School of the Dead (10 page)

“Why would they do that?”

“Because I ask questions.”

“About what?”

“Those kids who disappeared from the school. Like Austin. The school's big secret. I tried talking to Ms. Foxton. Know what she said? If people learned about the kids who disappeared, the school would collapse.

“Oh, something you should know,” Jessica said as we continued downhill. “All the kids who went missing were new.”

“New what?”

“To the school. From way back, it always happens in seventh grade.”

I stopped. “You mean . . . like me?”

She shrugged, looking at me with sympathetic eyes. I
turned away, upset but wanting to learn more.

We walked on without talking until I said, “Okay, I want to know. Was it Ms. Foxton who told you my uncle Charlie died?”

“Is
that
who it was? Your
uncle
? You must have been close, because like I told you, you stink of death.”

I didn't know what to say.

“Hey,” she said, bopping me on the arm, “some people are interested in life. I'm interested in death.”

“How come?”

“It happens to everyone, right? But it's the one thing people want most to avoid. I know I do.”

Feeling we were talking like real friends, I said, “There's something I haven't told you.”

“What?”

“That old relative of yours, Mrs. Penda, she set up the school because her kid—the Penda Boy—died, right?”

“The first one to disappear.”

I said, “In the school office, there's a painting of him.”

“Obvious.”

“But I'm pretty sure that kid I told you about, the one I saw in the tower, the kid in the painting, well, first day I came to class, he was sitting at the empty desk between you and Mac.”

She halted, mouth slightly open, eyes fixed on me. With a nervous flick of her hand, she shoved hair from her face. “You saying . . . you saw the Penda Boy in . . . class? Next to
me
?”

I nodded. She was rattled, something I hadn't seen before.

“You . . . you ever see him again?” she asked.

“All over the school. Lots of times. Remember when Bokor was talking about ghosts, ghosts coming back and grabbing souls on Halloween? All of a sudden, he was
there
—sitting behind you, staring at me.”

I could have sworn Jessica was trembling. “You sure?”

“Swear,” I said, lifting a hand.

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“Wasn't positive I was seeing him.”

“You were.”

“But how come I'm the only one seeing him?”

Without answering, Jessica started downhill again. It might seem strange, but I was glad she was upset. It was something we shared. Made me feel like I finally had a friend.

We arrived at the yogurt shop, got some, and sat down. From her backpack Jessica took out a pale blue tube of something, squirted out a pearl of it, and rubbed her hands and face with it.

“What's that?”

“Moisturizer. Keeps me young-looking.”

“You're not exactly old.”

“Told you. Don't intend to be. Okay,” she said, putting the tube away, “want to know what I think? That kid you keep seeing, no question: he's the Penda Boy's ghost, and he's after you.”

I put down my spoon. “Why me
?
”

“He wants your soul.”

My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”

“Like Bokor said. It's what happened to Austin. His kid brother died, so like you, Austin had death stink all over him. The Penda Boy grabbed him. Good-bye, Austin. With you, it's your uncle Charlie.”

“What about him?”

“You were close, right? I keep telling you, you stink of his death. It attracts the ghost. Makes sense, doesn't it, dead liking dead. Accept it.”

Wishing Uncle Charlie had stayed out of my life, I felt a spurt of anger. “What . . . what can I do?”

“Get rid of him, before he gets rid of you.”

“But how . . . ,” I stammered, “how . . . can I
get
rid
of a ghost?”

Jessica leaned across the table. “Tony, just know that we—the Weird History Club—are
totally
on your side. The other
kids, Barney and Mac, you don't like them. I know. But I'm in charge. You good with that?”

I sat there, not sure what to say.

“I need a guy like you,” Jessica pressed. “Someone with brains.” She flashed her smile. “We can do it.”

“Do
what?
”

“Get rid of the Penda Boy.”

“But he's dead.”

“Tony, you heard Bokor: if his ghost gets you, he lives; you die.”

