Death's Academy (6 page)

“You alone? Is your dad with you?” the guinea pig asks.

I walk over to my window and peek through the ebony shutters. My dad pulls out of the driveway and speeds off. A pang of guilt punches me in the stomach. I didn’t need to be that rough with my dad. He gets it enough from my mom. But what can he expect? He never sticks up for me. Heck, he never sticks up for anything.

I turn back to the guinea pig.

“Yeah, he just left,” I say.

“Okay. I’ll be right up,” the guinea pig says.

I throw open the blinds and slide the window up.
I peek out the window, and I can see the top of Mal’s auburn head as she scales the rose trellis underneath my window. She has her tattered backpack strapped to her back. She carries that thing wherever she goes. It’s always stuffed with little gadgets and gizmos that she’s come up with.

Mal is my best friend and probably the one person that totally gets me. Her real name is Maleficent Von Higgendorf. Yeah, I agree—bummer of a name. When we were younger I couldn’t say her whole name, so I cut a few syllables and stuck her with Mal. She seems to be okay with it, I guess. I never really asked.

She’s a year younger than I am, but she’s one of those types of people who are smarter than they should be. To my great annoyance, she’s much smarter than I am too, but you’ll never get me to admit that out loud.

At least I tower over her. She’s pretty short, even for a girl. She is also always cold. I mean, even now, in the middle of the summer, she’s wearing her wool sweater that I gave her for her birthday. It’s really weird, but she totally has a thing for sweaters. No color or pattern is taboo, either. I have seen her wear some things that are so ugly that they batter and abuse your eyes, even if you only glance at them.

The wool sweater she’s wearing now matches one of her eyes, a dark coffee-bean brown. Yep, I said one of her eyes. Her eyes are probably the most unique thing about her. She has one deep brown eye and one emerald-green eye. They are quite stunning, and some of the other guys on the team think she’s pretty hot, but she’s Mal. The same Mal that I used to convince
to eat sausages we would find in the sandbox … Hey, I was young, and I’m a hoodie. What do you expect?

Mal springs through the open window. She opens her mouth to speak.

“Night, you’re not gonna believe—” the guinea pig rumbles, and then Mal rolls her eyes and walks over to him. She gently takes the voice receiver off him and then slides the controller off her neck.

“Forgot about that,” she says, this time with her own voice. “You’re not going to believe what I just heard.”

I flop onto my bed face-first and groan.

“What’s with you?” she asks.

“Long story. You talk first,” I say.

“I just heard this from my dad. You know how he played skull ball for the Academy?”

“Uh-huh,” I mutter out of the corner of my mouth with my face still pressed into the bed.

“Well, he still does some fund-raising for the team from time to time. You know, helps them get more bleachers, new scoreboard, stuff like that.”

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna sit up so I can tell you the story?” she asks and drops onto the end of the bed.

“My ears are all yours,” I say.

Mal snorts and punches my leg.

“You’re a dork. Anyway, my dad spoke to the new head coach, and he is coming to the game tomorrow.”

I flip around on the bed and face her.

“Why?” I ask.

She smiles. “Now you’re interested?”

“Spit it out, Mal.”

“He’s coming to evaluate our team,” she says with a smirk.

“Evaluate it for what?”

She glances down at her guinea pig, which is nuzzling itself into her sweater.

“Oh, look at that. Titacus-Rex looks tired. I’d better take him home so he can take his nap,” Mal says. and then gets up off the bed and heads for the window.

I spring off the bed and land in front of the window, blocking her way.

“You horrible person. Tell me now!” I say.

She smiles and rubs the top of Titacus-Rex’s head. She strolls back to the other side of the room and leans against the wall. I stare at her, my mouth half open and ready to scream.

“And?” I blurt out.

“And … he’s evaluating the team because he’s giving out a scholarship,” she says.

“For what?” I say.

She raises one eyebrow and gives me one of those looks that translates into “you really are a moron.”

“A scholarship to get into Death’s Academy. The player who gets the scholarship will automatically be in and on the team,” she says.

“What about the entrance exam?” I ask breathlessly.

“No need. You’re in.”

I must be imagining it, but at that precise moment I could swear a hundred-person choir was singing “Hallelujah” in my room. I leap at Mal and pick her up in excitement.

“Whoa! What are you doing?” she protests.

I spin us twice on the spot, and in my enthusiasm, I kiss her on the cheek. I let her go and start to do my best leprechaun jig impersonation. As you know, leprechauns have some of the nimblest feet, and their dances are the stuff of legend. Perhaps my rendition isn’t as legendary, as I nearly fall twice, but I couldn’t care less. I am getting out of the entrance exam.

I finish with a flourish and clap my hands twice. I look over at Mal and she looks as bright as a spring strawberry.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask. “Your face is all red.”

A smile flashes across her face, and then it’s quickly conquered by a scowl.

“You’re an idiot,” she says.

“Maybe so, but I’m the idiot that just figured out how he’s getting into the Academy.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes.

“That’s a little on the arrogant side. How are you so sure that he’s going to pick you?” she asks.

“And I quote: ‘Midnight Smith is the most promising young roller we’ve seen in years. We suggest keeping an eye on him,’ ” I say and flash a sparkling smile and wink.

Mal groans and hops onto my desk. “I should have never brought that newspaper over,” she says. “I swear, the moment I showed you that quote, your head swelled up like a balloon. I’m surprised any of your hats still fit you.”

