Twice Shy (20 page)

"What's up?" Mrs. Weller asked.
The ceiling, ha ha.
Ani squelched her nerves and forced her voice to neutrality.

"My mom told me about your conversation last night. She's not very happy with me at the moment."

Mrs. Weller stood from her desk, her brow furrowed. "Neither am I. You shouldn't be, either. I'm worried about you."

Ani looked down, realized there was no way to pull attention away from herself and still have the conversation, so she looked back up. "I know. I know I screwed up, and it's all my fault, and I can do better. I will do better. I was just wondering what I can do to pull my grade up."

Mrs. Weller sucked air through her teeth. "Boy, Ani, the marking period is six weeks through." She opened her grade book and scanned Ani's entries. "You turned in a lousy research paper, and didn't even bother to hand in two critical-lens essays. That doesn't even count all the regular homework you've missed."

Ani cringed. "Is there any way I can make any of that up?"

Mrs. Weller shook her head. "No. I don't accept late work, and I don't accept incomplete work."
Damn. Humility didn't work. Time to beg.

"My mom's going to home school me if I don't pull up my grades. Seriously. Can you make an exception? Please?"

"You want me to compromise my academic standards to help you fix your screw-up? What kind of lesson would that be teaching you?"
You won't be teaching me any lessons if I don't get a B!

"I'm begging. Can I do something? Anything? Extra credit?"

"Extra credit is for people who have done all of their regular credit, which you have not. You have four weeks left. If you get A's on the assignments you have left you should be able to pull a C."

"Is there anything I can do to get a B?"
Please.

Mrs. Weller fiddled at her computer for a minute. "According to my math, no. It's too little, too late."
Oh, no.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weller," Ani said.
So this is what impending doom feels like.

"Any time you need extra help, you come see me. I'll make sure you get that C."
Great. Just enough to be not enough.

"Okay."

*  *  *

Ani was in her room, talking to Fey on her house phone, alert to any clicks that would indicate an eavesdropping mother.

"Mrs. Weller's a bitch," Fey said. "Her and life."

"No kidding," Ani said. "She was completely unreasonable. She wouldn't do anything for me, and now I'm screwed."

"Look on the bright side," Fey said. "Now you don't have to do nothing for any of your classes. You're screwed either way, why bother?"
Exactly the lesson Mrs. Weller's trying to teach me, I'm sure.

"I have to do something. I can't get pulled out of school."
You don't understand. I spend eight hours a day staring at the inside of a fridge, and most of the rest of it at home doing the same thing over and over again. School is my only break.
"I'll go crazy."

"Too late," Fey said.

"You're hilarious," Ani said. "Look, I've got to finish this book by Monday. I'll catch you later."

"Sure." Fey hung up.

*  *  *

Ani planned to spend the weekend reading and studying while her mom worked in the basement. Schoolwork was the perfect excuse to avoid going down there, and it helped that her mom didn't talk to her about Dylan's "progress." She tried not to think about it, but it made studying difficult.

Saturday afternoon the phone rang. The caller ID said "Daniels." Ani turned her book over on the table and snatched up the phone before her mom could get it in the basement.

"Hello?"
You know I'm trying to study, Fey.

"There's a band playing down at Dusty's tonight. I kind of dated the bouncer for a while and he'll let us in no charge."
I don't want to know what 'kind of dated' means.

"Yeah, I can't do it. I've got too much to do."

"Shut up. You can't study all the time."

Let's see... A large crowd in a small space, darkness and flashing lights, drunks riding each other on the dance floor, blood in the mosh pit. And I'm sure the music sucks.
"There's no way, Fey. I have two assignments to finish by Monday, and they're not going to do themselves."

"Yeah, whatever. We'll pick you up at ten." She hung up the phone before Ani could object.

She was still reading when ten o'clock rolled around. She heard a car idle outside her house, beep the horn twice, idle some more, and then peel out, running the stop sign at the end of the block.

*  *  *

Early Tuesday morning the phone rang. Ani looked at the clock before picking up.
Five fifteen.
She'd been out of the bath for an hour studying for an AP History quiz, and her mom wasn't up yet. The Caller ID read "OFCSD."

