Special Dead by Patrick Freivald Read Free Book Online Page A

years.
    “Especially if you pee on it,” Kyle said from
behind them.
     
    *  
*   *
     
    At lunch, Ani sat with the boys after throwing
away her limp hot dog and four soggy tater tots. Joe broke out a deck of cards
and dealt—euchre, as always. Ani expected Kyle to complain about Mike as a
partner, but he didn’t. Ani wasn’t very good, and neither was Joe. Mike used to
be, and Kyle still was. Maybe he liked the handicap.
    They played three games before the bell rang, then
Mr. Benson escorted them up to their room. The blonde woman Ani had seen the
week before stood off to the side, but she wasn’t introduced. Mike said “Hi,”
and she gave him a nod but said nothing. After about an hour of social studies,
“independent reading and writing,” she walked out.
    “Who was that?” Kyle asked without raising his
hand.
    Mr. Foster giggled. “That was Doctor Freeman, from
Geneseo. She was here observing me.”
    “What for?”
    “I’m getting my Master’s Degree. She’s observing
my teaching to see how I’m doing.”
    Sam leaned over and whispered, “Bullshit. That
lady was an ice queen.”
    Miss Pulver admonished Sam with a look but was too
far away to hear her. Devon raised an eyebrow. Sam looked at Ani for support.
Ani shrugged.
    “Look,” Sam said. “She wasn’t nervous. No
sweating. No fidgeting. Have you met anyone who’s stuck in a room with us the
first time and isn’t freaking out?”
    “Ani’s mom,” Devon said. “Doctor Banerjee.”
    Sam shook her head. “They don’t count. After prom,
they’d been dealing with us for weeks, months even, before we came back to
sanity. We just don’t remember.”
    Devon grunted. They both looked at Ani.
    “I’ll ask Mom.”
    They distracted Miss Pulver so Ani could use her
phone. Her mom couldn’t provide any insight but took the time to chide Ani for
texting during class.

 
     
    Chapter
    7
     
     
    When
Ani got out of the bath at 3:30 am, her mom was up and sporting a gray wool
pantsuit, a dirty-blonde wig that screamed “Hillary Clinton,” and low heels.
Her makeup was a little on the heavy side, but it had been getting heavier for
months so Ani decided not to comment.
    No reason to rub it in.
    Ani showered the chemicals from her body and put
on her predetermined outfit, a cautious navy skirt and jacket with a cream
blouse underneath. Her mom’s brown flats weren’t flattering but at least she
could walk in them. Ani didn’t bother with a wig or earrings—the bright orange
helmet would destroy any attempts in that direction—but she gave her face as
much of a natural color as she could without looking slutty. It’s so nice to
wear pink lipstick for a change. Coordinating it with pink nail polish had
been her idea.
    Finally satisfied, she closed her makeup case and
put it in her purse. She strapped on the helmet, turned around, and smiled. “How
do I look?”
    Her mom’s brown eyes scanned every inch of her
outfit and makeup, twice. “Sweetie, you look like a teenage girl trying out for
the Bengals. It’s good.” She spritzed a little vanilla perfume. “But try not to
smile too much. Your gums are grayer than they should be, and there’s nothing
we can do about it.”
    The butterflies in her stomach were wrestling. “I
don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
    “Good.” Her mom gave her a curt nod, then smiled
and hugged her. Pushing her back to look in her eyes, Sarah let her smile fade.
“Because we can’t screw this up.”
    You mean I can’t screw this up.
    “Are you ready to go, sweetie?”
    “Yup.”
    Five minutes later they left the laboratory
compound in the back of a military prison transport painted in green
camouflage. Mr. Clark sat on the hard wooden bench across from them, his open
visor revealing glassy, bloodshot eyes over deep purple bags. Mr. Benson sat
shotgun, and two guards manned the back door. Ani’s grumbling hadn’t stopped
anyone from affixing the chains to her leg irons.
    Dr. Banerjee met