Death's Academy (8 page)

“I came up with it,” I lie.

“You did?”

“More or less,” I say.

Mal’s eyebrows shoot up and she locks her hands onto her hips. The sight reminds me uncomfortably of my mom.

I sigh. “All right, all right. I found it in this ancient book at the library.”

“You’ve been to the library?” she says, her eyebrows still arched.

I decide to overlook her rude question. “The roll was made up by this foreign guy named something Mikhail. He was a famous roller a few hundred years ago. I found the instructions in the back of the book and I have been practicing it for quite a while.”

“Hmm … Mikhail? Where is that name from?” Mal asks, rubbing her chin.

“Dunno. Sounds Canadian. Now go get dressed. We gotta go,” I say.

She rolls her eyes and makes her way toward the back door.

“Hey, Mal!”

“What?” she says over her shoulder.

“What’s that red skateboard thing over by your shed?” I ask.

“Is that what that noise was earlier?” she responds.

“Stupid thing shot out from underneath me,” I say.

She laughs. “I wish I could have seen that.” She walks over to the shed and picks it up. She brushes some mud off it and then lays it back onto the ground where I had my spill.

“What is it?” I ask again.

“I’ll show you.” She opens the shed door and pulls out a matching red rod. It is shaped like a
T
with two hoops coming off the handles. She pushes it into the hole and it locks into place.

“I get it. It’s like a scooter,” I say. “You hold on to the handles and kick the ground to get going.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Not even close. I call it the ‘Hound-ariot.’ ”

I scrunch my brow. “The what?”

“The Hound-ariot. It’s like a chariot but for our hellhounds. Watch,” she says and then uses her fingernail to tug open a secret compartment on the handle. She pulls out a whistle and brings it to her lips. She blows, but there isn’t a sound. She blows again.

“I guess it’s broken,” I say.

She shakes her head. “Nope.”

Suddenly a wiener dog leaps over the six-foot-tall fence into Mal’s yard. The wiener dog is shortly followed by a poodle that whips around the side of the house into the yard. They both gallop to Mal’s feet. Now, remember, hellhounds appear as cute little doggies to you shorties. But to us, they are quite a bit more—dare I say—gruesome.

“You two will do,” Mal says. She then tugs on the end of the Hound-ariot’s handle and yanks off one of the hoops. A thin chain is attached to it, and she walks it over to the wiener dog. The chain extends from the handle to the hoop. She takes the hoop and carefully places it over the wiener dog’s head until it is securely fastened around his neck. She then takes the other hoop off and does the same thing with the poodle.

“This doesn’t actually work, does it?” I say with a bit of a chuckle.

She makes a face at me. “Watch and see, buddy.” She steps onto the board, puts one hand on the handle, and then calls out in a loud, clear voice. “Once around the house.” She then blows on her whistle.

In an instant the poodle and wiener dog leap into action and rocket from their spot. Mal is jerked forward, and she and the Hound-ariot take off in a cloud of dust. She has whipped around the house and is back to where I am standing within a few seconds.

My jaw drops open.

“That’s amazing! Let me try!” I yell, jumping up and down like a toddler at Christmas.

“Later. We’ve gotta go.”

“Oh come on! One time!” I plead.

“Nope, my dad doesn’t want anyone else riding it until we get it cleared with the Ethical Treatment of Hellhounds Office.”

My shoulders drop and I feel like throwing a tantrum, but I contain my disappointment. “Fine, but as soon as you do, I want to ride it,” I say.

She smiles and puts the Hound-ariot back into the shed. I watch longingly as the wiener dog and poodle take off back to their homes.

About fifteen minutes later, we’re heading down the street for the playing field. The contents of Mal’s backpack jingle and clank with every step she takes.

“Why the backpack today, Mal?” I ask.

She shrugs. “It goes where I go. You never know when you might need something,” Mal says, throwing it over her other shoulder. “So you feeling pretty sure that decoy is going to fool your parents?”

“Oh yeah, you should’ve seen it. Not a chance they’ll figure it out,” I say, tossing a skull up into the air and catching it. “So you really like the new roll?”

