Special Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

even use a fucking pencil,” Devon
finished.
    Miss Pulver gasped. “Devon!”
    “What?”
    She answered Devon’s murderous glare with a condescending
smile. For the moment she seemed to forget she was talking to the dead.
    “You know what. Rules are—”
    “Stupid,” Devon said. “I’m an adult. I should be
in college, not wasting my time in a room full of morons.”
    Careful, Devon. You have to
live with these morons.
    Kyle gave her the finger from across the room.
Mike noticed them looking and waved, smiling. Lydia scowled at her desk and
leaned over to murmur to Teah.
    “Miss Holcomb,” Mr. Foster said. “We’re working on
the math situation.” He leaned over her desk, his eyes wandering across the
page with no sign of comprehension. “You have to be patient.”
    Devon rolled her eyes.
    “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady.”
    Devon rolled her eyes and her whole head, the
helmet making a slow orbit around her neck before her glare snapped back to him.
“Or what, seriously? Mr. Clark’s going to cook me? For saying ‘fuck’ in class?”
She blew a kiss at Mr. Clark, the gesture made even more absurd by the helmet
and mouth guard. “Fuckety fuck fuckfuck that.”
    Mr. Clark didn’t move a muscle, and the mirrored
visor hid his reaction. His job was containment, not discipline.
    Mr. Foster crossed his arms and tried to look
stern. A nervous giggle escaped his lips. “Devon, this behavior is
unacceptable. You need to make better choices.”
    Devon grabbed the facemask of her helmet with both
hands and planted her elbows on the desk. Her mumble was almost inaudible. “Right
now I’m going to choose to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
    “Devon?” Mr. Foster reached out to put his hand on
her shoulder, then jerked it back with a nervous giggle. He knelt instead,
bringing his eyes down to her level. “I know you’re frustrated, and I
understand. I do. But we can’t have this kind of behavior in class.”
    Devon responded without looking up, her voice
muffled by her hands. “So ground me. Take away my car. Don’t let me go to the
mall. Give me out-of-school suspension. Kill me.”
    Mr. Foster yelped in fright as Mike pushed past
him. As the teacher scrambled out of the way, Mike wrapped his arms around
Devon and squeezed.
    “I love you, Devon.”
    A sob wracked her, but no tears fell. Behind them,
the pilot light on Mr. Clark’s flamethrower flickered a pale blue.
     
    *  
*   *
     
    A ladleful of a grayish-brown meat-like substance
slopped onto the hamburger bun on Ani’s plate, the greasy juice spilling over
to entwine around pallid, boiled broccoli. Mrs. Stevens’s hands trembled, her
brow creased in concentration. Even through an inch of bulletproof glass, the
cafeteria worker’s wide eyes glistened with fear. She pushed the tray through
the access slot and jerked her hands back. “There you go, hon,” she said in a
mousy voice.
    Ani carried the tray out of the line and dumped
the food into the garbage, banging the plate against the side of the can to
shake it all off. She put the tray onto the return conveyor and sat down next
to Teah.
    “This is really stupid,” Teah said. “I wouldn’t
eat that if it had brains in it.”
    Ani’s stomach lurched.
    Yes, you would. And so would I.
    She suppressed the tiny, nagging ‘ brains
brainsbrains’ and shifted her tongue under her bite guard. “Mom says it’s
state law. Now that we’re back in school, they have to give us a hot lunch.”
    Sam nodded in agreement. “That’s what my dad said.
Even if we’re not going to eat it, they have to provide it. As long as it’s
under eight-hundred fifty calories.”
    So much for thinking green.
    “I used to like ‘Sloppy Me’s,’” Joe said.
    Teah rubbed her stomach. “Maybe if it were Sloppy Brains—”
    “Stop,” Ani said. “Don’t talk about brains.”
    Brains.
    The urge was constant but not a big deal if you
didn’t think about it. Her mom said it was a craving for