Growing Up Dead, page 5
K.X. glares at me, her face still red, which looks kind of Christmassy against her green skin. “I’m going to be late for my next class.”
“But—”
She glares so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if lasers shot out of her eyes, like some kind of robot pixie. Her wings play background music that could be from a horror movie, and it sends chills down my spine.
I swallow back what I was going to say. K.X. pushes past me, stomping her feet all the way back to the school, her horror music following her. Anyone in her path dives out of the way when they hear her coming.
I don’t know what got K.X. so mad. All I know is that Lila is going to the dance, but not with Razor. And not with me.
Chapter Six
I'M SITTING WITH THE mummy twins at lunch. This is how low I've fallen. Just yesterday, I was the leader of my own band, and now I’ve been reduced to sitting with two of the weirdest kids in school, on the edge of the lunch grounds. They’re not even real mummies, they just wrap themselves together in bandages to pretend they’re Siamese twins instead of boring old regular twins. But they like to think that they’re real mummies, and they stink like embalming fluid.
“Nox, my new friend,” they both say at once—which is really disturbing—“would you like to share some of my orange juice?” They both hold out their juice boxes.
Do I look like I drink orange juice? “No thanks.” I try to say that as politely as I can while not making direct eye contact with them. I don’t know if I should correct them about me being their new friend. I hope they know that me sitting here is just on a trial basis. I haven’t made any lifelong commitments to be their pal or anything.
Ben, the “mummy” on the left, jabs Dave, his “not-so-Siamese twin,” in the ribs. “Did you see The Mummy Stole my Baby last night?”
Which is a stupid question, because they probably watched it together. They do everything together, what with being fake joined at the hip and all.
“Of course!” Dave throws his hands up as he says it, that’s how excited he is. “And the baby turned out to be—” He stops, and they both look at me. “Did you see it, Nox? We wouldn’t want to spoil the ending.”
I should lie and say yes, but my brain doesn’t work fast enough. “No.” No, I was busy lamenting over my band members breaking my poor little heart and then stomping on it. I think there must be an illness going around called “Be Mean to Nox” disease—BMNs, they call it—and it’s spreading all over. First my parents, then Chug, and now the whole band. I’m probably the carrier, since the only thing they all have in common is that they’ve come in close contact with me. It’s only a matter of time before Ben and Dave catch it, too, so maybe I should enjoy their mummy talk and offerings of orange juice while I can.
“It was great!” They’re back to speaking at the same time. It sounds like there’s an echo. “It was all about this lady, and she hires a detective to find her missing baby, but then it turns out a mummy stole it and— Do you mind if we spoil it?”
I wave my hand at them to go ahead.
“The baby turns out to be a crocodile! It’s the reincarnation of the pharaoh’s long lost pet, and he just wanted to get it back so he could rest in peace.”
Ben sighs. “It gets lonely in the pyramid.”
Great. I ignore them for a minute and take a sip of my lunch, hoping to disguise the fact that I’m actually watching my ex-friends at their table. Not that the mummy twins would notice anything besides themselves, but I don’t want it to look like I actually care what’s going on over there. Because I don’t. I don’t care that Heath has his face buried in his lunch, like always, or that K.X. is reading her book with a very angry scowl on her face, instead of actually eating. And I especially don’t care that Jordan is pulling out a chair for Lila and sitting awfully close to her and... and holding her hand.
I feel so sick, I stop in mid drink. My brain ceases functioning, so that I can’t set my cup down and I can’t swallow the blood that’s already in my mouth. I can only sit there, frozen in place.
“Hey, Ben,” Dave says, “remember that time when we died and our loyal subjects pulled our brains out through our nose to prepare us for the afterlife?’
“Yeah,” Ben says with a nostalgic sigh. “That was awesome.”
***
I can’t help it. I have to make an appearance at the old Daybreakers’ table. While the mummy twins are busy fake reminiscing about the good ol’ times they had not being pharaohs, I mumble that I have some business to attend to, then hurry across the lunch grounds. Except I don’t want to look like I’m running, so I slow down as I get to the table. I hope nobody notices that I’m kind of out of breath.
