Dead Boy

by Laurel Gale

  “What’s it like?” Melody asked. “Being dead, I mean.”

  Crow shrugged. His heart didn’t beat anymore, but it wasn’t as if people normally paid that much attention to their pulse. Really, other than the decomposition, not much had changed. “A lot like being alive. Lonelier, though.” And more maggoty, but he didn’t want to gross her out by saying that.

  “I know what you mean. I have a hard time making friends, too. When did you die?”

  Crow had to think for a while. Days spent alone seemed like decades, but he knew it hadn’t been that long. He’d died in the fourth grade. He was taking eighth-grade classes now, supplemented with whatever topics he or his mother found interesting, but that was only because he went through the material so quickly. If he still attended regular school, he’d be in the sixth grade. “A couple of years ago, I guess.”

  “How did you come back to life? Was it voodoo? Or a witch’s spell? I’ve read all about witches.”

  “It wasn’t a witch,” Crow said. “I don’t think it was. My parents just wished me back.” He had heard his father call his mother a witch once, when they thought he couldn’t hear, but he was quite sure the term had been used as an insult and not a description of any actual powers.

  Sometimes he tried to remember his death. All he could recall was a horrible hiss—or was it a howl? Maybe it was good he couldn’t sleep anymore. If he dreamed, he’d probably just have nightmares.

  Melody nodded as if she knew all about wishes. “What did they tell everyone when you came back to life? Not the truth, right?”

  “People knew that I’d died, so they couldn’t hide that. They just said that I got better. They passed it off as a miracle, one of those cases where a patient is pronounced dead, but it turns out he was in a coma, and he recovers and everyone’s happy. The doctors who examined me couldn’t find anything wrong—I hadn’t started rotting yet—although they did complain that it was hard to get a heartbeat. I went back to school for a couple of days, and I thought everything would return to normal. But then—”

  He stopped. If his tear ducts had still worked, he might have cried.

  “You started to rot,” Melody said, finishing for him.

  Crow nodded. “Yeah. Quickly, too. I tried to hide it at first, but it got too bad for that. My mom started homeschooling me. She told my friends I was too sick to play with them. They called and emailed a lot at first, then not so often, then not at all. My mom says it’s a good thing, though. Having friends I can’t hang out with would just make it harder.”

  “Well, you can hang out with me. What did you use to do with your friends?”

  “Ride bicycles. Play video games. Collect bugs. Play baseball. Normal stuff.” He’d never been lonely then.

  “That sounds nice. Except for the baseball. I’ve never been very good at sports. I don’t like bugs, either.”

  Crow winced. “Sorry about the maggots.”

  “It’s okay. I mean, as long as they don’t get on me or anything, it’s not a big deal.”

  They stared at the stars for a while. He identified the constellations for her while she told him about the aliens living on Mars.

  “Wouldn’t we know if there were aliens so close to us?” Crow asked. He’d read a lot about space, and he’d never come across any evidence of Martians.

  “There’s a big conspiracy to cover it up. I think the government wipes people’s memories. I’ve probably had mine wiped loads of times. That’s why I forget a lot of things, like when my homework’s due, and that I’m supposed to make my bed in the morning.”

  “Oh,” Crow said. “What do you think they look like?”

  “I’m not sure. They’re probably ugly, though. And scary. What do you think?”

  “I bet they’re green with tentacles.” Crow liked the idea of something more monstrous than him.

  —

  The next night, Crow gave Melody a picture he’d drawn. It showed the two of them on Mars, talking to Martians.

  “Thanks,” Melody said. She frowned.

  “What’s wrong? Did I mess up the Martians?” Crow had given them wings, which he thought looked really neat, but he wasn’t sure that was right. Melody had said the Martians lived underground, and why would anything underground need wings? But they did look cool.

  “It’s perfect. But I don’t have anything for you.”

