Croak (23 page)

“And you guys never interfere?” Lex said, throwing a suspicious glance at Norwood and Heloise.

“No,” Sofi loudly replied. She threw a fearful glance around the hub, then lowered her voice. “Only when you guys make special requests, which I’m
not
supposed to agree to. Or if, like, your grandma dies. No one expects you to Kill your own family.”

“And there’s no way for you to program Grims who aren’t checked in?”

Sofi was starting to hesitate. She looked at the door. “Where’s Driggs?”

“Upstairs. Why, do you need his permission?”

Sofi let out a high-pitched huff. “I don’t take orders from Driggs.”

Lex snorted. “Except that you do, all the time.”

“It’s complicated, okay?”

“Why? You guys hook up or something?” Lex blurted with all the subtlety of a rocket-propelled grenade.

A smug grin spread across Sofi’s face. “I knew it!” she screeched. “That’s
totally
why you don’t like me. You think we got a thing going on.”

Blood pounded through Lex’s cheeks. She swore to herself that the next time her tongue started wagging without express written consent from her brain, she’d hack the damn thing right off.

“You’re blushing!” Sofi said triumphantly. She grabbed a nail file and went to work on her tips. “Well, don’t worry. I’ve never jumped aboard the big Drigg. Though it’s seriously not for lack of trying.”

Lex, her lip curling, throttled the stress ball.

Sofi widened her heavily mascaraed eyes. “Honestly, though? You’re barking up the wrong tree with that kid. You know how he carries that photo around with him everywhere? I think he’s got a girl, like, on the outside or something, because no one here has ever gotten so much as a peck on the cheek from him.”

“That’s not—”

“Seriously, he’s a lost cause.” She clicked her tongue. “Major issues.”

Lex gave her head a violent shake, as if to expel all of the uninvited thoughts clanging around in there. “Whatever. I don’t care, okay? This has nothing to do with anything, and you’re wrong about everything anyway.”

“Okeydokey, Grumpypants,” Sofi said, that coy look still plastered across her face.

Flustered, Lex abandoned her line of questioning and jumped off the desk to leave. “Are we checked in?”

“Yep,” Sofi replied, unplugging the scythes. “Say hi to loverboy for me.”

A thick film of goo instantly blanketed the cubicle.

“Sorry,” Lex said, tossing the exploded stress ball at a dumbfounded Sofi. “It slipped.”

***

Over the next few days Lex decided to focus her nervous energy on something useful: the computer. She sneakily read article after article, extracting every bit of information about the unexplained deaths that had been reported all over the East Coast and the laundry list of offenses that each of the targets had racked up. And the more Lex read, the more she resolutely believed—no matter what her uncle or Driggs or Zara said—that every one of the victims got exactly what he or she deserved.

What Lex did not do, however, was write a single email. She ignored her brimming inbox, pretending not to notice that Cordy had emailed her at least once a day, sometimes twice. Lex just couldn’t bring herself to respond. When it came to Cordy, silence was better than lies.

At least the awkwardness between her and Driggs had dissipated. This was no more evident than the afternoon Lex caught Driggs lying face-down on the ground of the Lair, allowing scores of black widow spiders to crawl over his body. “Again?” Lex said, exasperated. “Really?”

“You gotta try it,” he said contentedly into the floor.

“No way. They don’t like me the way they like you.”

“Probably because you don’t cry yourself to sleep in their presence,” he said, quoting her taunt from their big fight. The whole thing had turned into something of a running joke between them. Often, when bored or uncomfortable, they repeated the insults they had hurled at each other that night, loudly guffawing at each reiteration. This is what is known as a defense mechanism.

Driggs had, however, started to spend a lot more time in his room, banging away at his drums. He was doing just that so loudly one evening as Uncle Mort got home from work that Lex, reading an article about a notorious arsonist, didn’t even hear him come in.

“What are you doing?” Uncle Mort asked her.

She snapped off the screen. “Solitaire.”

He rubbed his eyes and banged on Driggs’s door. “Hey, Ringo, give it a rest!”

The drumming stopped. “How’d your shift go?” Lex asked as Uncle Mort sank, exhausted, onto the couch. He had been taking on as many shifts as he could over the past few days. “Did you see any more?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Weird as hell.”

“So now what? More shifts?”