Jordan is the first one to spot me. His eyes light up, like he’s actually happy I came. “Nox! Where have you been, buddy?”
Not sitting with the traitors I thought were my friends, that’s where.
Lila sort of waves at me—I guess she doesn’t have any hard feelings over what happened in the chemistry lab—but she doesn’t stop holding Jordan’s hand.
Jordan suddenly looks really worried. “You didn’t get Chugged, did you?”
I shake my head. I hate Jordan for caring about me right now. I hate that he’s actually glad to see me and can act like nothing happened. Like he didn’t vote me out of my band and steal away the girl I like. “I have other friends, you know. Other people who need my attention. I can’t always sit with you guys.”
“Psh,” K.X. says. “Yeah, right. Like you really care about the bandage brothers.” She glances up from her reading, gets a quick peek at Jordan and Lila, then gets so involved in her book again that I think her nose is going to get stuck in the spine. Her cheeks are red, and she’s looking a little Christmassy again.
“Nox,” Heath says, chewing his raw pork chops like cud, “this is Lila. She’s going to be our lead singer for the Battle of the Bands contest.”
“I can’t wait!” Lila says, squeezing Jordan’s hand extra hard. I see the same stars in her eyes that've been in mine for years. “I’ve never... I mean, I’ve sung on stage for competitions, but never at a club. All my friends are going to come cheer us on. It’s going to be awesome!”
Finally, Jordan looks a little awkward. He clears his throat. “We’re going to the dance together, so I asked her if she wouldn’t mind singing on Friday.”
Lila looks really confused right now. I bet on top of her having absolutely no idea who I was until I borrowed a quarter from her yesterday—a quarter I still have in my pocket; maybe I should draw hearts all over it, too, just in case Chug loses my key chain and needs a backup—she had no idea I was in the band. And obviously nobody thought to tell her she’s a scab.
I’m about to, but then I see the look on Lila’s face—confusion mixed with disappointment and hurt, like she’s already figuring this out and thinking of resigning as lead singer—and I can’t do it. How can I accuse the girl I love of stealing my place in the spotlight? Especially when she had no idea she was doing it, and you can tell she’s really excited about going to the Pink Stripe Graveyard Friday night and singing her heart out. Plus, that would leave the band with no lead singer at all.
Okay, so I don’t care so much about them. So what if they end up with no lead singer and find out they can’t make it without me? But I don’t want to ruin Lila’s dreams. If they’re the same dreams that I have, then I know how much it’ll hurt to lose them.
“That’s great.” I'm lying through my pointy teeth, but I hope it doesn’t show.
K.X. raises an eyebrow at me.
Jordan breathes a sigh of relief. “So, Nox, are you going to sit down or what?”
He means at their lunch table, because I’m still standing around like an idiot. I glance over my shoulder at the mummy twins’ table, where my lunch is getting cold. Ben and Dave are practicing wrapping bandages around their heads and probably haven’t noticed I’m gone.
I sit down next to Lila. I could pretend I’m being bold and daring and trying to give Jordan a run for his money, but really it was just the only empty seat.
***
“I do not like Jordan,” K.X. says. “Not like that, anyway.” But I don’t know if I believe her, because she’s not even giving me her stern librarian look. She’s not looking at me at all.
But maybe that’s because we’re in the boys’ bathroom and she can’t stop gaping at the urinals and holding her nose. I guess, in retrospect, this wasn’t the best place to hold a secret anti-Daybreakers meeting, or to accuse her of liking Jordan and having ulterior motives for getting me to ask out Lila, but knowing K.X., if I’d said I wanted to talk to her in private, she would've dragged me off somewhere awful, probably the girls’ bathroom, and I didn’t want to risk that. I’ve had enough embarrassment for one day. Oh, wait, I mean lifetime.
“I used to like him,” she adds, “but that was, like, in sixth grade. Back when we formed the band.” Her wings twitch as she talks, and she keeps playing with a lock of her hair. “I’m so over him now.” It helps that she gags when she says it, but that’s probably because of the smell in here. For a second, I think she’s going to be sick in one of the urinals. “Seriously, Nox, can we find somewhere else to discuss this?”