  “Oh, that’s all right. Just having you come here every night is more than I’d hoped for. It gets so lonely being stuck at home with no friends.” He hesitated. Maybe it was better not to ask, not to make her realize that she was wasting her time with a putrid monster, but he had to know. As it was, he kept expecting her to yell gotcha and run away at any moment. “Why do you come here? I know you’ve made other friends.”

  “Yeah, they’re okay, I guess. They’re not magic.” She looked at the drawing and smiled. “I’ve always known that magic, monsters, all of it, had to be real. Ever since my mom disappeared. You’re proof.”

  “Oh,” Crow said, fairly certain that she’d just called him a monster. And fairly certain she was right.

  “Anyway, the other kids are boring. All they ever talk about is sports and makeup. You’re way more fun, and you know, like, everything about everything.”

  “Not everything.” Not according to his mother. For example, he’d only just started studying Chinese history, and he couldn’t name more than two or three of the dynasties. He’d have to study more if he wanted to pass the tests she had planned.

  Melody folded up the drawing and put it in her pocket. “Want to go somewhere?”

  “Like where?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. But we’re already sneaking out, so we might as well do it properly, right?”

  “Okay. Where do you want to go? Las Vegas? The Grand Canyon?” He had some maps in his room, although he never thought he’d get to use them.

  Melody paused. “Um, there’s a park a couple of blocks away. Why don’t we go there?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Right. I was just joking about the Grand Canyon. Are you sure your dad won’t get mad?” He knew his mom would, if she ever found out. Still, the opportunity was too tempting to pass up. The park! With slides and swings and everything.

  “My dad’s always mad at me for something,” Melody said. “Might as well give him a reason. Besides, he’ll only get mad if he finds out. We just won’t get caught. Come on.”

  She started to climb over the fence, but Crow stopped her. He opened the gate, and they both walked through it.

  Crow knew the sidewalks well. After all, he spent a good portion of his time staring at them from his window. But almost a year had passed since Halloween, when he’d last set foot beyond his yard.

  Everything seemed different, like he was stepping into a movie that he’d watched a million times. What had been flat and boring before now sprang into three-dimensional wonder.

  “Are you okay?” Melody asked.

  Crow realized he’d been standing still for several minutes now. “Yeah, fine. Let’s go.”

  Shadows blanketed the empty streets. Other than their soft footsteps, nothing made a sound. No crickets chirped. No cars drove past. No wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves. As Crow walked farther and farther from his house, he felt as if the world were watching him with bated breath.

  The park was equally silent. Crow ran from sandbox to merry-go-round to slide, desperate to try everything at once. But his dead muscles weren’t nearly as limber as live ones, and he didn’t want to have to explain a fresh set of injuries to his mother. He settled on the swings, which seemed least likely to cause another body part to fall off.

  Melody sat next to him, and they swung back and forth.

  “How did you die?” she asked. “Were you murdered horribly? I bet you were murdered horribly. I want to hear all the details. Don’t leave anything out, even if it’s gruesome. Especially if it’s gruesome.”

  “No. It was nothing like that. I was working on my dinosaur mod
el one second, and the next second I was dead.”

  Melody stopped swinging. “But what killed you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How did you come back to life? Your parents wished you back, but how?”

  “I don’t know.” He didn’t want to waste the night talking about his death. “What’s Blaze Middle School like?”

  She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I think my history teacher is a warlock. And I’m pretty sure they’re putting some sort of poison in the cafeteria food. I’ll have to bring lunches from home from now on.”

  “Huh? Why would a warlock get a job teaching? And why would he poison the food?”

  “Well, he talks about the Renaissance like he was actually there, and he’s super old, too, and his class passes really slowly. I mean really slowly. I bet he has magic that lets him control time. But I don’t think he’s poisoning the food. Somebody is, because it tastes really funny, but it’s not necessarily him.”

  Crow still didn’t think that seemed very likely. She seemed so confident, though, that he didn’t want to start a fight by saying anything. He had to be careful until he got the hang of this friend business.

  Which reminded him.

