Call Me Grim Read Online Free PDF Page A

two.
    “Can I have more nuggets?” The shriek of his voice reverberates in my ears and bounces around inside my skull.
    Twenty-four hours ago I met Aaron Shepherd. Four hours ago things started to get weird when the guy chased me down and saved my life. And one hour ago I was supposed to meet my creepy savior at an old folk’s home.
    I didn’t go.
    If Aaron slipped me a drug, the glowing-people thing should have worn off by now. But it seems to be getting worse. This headache is killer, and the light from Max’s skin burns my eyes. I can’t look directly at him.
    I glance at his plate. He ate all of his chicken nuggets, but the stacks of broccoli and instant mashed potatoes stand untouched. I nod, and my brain slams against the inside of my skull. I really don’t care if he eats his veggies. My head hurts too much to pretend I’m Mom.
    “Really?” Max says. “I can have more nuggets?”
    It’s me, Rosie…Rosie Benson.
    “What did you say?” I squint at him.
    “I said, ‘Can I have more nuggets?’”
    “No.” I shake my head. My eyeballs are about to explode. “You said something else. Something about Rosie Benson.”
    “Rosie Benson? Who’s Rosie Benson?” Max scrunches up his face. “You’re being really weird today.”
    “Forget it.” I push back from the table and stand, knocking over the salt shaker. My fingers tremble as I set it upright and raise a hand to my clammy forehead.
    “Are you all right?” Max sets his fork on his plate next to his forgotten potatoes and broccoli.
    “I’m fine.” I stumble out of the kitchen to the bathroom in the hallway. I need to be away from the light. Without flipping the switch on the wall, I turn on the faucet and splash my face with cool water. The door clicks closed behind me.
    It should be pitch black in the bathroom with the door closed, but it’s not.
    I’m glowing too.
    I hold my hand up in front of my stunned face and flex my fingers. The image in the mirror does the same.
    I don’t know why this surprises me, but it does. Brain tumor, concussion, or drugs—in the dark there shouldn’t be enough light to trick my brain into seeing something that isn’t there. Right? Can someone hallucinate light in the dark?
    “Max?” I poke my head out of the bathroom door. “Can you come here for a second?”
    “Why?”
    “I want to see something. Are you still afraid of the dark?”
    “I was never afraid of the dark.” He struts into the hallway with his chest puffed out.
    “Liar!” I say a bit too forcefully and my headache protests. “You’re terrified of the dark,” I whisper.
    “Am not!”
    “Well good, then you won’t mind my experiment,” I say.
    “What experiment?” His eyes widen and his face pales.
    “Don’t worry, Max. I just want to see something. It’ll take two seconds, and I’ll be with you the whole time.”
    I take his hand and pull him toward the bathroom.
    “Why do we need to be in the bathroom, in the dark, for your experiment?” His voice shakes.
    “There’s too much light out here and I need to see something.”
    “That makes no sense, Libbi,” he says, but he comes with me anyway.
    The door clicks closed, and the two of us stand in the bathroom with the lights off. We don’t need the light. Max is enough. His skin blazes brilliant white. I glance in the mirror at our reflections and the difference between us is shocking.
    “What the…?” I touch my fingers to my cheek. Yes, my skin glows. But I’m dull. Really dull. If Max is a bonfire, then I’m a tea candle about to flicker out.
    “I’m not scared or anything.” Max’s sweaty hand grips mine. “But is your experiment almost done?”
    “Do you see what I’m seeing?” This time my voice shakes.
    “I can’t see anything, Libs. It’s pitch black in here.”
    The headache suddenly moves from behind my eyes to the center of my forehead and pulls, as if the pain is a rope attached to my brain and someone’s playing tug-of-war. I open the