Call Me Grim (28 page)

“Not right now,” I manage to squeeze through my tightening throat.
Snap out of it,
I tell myself. I can’t cry now. “I’m not allowed to take off the bandage until tomorrow.”

My cell phone sings in my purse. Mom crosses her arms over her chest, but doesn’t say anything as I excavate to the bottom of my bag for the noisy little thing.

“It’s late.” Mom grips Max’s shoulders and turns him toward the staircase, but her eyes lock on me. “I don’t want you up all night.”

“But tomorrow’s the last day of school!” Max slogs up the stairs. “Libbi’s staying up.”

“No. I’m going to bed too.” I follow him up the stairs and wait until I’m in my room, with the door closed behind me, before I read Kyle’s text.

Kyle: I am so sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. Are you okay?

Me: I’m fine. How did you know I was hurt?

Kyle: Max told me when I called the house. I’m so sorry.

My bed squeaks as I sit on the edge and prop my elbows on my knees. My thumbs fly over the keys.

Me: It’s okay. I understand. I’m the one who should be sorry. Can you come over in an hour when everyone’s in bed? I need to talk to you.

A full minute passes before I receive his reply.

Kyle: Okay.

***

I stand at the window and watch the sidewalk in front of the house for the glow of Kyle’s soul. It hasn’t been an hour yet, but I’m convinced he’s not coming. He’s probably decided he doesn’t care what I have to say, that I’m not worth the trouble.

At twelve thirty, I shimmy my window open, cringing when it lets out the high-pitched squeak I should have remembered from the last time I snuck out of the house.

It doesn’t matter what Kyle thinks of me. He needs to hear me out. And if he won’t come to me, I’ll go to him. I swing both legs over the windowsill and lean my head out. The last time I climbed out this window, the breeze had felt cool, crisp, and refreshing. Tonight, there is no breeze. The stagnant air settles on my skin like a thick, suffocating blanket.

My feet touch the shingles of the porch’s roof and the light of my soul surges from about-to-blink-out dull to brilliant. The clock in my brain clicks on and tells me it’s 12:31 and fifty-three seconds. Someone taps on my bedroom door.

“It’s me,” Aaron’s muffled voice drifts to me from the other side of the door. I lean my head back into my room.

“I know,” I say as loud as I dare with Max sleeping on the other side of the paper-thin wall. “Come in.”

Aaron melds through the door and the room blazes with the light of his aura.

“I’m sorry for coming so la—” Aaron stops when he sees me half-hanging out the window. “What are you doing?”

“I need to talk to Kyle. I asked him to come here, but I don’t think he will and I have to talk to him tonight. I’m running out of time.” I wiggle my butt back on the ledge and twist so I can see him better. “I’m sorry, Aaron. I won’t change my mind about this. I can’t kill you. I refuse.”

“You can’t do that, Libbi!” Aaron rushes across the room, eyes wide with panic. “You have to kill me.”

“No, I don’t.” I pull my legs back in. Aaron deserves an explanation without me hanging out of a window. “You don’t deserve to die just because you wanted to talk your sister out of killing herself. I can’t do that to you. I care about you too much.”

“You have to!” Aaron grips my arms; his cheeks flush crimson. “Listen, you don’t know me as well as you think you do. I deserve to die. More than anyone. I killed them, Libbi. My mother died because of my stupidity and I pushed my stepfather off Jumpers’ Bridge. I killed him in cold blood and made my nine-year-old sister think she did it. And I made Margie help me, which marked her. I ruined their lives. I deserve to die. You have to kill—”

“Aaron,” I whisper his name and he stops talking. The silence grows as I place my hands on either side of his face, keeping him from looking away. “I already know.”

“What?” He searches my eyes, but I keep them steady, unflinching.

“The kitchen window was open at Sara’s house. I overheard everything.”

“You what?” He steps back and my hands drop to my lap.

“You didn’t kill your mother, Aaron. Your stepfather did.” I continue on, even though Aaron’s face has drained of color and he looks like he might puke. “This may make me a bad person, but I don’t blame you for what happened to that man. He did it to himself. And now that Sara knows she’s not responsible for your death, she seems fine. And you said Mrs. Lutz’s mark is so light it probably won’t affect her. So it seems to me everything’s okay now.”