I squint at her and open my mouth so my fangs show. I hope I look intimidating and not just like a mouth breather. “So you wouldn’t have had any reason to, say, get me to ask out Lila, even though you already knew she was going to the dance with someone else?” That someone else being Jordan, of course. I couldn't help noticing how uncomfortable K.X. looked at lunch today whenever she snuck a glimpse of Jordan and Lila holding hands. So wouldn't it be convenient if I asked out Lila, she said yes, and Jordan was free again?
K.X. sucks in her breath. “It’s not what you think.”
Someone comes in the bathroom. A seventh grader. K.X. and I both glare so hard at him, he turns and walks back out before he can finish pointing and saying, “A g-g-girl!”
“Well?” I ask K.X., getting back to business. My spine might not have fully grown in, but so far today I’ve had the guts to both ask out Lila and stand up to K.X. I'm not letting her weasel out of giving me an answer. “If it’s not what I think, then what is it?”
She puts a finger to her lips to shush me and stares at the floor, focusing on a stray square of toilet paper and thinking really hard. Then a smile wriggles across her face, and she gives me her criminal mastermind look. “Nox, listen, I’m sorry about deceiving you and all that, but I’ve got a plan. To solve all your problems.”
The bell's going to ring soon, but even when it does, I’m not letting her go without giving me an answer. “Don’t change the subject. And how am I supposed to believe you about anything if I know you’re just using me?”
“It’s a really clever plan—”
“K.X.!”
“All right.” She wraps her arms around herself. Her wings droop. “But if you ever tell anyone what I’m about to say... Maybe I liked being the only girl in the band, okay?” Her eyes dart over to see my reaction. “I mean, it’s not like I want to go out with any of you guys.” She pauses to roll her eyes, so I know how much she doesn’t think about any of us in that way.
Great. Even my closest female friend—er, ex-friend—thinks I’m too much of a loser to ever be thought about as boyfriend material.
“But it’s still attention. And maybe I liked being the only one to get it. I know I said you should ask out Lila, for the sake of the band, but that was before she actually joined up. I thought I could handle it.”
I’m about to say I think I understand, except that I don’t. “So let me get this straight. You are or you aren’t jealous that Jordan and Lila are going to the dance together?”
She lifts up her glasses and peers at me from underneath them. Her eyes look weird because I’m not used to seeing them not magnified, but it doesn’t matter how small they are, because they’re scarier than ever. “It’s just a stupid old dance, Nox. Who really goes to those things anyway?”
Jordan always does, but I don’t mention that. “Yeah. It’s kind of lame.” At least it probably would be, if I ever got to go to one.
“Anyway,” K.X. says, grinning and rubbing her hands together, “I was about to tell you my clever plan.”
The bell rings, but before I can go, she grabs my arm. “You’ll want to hear this, vamp-boy, because I know how to save you from Chug.”
Chapter Seven
I WAS WRONG. K.X. isn’t just my ex-friend. She isn’t just one of the traitors who voted me out of my own band. She’s trying to kill me.
I wish I was joking, but that clever plan she was talking about? Well, it sounded a lot more appealing while we were standing around the boys’ bathroom, and now that we’re crouching under Chug’s bedroom window, at his house, it doesn’t sound so cool.
“All right, Nox, let’s go over the plan one more time.” K.X. is shorter than me and her skin is green, so she blends in with the bush we’re hiding behind a lot better than I do. And even if her wings stick out a little, I doubt anyone would notice them before they noticed the pasty-white vampire lurking next to her.
K.X. counts out the steps of her plan on her fingers. “One, you get inside via the window. Note the open window directly above us—”
“I know what window you’re talking about. I’m not stupid.”
K.X. looks down her nose at me, as if I’ve just been shouting in the library, then goes on. “Two, you find the stupid key chain. Step two A, you don’t get caught.”