She picked up on the second ring. "Romero residence."

"Hello," said a recorded man's voice. "This is Superintendent Jim MacIlwaine. Due to the overnight snowfall, all Ohneka Falls schools are closed today—"

She hung up the phone and limped to the window. Tree limbs bowed under the weight, and the top of the mailbox was a small lump in a sea of white.
There must be three feet of snow out there!
She walked past the kitchen to the master bedroom and knocked.

"Snow day?" her mom asked through the door.

"Yep."
At least something goes my way now and then.

"I looked outside when the snow rang. I'm going back to sleep for a few hours." '
Snow rang?’ More sleep sounds like a good idea.
Ani missed sleep. It wasn't what she missed most about living, but it was something that all mankind had in common. Everyone but her.

She stopped studying for a quiz she wouldn't be taking, and with nothing better to do, started on another back Trig assignment. By dawn the snow had stopped, and the sun rose in a blue sky devoid of clouds. She checked the forecast online—low 50's and sunny.
You have to love mid-March.

Her mom slept until ten-thirty, well later than any time in Ani's memory, and when she emerged she looked exhausted. She made a tuna sandwich and sat at the table, chewing mechanically.

"You look tired, Mom."

She nodded and kept chewing.

"Chemo?"

She took another bite.

"Do you want to go back to bed? I can get you in another hour."

She shook her head and set down the sandwich. "This research won't do itself. There's nothing for it. I'll be okay—some days are just harder than others."

She went into the basement having only eaten half of her sandwich. Ten minutes later she rushed into the bathroom and threw it up, but she didn't complain.

*  *  *

By noon the work crew had cleared the roads, and the town's giant snow blowers had cleared the sidewalks.

Feeling a little caged in, Ani bundled up against the cold, put on a wide-brimmed hat to block out the sun, and called down the basement stairs. "I'm going for a walk!"
Not quite asking for permission, but good enough.

She heard nothing for a moment, then, "Okay, sweetie! Don't be gone too long!"

She opened the door and was blinded by the glare off the snow, so she ducked back inside and grabbed a pair of sunglasses. Fortified against the elements—the elements she cared about anyway—she set out. She turned right as she always did, passed Fey's house and took another right at the corner.
Once around the block should about do it.

Mike jogged past her, twice, and while he replied when she said hello, he didn't stop to talk. Ever since Valentine's they were less than friendly—not mean, exactly—just... uncomfortably uncommunicative.
Which means he ignores and avoids me while I spend half my time trying not to think about how much I miss him.

She was saved from her thoughts when Jake's car veered onto the curb in front of her. A boy she didn't recognize sat shotgun, Fey in the back.

"Snow day, bitches!" Jake hollered, pounding the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.
Classy.

"What's up, guys?" Ani asked.

"Just cruising," Fey said. "Want to join us?"

Ani bobbed her head back and forth. "Um... I do, but I'm grounded. I told my mom I'd just be around the block and back home."

Fey rolled her eyes. "What she doesn't know—"

"She'll know, Fey. Mom knows everything."

Fey threw up her hands. "Whatever."

Jake hit the gas, and they were gone.

*  *  *

She got home, kicked the slush off her boots on the stoop, and left them by the door. "I'm home!" she yelled. There was no reply.

"Mom?" She looked out the window—the Audi sat in the driveway, covered in half-melted slush. The house was silent.

She shambled over to the couch, reached over the back and behind it. Her hands touched metal brackets, but no gun. She froze, listening. She didn't hear any movement, upstairs or down.

She shuffled to the piano, floorboards creaking under her step-drag limp. She grabbed a brass candlestick, pulled out the candle and set it on the windowsill. She hefted the candlestick. With her unnatural strength, she could brain someone with it, no problem.

She moved to the bookcase and pushed it back. The basement door was ajar. She stopped breathing to be as quiet as possible, pushed open the door with her left hand, and listened.
Nothing.

Her first step was quiet. Despite her efforts her second step was a lurching half-fall onto the second step down.
Damn hip.
She gave up on stealth and hurried down the stairs.

