My So-Called Death

by Stacey Jay

  And I really wanted to be almost kissed. Or, better yet, just flat-out kissed. It didn't seem right to keep risking my

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  life trying to catch a brain thief with something as important as my first kiss still unfinished.

  Still, I couldn't even look at Gavin as we trudged out of the library behind Mr. Cork. I'd faced a lot of scary things in the past few days, but I wasn't quite up to meeting the electric blue eyes of the cutest boy in the entire world less than two minutes post-aborted lip-lock.

  Come dinner, Gavin was nowhere to be found, making me wonder if maybe Principal Samedi was behind all the dastardly doings after all. She'd intercepted us on the way to the office and, after a little whispered meeting with Cork, relieved him of our teenaged selves, all too happy to take the disciplining into her own hands.

  Miraculously, I'd gotten off with a stern warning not to be late to any more classes, but Gavin hadn't been so lucky. She'd kept him prisoner in her office while I'd been forced to scurry off to class under the care of an armed guard. The halls were swarming with them now, tons of men and women in camo gear glaring at the student-filled halls like they were crawling with snipers.

  It would have made me feel better about Samedi's commitment to preserving our health and brains if I didn't suspect she'd done something awful to Gavin. He'd looked pretty pale when I'd left. Definitely in fear for his life. Poor

  "Menu?" the red-haired girl on duty asked, somehow

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  managing to make the one-word question sound like an insult to my entire family line.

  Geez. Could I get a little more beloved by my peers?

  "Sure." I took the menu and eased off to the side of the line of students headed into the cafeteria, faking a moment of rabid indecision about whether to go raw or cooked while I searched the crowd one more time for my dinner date.

  Menu Friday Dinner

  The raw line:

  Emu brains and ground emu thigh stew with a side of salmon eggs.

  The hot line:

  Organic pig brains on multigrain flat bread, topped with a cow brain and garlic, non-dairy remoulade.

  Remoulade? What exactly was a remoulade?

  While I was pondering the wisdom of eating something I couldn't pronounce, my evil roommate slunk around me in a cloud of her own foul breath. She didn't even bother with her usual half-grunted "hi," which was pretty weird considering we hadn't seen each other in days. Every time I'd been in our room, she'd been MIA. I'd assumed she was shacking up with her friend Darby, whose roommate had gone home after Kendra's attack. (Seemed some parents still loved their Undead children enough to pull them out of school when people's brains started getting snatched.)

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  Under normal circumstances, I would have gladly allowed Clarice to avoid me, but I needed to get close to her and this might be my only chance.

  "Clarice, wait up," I said, hurrying after her as she took her place at the end of the raw line. Emu it was. Weird, but at least it wasn't topped with something scary and French-sounding.

  Clarice heaved a sigh that made it clear I was a curse upon her existence. "What do you want?"

  "I was just... wondering where you were sitting." I sidled up to her, getting as close as I possibly could and taking a deep breath. My gag reflex threatened to engage as Clarice's stank breath violated my nose in ten different ways, but somehow I managed to keep my friendly smile in place and my dried brain bar in my stomach.

  "You've got to be kidding me."

  "Nope, I don't kid. Not much of a kidder." I smiled, a grin perky enough to melt even Clarice's cold heart... at least a little bit. She didn't smile back, but she did at least consent to give me a civil answer.

  "Sorry. I'm sitting with Darby, and there's not going to be room for you." She tried to spin around, but I darted forward before she could give me the frigid goth shoulder.

  "Oh, that's too bad." I struggled to think of something else to say to keep her talking. My analysis of her stank vs. the stank Gavin and I had encountered in the library was as yet inconclusive. I needed more time! "So, how are your classes going?"

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  Clarice gave me a look almost eloquent in its expression of supreme disdain. "Why are you still talking? Are you, like, brain damaged or something, Pink?"

  "Urn... yeah. Guess so." I retreated with a little wave, amid snorts of amusement from the popular junior girls standing in front of Clarice. They even spared a smile for her as she turned around. I tried to feel good about the fact that hatred of Karen Vera was uniting the people, but I just couldn't. In fact, it was all I could do not to start crying.

  So far I'd kept a pretty stiff upper lip about being judged and misunderstood, but it hurt. A lot. Especially when I thought about my old life, when I'd had more friends than I could count on two hands and people only hated me because I was more popular than they were or got to stand at the top of the pyramid instead of having my shoulders stomped on and covered in cleat bruises.

  I'd assumed the shame of the moment couldn't get any worse, but seconds later I was knocked flat on the ground as a large, solid mass of Undead flesh shoved past me in line. I looked up to see an absolutely enormous girl, with damp dirty-blond hair cut in an unflattering pageboy, standing next to Clarice. (Our teacher for Secrets of Morticians, Ms. Klein, was also a licensed beautician and gave free haircuts to DEAD students on Friday afternoons, so there was no excuse for such a hatchet job.)

  I was trying to think of a nonchalant way to clue this chick in to the fashion aid available at her fingertips when

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  she wrinkled her pug nose in my direction. As if I could smell one fifth as bad as Clarice's breath.