“No,” he said, thinking. “You guys keep doing what you’re doing, and let me know if anything changes. I don’t want it to look like I’m too involved. I don’t have the time, anyway.”

“Really?”

He let out a sigh. “Why do kids think adults lead such opulent lives of leisure?” He shook his head. “Believe me, I don’t. I’ve got a town to run, reports to be sent to Necropolis—plus this anomaly, whatever it is, I’ve spent way too much time obsessing over it—not to mention the hunt for this year’s rookies—”

“What do you mean?” Lex said. “I thought
I
was the rookie.”

“Yeah, well, this was a bizarre year. The Junior training period usually starts at the beginning of what would be the eleventh grade—in September, not June. But last September’s duo washed out right away, and then Rob took off for business school—”

“Loser!” Driggs yelled through the wall, apparently listening in.

“It was his choice,” Uncle Mort shouted back. He looked at his niece. “There’s always a choice.”

Lex fidgeted.

“Anyway, that left us three short,” he continued. “But once I learned that you had turned delinquent, I decided you’d be a suitable replacement.”

“But I’d been that way for two years already. Why didn’t you bring me here last September in the first place, for my junior year?”

“I really shouldn’t have brought you at all,” Uncle Mort said softly. “But the world, as it turns out, had different plans.”

Lex said nothing for a moment. All this talk of September was only serving as a reminder of her impending departure. She looked at the jellyfish, then down at her hands. “Do I really have to go back home at the end of the summer?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Uncle Mort looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m sure your parents want you to finish your education.” He removed a glass ball from his pocket and distractedly rolled it through his hands.

“But who cares about senior year?” she half yelled. Driggs was probably still listening, but she didn’t care. “I already know more than most of the teachers at that worthless school, and I’d just come right back here after I graduate anyway. I’m training for a career! It’s the same as college!”

“All valid arguments. You be sure to present them during your visit.”

“What visit?”

He tossed the bauble into the air. “Your mother’s birthday, I believe?”

Lex clapped her hands over her mouth. It’s fairly common for children to forget a parent’s birthday, of course, as most kids can’t conceive of a situation in which the world stops revolving around themselves for twenty-four hours. But due to Lex’s strategy of suppressing all thoughts of her family, that particular date—tomorrow, she realized with growing remorse—had completely slipped her mind.

Not only had Lex forgotten to send a card; she hadn’t bothered to call in weeks. She couldn’t begin to imagine how disastrous an actual visit would be. They’d hang her on the spot.

“You’re taking the weekend off,” Uncle Mort said.

“No, I’m not! There’s no such thing as a weekend here! Death waits not for five-day workweeks!” she chanted in desperation, quoting the mantra Driggs had recited a month ago when she first asked why he was jumping on her bed so early on a Saturday morning.

“We’ll somehow survive without you,” Uncle Mort said. “Besides, I already got your bus tickets.”

“Tickets?” Lex asked in apprehension. “With an
s?
”

A loud
ba-dum-CHING
crashed forth from Driggs’s room.

This triggered the panic. “Oh no no no . . .”

Uncle Mort grabbed a newspaper from the top of the pile. “This reporter at the
Post
seems to have taken a real interest in the mystery deaths, has written about a fair number of them. I got Driggs into a meeting with her tomorrow under the guise of an internship interview. He’s going to find out how much she knows.”

Lex was instantly jealous. “I could do that!”

“You sure could. If you didn’t have to visit your family.”

She let out an anguished grunt. “This is so unfair.”

“I had a feeling you’d react like this,” Uncle Mort said. “Which is why I booked you for only one night. I told your parents we need to get an early start on the cow inseminations this year.”

Lex stared at him, open-mouthed.

“You can thank me later,” he added. “Just remember to give the family my best. And obviously, not a word of Croak’s business to anyone.”

Lex slumped back, defeated. There was no weaseling out of this one. Her stomach gave a lurch at the thought of soon seeing her house, her parents, her relentlessly inquisitive sister, her bedroom with its photos and bookshelves and—

“Wait a minute.” She pointed at the ball dancing through Uncle Mort’s hands. “I’ve seen that thing before! You gave one to me and one to Cordy that time you visited!”

“Did I?” He tossed it to her with a sly smirk. “How imprudent of me, bringing my young nieces an unperfected invention.”

