Afterlife Academy

by Admans, Jaimie

  “It’s not grey,” I say in surprise.

  “No,” she says. “I don’t know why. It could be my influence over my surroundings.”

  I think about that for a moment.

  “Could that be why I’m not grey? Could I be influencing it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Because I was thinking I might still have a connection to the real world…” I start.

  “Riley, I could be out of place saying this, but this is the real world now. I know it hasn’t always been for you, and I understand that it’s hard to adjust, but when life gives you bread, make toast.”

  “I thought it was lemons and lemonade.”

  “Yes, but toast is much more comforting and won’t make you fat anymore.”

  I laugh at that.

  “Here,” she says. “This is my secret weapon.”

  I look over at the unit she is standing in front of and she steps aside to reveal a microwave.

  “Er… That’s a microwave,” I say. “Everybody’s got one. It just heats stuff up.”

  “But this is no ordinary microwave.”

  I stare at it. It looks pretty ordinary to me.

  “What do you want for breakfast?” Narcissa asks.

  I shrug.

  “Tell me anything. Something completely random.”

  “Er…” Isn’t it wonderful how I’ve craved food for years and suddenly my mind has gone completely blank and I can’t think of anything I want? “A chocolate doughnut?”

  She opens the door of the microwave, bends down and speaks to it, and then she punches some numbers in and shuts the door. The microwave starts working and a few seconds later it pings and the door flies open. Inside is a chocolate doughnut.

  I jump back in shock.

  “How did you do that?” I ask.

  “This is not just any microwave,” she says, giving it a pat. “How about some ice cream to go with that?”

  “Sure.”

  She takes the plate out and hands me the chocolate doughnut, then she speaks to the microwave again. Within seconds there is a freezing cold pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the microwave. She takes it out and hands it to me.

  “How does it do that?” I ask. “It’s a microwave and this feels like it’s just come out of the freezer.”

  “It’s a special microwave,” she says. “I don’t question it, I just use it.”

  “So this is how you can provide anything the kids ask for. You just tell the microwave and it gets it?”

  “Uh huh. There’s a platform here, see?” She pulls down a little board above the microwave. “This takes the food straight up to the counter so I can hand it to the students.”

  “But how? Where does it get things from?”

  “Like I said, I don’t question it. I just know that it works.”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “It was here when I got here. It’s my understanding that it’s been here since the school was built.”

  “And it can get you anything?”

  “Yep, anything.”

  “Even non-food?”

  “I think so,” she says. “I had a cold once and I asked it for some paracetemol and it got some for me.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “It’s certainly a lot more efficient than employing a kitchen full of chefs. Plus the microwave never undercooks anything or burns anything. I’m a bit prone to burning things myself, so no one would want to eat here if I actually did the cooking.”

  I laugh at that. Maybe the fire breath isn’t just a rumour after all.

  “Come on,” she says. “Let’s sit down. You’ve missed first class anyway.”

  “So, you live here?” I ask as I follow her around the kitchen unit to a big table in the middle of the room.

  “Yes,” she says. “My bedroom is over there and the bathroom is just down there. It really is all I need.”

  “This must be right underneath the floor of the cafeteria,” I say as I look around.

  She nods.

  “And no one knows about it?”

  “No students, no,” she says. “And I’d like it to stay that way. But for some reason I’m pretty sure I can trust you, Riley.”

  “You can. I swear I won’t tell anybody. It’s not like there’s anyone who would speak to me long enough to tell anyway. Er, not that I would or anything, even if anyone would give me the time of day. I… I’ll shut up now.”

  Narcissa laughs.

  I break the chocolate doughnut in half and push half towards her.

  “How come you’re so nice to me?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “You didn’t look at me with horror like most kids do the first time they see me. And you look like you could use a friend.”

  I nod.

  “That boy seems nice. The one you had lunch with yesterday.”

  “Anthony? Oh God, no. He’s horrible. I mean…” I stop myself and think about it for a minute. “I suppose he’s okay. He’s actually been really nice since we got here, but he’s so not my type it’s not even funny.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a long story. We come from the same school. It was actually my boyfriend who killed Anthony. And me as well. It was an accident, of course, but still. The point is that Anthony was possibly the biggest nerd in our school and if my friends could see me talking to him, I’d be exiled. The only possible reason to talk to Anthony would be to set him up for some kind of practical joke.”

  “You seemed to be enjoying his company.”

  “No!” I think for a moment. “Well, okay, maybe. But it’s strictly because of the dire situation here. My friends would kill me for even looking at him.”

  “No offence, Riley, but your friends aren’t here and probably never will be.”

  “It doesn’t matter. No, my friends aren’t here, but Anthony… He’s okay, I suppose. There aren’t exactly a whole lot of other choices here. But in the real world, Anthony is the joke of the school.”

  “There you go with the real world thing again. This is the real world now, and if you and Anthony are friends now, then that’s real too. This is all there is.”