I fold my arms and raise one eyebrow. “No,
seriously, Mal. Who else is going to get it? Don’t get me wrong, you’re great and all, but you just turned eleven and have to wait a year before you can get into the Academy. Who else is there? Dred is decent, but he’s slow as a hippo with a hernia. Panther can’t kick to save her life. Zillah, she’s dumb as a concussed buffalo. Do I need to go on?” I ask, fully convinced of my own brilliant summation.

“Nope, sounds like you got it in the bag,” she says.

Now I’m no master sleuth or anything, but I would wager that Mal was using a bit of sarcasm in her last comment. I frown at her.

She lets out a groan. “No, you’re probably right. I just don’t want you to put all of your eggs in one basket. I want you to still get ready for your pre-exam tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure. I’m not completely stupid. I’m still going to study,” I lie.

“Good. You know, I finished the freezing spray last night,” Mal says, ripping her backpack off her shoulders and pulling out an aerosol can.

“Looks like hair spray,” I say.

Mal crinkles her face. “I know. I did it intentionally so if any nosy Sickle gets hold of it, he won’t know what it is. Watch this.” Mal points her spray bottle toward the floor and squirts it about five times. I watch the spot on my carpet where she sprayed, but nothing happens

“Okay?” I say.

“Wait for it,” she says.

A moment later, a sheet of ice about three feet by
three feet forms over the top of my carpet. Mal jumps on top of it and starts spinning around and around like a figure skater.

“Dude! That
is
amazing! How long does it last?”

“About a minute.”

“Mal,
you
are incredible.”

She smiles, and I catch a glimpse of her face going red again before she performs another spin on her ice patch.

“So why were you in such a spectacular mood earlier?” she asks.

I pause to think. I do remember being upset about something, but after hearing about the scholarship, everything else ejected out of my brain.

I clap my hands together. “That’s right,” I say. “I got arrested.”

“What?” Mal splutters.

I recount my whole sordid tale, but do my best to smooth over the more embarrassing parts. I leave out the part with Pandora and her crazy ramblings about unicorns and the Scythe of Grim. No need to retell her loony tale. As I near the end of my story, I notice that the creases on her forehead get more and more pronounced.

“And you think your parents are going to let you play in the championship tomorrow after all of that?” she asks.

“Oh no, they already told me that I can’t play, but that was before the scholarship news. I’ll be able to change their minds easily now,” I say, flopping back down onto my bed with my arms behind my head.

“I hope so,” Mal mumbles and then glances over at my clock. “No, that isn’t the time! I’m thirty minutes late!”

She puts Titacus-Rex carefully in her backpack pocket and scampers over to the window.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says and swings one leg out the window.

“Yep!”

Mal disappears from sight, and I stare up at my ceiling. This day started out as a complete suck, but it just got a whole lot better. You see, I may have sounded arrogant about being the best player, but it’s true. Not only that, but I have a secret weapon that even Mal doesn’t know about.

I’ve been working on it for months now. My plan has always been to unveil it during the championship. It’s a roll technique that hasn’t been used in a skull ball game in over a hundred years. I figured it out. Those halos aren’t going to know what hit them tomorrow.

“Night!”

I let out a manly squeal in surprise and turn my attention back to the open window where Mal’s head is hovering just above the frame.

“You startled me,” I say. “I thought you were thirty minutes late?”

“I am, but I forgot to tell you. A new halo family just moved in down the street.”

“Oh really?” I ask. This shocks me. We’ve never had a halo family in our neighborhood. They have always kept to their side of town and we to ours. “What’s their last name?”

“Don’t know, but supposedly they have a daughter your age and she plays skull ball too,” she says.

I shrug. “So?”

“So she holds the record for most points ever scored in a halo skull ball season,” Mal says and then disappears beneath the window frame.

“What?” I say, jumping off my bed.

Mal’s head pops back up. “And she’s playing tomorrow in the championship. See ya!”

The three of us—Mom, Dad, and I—are all downstairs in the kitchen. This is the usual place for our “family meetings.” As usual, my dad is sitting at the table, tucked up against the wall, his head down as he fidgets with a crack in the wood. My mom is pacing back and forth like a hungry lioness, and I am standing in the doorway with my arms folded.

“Why are you trying to ruin my life?” I yell. “If I don’t get the scholarship, I’m not getting into Death’s Academy.”

She makes a dismissive wave of her hand. “What a load of bull. If you apply yourself and study, you’ll get in. You just don’t want to put in the work.”

I grit my teeth. “Mom, you don’t under—”

“That’s final. I won’t discuss it anymore,” she says.

I look around for something in reach that I can fling at the wall, but all I can see is the porcelain figurine of a raven my grandfather gave my mom when she graduated from Death’s Academy. Even I’m not dumb enough to do that.

“I can’t believe you did this, and right before the Reapless,” she seethes.

“What does dad say?” I bluster, grasping at straws.

She smirks and folds her arms. “He agrees with me.”

I give my dad a pleading glance, but he’s still staring down at the tabletop, useless as always.

“So, what? I can’t even take my pre-exam tomorrow, either?”

Her lips purse, and she studies me for a second. “You can take your pre-exam, but that’s it. No game, no more talk about some stupid scholarship. Just get your rear end back up to your room. I don’t want to see your face for a while.”

In a pure white-hot rage, I grab my mom’s porcelain raven and hurl it toward the wall. As soon as it leaves my fingers, I gasp and my mom screams. Everything seems to move in slow motion. The raven tumbles through the air as it rockets toward the wall. Just as it is about to hit, I see a flash out of the corner of my eye. A hand appears out of nowhere and catches
the raven right before it shatters against the wall. My dad is completely horizontal, diving through the air. His fingers wrapped around the raven, he pulls it in tightly against his chest. He hits the ground, does a somersault, and slams into the piano with a loud
clang
!