  "Oh, sorry." But she didn't sound sorry. At all. "Hope you don't mind if I cut."

  The popular girls giggled again, and one deigned to talk to the new arrival. "Hey, Darby."

  So this was Darby. This enormous, muscular chick, with man-hands big and strong enough to hold a smaller girl immobilized while she hacked open her victim's skull. "What if she was the brawn and Clarice the brains? If they were working together, there was no doubt Clarice had the muscle power to get the harvesting job done.

  And if I wasn't mistaken, this Darby chick smelled distinctly of chlorine. The pool had been closed until further notice, so why had she been taking a pre-dinner dip? There was something fishy going on.

  Seeing as Gavin was nowhere to be found, I figured I might as well try to get a bead on the Clarice and Darby thing. I still wasn't sure if Clarice's stench was the stench, but Darby had more than aroused my curiosity. And suspicion.

  Doing my best to fade into the background, I trailed the other girls through the raw line and slunk to an isolated table not too far from where my roommate and her man-hand friend were settling down to a very cozy chat. Something was definitely up. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Darby kept sneaking nervous looks at the rest of the cafeteria, and Clarice looked like she'd gotten

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  her Celebration of the Dark Lord's Birth presents early. (I was betting she didn't do Christmas.)

  The two of them were so freaking obvious in their evil plotting that I wasn't even surprised when Darby pulled a tiny silver chain out of her pocket and slipped it across the table to Clarice. I wasn't close enough to be sure, but I was betting money that it was Trish's chain, the one with the little sterling silver scorpion to celebrate her Scorpio-ness.

  Had Darby gone diving in the pool to look for it? If so, why? What could she possibly want with a victim's necklace?

  Argh! I needed Gavin. If it was some sort of magic thing, he'd know about it and--

  "Hey, sorry I'm late." As if summoned by my thoughts, Gavin appeared at my table. He looked a little frazzled and hadn't bothered to get a tray, but that didn't matter. I was still so happy to see him it was hard to keep any portion of my attention on my suspects.

  "No big deal." I smiled and did my best to keep my eyes from wandering to the lips that
I had come sooooo close to kissing. "I'm just glad you're okay. I thought Samedi had you for dinner."

  He grimaced and swallowed hard. "Yeah, about that. I'm not going to be able to have dinner with you tonight."

  "Oh. Well, that's okay, maybe we can meet during rec hours or--"

  "You don't get it," he said, frustration simmering beneath every word. "We're not going to meet anywhere. Not for dinner, not during rec hours, not ever."

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  "But...I thought--"

  "You thought I'd be into a dumb cheerleader? Well, I'm not." He backed away, his voice rising until I knew the entire cafeteria could hear him. "I'm not interested, Karen. So stay the hell away from me." Seconds later he was gone, spinning on his heel and ambling over to the hot line as if he hadn't just ruined my life.

  My mouth fell open and I think I made some sort of gagging sound, but I couldn't be sure. All I knew was that every eye in the room was trained on my face, watching the tears pool in my eyes with smiles of satisfaction. And laughter. They were laughing at my complete humiliation, eating up my pain like I was covered in freaking remoulade.

  With a sob, I pushed back my chair and dashed for the exit, not even bothering to put away my tray. I didn't care if I followed the rules at this stupid school. I just wanted out. Away from the brains and the death and the zombie kids who gave new meaning to the word "evil." Anyone who thought trying to munch your flesh was the worst thing a zombie could do was so wrong. What these creeps did was way worse. At least flesh-eating zombies were just stupid and hungry. They didn't enjoy watching someone suffer.

  I had to stop running before I'd gone very far. I was crying too hard to see where I was going, and the last thing I needed was another injury. If I was going to make it back to my parents' house, I had to stay in one piece. Of course, I probably should have eaten my wretched food, no matter

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  how miserable I was. Who knew how long it would take me to find a steady supply of brains up in Peachtree? Call me crazy, but I didn't think it was something I could just add to Mom's Trader Joe's list next to formula and recycled diapers.

  "No way, we can't wait. We'll have to go now, or it will be too late." The hushed voice was coming from around the corner, giving me just enough time to duck into the classroom behind me before I was spotted. Luckily, the door had a narrow glass window, and I was just barely tall enough to peek through the bottom.

  "I don't know. That's some serious magic. Do you think you can handle it?" It was Darby, with a very excited Clarice by her side.

  "Of course I can. You saw what happened in the cafeteria, right?" Clarice laughed. "I thought everyone was going to jump on her and rip her apart with their teeth."

  Darby smiled but still looked a little worried. "Yeah, but that's just a personal hex. This could be--"

  "This could be great. Exactly what we've been dreaming about! Come on, don't be a baby. I thought you were into this?"

  "I am." Darby sighed the sigh of the peer-pressured, but I didn't feel sorry for her. I might not know much about magic, but I could put the phrases "personal hex" and "jump on her and rip her apart with their teeth" together and come up with a theory.

