Call Me Grim (10 page)

“How was detention?” Kyle says, a little too enthusiastically.

“Good, I guess.” I force a smile. “How was babysitting?”

“Fine.” Kyle looks me up and down like he’s just seeing me for the first time. Finally, he says, “Wow, Libs. You look like shit.” He moves to stand up, but I stop him.

“Asthma attack. I’m fine now,” I say. “What were you two talking about?”

“Oh, you know. Guy stuff.” Kyle smiles easily, but it doesn’t go past his lips. “So, are you ready to tell me why you’ve been acting so weird?”

“Um…” I frown and abruptly turn to my brother. “Max, are you done with your homework?”

His pale, freckled cheeks suddenly blaze. He doesn’t need to say anything; his red face is all the answer I need. “Go inside and get it done or Mom’ll be pissed.”

That’s true, but what’s more true is I don’t want him out here. I need to talk to someone about Aaron, and Kyle’s the perfect person. But what I have to say will worry Max, if not scare him.

“Fine.” Max slips off the porch swing and glowers at me as he passes.

“See ya later, Kyle,” Max calls over his shoulder. I take his empty place on the swing.

“Yeah, buddy. I’ll see you later,” Kyle says and then he lowers his voice. “All right, what’s going on, Libs? Why did you get rid of Max?”

“What do you mean?” I pull a string on the hem of my shirt, avoiding his eyes. “He has homework to do. Mom’s not here, so it’s my job to make sure he does it. You know that.” I was totally ready to tell him everything a minute ago, but now I don’t know where to start.

“Come on! What’s going on with you? Is it Haley? Because if it is, she’s being stupid about that test. I’ll talk to her.”

“It’s not Haley.” The string on my shirt unravels and makes a small hole. I twist it around my finger, tug, and break it off.

Haley avoided me all day today, but I understand why. It’s physically painful for her to get less than an A on anything, and she blames me for the history final disaster. I’ll give her until tonight to cool off, then I’ll talk to her.

“What is it then?” Kyle touches my knee.

“I’m either going to die,” I mumble. “Or I’m going nuts.”

“I vote for going nuts.” He laughs and mimes a punch-line drum roll in the air. Ba-da-boom-tish.

“I’m being seri—” I meet his eyes and stop, mid-word. The way his hair moves in the soft breeze casts a shadow across his face, and for a moment I think I see a hairline crack in the surface of his soul. Then the wind changes direction and it’s gone. I blink twice and look again, but if the line was ever there, it’s disappeared now.

“I’m being serious, Kyle,” I say again. Maybe it’s the way I look at him or the tone of my voice, but he stops laughing and his face straightens.

“All right. You’re being serious,” he says.

I stare down at my hands and try to think of the best way to begin.
Well, Kyle, everybody glows and I’m seeing an invisible guy who’s the Grim Reaper and also a murderer and he wants me to take over his job, which he says is really great, but it sounds pretty shitty to me. What do you think I should do?
It sounds stupid and, well, crazy. So I chicken out.

“Never mind,” I say. “Forget it. I really should get inside. Max might need help with his homework.”

The swing creaks as I stand, and Kyle grabs my hand.

“Why won’t you tell me, Libs?”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” I shiver when I realize I’ve just repeated what Aaron said when I asked him about the murders. I yank my hand from Kyle’s closed fingers. “You’ll just say, ‘You’re right, Libs. You
are
crazy,’ and it will be a big joke for you and Max to laugh about and that’ll be the end of it.”

“No, I won’t.” He scowls.

“Well, like I said, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to talk about it.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Actually, I don’t want to talk about anything right now. Maybe you should go.”

Kyle’s mouth hangs open. The breeze kicks up, and a few strands of his hair drift into his eyes. The thin line reappears across the bridge of his nose, but I’m too confused and scared to lean in and make sure it’s not a break in his soul.

“Fine.” He blinks a few times. “If you don’t want to tell me, I’ll go home.” He stands from the swing and crosses my front porch, dragging his drumsticks along the spokes of the railing. The wrought iron spokes bong like a series of funeral bells.

“Hey, and no problem watching Max for you, by the way,” he says before stomping down the stairs.

Shit. I hurt his feelings. I didn’t mean to do that. I actually really want to talk to him. I just don’t know how to say it without it coming out all weird.

“Kyle!” I call to his back as he stalks down the street toward his house. He turns, but his mouth is set, his eyes hurt and angry. “I’ll see you tonight, okay. Let me get my head on straight and I’ll talk to you after the show. I promise.”

