over their heads to keep the
sun off. Her presence scattered the mosquitoes and flies brought out by the
warm weather, leaving her mom bite-free.
“Are you ready for Tuesday?” Sarah asked, kicking
a cobble down the sidewalk.
“Yeah,” Ani said. “My skirt-suit’s in the closet.
Can I borrow your brown flats?”
Her mom frowned. “Don’t you think heels would be
more appropriate? This is the district court, not a classroom.”
Ani bit her lip. “Um, have you ever tried walking
in heels and leg irons?”
Her mom laughed, a rare and wonderful sound. “Okay,
good point. Flats it is.”
To the left of the sidewalk, something white lay
in the grass, overwhelmed by a buzzing cloud of flies. “Remember this isn’t a
trial, but you’ll be under oath. You have to keep your story straight, and—”
“I know, I know. Don’t give details unless I have
to.” Her mom angled off the sidewalk to approach the white thing. “Don’t
mention anything about ZV prior to prom. Claim ignorance on everything Dylan-related.”
“...and shoulder everything research-related onto
Rishi—Colonel Banerjee. I got back into ZV research after the prom.”
The flies scattered as her mom reached down.
Something brown tumbled out of the white thing when she held it up. A Burger King
wrapper, with maggots abandoning ship as fast as they could wriggle.
“Right. I’ve got the timeline down.”
Her mom shook out the wrapper and crushed it in
her fist. “How would this even....” With no garbage can in sight, she stuffed
it into her pocket. “Is your homework done?”
Ani shook her head. “Not yet. I have some math and
government. I’ll do it after dinner.”
“Okay. We should probably get you out of the sun.”
Ani smiled. “More you than me. Sun damage is cured
every night for us dead kids.”
Her mom pursed her lips. “That was quite an
improvement.”
They walked in companionable silence back to the
dormitory.
*
* *
“Oh, lovely,” Sam said. “Are they making up their
own commandments now?”
Ani looked across the Zombie Yard to where Teah
sat, fourteen feet and a world away from Bill on the outside. Bill still looked
suspicious in his identity-hiding hat, sunglasses, and coat. Behind the picket,
the crowd was down to fourteen dour jerks with nothing better to do, including
Lydia’s old pastor and the rock-thrower, Jeremy. They had two new signs: “The
Wages of Sin is Death!” and “Thou Shalt not Lie with the Dead!!!”
“I think the exclamation points really make their
point,” Sam said. “They should drive it home with an ‘lol.’”
Joe looked up from his sidewalk drawing and called
out across the yard. “They should have one that says, ‘Anyone who has a better
time than me is going to hell.’”
Lydia smiled. “‘We hate kids with cancer, too!’”
“Will you people shut up?” Devon said. “I’m trying
to study.” She glared at them over her economics textbook.
“How’s your hand?” Lydia asked.
“It’s fine.” She flexed her fingers. “Good as new,
near enough.”
Lydia’s eyes widened. “Does it hurt?”
Devon stared at her until she averted her gaze,
then looked back down at her book.
Ani walked over to Joe. The concrete slab that
once contained a merry-go-round was covered with chalk pictures. Flowers,
people, horses, whales, even Jim Morrison, mouth open wide, out of which flew
the Starship Enterprise.
“Wow,” Ani said. “Did you do all that today?”
He touched up the edge of an orca with blue
pastel. “Nope. I started it last week. Now I’m just adding little details.”
“It’s...incredible, Joe.” I had no idea you
could do this. “Too bad it’s going to wash away in the rain.”
Joe smiled up at her, shielding his eyes against
the sun. “I think that’s why it’s my favorite medium. It’s transitory. Like us.
Ugly or beautiful, soon enough chalk art is just washed away.”
I’d never have thought of that
in a million
Learning to Kill: Stories