  “What about your new friends?” He hoped he’d managed to keep the jealousy out of his voice. “I saw you the other day. You were waving to Grace, Hannah, Luke, and the other kid. I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him before, ever since he moved here last year. Not that I watch him. I wasn’t watching you, either. I was just looking out my window, and there aren’t a lot of places to look, so I saw you, and—”

  “It’s okay. The other boy is Travis. He and Luke are nice, I guess. Well, not nice. Funny, though. A little loud. Luke got detention today because he kept making fun of the teacher every time he turned around. I think the teacher has eyes in the back of his head—literally—because he saw Luke and sent him to the principal’s office. And why would anyone have a comb-over like that unless they had something to hide?”

  “What about the girls, Grace and Hannah?”

  Melody shrugged. “They want to give me a makeover. They say we can pretend like I’m on one of those reality TV shows. I don’t know if I should do it. They want to dye my hair and pierce my ears, and I don’t think my dad would go for that. He won’t even let me wear lip gloss, although they say I can put it on when I get to school. What do you think? Should I let them make me over?”

  “No. I mean, if you want to, you should, but I don’t think you need to. I think you look fine.” He liked her freckles and her big toothy smile.

  “Thanks.” She winced. “Sorry. I have to go home now.”

  “Can’t we stay just a little longer?” He didn’t have a watch, but he was sure it wasn’t that late. Something else had to be wrong. “Is it because I smell? I ran out of deodorant, so I used my mom’s perfume, but I guess I used too much, and she made me wash it off—”

  “No. It’s not that. I put a little rose oil under my nose. I can’t smell anything else.”

  Crow nodded. His parents did that, too. “Then why do you want to go?”

  “I have to use the bathroom.”

  “Oh.” He looked over at the small building at the edge of the park. “Isn’t there a bathroom here?”

  “I guess, but it’s probably locked. It’s getting late, anyway, and tomorrow’s a school day.”

  Crow jumped off his swing and ran toward the small building. If it wasn’t locked, he might convince her to stay awhile longer. He pulled at the handle, but the door didn’t budge. A chain kept it firmly in place.

  But there was still a way in.

  A rectangular panel was missing from the bottom third of the door. Once it had probably been a vent, but now it was just a big hole. Big enough to crawl through. And that was exactly what Crow did.

  “Wait!” Melody said. “That’s not the bathroom! I think it’s a storage shed.”

  The information came too late. Crow was already inside. His hand fumbled for the light. He found the switch, covered in spiderweb, and flipped it on. Nothing happened. On, off, on, off, but the darkness held steady.

  Melody crawled through the hole.

  Crow could see just enough to realize there wasn’t much to see. The room was almost empty. Almost.

  Something hissed.

  “What was that?” Melody asked.

  Something growled.

  “I don’t know,” Crow said. But it sounded familiar.

  Another hiss. A howl. A squawk. Judging by the chorus of animal sounds, an entire zoo was hiding in the tiny building.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Melody said. She tugged at his shirt.

  “Wait.” He stepped farther into the shed. He’d been here before. He was sure of it. He just didn’t know when or why.

  Melody scrambled outside.

  Crow stayed. His eyes strained against the darkness. Snarls, bleats, croaks, and roars struck his ears, but he could see only a single figure scurrying in the shadows. In the darkness, he couldn’t tell what it was.

  A memory came to him. His eyes were opening for the first time after the deepest, darkest sleep. His parents stood over him, their faces streaked with tears. And there was someone else, too. No, something else. A creature. A monster.

  The same monster that chattered and cawed in the storage shed.

  The monster continued its screeching, growling, and hissing. The noise filled Crow with dread. He remembered very little about what had happened two years ago, but it was enough to convince him that this creature, whatever it was, had played a role in his current dead state. And what sort of monster could make a boy rot and crumble the way Crow did?

  An evil one.

  Besides, the animal sounds were frightening enough on their own. It seemed like there were at least a hundred beasts in the tiny shed, and every single one of them sounded hungry.