The door to the 'just in case' room was ajar, and there was no sign of her mom. She ran to the lab table, yanked the phone off the cradle, and dialed her mother's cell. A mechanical woman's voice from inside the furnace said, "call from home... call from home...."

She hit 'end,' dropped the phone, and hefted the candlestick two-handed. "Mom?" No reply. She crept closer, wedged the door with her foot, and looked inside.

Her mother lay on her back in a puddle of expanding blood. The chair sat empty. Ani tore open the door and fell to her hands and knees at her mom's side. She put her hand to her neck.
Strong pulse.
She tore her eyes from the pool of blood and ran her hands over her mom's scalp, trying to find the source of the blood.

Her mom had a cut on the side of her head, and her hair was matted with blood. Ani pulled a jagged piece of glass from her scalp, and blood gushed from the wound. She rushed into the lab, grabbed a bandage and styptic powder, sprinted back, dumped the powder onto the cut and wrapped her mom's head. The bleeding stopped, and Ani sighed in relief.

The furnace door slammed closed behind her. The bar dropped down.

She lurched to her feet and looked out the window. Dylan's face was inches from hers, separated only by a pane of bullet-proof glass. His eyes were bloodshot, crazy, but he looked alive, or nearly so.
As alive as me.

"We've been here before, Ani," he said, his voice calm. "You in this room, me out here with the button."

She swallowed. "I tried to help you—"

"I know. I heard you argue for me when I was first brought here. It's the only reason you're still alive." His eyes moved to her mother. "That woman is a monster. Evil. She deserves to die."
I can't argue with that, but I can't agree either. She's my mom.

"What about me, Dylan? Are you going to kill me, too?"

He frowned. "I didn't know it would be so cold."

Her mother shrieked, and she whirled around. A keening wail erupted from her mom's throat as she scrambled backward to the wall, her back slamming into a propane intake pipe. As Ani reached her she grabbed her purse and yanked out the revolver.

Ani stepped in front of the door. "Mom, don't!"

Still screaming, her mom put the pistol under her own chin.

Ani dove forward and slapped. Something crunched.

The gunshot was deafening in the tiny room. The pistol clattered across the floor to the other side of the recliner. Her mom still screamed, clutching her hand to her chest. Ani grabbed her wrists and yanked them apart, surprised at how effortless it was.

"
NO!
" her mom screamed. "
I WON'T BECOME ONE OF THEM! I WON'T!
"

Ani shook her. "Mom! You're okay! You just cut your head!" She was hyperventilating, and the high-pitched wail returned. Ani held her, waiting. "It's okay," she said, calming her voice. "Mom. You're going to be fine. It's okay."
If Dylan doesn't incinerate us both.

After a minute the panic in her eyes faded. "He didn't bite me?" The naked hope in her voice hurt.

Ani shook her head. "No, Mom, he didn't bite you. You cut your head on some glass."

Sobbing, she grabbed Ani around the neck and squeezed. After a minute she pulled away. "Where's Dylan?"

Ani turned around, then looked out the window. "Gone. Dylan's gone."

They found two of Dylan's fingers on the other side of the recliner—he'd bitten them off to escape. Ani's slap had saved her mom's life but broken one of her fingers. They made a crude splint and then assessed their options for getting out.

The room was designed to hold back a mindless zombie, not a thinking human. They used surgical scissors to pry the pins out of the hinges, removed the door, and were free.

The house was quiet. A cautious look around found nothing. The cops didn't come. The world didn't end. No phone calls, no black helicopters, no incineration squads. They never found the shotgun.

*  *  *

Two days later Ani sat in Mr. Gursslin's room after school.
This is insane.
She finished her makeup test and set down her pencil. Part of her brain screamed in panic as she went through the motions of high school life. Dylan was out there somewhere. He was dead, like her, and contagious. She stood. He had no one to turn to, nowhere to run. No one to give him serum when the craving overcame him. He was doomed, and damned, and would bring fire and death. That her mom was "handling it" was no comfort.

"Ani?" Mr. Gursslin asked. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to hand that in?"