  “Not necessarily,” I say. “I don’t think I belong here. Maybe I won’t be here for very long.”

  I don’t want to say too much. Narcissa might be being nice to me, but if I tell her my plans, there’s nothing to say she won’t run straight to a teacher and tell them everything. That would be my escape plan scuppered.

  “Do you believe in fate?”

  Er… Hello, left field? Where did that come from? “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Perhaps you ended up here for a reason, Riley. I think you’re making things harder on yourself by looking at this the wrong way. You shouldn’t see this as an end to life but as a beginning to something else.”

  “But I didn’t want my life to end,” I say. “Whatever Gloria says about the people who chose to be here, that’s up to them. I died in an accident. I’m sixteen. I’m leaving school in two months. I’m doing my GCSEs and going to college. My life was just beginning. I didn’t choose to be here. I didn’t want this. I loved my life. I loved my friends and my boyfriend and my family. I didn’t want to die. Why should I have to just accept it?”

  “Everything happens for a reason,” she says.

  “How about you?” I ask, trying to get off the topic. “How did you end up here? Where do you come from?”

  “They were advertising for a job and I needed one,” she says.

  “Where do you come from? Are you dead as well?”

  “I’m part demon on my father’s side,” she says. “I was born dead.”

  “What about your home? Where you lived? Do you ever get weekends off to go and see your family? What’s outside this school?”

  “You have a lot of questions.”

  I nod. “This is kind of new to me.”

  “I needed a job and this came up. It’s that simple.”

  “How long have you worked here?”

&
nbsp; “About ten years. I don’t know. Time passes differently here. Years don’t mean as much as what you learn in them.”

  “What did you do before?”

  “I think we should talk about something else,” she says. “The teachers don’t like you learning about what’s outside until you’re ready to.”

  “That is such bullshit,” I snap. “I’m ready to learn everything. I want to know where this hellhole is and how I can get out of it.”

  “I’m pretty sure you can’t get out of it until you graduate, Ril—”

  “This is bullshit. What if I’m not supposed to be here—”

  I stop for a minute as I realise I’m taking out my frustrations on her when she’s just trying to be nice to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. You’re the kindest person I’ve met here. I just have no idea what’s going on. I don’t know what to do and I’m feeling kind of lost.”

  “You must have a group-therapy session on your schedule this week,” she says.

  “I don’t need therapy,” I say. “I just need to go home.”

  I know she wants to say something. Probably tell me that this is my home now. But she doesn’t. “Is this very different from your old school?” she asks instead.

  “What, you mean besides everyone being dead?”

  She smiles. “You know what I mean.”

  “Building-wise, this is my old school. But yeah, it’s different. The Goths are popular. I’m the outcast because I’m colourful. Back at home, people really like me. Back at home, girls like my roommate Caydi are the outsiders. I make fun of girls like her. Here she is taking pity on me. Then there’s Anthony. I ate lunch with Anthony. If Sophie—that’s my best friend—saw me, she would never speak to me again. You could say things are fairly different here.”

  “No one should be judged by superficial things. Why don’t you like Anthony in your old school?”

  “Because he’s a geek. Because he likes maths and science and carries a scientific calculator around in his pocket.”

  “Yes, but why don’t you like him? Has he ever done anything nasty to you or your friends? Has he ever been rude?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “So what’s wrong with him?”

  “It’s just the dynamics of modern life. He doesn’t have to be rude or nasty. He just doesn’t fit in. He’s quiet and a loner and he actually enjoys going to school. He’s exactly the type of person you can make fun of to make other people think you’re cool. It’s a dog eat dog world out there. If you don’t pick on someone then someone else will pick on you.”

  “There are more important things in life than being cool,” Narcissa says. “Like being a nice person and having friends who appreciate you for who you are, not who you hang out with or who you’re unkind to.”

  “Yeah, well, Sophie and Wade appreciate who I am just fine. They just don’t appreciate uncool kids like Anthony.”

  Narcissa looks at me doubtfully.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” I say. “I do feel bad about the way I used to behave. I know the way I treated people like Anthony was wrong, but there’s not much I can do about it now.”

  “I take it you haven’t been to Redemption class yet, then?”

  “Redemption class?”

  “I’ll leave that as a surprise,” she says.

  I let out a frustrated moan.

  “Come on, I’m going to have to start the lunch shift soon, and you need to get yourself sorted for class this afternoon.”

  I stand up from the table. “Thank you,” I tell her. “For everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” She smiles. “And don’t forget what I said Riley—when life gives you bread, make toast. Or lemonade if you prefer. And don’t judge every book by its cover, okay?”

  I nod.

  “And try to make the best of every situation. Even this one. I’ll see you at lunchtime, right?”

  “Okay, thanks,” I say as I make my way back up the stairs and emerge into the empty grey canteen.

  I think about what she said as I trudge back up to the dorm room. Charlie growls at me as I walk in, but I ignore him. I sit on my bed and stare at the photos of Wade and my family that were in my suitcase. I have to get out of here, no matter what Narcissa thinks. That was my life and I want it back. I finger the rose around my neck, but I can’t really concentrate on Wade at the moment.