I roll my eyes at her. It really bugs me that she thinks I’m so dumb. Okay, maybe K.X. kind of treats everyone like that, even Jordan, so I don’t know why I’d be the exception. But we’ve known each other for years. She should realize we’re not all completely stupid, especially me. What did I ever do to her to make her think I was incompetent?
“Nox? Are you listening?!”
My thoughts snap back to reality. “Er, well...”
“You’re always so spacey. Did you get step number three, or should I repeat—”
“Step three, get back outside. I’ve got it down, don’t worry. There’s just one problem with your little plan.”
K.X. glares, not believing me at first. Then she chews her lip, her forehead wrinkling. Her glasses slide down her nose, but she doesn’t fix them.
I’m not going to gloat, just because I thought of something K.X. didn’t. Just because I found a flaw in her marvelous plan doesn’t mean I’m going to rub it in her face. Even if the gloating gene is something I’ve probably inherited from my mom, who doesn’t ever waste an opportunity for gloating, especially when it involves her being right and me being wrong. I’m not going to do that. It’s much cooler of me to sit here, waiting for K.X. to figure it out.
I can’t help grinning at her when she looks stumped. “Give up?”
She snaps her fingers. “You can’t go in!” She smacks her forehead, the leaves of the bush rustling from her movement. “It’s not like you and Chug are best buddies. He wouldn’t have ever invited you.” She breathes a deep sigh of relief and wipes the sweat off her forehead.
As much as I wanted to have one up on K.X., maybe it’s better she figured it out on her own. If she’d thought she was actually wrong about something, she might have had a nervous breakdown. And I’d be the only one around to deal with it, which means I’d have to flag down a stranger—or worse, go knock on Chug’s door and beg whoever’s home for help—and make them call 911 or take us to the hospital. Or wherever it is you go when someone has a nervous breakdown.
On the other hand, maybe if all that did happen, as scary as it would be, K.X. might be impressed with how well I handled the situation. You know, once she was herself again. She’d realize I was the one who’d saved her and that I’m not so incompetent after all.
“Okay,” K.X. says, “slight change of plans.” Before she can tell me what they are, she stands up, brushing stray leaves off her wings, and double-checks to make sure no one's watching. She’s really obvious about it—she might as well be wearing a ski mask and a black and white striped shirt, that’s how criminal she looks. Then she reaches up toward the window and pushes it farther open. Lucky for us, Chug likes a breeze in his room. I just hope he’s not crouched under it on the other side, listening to our plans.
For a second, I picture K.X. climbing through, only to have Chug waiting to pound her. I shudder when I think about how she’ll look with broken wings. I wonder how well pixie wings heal from something like that. What if K.X.’s music career is over? Not that she wasn’t perfectly happy to end mine by throwing me out of the band, but still. Her music is as important to her as mine is to me, and deep down, I really don’t want to see her get mangled for life.
“Wait—” I stand up, grabbing K.X.’s arm. “I can’t let you do this.”
She gives me one of her looks. “Nox, what crazy nonsense has wormed its way into your undead brain now?”
I can’t tell her that if one of us is going to get pounded, it should be me. “It’s just... what if he’s in there? And the window’s open, and he might have heard everything, and he might just be waiting for one of us to go in—”
“Nox.” K.X. shoves my hand off her arm. “Do you honestly think Chug has the patience to just huddle in his room while listening to us talk about breaking into his house?”
I think about it. “I don’t know.”
K.X. shrugs. “Me neither, but I figure we’d still be able to hear him breathing.” She breathes really loudly through her mouth, making gurgling sounds. “The boy is loud and smelly and definitely not here. And as long as you’re just standing there, give me a boost.”
K.X. holds out one foot. I think I’m supposed to cup my hands together so she can step on them, but I’ve led such a busy life of, well, not breaking into people’s houses that I’ve never done it before.
I hold my hands out, and K.X. doesn’t waste any time putting her foot on them and scrambling up to the window. I never really looked at her shoes before, but they’re gold sandals with sequins across the front strap and kind of cool, almost in a Lila kind of way. And at least she’s not wearing cleats or high heels or something else that would, you know, leave holes in my palms. That's kind of an added bonus.