  In his rush to escape, Crow scraped his knee against the edge of the hole in the door. His skin tore. A chunk of his flesh, almost completely detached, flapped against the rest of his leg, but this didn’t slow him down. He scrambled the rest of the way through, almost somersaulting as he stumbled outside.

  Inside the building, the creature mewed and hissed and bellowed. Crow didn’t wait to see if the thing inside would emerge. He bolted.

  Death and disuse had weakened his muscles. He hadn’t run in years, and now that he needed to, his legs wouldn’t go fast enough. Melody sped ahead. He’d be left alone in the park, he realized, and the creature would devour him.

  But after a backward glance, Melody slowed down. Crow caught up to her.

  “What was that?” she asked, out of breath and wide eyed.

  “I—I don’t know.” Not exactly. But he was sure it was something horrible. “Let’s go home.”

  She nodded. They walked down the dark sidewalks, glancing over their shoulders again and again. Nothing followed them—at least, nothing they could see. But Crow still felt a pair of eyes watching him. He still heard the strange growling and hissing. Maybe it was simply the memory of the sounds echoing in his mind. Maybe not. He quickened his pace as much as his dead legs would allow.

  Soon they reached their block. The porch light at Crow’s house was on. Mrs. Darlingson stood outside. There was a man, too, whom Crow did not recognize.

  For a moment, a sense of relief overwhelmed Crow. Adults were there. They would keep him and Melody safe. Then Mrs. Darlingson started yelling, and the comfort vanished.

  ‘‘Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick! You know you’re not allowed out of the house.” She paused, looking at the stranger, and added, “At night. Something horrible could have happened.”

  Crow stared at the ground, unable to look his mother in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to go to the park.”

  “But at midnight!” the man said. “We were about to call the police. What were you thinking, Melody? This isn’t like you.”

  “Sorry, Dad.” She paused. “How did you know I was with Cr
ow?”

  The man—Mr. Plympton, Crow realized—clenched his jaw. His nostrils flared. “A neighbor called. She saw you coming over here. But that’s not really the point, is it? What were you thinking?”

  Melody lowered her head. “Sorry.”

  “Your leg!” Mr. Plympton said.

  Crow looked up. Mr. Plympton was pointing at Crow’s leg with a trembling finger.

  “We’d better call an ambulance.” He fumbled in his pocket and fished out a cell phone.

  “No!” Mrs. Darlingson yelled, startling Mr. Plympton and causing him to drop his phone. “No ambulances, please. We have our own doctor. Crow has a special skin condition.”

  “What’s that coming out of his wound? Are those worms?” Mr. Plympton’s cheeks puffed up slightly, like he was about to vomit.

  “No. Don’t be silly.” Mrs. Darlingson brushed the maggots away from Crow’s leg, careful not to tear the skin off any further. “Just some dirt. We’d better get inside and take care of this. Thank you for alerting me to the trouble tonight.”

  “But…are you sure…an ambulance…” He looked Crow up and down. Even in the dim glow of the porch light, he no doubt noticed Crow’s thin hair and sunken eyes. He was close enough to notice the smell, too, even if it was a cool night.

  “What disease does your son have?” He grabbed Melody’s hand and took a step back, yanking her away from Crow. “Is it contagious?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Darlingson said.

  Crow’s mouth fell open.

  Melody twisted her hand free of her father’s. “No, it’s not! She’s just saying that because she doesn’t want Crow to have friends.”

  “I don’t want you to be friends with Crow, either,” Mr. Plympton said, taking hold of his daughter’s hand again. “Not if this is the sort of behavior I can expect from the two of you. You’ve really disappointed me, Melody.”

  He grabbed Melody by the arm and dragged her back to their house.

  —

  Crow sat in the kitchen, his injured leg propped up on a chair, while Mrs. Darlingson stitched up the wound. For a long time, Crow stayed silent, anger flowing inside him the way blood used to.