  I can’t believe the accident was only a couple of days ago and everything that has happened since. I feel like I’ve been here for weeks. Maybe I have. Narcissa did say something about time passing differently here. Maybe it does. Maybe this is some huge karmic payback for what an utter cow I was before.

  Well, I’ve already learnt the error of my ways. I know that you shouldn’t pick on people with red hair or maths calculators in their pockets and that Goths are just like us with different taste in make-up.

  I get that now. If they just let me go home, I won’t do it again and I’ll stop my friends doing it too.

  Just let me go back.

  CHAPTER 12

  I’m just about to walk into the canteen on my own when Anthony calls me.

  “Hey, slow down!” He runs up to me. “Where were you this morning? You missed maths.”

  “Oh, really? I had no idea.”

  He smirks.

  “Well, if I had known it was maths I would have made a special effort to skip anyway.”

  “So, wanna grab some lunch with me?” he asks.

  I stare at him for a moment. “Sure,” I say eventually.

  Because he is voluntarily talking to me. Because he is the only person in this entire school who talks to me at all. Apart from Caydi, and she sits with a huge gang of other Goths talking and laughing and generally looking very happy, and I’m pretty positive that they wouldn’t want a brown-haired “cheerleader” joining their group.

  Besides, Narcissa did have a point. I have actually enjoyed spending time with Anthony.

  “So, is maths any less mind-numbing in a different dimension?” I ask him as we walk in.

  “It’s good,” he says. “We’re doing exactly what we were doing in our old school.”

  “I have no idea what that was anyway.”

  “I was a bit worried about having to catch up,” he continues excitedly. “But it’s good that we’re all at the same level.”

  This boy really likes maths.

  “So, what do you have this afternoon?” I cut in before he starts going on about the joys of quadratic equations.

  “Visualisation,” he says. “Same as you, right?”

  I nod. I don’t tell him that I really, really want to visualise Wade.

  “You wanna see your folks?” he asks me.

  I shrug.

  “I don’t,” he says. “I’d rather wait until after the funeral is over and that. I bet my gran is in a right state now. I don’t think it would do me any good to see her.”

  I nod.

  But I have to see Wade. I have to know how bad his injuries are so I know how long it will be before he can come and rescue me.

  “Hey, Ant! Over here!” some boy yells as we walk into the canteen.

  Anthony smiles and waves at him. “I’ll catch ya later,” he yells back.

  I look over at the boy. It’s not Anthony’s roommate. It must be someone else he’s made friends with.

  Huh.

  Anthony’s made a new friend.

  I’m about to say something sarcastic when another boy waves at Anthony and beckons him over.

  Anthony waves back but moves his hand in a “no” motion.

  We walk closer to the food line and yet another boy shouts at us.

  “Anthony, man, sit with us!” He thumps the seat beside him and again Anthony smiles and waves but says no.

  Other people wave to Anthony as we pass. When we join the lunch queue, a boy near the front turns round and says that we can cut in front of him.

  “It’s okay, thanks Scott,” A
nthony says sweetly.

  Huh.

  Anthony made new friends. Anthony made a lot of new friends.

  Anthony is popular.

  That’s a bit of a turn-up for the books.

  I get that he’s kind of a nice guy if you give him a chance. And he wouldn’t be bad-looking if you gave his hair a trim and changed his glasses for contact lenses. But he still loves maths, has a scientific calculator in his front pocket, and he’s still a geek.

  And people like him.

  Even I like him a little bit. I mean, the long hair is kind of cute, and if you tilt your head the right way, the glasses could be considered adorable. He’s not perfect, but maybe perfect is overrated. After all, Wade was perfect, and he bloody got me killed, didn’t he?

  We collect our lunch from Narcissa. She smiles and winks when she sees me with Anthony and puts another tub of ice cream on my tray. If this was the real world I would weigh a ton by now.

  Anthony and I sit at the same table we sat at yesterday.

  “So… someone got popular,” I say as we sit down.

  He blushes and starts unwrapping his sandwich.

  “Did I miss something major this morning?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” he says. “But things are different here. People think I’m cool because I know the answers in maths. And hey, no one stole my glasses.”

  I know I look guilty at that because he quickly backpedals and says, “I’m only joking.”

  “You can go and sit with those boys if you want,” I say to him. “You don’t have to eat with me just because you feel sorry for me.”

  “I don’t. I kind of like eating with you.”

  I find it totally cute that he blushes again when he says that. I can’t help but smile at him.

  “So you’re popular and I’m the outsider,” I mutter. “This really is a screwed-up dimension.”

  He shrugs. “You just need to get more involved. So far all you’ve done is sit around and moan that you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “I’m not,” I say.

  “Just make the best of it,” he says. “No one wants to die. But for some people this is a fresh start. Maybe you should look at it the same way.”