  Clarice had been hexing me, and Darby knew all

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  about it. My own roommate had been doing her best to make sure I was hated by the entire school! It was such a relief to realize I hadn't suddenly become the most unlikable person on the planet--and maybe Gavin didn't really think I was the human embodiment of pond scum--but still! Argh! What a witch! If I wasn't pretty sure she'd also snatched Trish's brain, I would have jumped Clarice right there and shown her what cheerleader muscles could do to her face.

  But I couldn't seek my own vengeance just yet. I had to follow these two freaks and see if they led me to the harvested brains--before it was too late.

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  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Using magic against another student--particularly black magic--will result in immediate suspension and possible expulsion from DEAD High. If the accused individual is convicted of dabbling in the dark arts, he or she will be barred from DEAD and all Death Challenged educational institutions and have both of his/her hands cut off at the wrist as per High Council edict 25. Remember, casting with intent to harm is a criminal offense, not merely against school policy.

  --School Handbook, DEAD High

  Don't mess with the darkness, don't mess with it man, don't mess with the darkness or they'll take your hand, your evil, no-good casting hand.

  --"Don't Mess with the Darkness," by the Scatterbrains, Top 40 Undead Hits of the 1960s

  Libraries have to be one of the safest places on earth. They're so quiet and filled with books and nice, quiet people who like to read books. (And homeless people, but they usually keep a lid on it when they're in the library and save all the crazy ranting stuff for out on the street, which

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  is cool of them.) Libraries are safe, homey public places, unlike post offices, which gave me the creeps even before I was old enough understand the whole "going postal" thing.

  But tonight... the school library was a bona fide creep-fest.

  I could feel the evil floating in the room the second I slipped through the door after Clarice and Darby. There was something awful going down in this usually cozy space. The air was so thick with bad vibes that it hurt to breathe and my skin started to itch.

  I was so unnerved, it was nearly impossible to dash past the front desk and crouch down behind the computer study station, but I did it. Trish and Penelope and Kendra were counting on me. Clarice seemed determined to work whatever spell she and Darby had been planning tonight, which meant three precious brains were on the verge of being forever beyond redemption.

  Hushed whispers from behind the rows of books led me to the exact same spot where Gavin and I had seen the figure in black disappear earlier in the day. Clarice was busy at the wall and seemed to know just what to do to summon the scary door from its hiding place. She whispered a few words, and seconds later the red-eyed snakes were visible even from several feet away.

  These two just kept looking guiltier and guiltier... and I kept getting more and more freaked. I had to stay close so I could slip through the door after them, but I really

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  didn't want to take another step toward that side of the room.

  The evil was coming from that door--waves of pure nasty that oozed across my skin, raising every little blond hair and making me feel like I had to... pee.

  Oh... no! I really did have to pee. Like, badly.

  "What was I going to do?! It wasn't like I could call a time-out for a bathroom break.

  Crap! This never happened to crime fighters in movies or books. Why had I been cursed with the smallest bladder on the planet? How was I going to tell Trish's heartbroken single mother that I'd failed to recover her daughter's brain because I had to go make tinkle?

  I spun around, planning a mad dash to the girls' toilet just outside the library, and ran straight into a wall of boy.

  "Oof," I grunted as I bounced off of Gavin and hit the ground with an audible plop.

  Crap again! Surely Clarice and Darby had heard me. I froze, straining to hear the sounds of the two harvesters rushing my way, but the library was silent.

  "What are you doing here?" Gavin hissed, reaching a hand down to help me to my feet.

  "Shh!" I held a finger to my lips, thankful my moment of panic seemed to have banished the bathroom emergency. "Clarice and Darby are--"

  "They're already inside the door, and I would be too if you had listened to me."

  I snatched my hand from his and stuck my nose higher

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  in the air than was probably reasonable or attractive. "You told me you didn't want to hang out. I don't remember anything about not following suspects to the library. Besides, who made you my boss?"

  Gavin ran a frustrated hand through his hair and made a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh. "You've go
t to get out of here. It's not safe." He tried to grab me by the shoulders but I slipped away. Cute or not, I was not going to let him manhandle me. Or boyhandle me, or whatever.

  Besides, I hadn't forgiven him for what he'd said to me in the cafeteria. Even though I knew he was probably under Clarice's evil spell, those words had hurt. A lot.

  "I'm going to get through that door and help Trish. That's the only place I'm going," I insisted, standing my ground. "I heard Clarice and Darby talking about working a spell tonight. They're the ones responsible for--"

  "No, they're not. Principal Samedi is. She knows I've been dabbling with magic." He cast a worried look over his shoulder, like he feared the woman in question might have tailed him to the library. "This afternoon she threatened to expel me or worse."

  "Or worse? What does that mean?"

  "Use your imagination," he said, shifting nervously from foot to foot, making me wonder if scary libraries made him have to pee too. "I was getting a really bad vibe, so I didn't go back to class. I waited until she left her office and followed her. Guess where she went?"

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  "Into the door." My stomach sank when Gavin nodded.

  "But not before grabbing something from her private kitchen. Something that had to be kept in a cooler." He looked nervously around the library once more before easing toward the door. "I'll give you three guesses what she had in there, and the first two don't count."