He nods and lifts his hand, as if to say “Whatever.” But at the end of the street he whacks the stop sign with his drumstick so hard the stick splinters and a piece of wood flies into the grass.

***

I stand on Jumpers’ Bridge with the midpoint of the truss arching over me. Sunlight streams through the trees and encrusts the waterfall with sparkling diamonds. The spray cools my face.

Something cold and slimy slips across my palm then wraps around my hand. I glance down at the skeletal fingers gripping mine. Fat drops of blood hang from the boney fingertips. I smile and look up at Aaron, but I can’t see his pale blue eyes or his full lips. A tattered black hood casts his face in shadows.

“You’ve made your decision?” A voice crackles and wheezes from the black hole where his face should be. I chuckle and squeeze the bones of his hand reassuringly.

“Yes.” Gore oozes between my fingers and drips to the wood at our feet. “I’ll do it, Aaron. I’ll take your job.”

Laughter and the sound of voices. I turn and let go of Aaron’s hand, my palm slick with blood.

Kyle and Haley step onto Jumpers’ Bridge and stop laughing instantly. Their backs straighten and their blank eyes stare straight ahead as they walk hand in hand. With each slow, synchronized step I notice Kyle’s hair graying. Haley’s smooth face wrinkles and sags.

A crack pierces the silence. A few feet ahead of them, a large chunk of aged wood falls away from the floor of the bridge and spirals to the rapids below. They don’t even blink. And together, they take another step.

“No! Stop!” I run to them. “You’re going to fall through. Wait.”

They ignore me. I stand in front of Haley and wave my hands in her face frantically. Nothing.

“They can’t hear you.” Dry, like the crackle of old parchment.

“They’re going to fall through, Aaron! Look!” I jut a blood-soaked finger at the gaping hole in the bridge.

“All you can do is let them go. It’s your job.”

“Haley! Kyle! Wake up!” I scream into their faces. Both lift their left foot in unison and dangle them over the edge of the hole. Haley teeters back for a moment, but Kyle pitches forward. I reach for him, but my hand slides through his chest, as if I’m made of mist. He looks up as his other foot skids off the wood and he sees me, actually sees me. For that brief moment I know his fear. He doesn’t want to fall through the hole, but he has no choice.

“Libbi!” he yells as he tumbles through the gap. “Help me!”

Haley loses her balance and follows Kyle over the edge. She doesn’t see me as I grasp at the back of her shirt. Her scream echoes around me as she tumbles through the hole and is gone.

Hot tears spring in my eyes. Aaron’s cold fingers caress the back of my neck, and a drop of blood trickles over my shoulder and down the curve of my chest.

“You’ll get used to it after a while,” he says. But I don’t want to.

A gust of wind billows around us, bringing with it the scent of chicken nuggets and fruit juice. I pull my eyes from the swirling rapids below us and gasp. Standing at the end of Jumpers’ Bridge are Mom and Max, lost in a trance. Their fingers intertwine as they each lift their right foot in unison.

“I can’t do this! I can’t, Aaron! I can’t do it!”

I’m screaming into my pillow. My eyes pop open and tears tumble down my cheeks. I roll onto my back and kick my blankets to the floor.

I can’t be a Reaper. No way. I don’t care how fantastically awesome Aaron says it is, I can’t do it. Even with the cool superpowers, when given the two choices, I’d rather die myself than watch powerlessly as my friends and family die.

I run my palms over my face, smearing my tears. I have to tell Aaron that I want to die tomorrow. He’ll have to wait a little longer for his replacement, because it’s not going to be me. He won’t be happy, but he’ll get over it.

The mouthwatering scent of fried eggs, bacon, and coffee wakes me. I rub my eyes and peek at my Hello Kitty alarm clock.

Crap. 10:36. How could I have slept in? I know I was tired yesterday, so tired I fell asleep on the couch and don’t remember how I got up to my room, but now I have less than five hours left of my life. That’s not enough time.

I untangle the blankets from my legs and bolt out of bed. I’m still wearing my clothes from yesterday, but I don’t care if they’re wrinkled. I straighten them as best I can and bound down the stairs to the kitchen.

Mom stands at the stove with a spatula in one hand and an oven mitt on the other. She looks over her shoulder at me and gives me an all-is-forgiven smile. Amazingly, I don’t turn into a blubbery mess right there. Instead, I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist.

