Death's Academy Read Online Free PDF Page A

her scalp and places them lovingly on the floor.
    I navigate myself to the far end of the bed and sit down, keeping one eye on Pandora.
    “Meat loaf and corn! Meat loaf and corn!” she yells.
    “Ugh. I hate meat loaf,” I say under my breath.
    Pandora stops pulling hairs out and glances up at me.
    “More for Pandora then, yes?” she asks without screaming at me.
    “Yes, you can have all my meat loaf and corn,” I say.
    Pandora’s eyes mist over, and her face contorts into a hideous smile. Moving faster than her age should allow, she springs over and grapples me into a fierce bear hug.
    “Get off! Get off!” I shout, trying to squirm away. Pandora must do a lot of working out in the Lock’s gym because she’s got the grip of an orangutan. Her arms are just about as hairy as one too.
    I can’t break free. I nearly faint from her rancid breath, but just as I think I’m going to give up the ghost, she releases me. She doesn’t go far. She sidles up to me, nearly sitting on my leg.
    “Love you! Love you, Meatloaf-and-Corn! So what did Meatloaf-and-Corn do? Whatcha do?” she asks.
    “My name is Night.”
    “No, nope, nopers, Meatloaf-and-Corn!”
    “Whatever,” I say, scooting away from her but nearly slip off the bed. She won’t have it. She bounces over to sit right next to me. I try to get up, but she grabs me by the belt loop and tugs me back onto the bed.
    “Talkity-talk now, Meatloaf-and-Corn,” she says.
    I try to get up again, but I can tell she’s got a fistful of belt in her hand, and I don’t budge from my spot on the bed.
    “I was practicing for my Death’s Academy entrance exam,” I peep.
    “Bad Meatloaf, bad Corn. Offed someone illegally, did you, bad boy?” she asks with a grin.
    “Not someone. A half-dead chipmunk and he got away.”
    She lets out a machine-gun laugh and smacks her knee. A cloud of dust erupts from her pants, and I gag.
    “Not very good, are you? Not very good! You’ll never get in, nope, nope, nope!” She laughs. Hercackle doesn’t last long. She doubles over once again with a vicious series of coughs. I use this distraction to jump away and cradle myself against the far corner.
    Her cough eventually subsides, and I brace myself for another encounter with this crazy hag. However, what she does next catches me off guard. Tears spring from her eyes and she smears them away with her dirt-caked serape, or poncho, or whatever that mustard-yellow piece of clothing is that she’s wearing. The cloth is so dirty that it paints mud around her eyes, making them look even more sunken in than before.
    Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that she isn’t pawing all over me, but this whole crying thing is a bit unnerving. A sob erupts from her chest, and she scoots herself on the bed so I can only see her quivering back.
    Against my better judgment, I speak. “What’s wrong?”
    “No, not going to say,” she says between sniffs. “Okay, I’ll say … I remembered Pandora taught at Death’s Academy, before you, before this,” she croaks and starts to wring her hands together. “Pandora was famous. A great professor, she had many students. More than she can count.” She folds her arms tightly into her chest. “Not anymore.”
    I don’t think my eyebrows could get any higher on my forehead. There is no way that this batty creature could have ever taught at Death’s Academy.
    “Pandora wasn’t always this way. Pandora wasn’tconfused and silly,” she says and then pushes herself up from the bed. She stands more erectly than before and brushes her hair from her face. Taking measured steps, she reaches the cell bars and grasps them with her hands.
    She glances over at me, a bit of light from the flickering torch illuminating her eyes. They are red from crying but seem steady and in control. She looks away and places her forehead on the iron bar.
    “What happened?” I ask.
    She doesn’t move from the spot, but releases an exhausted sigh.
    “Pandora taught a lot of