I sat there, too terrified to speak.

She went on: “Look at the harm the Penda Boy has done. All those kids, disappearing. Austin was nice. But—a couple of weeks after school began—he disappeared.”

“What . . . happened?” I whispered.

“Early on, Batalie was talking school rules. About no one being allowed in the towers. They
always
say that. All of a sudden, Austin—the new kid, right?—raises his hand. ‘Mr. Batalie,' he says, ‘I saw someone in the tower.'”

“I asked you guys if anyone else saw the ghost.”

“Well . . . Austin. But he's not here anymore.”

“What . . . what did Batalie say?”

“He said, ‘Not possible.' But a few days later . . . Austin's gone.”

I said, “I saw someone in the tower.”

“My point.”

“Did anyone look for Austin?”

“Sure. But no luck.
Disappeared.
But then, guess what?”

“What?”

“School said no one should talk about it. ‘Keep it in the family.' Penda kids lap up that junk. Sucky school spirit. Tony, I'm telling you, if we don't do something, what happened to Austin will happen to you. You're going to disappear too.”

I was finding it hard to breathe.

She said, “I'm glad you told me about what's going on. Want some advice? Don't tell anyone else around the school. They'll think you're nuts.”

“I guess so. . . .”

“Know why the club wears black ties and neck scarves?”

I shook my head.

“To honor the missing kids. It tells people
we
haven't forgotten. First time I saw you, I was worried about you.”

“Why?”

“I keep telling you. I knew right off you were connected to someone who died. At Penda, that's not good.”

“People say to stay away from you.”

“Sure, because they care more about the school's reputation than about missing kids.” She leaned closer. “You know how
it is,” she said. “When kids tell the truth, grown-ups never want to listen. They want us dumb. Under control. Hey, girls especially should follow rules. Do what they're told. Be sweet. Big eyes for the boys. Right?”

“I guess.”

“I'm smarter than they want. And I'm pretty. I know that. That makes it worse. People do
not
like pretty and smart in the same girl. Does it bother you?”

“No. I just want to know what to do.”

“Join our club. We'll protect you and get the Penda Boy. And if we get rid of him, it'll be great for the school. Accept it: The Penda Boy is the enemy. I'm your friend.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Tony,” she pushed, “I'm
trying
to help you.”

“I know, but I have to do something soon.”

“I'll come up with a plan,” she said, offering her smile. “Promise. Save you, save the school.” She grabbed my arm, gave it a shake. As she did, I noticed her ring, with the seven stones on it.

Trying to find something to say, I blurted out, “How come you have those black stones on your ring?”

“They're onyx. Seven of them. Onyx is for self-control and protection, and seven because that's the most important number in the universe.”

That was what Uncle Charlie had said right before he died.

“Seven is magic,” Jessica said. “I read somewhere that the old Greeks thought it was a perfect number. In the Bible, it took seven days to make the world. In fact,
seven
is in the Bible more than any other number. True. Ever notice phone numbers always had just seven numbers? Ever hear of the Masons? A huge secret society. Seven is big to them. My name has seven letters. Seven protects me. Hey, I'm a
seventh
grader. This is my big year.”

I was getting increasingly tense. It wasn't only
what
she said. It was her constant pushing, her insisting I
do
something, but she never made it exactly clear
what
. Same time, I kept telling myself,
She's trying to help me. She's my friend.
I had to listen.

My cell phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket. It was my mom. “'Lo.”

Mom said, “I'm here, home. Where are you?”

“Down on Union. In a yogurt shop, with a friend.”

“Nice. Remember? We were going shopping. Think you could get back soon?”

I looked across the table. Jessica was waiting for me. I admit I was glad to have the excuse to go, to think, to calm down.

“Yeah,” I said into the phone. “I'll come.” I stood up.

“Gotta go?” said Jessica, sounding disappointed.

“My mom,” I said, trying to say it as if
I
was disappointed.