“What’s this all about?” She giggles. Her shirt smells like mountain-fresh fabric softener. It smells like home.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry for leaving Max the other night and for what I said about you and Dad and, well, everything else.” There’s so much more I want to say, but if I start, I won’t be able to stop the tears from flowing.

“It’s all right, Libs. And I’m sorry for putting so much responsibility on you.” She pats my arm with her oven-mitted hand. “I thought about what you said, and you’re right. It’s not fair for you to never have time to yourself.”

“Mom, you don’t have to…”

She places the spatula and the oven mitt on the stovetop and twists around. Her eyes glisten as she takes my face in both hands and kisses my forehead, like she used to when I was a little kid.

“No, I do,” she says. “You’re such a good kid, Libbi, and I’ve heaped a lot on you this last year. I think it’s about time you had a little freedom. And so…” Her bright smile beams. “Miss Lena said she’ll take Max anytime you need her. All you need to do is call. Her number’s on the fridge.”

She tips her head toward a yellow Post-it on the refrigerator and I lose it. I bury my face in her neck and sob, my whole body heaving and shaking.

“Oh Libs, it’s all right.” She pulls me close and strokes my hair, which causes another body quake followed by a watery eruption. I’m going to die in a few hours and she went and got Max a babysitter so I can enjoy more of my life. It’s ironic in the worst possible way.

“No, Mom, it’s not all right. It’s not!” I pull away from her. My tears have left wet streaks on her purple T-shirt.

I sink into a kitchen chair and cover my face with my hands. She sits in the chair next to mine; her warm, reassuring hand heavy on my shoulder.

“What’s going on?”

I open my mouth to tell her. It would be nice to talk to someone about it, especially my Mom. Just the thought of telling her makes it an easier burden to bear. I can almost feel the weight of the last two days lighten.

But what am I supposed to say? “Hey, Mom! Guess what? I’m gonna die today.” I can’t do that. I can’t ruin our last few hours together with that kind of talk. I rub my palms over my eyes and sniff away the tears.

“Nothing, Mom. I’m glad you’re not mad at me.” My fingers find her hand. “I love you.” I stop myself from adding, “I’m going to miss you.”

“Aw, I love you too.” She brings my hand to her lips and plants a kiss in the middle of my palm. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.” I force a smile. “Where’s Max?” I need to apologize to him, too.

“He’s at camp, remember?” She pushes up from the chair, wrangles her disheveled hair back into her hair clip, and returns to the stove. “He left with one of the scout moms and a bunch of his friends this morning.”

Camp. Right. I forgot.

My stomach turns sour and the familiar lines of the kitchen blur through my tears. As awful as I treated Max, I won’t be able to say good-bye or even tell him I’m sorry. Unless—

“Where are they camping?”

“Oh, some place outside town. Camp Constance, I think. Why?”

“No reason. Just curious.”

My stomach settles as much as the stomach of a person scheduled to die in a few hours can settle. I know the camp she’s talking about, and it’s not far away. About a twenty-minute drive outside of town.

***

I check my cell phone. 11:28. A little less than four hours left. Plenty of time.

My disjointed mind skitters between driving out to Camp Constance to say good-bye to Max and telling Aaron I’d rather die than take his crumby job. My car keys snag on the zipper as I pull them out of my purse. I look down to yank them free and almost miss Kyle furtively dart behind a tree.

“Kyle!”

This is perfect. If there was ever a time I needed my friends, this is it. I can’t think of a better way to end my life than with my best friends. That and a big bowl of Foster’s Chocolate Decadence ice cream. Heck, the ice cream shop would be a great place to be at 3:12 today. Maybe I’ll choke on a maraschino cherry or develop a fatal case of brain freeze. Death by chocolate.

“Kyle!” I jog after him. He takes a left at the end of the block. “Kyle!” I know he can hear me. Everyone in Carroll Falls can hear me. Why won’t he answer?

I turn the corner and immediately know something’s wrong. Kyle does an about-face and slogs toward me with his hands sunk deep in his pockets and his eyes locked on mine, burning a hole through my skull. He’s pissed off, but what really concerns me is his soul.

It still glows way brighter than mine, but the line that I thought was a trick of the light yesterday is now a thick, jagged black fissure that starts in the middle of his forehead and zigzags over the bridge of his nose. It doesn’t compare to the hairline crack in Mrs. Lutz’s face. Kyle’s is much wider and uglier.