Kiss of Life by Daniel Waters Page A
Authors: Daniel Waters
Tags: Fiction, General, Death, All Ages, Children's Books, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Social Issues, Interpersonal relations, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Young Adult Fiction, Zombies, Love & Romance, Monsters, Death & Dying, Friendship, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Schools, First person narratives, High schools, Social Issues - Friendship, Emotions & Feelings, Prejudices, Triangles (Interpersonal relations), Goth culture
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mid-October that knocked all the leaves down. She remembered raking them up into wet piles, sad that her favorite season had been compromised by the fickle New England winds.
Adam was looking at her. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
The van arrived at the same time as a sputtering compact car that followed them around the turning circle in front of the foundation. Phoebe could see Melissa riding along in the passenger seat, her coppery hair high enough to press against the car's roof. The girl turned toward the van. She had a different mask on today, still a blank white but this time with the corners of the mouth turned up in a slight smile.
The car pulled to a stop, and the driver got out of the still-running vehicle to trot around to help Melissa out. Phoebe could see that it was Father Fitzpatrick, the Catholic priest that had performed the funeral service for Evan Talbot. She would have liked to have said hello to him, but by the time she'd helped Adam out of the van, he was back in his car, speeding off. Must have some souls to save, Phoebe thought.
Melissa waved to her, holding the whiteboard in front of her like a shield.
"Hey, Melissa," she said, watching the girl hitch from side
114
to side as she walked to the doors. Father Fitzpatrick was late; usually Melissa was already in her seat by the time they arrived at the class. The girl walked with great difficulty; her left leg especially seemed unwilling to move at the appropriate pace or bend at the appropriate angle.
Adam took a shuffle-step forward, and Phoebe tried her best to steady his massive frame.
"Good job, Adam," she said.
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
Cooper Wilson, Alish, and Angela were already seated as the students went through the motions of retrieving assignments and notebooks, stowing gear, and, in the case of the few traditionally biotic ones, helping themselves to the refreshments from the back table. Angela spoke over the din.
"Cooper has asked for class time today," she said. "He'd like to tell everyone the story of the Dickinson House fire."
"I've been ...waiting for a chance ... to tell... this story," Cooper said, managing to look shy as he brushed a lock of gray-black hair out of his eyes, "to ...people ...who will actually ...listen."
Melissa, her arm swathed in loose green fabric ending in a tight cuff at her slender wrist, raised her hand. "Yes, Melissa?"
The girl wrote on her board with as much alacrity as she could muster.
MAY I B XCUSED?
"May I ask why?" Angela asked.
"Mel," Cooper said, "they've got ...to ...know. It's why
115
...we ...came here." He was tall, rail-thin, and usually had a clownish half smile on his face, but Phoebe could see that his goofy demeanor masked a more serious nature. Melissa's presence in the room was very important to him.
Melissa shook her head, her hair bouncing as she erased and wrote.
"Mel ..."
CANT.
Angela said that she could leave. "I understand, Melissa. I'm sure all your friends do too. You can do work in my office for now, if you'd like. I'll come get you at the break."
Melissa rose, with effort, and dragged her feet across the carpet and out the door. Cooper didn't look like he understood.
"She should ...hear ...this," he said to Angela.
"She isn't ready."
"What is she ... scared of?" he said. "She's already... dead." "Cooper," Angela said, her voice as close to reproach as it ever got.
"Okay ...okay. Dickinson House," he said, and everyone was rapt. A few weeks prior Tommy had read a news article he'd found on the torching of Dickinson House, which was a sanctuary for the differently biotic, similar to St. Jude's mission, but secular. According to the article, the fire had destroyed seven zombies and taken the lives of two employees.
"The article that you ...saw ...was a bunch ... of crap," Cooper began. "Almost nothing in it ...was ...right except ...that...there was a fire.
"The body ...count ...for example," he said, "ten
116
zombies
Adam was looking at her. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
The van arrived at the same time as a sputtering compact car that followed them around the turning circle in front of the foundation. Phoebe could see Melissa riding along in the passenger seat, her coppery hair high enough to press against the car's roof. The girl turned toward the van. She had a different mask on today, still a blank white but this time with the corners of the mouth turned up in a slight smile.
The car pulled to a stop, and the driver got out of the still-running vehicle to trot around to help Melissa out. Phoebe could see that it was Father Fitzpatrick, the Catholic priest that had performed the funeral service for Evan Talbot. She would have liked to have said hello to him, but by the time she'd helped Adam out of the van, he was back in his car, speeding off. Must have some souls to save, Phoebe thought.
Melissa waved to her, holding the whiteboard in front of her like a shield.
"Hey, Melissa," she said, watching the girl hitch from side
114
to side as she walked to the doors. Father Fitzpatrick was late; usually Melissa was already in her seat by the time they arrived at the class. The girl walked with great difficulty; her left leg especially seemed unwilling to move at the appropriate pace or bend at the appropriate angle.
Adam took a shuffle-step forward, and Phoebe tried her best to steady his massive frame.
"Good job, Adam," she said.
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
Cooper Wilson, Alish, and Angela were already seated as the students went through the motions of retrieving assignments and notebooks, stowing gear, and, in the case of the few traditionally biotic ones, helping themselves to the refreshments from the back table. Angela spoke over the din.
"Cooper has asked for class time today," she said. "He'd like to tell everyone the story of the Dickinson House fire."
"I've been ...waiting for a chance ... to tell... this story," Cooper said, managing to look shy as he brushed a lock of gray-black hair out of his eyes, "to ...people ...who will actually ...listen."
Melissa, her arm swathed in loose green fabric ending in a tight cuff at her slender wrist, raised her hand. "Yes, Melissa?"
The girl wrote on her board with as much alacrity as she could muster.
MAY I B XCUSED?
"May I ask why?" Angela asked.
"Mel," Cooper said, "they've got ...to ...know. It's why
115
...we ...came here." He was tall, rail-thin, and usually had a clownish half smile on his face, but Phoebe could see that his goofy demeanor masked a more serious nature. Melissa's presence in the room was very important to him.
Melissa shook her head, her hair bouncing as she erased and wrote.
"Mel ..."
CANT.
Angela said that she could leave. "I understand, Melissa. I'm sure all your friends do too. You can do work in my office for now, if you'd like. I'll come get you at the break."
Melissa rose, with effort, and dragged her feet across the carpet and out the door. Cooper didn't look like he understood.
"She should ...hear ...this," he said to Angela.
"She isn't ready."
"What is she ... scared of?" he said. "She's already... dead." "Cooper," Angela said, her voice as close to reproach as it ever got.
"Okay ...okay. Dickinson House," he said, and everyone was rapt. A few weeks prior Tommy had read a news article he'd found on the torching of Dickinson House, which was a sanctuary for the differently biotic, similar to St. Jude's mission, but secular. According to the article, the fire had destroyed seven zombies and taken the lives of two employees.
"The article that you ...saw ...was a bunch ... of crap," Cooper began. "Almost nothing in it ...was ...right except ...that...there was a fire.
"The body ...count ...for example," he said, "ten
116
zombies
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