might have just been... nervous or something."
"You're saying running into a weird door that suddenly appears at the back of the library isn't suspicious? This was never here before. I would have noticed it. I've spent a lot of time in the spell section."
"No, it is suspicious. But so was the blood on your shoes." I pointed down at his now-clean toes. "You had those on the day Kendra was found, and they were covered in blood splatters."
144
"Are you saying you still think I--"
"No! I'm saying we need more to go on than a coincidence or a smell or whatever."
Gavin sighed and shoved his adorably floppy hair out of his face. "You're right. "We have to get inside the door. I'm betting whatever's back there, it has something to do with the attacks. It's definitely got magical properties."
"How can you tell?"
"Look." He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around to face the wall where the door was. "It's already fading into the plaster. You can only see the outline of the handle."
""Whoa. Sinister." I was suddenly very glad we hadn 't been able to get inside and follow the person in black. Call me crazy, but I didn't want to be trapped behind some magical door with a potential psychopath. At least not without some sort of weapon. Preferably a large, blunt object good for bashing a brain-thief's head in. "Is there a tool shed anywhere around here? Or a janitor's closet? I want to get my hands on a hammer or something before we try to get in there."
"I can get you something better than a hammer. My roommate has a mace collection Samedi missed during her inspection." I turned around to see Gavin staring at me with a rather pleased smile on his face. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was proud of my bloodthirsty nature.
But then... did I really know better? For all I knew, Gavin could enjoy torturing small animals in his spare
145
time. I didn't think he was the brain thief anymore, but that didn't mean he didn't have violent tendencies. If I were smart, I would keep my head on my shoulders until I got to know this guy and not be swept away by his yum-miness. Good-looking, charming people could still be evil. (Just look at my little sister Kimmy--gorgeous and gregarious, yet never happier than when tormenting my brothers and breaking their Handy Manny toys.)
"And don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you this time." Gavin took one of my hands in his and squeezed. My head promptly fell right off my shoulders. How could I think logically when he was standing so close and holding my hand? Holding my hand. Geez, who would have thought mere hand-holding could be so fabulous? "I promise I'll be prepared to fight back. Just give me until after sixth period to figure a few things out, and I'll let you know the plan."
"Okay." I nodded, refusing to give in to the fear tickling along my skin and doing its best to banish the hand-holding thrill. I wasn't going to chicken out now, not when it seemed we finally had something worth investigating.
"You want to have dinner together? Get our own table?"
"Sure, that would be cool," I said nonchalantly, as if cute boys held my hand and asked me for private meals on a daily basis. "Easier to plan that way. We don't want anyone to hear what we're up to."
"Totally." He smiled at me again, a sort of checking-out-the-Karen smile that made me want to fidget or wipe
146
my face to make sure there wasn't anything gross and crusty stuck on the sides of my lips, but I didn't do either. I just stood there, staring back at him, waiting... for something. What, I didn't know. But there was something about to happen. I could just feel it.
When he spoke again, it was in this husky whisper that tripped so many girl reactions within me at once that it was impossible to give his words any meaning. I honestly had no idea what he'd said, only that he'd moved his lips and pretty sounds had come out.
"Um, what?" I asked, my voice
scratchier than I'd ever heard it.
"I said, that wasn't blood on my shoes. It was paint." His face moved slowly closer to mine, for reasons my muddled brain couldn't comprehend. Surely he wasn't going to... he wouldn't... not right here... not right now! I mean, I'd secretly been hoping, but I'd never really thought... "I suck at art."
"Oh. Yeah?"
"Yeah. I always drop stuff."
"Yeah... stuff." My lips parted a little without my really thinking about it. It was just an instinctive response to Gavin's peppermint-scented breath against my skin, to the feel of his brain-warmed flesh getting closer and closer to my own.
There was no doubt about it now. Gavin was going to kiss me. Gavin. Was going to. Kiss. Me! Within mere seconds, lip-locking would no longer be a fantasy but a--
147
"Miss Vera. Mr. McDougal." The sharp bark of the voice was topped only by the sharper bark of his cologne. Argh! Mr. Cork! What were the freaking odds? "You'll need to come with me. Immediately."
Gavin and I leapt apart with identical guilty looks. I was blushing with a heat that I'd been unaware Undead flesh could achieve, and I doubted I would ever be able to look Mr. Cork in his sunken eyes again. Gavin, however, recovered rather quickly.
"Mr. Cork! I was just helping Karen with some homework. It's her first week and--"
"I am well aware it is Miss Vera's first week at school. And that she has missed an astounding amount of class for any DEAD student, let alone one who should be doing her utmost to catch up with her peers." Mr. Cork pointed a single bony finger back toward the library's entrance. "The bell signaling the end of lunch rang a good five minutes past. Both of you are tardy. I'll need you to follow me."
Coming out of Mr. Cork's mouth, "tardy" sounded like something akin to "baby killer" or "kitten drowner." There was clearly no worse sin we could have committed, which made me hopeful that he wouldn't mention anything about the near-kiss he'd observed. I couldn't claim to be an expert in boys, but I guessed being publicly humiliated for almost kissing someone was a good way for that someone to never get almost kissed again.