Mal makes an exasperated noise. “Yes. For the hundredth time, it’s great.”

I try to control it, but I can feel my smile spreading across my face. I toss the skull into the air again.

“But you’ve never faced someone as good as this halo girl before,” Mal says.

I glance over at her at just the wrong moment and the rock-hard skull smacks me on the top of the head. My eyes pop and black spots flutter before my
eyes for a moment. Mal laughs out loud and catches me by the arm.

She chuckles. “You okay, Captain Smoothness?”

I shake my head and look at her. There are two Mals looking back at me, but they gradually melt into one.

“That hurt.” I grimace while rubbing the top of my head. “What do you mean I haven’t faced anyone as good as this halo girl before?”

She looks sidelong at me. “I’m just saying that she holds all these records in the halo league, and it might not be good to underestimate her.”

“Did you not just see that roll? Milky Way Henderson himself couldn’t have struck that roll. It is a work of art.”

Suddenly Mal grabs me by the arm and tugs me with her into a nearby bush. We crash into it, and both of us nearly tumble over.

“Hey!” I yell.

“Shut up! Take a look,” Mal whispers and pulls down some branches so we can peek through the bush.

She points toward a house with a moving van parked in the carport. A slender girl with golden hair hanging lazily to her lower back is carrying a cardboard box into the garage.

I stare after her for a second or two, and I’m halfway between shrugging my shoulders and turning back to Mal when the girl reappears from the garage. Remember that choral group singing “Hallelujah” in my room earlier? Well, they just showed up again, but this time they are singing, “LAAAAAA!!!”

“Oh my wow,” I mutter.

She’s the prettiest creature I’ve ever seen. Her eyes are sparkling sapphires, and her lips are as bright as red licorice. Her skin almost seems to glow like a translucent paper trying desperately to cover a shining star. She’s about as tall as I am, maybe a bit taller. She doesn’t seem to walk but float across the ground.

I feel myself wanting to go find a meadow filled with exotic flowers and pick every single one for her. I want to carve a massive piece of ice into a towering sculpture for her. I want to melt down all the chocolate bars in the world and create a river of chocolate that she and I can tube down together, locked hand in hand. I want to—

I feel a sharp jab in my side.

“Nimrod!” Mal whispers.

The spell breaks, and I glance over at Mal. “Huh?”

“You’ve got drool dripping down your chin. Close your mouth, idiot,” she says in a voice that doesn’t seem at all friendly.

I wipe my chin and blink a couple of times.

“Who is she?” I ask.

Mal sneers and let’s go of the bush’s branch, which smacks me briskly in the face.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“That girl, my thick-skulled friend, is the halo that is going to try and stop you from getting a scholarship to Death’s Academy,” Mal says.

It takes a moment for Mal’s words to register in my brain. I pull one of the branches down and peer back over at the girl again. She flips her head slightly so her
golden hair sashays from one side to the other. I feel my knees start to wobble again.

“But I was going to pick ice sculptures with—”

“What? I can’t hear you, Night,” Mal whispers.

I shake my head. “Uh, nothing.”

“You still think the Mikhail wonder roll is going to work against her? You can’t seem to stop your eyes from crossing every time you look at her,” Mal says and flips her head around so that her hair whips me across the face.

“Ouch! Watch it!” I exclaim.

I follow her out of the bushes.

“I’m going to tell coach that you should sit this one out. Your head’s not in the game, Midnight Smith,” Mal says over her shoulder as she storms away.

“What? Wait!” I call after her. I run over to her and grab her by her sweater sleeve. She rips her arm away from me.

“Whoa. Hey, what’s the matter?” I ask, completely flabbergasted by this hostile attack. She is walking even faster now. “Mal, hey. Come on, slow down.”

She spins on the spot, a nasty scowl slapped across her face. “I told you. You’re an idiot, and you shouldn’t be rolling today.”

“But why?” I ask.