Lex studied the sphere. Similar to a flickering light bulb, its surface was made from smooth, cold glass. Inside, dozens of small flecks of light whizzed and flung themselves about the space, crashing into the sides and each other, emitting small, bright flashes with every collision. It almost looked like a preserved Gamma.

“What is it?”

“This,” Uncle Mort said proudly, “is a Spark. Measures the life force of any given being. In this case, mine.”

Lex studied the little orb. “So how many years have you got left?”

Uncle Mort let out an offended huff. “Sparks measure quality, not quantity. Right now I’m alive, so my life sparks are in motion. When I die . . .” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “Well, I haven’t died yet, so I don’t know what happens. But I’m sure it indicates death somehow.”

Lex gave him a dubious look.

Uncle Mort smiled at her. “Even
I
don’t have the answers to everything.”

***

Word of Lex’s weekend plans traveled quickly. At Corpp’s that evening, Kloo and Ayjay barely mumbled out a hello before running off to slobber all over each other in the corner. Zara and Sofi, engaged in a fierce game of Skulls, ignored her completely. And Ferbus kept glancing at her with a very weird expression.

Lex felt terrible. She had bent over backwards to avoid any reminders of her familial ties around her friends, yet now here she was, practically shoving it in their faces. She glanced at the bar, wishing Driggs would hurry up with the drinks. And where was Elysia?

“Hey,” Ferbus said, taking a swig of his drink. “On this New York thing—you take care of Driggs, okay?”

“Why?”

Ferbus ran a hand through his moppy hair. “I’m pretty sure a jerk such as myself only gets one best friend in life,” he grumbled, almost sincere for once. “Once he’s gone, no free refills.”

Lex was somewhat touched by this rare display of affection. So much so that she said, “Well then, I’ll be sure to shove him in front of the first bus I see.”

“See that you do.” By now, Lex and Ferbus had tacitly come to understand each other better than any other pair in Croak. He was the best friend, and she was the threat. It was a healthy, demoralizing relationship.

A moment of awkwardness passed. “Now I must pee,” Ferbus announced.

He stumbled off to the bathroom, passing Elysia as she returned. “Hi, Lex!” she said, friendly as always. “I heard about your trip. Are you excited?”

Lex hesitated.

“It’s okay,” Elysia said, sensing her reluctance. “I won’t feel bad.”

“Okay,” Lex started unsurely. “I’m kinda dreading it, to be honest.”

“Why?”

“Oh, tons of reasons. I’ll be happy to see them, I guess, but you know how it is.” She shot her a nervous grimace. “Or maybe you don’t. Crap. Are you sure you don’t mind me talking about this?”

“Lex, relax. What is wrong with you?”

Lex sighed. “Everyone hates me all over again.”

Elysia looked around at the embittered Juniors. “They don’t hate you,” she said. “It’s just all that baggage—it still hurts once in a while. They’ve had pretty rough lives, you know? Mine was tame by comparison.”

Lex nodded, willing her mouth to stay absolutely closed.

Elysia nudged her. “You’re insanely curious, aren’t you?”

“Insanely,” she let slip.

“I don’t blame you. It must be weird, meeting all of us sad young ruffians without having a sob story of your own.”

“Yeah,” Lex said in a mournful, sarcastic voice. “It’s been really hard.”

Elysia laughed. “The others may get all defensive, but they’ll come around. You’re one of us now, no matter where you came from.” She took another gulp of Yorick, then seemed to make a decision. “Okay. I was sixteen,” she began, “and dating the captain of the football team. Which made total sense, since I was the captain of the cheerleading squad.”

“I knew it,” Lex said into her drink.

“First week of junior year, homecoming weekend. We win the game. After the dance, one thing leads to another, my underwear ends up in a ditch somewhere, and next thing you know, I’m pregnant.”

She took another sip. “Two weeks later I tell my parents and they kick me out of the house. I’m shocked. I mean, I guess they were always kind of conservative, but I loved my parents and I thought that . . . well, apparently it wasn’t mutual. So they grab a bunch of clothes from my closet, throw them out onto the front lawn, and lock the door.

“All my friends—they’re disgusted. Which by the way is incredibly hypocritical, since they were all fairly raging sluts. But whatever. Every time I go to one of their houses, they get this snobby, superior look in their eyes, and I completely lose it. Like, scary. Throwing things around their houses, physically attacking them. None of their parents would allow me to stay. And who could blame them, really?