“Hey, if kids got rid of their parents, things would be more fun, right?” Her smile was almost a smirk. “Don't worry,” she said. “We'll talk more. We're a team, right? I'll work on a plan.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I started out of the yogurt shop.

“Tony,” she called. “Trust me.”

“Right,” I replied, because I did want to trust her. But that, I remembered, was what Uncle Charlie had asked me to do just before he died.

As I climbed the steep hill toward home, I kept telling myself I had to accept the fact that the Penda Boy was after me. That the only person making sense, the only one helping me, was Jessica. No sooner did I have that thought than I saw Uncle Charlie across the street.

My frustration flipped. I shouted, “Family was always saying, ‘What's the deal with Uncle Charlie?' You're my enemy, that's what. Go away.”

He vanished.
Good.

I started walking again. Jessica's talk about
seven
plowed
into my head. I counted the letters of my name—Anthony.
Seven. I was in seventh grade. Too weird. What was it that Dad had said about
weird
? It didn't just mean strange but also fate
.

I had asked, “Whose?”

“Yours, I guess,” Dad had said, laughing.

I labored up the hill. I wasn't laughing. I was petrified.

When I got home, Mom was at the kitchen table making a shopping list. “Hi. Sorry to pull you away. Who's your friend?”

“Some girl from class.”

“Oh, nice,” said Mom, trying to act uninterested. “Look over my list while I get ready. See if I forgot anything.”

She went to get her purse. I picked up the list but didn't look at it. I kept thinking,
If the Penda Boy and Uncle Charlie are against me, who's on my side?
The same answer always came: Jessica.

Mom and I went out together. After a while I said, “I've been invited to a party on Friday night.”

“Lovely. What's the occasion?”

“Some girl in my class. It's her birthday. She's turning thirteen.”

Mom worked hard not to grin. “That the girl you were with?”

“No. Different.”

She allowed herself to smile. “You're becoming quite the ladies' man.”

I frowned, but what she said made me feel good.

Next day, during lunch, I sat with a bunch of classmates that included Lilly. There was a lot of laughing, giggling, and teasing as they talked about the Halloween party.

“So awesome,” said a boy named Mark. “So much more fun than Christmas.”

“Everyone comes to school in costume,” explained Lilly, who had sat down next to me. “Teachers too. Even Ms. Foxton. I love her. Mr. Bokor always comes as a warlock. So cool.”

Abruptly, the room began to shake.
Earthquake
, I realized. During the time it lasted—three, four seconds—everyone froze. The instant it stopped, as if nothing had happened, Joel said, “I'm going to be Henry the Eighth. Anyone want to be one of my wives?”

“No way” came a chorus of laughing voices.

Was I the only one who'd felt the earthquake? The way I was the only one who saw the Penda Boy?

“I'll be the fisherman from
The Old Man and the Sea
,” said a kid named Carlos.

Ian said, “Who's going to be the dead fish?”

Laughter.

Mia, Lilly's best friend, said, “I've got this great clown outfit,” and then Ian announced, “I'm going to be the Penda Boy.”

Groans. “So lame,” called Peter. “The Penda Boy is always there.”

I asked myself if it would be the ghost, or someone costumed as the boy.

Lilly turned to me. “Have any idea what you'll be?”

From across the cafeteria I saw Jessica's eyes on me, her look full of mockery. I was sure she was reminding me that the kids I was with had no idea what was happening with the Penda Boy.

I realized that all the kids at the table were waiting for my answer.

“Hey, Tony,” called Todd, “anyone ever told you how spacey you are?”

“That means he's going to dress up as an astronaut!” shouted Lee, who always made puns.

The kids moaned in appreciation as the end-of-lunch bell rang. Leaving the cafeteria, Lilly was at my side. “Still coming to my birthday party?”

“Sure,” I said, only wanting to have some fun.

In history class, Bokor talked about what he called “the Black Death.” He described it as a deadly plague that swept through Europe in the fourteenth century.