Her eyes narrow. “One look from that girl and you’ll roll the skull in the wrong direction. You can’t even think straight when you look at her; you’re going to lose the championship for us,” she says, jabbing her index finger forcefully into my breastbone. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

Mal turns her back on me again and starts to walk away.

I rub my chest and grimace. “Do you have that instant ice spray in your backpack?”

She stops and glares at me over her shoulder. “Why?” she spits.

“Because that halo girl isn’t even going to make it to the championship game,” I say with a smirk.

“You speak golden retriever, don’t you?”

“What? Why?” Mal asks, trailing after me.

“I’ve got an idea. Can you help me translate?”

“I don’t speak golden retriever, but I know some basset hound. They’re similar enough,” Mal says.

“Perfect. Do you still have your dad’s old car magnet?” I ask.

“In my backpack.”

“Brilliant.”

Her dad’s car magnet is by far my favorite of her trinkets. Her dad used to use it a lot for his death work, but then he upgraded to the Car Magnet 2100 and let
Mal have his old one. It is completely illegal for her to have it, but I won’t tell if you won’t.

The car magnet is ingenious. It detects and draws nearby cars to a specific location. How does it work? Have you ever been driving or been in the car with your parents and for some reason they make the wrong turn or go the wrong way? Of course, that’s happened to everyone. Eighty-three percent of the time, that’s the work of a car magnet. It scrambles the driver’s brain for a moment and draws them to where the car magnet wants them to go. We’re going to need it for my idea to work.

I work fast and get everything set up. I hide Mal in the same bush we were in when we spotted the halo girl. I’m on the opposite side of the halo girl’s front yard tucked behind the rose bushes with the golden retriever Sparky sitting at my heels. I’ve got Mal’s ice spray in one hand and one of the skulls in the other.

There’s a sudden movement in front of me, and I duck lower behind the roses. I peer through them to see the halo girl skipping into the back of the moving van.

“Woof-ity woofer woof,” Sparky grumbles.

I glance back at him. I have no idea what he’s just said.

“Woof-ity woofer woof,” he says impatiently.

I shake my head. “I don’t speak golden retriever,” I mouth back to him.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. He points his paw to his wrist, acting like he has a watch on it.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re hurrying,” I whisper.

I turn back around and peer through the rosebush. I can barely see Mal’s face poking through the bush on the other side of the yard. Just as we make eye contact, the halo girl strides out of the moving van with a box in her arms. She glides into the garage.

I give Mal the signal and she nods. I can see her working feverishly with the car magnet, trying to draw in a nearby vehicle.

“Come on, Mal, come on.”

It feels like an eternity waiting … waiting … There’s the sign! She gives me the thumbs-up. I have twenty seconds. I peek back at the house—all quiet. I spring from behind the rosebush and rush to the cement between the moving van and garage. I give the ice spray a couple of shakes for good measure and spray the ground. I create an icy path from the garage and curve it into the middle of the yard. It’s about fifteen feet long and a few feet wide.

I tear back to the rose bush and jump behind it. I glance up and see Mal’s car has just turned the corner and is heading down the street toward us.

“Come on, halo, come on,” I whisper.

Just then the halo girl comes skipping out of the garage, her hair bouncing one way and then another. An image of her and me wakeboarding down the chocolate river appears in my mind. I shake my head to clear it.

The halo girl’s foot hits the edge of the ice path and she starts to skid. Her carefree expression does a do-si-do to complete shock. I glimpse down at the back of my hand where Mal has written the command in golden retriever.

“Woofee-woofer,” I read out loud.

Sparky catapults from his spot and leaps through the rosebush. He gallops toward the end of the ice path, acting like he is chasing a butterfly. The halo girl’s arms are flailing as she skates toward the middle of the yard. I turn my attention back to the approaching car and grip the skull tightly in my hand. I jump forward, out from behind the rosebush, and roll the skull as hard as I can at the oncoming car’s tire. A chain reaction begins. Sparky and the halo girl reach the end of the ice patch at the same time. Her legs hit the side of his body and it sends her flying face-first toward the street. Just then the skull hits the front tire of the oncoming car and ricochets directly at the halo’s head.