“Hardly.” Aaron snorts. “Weren’t you paying attention? I killed two people. Charlotte and my stepfather. It wasn’t an accident, Libbi. I knew what I was doing when I pushed him over the railing. I’m a murderer.”

“I know, but that was a long time ago and I understand why you did it.”

“No.” Aaron shakes his head. “I deserve to die. You have to kill me.”

The glow of a soul moves into my peripheral vision.

Kyle ambles down the sidewalk in front of the house. He nods when he spots me and cuts across my front lawn. I duck under the windowpane and lean out, holding my finger to my lips.

“Shhh…I’m coming down,” I say to Kyle, then turn back to Aaron. “Maybe you should go. Kyle’s outside.”

“Why? It’s not like he can see me. I’m invisible to him.”

“I know. But maybe I want to talk to him alone. Okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere until you change your mind about this, Libbi.” Aaron sinks into my bed, his forehead creased with concern.

“Fine. Stay,” I say.

I don’t have time to argue. If I wait too long, Kyle might get impatient and leave.

“But whether you stay or go, I won’t change my mind,” I say before I swing my legs over the windowsill and jump down onto the roof.

The old shingles crack under my feet. Little pieces slide down the incline and drop to the ground as I crabwalk to the closest wrought iron pillar and climb down. Kyle’s already waiting on the porch swing with his back to me. The swing sways back and forth as he kicks the floor.

“Kyle?” I whisper.

He looks over his shoulder. There’s no denying it. The mark has grown. A lot. The bubbling, goop-filled crack now hides his whole nose and right eye and half of his mouth. Above his mark, his bloodshot left eye shimmers.

“Oh Jesus,” slips from my mouth before I can stop it. I barely miss hitting the armrest of the swing with my hip as I rush around it.

“Shit, Libbi.” Kyle’s fingers shake as he touches the bandage on my shoulder. “I am so, so sorry. Is it bad?”

It takes me a moment to reply, I’m so shocked by the change in his mark.

“Seven stitches, but I’m fine.” The porch swing rocks back with my weight as I sit down next to him. He frowns and his eyes flick back and forth between my shoulder and my face. “Really, it’s okay. They numbed me up pretty good. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“I can’t believe my drumstick broke the light. I thought I hit
him
.” Kyle leans forward and grips his head in his hands. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I was just so angry, you know.” His sad eye locks on mine. “You lied to me, Libs.”

“I know I did. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. But I did it for a reason.” I pick at the roof dirt under my fingernails. “If I tell you something that sounds sort of crazy, will you promise to listen and believe me?”

“What is it?” Kyle leans back and the swing lurches forward.

“Promise me you’ll listen and believe.”

“I’ll listen…” he says, with a slight lilt at the end.

“Okay,” I say when I realize he’s not going to agree to believe me. I deserve that. “You did hit Aaron when you threw your drumstick. You hit him square in the back of the head.”

“No. I missed him. Max said Aaron’s fine, but the light is destroyed.” His fingertips brush over the bandage on my shoulder. “And a piece of glass cut you.”

“I know this sounds nuts, but the reason the drumstick broke the light is because it went through him. You can’t hurt him, Kyle. Aaron’s a Grim Reaper.”

“A Grim Reaper?” Kyle scoffs. “You can’t be serious.”

“I couldn’t be more serious.” I stare at him, trying to convey exactly how serious I am.

“Your drumstick went through him. I saw it. It went directly through his face.”

“That’s impossible.” His eyebrows scrunch together in a worried frown as his hands ball into fists. “What has this guy done to you? Drugged you or something?”

“Actually, that thought crossed my mind.” I chuckle and Kyle’s frown deepens. “There were a lot of things I thought about Aaron, but I know he’s a Grim Reaper now. There’s no question in my mind.”

“A Grim Reaper, huh?” Kyle laughs and shakes his head. “Damn, this guy’s good. How did he think up a line like that?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.” I sound like a petulant child, so I lower my voice and try again. “He collects the souls of the dead. I’ve helped him. He was teaching me how to do it.”

“Okay. Fine.” Kyle stands and the sudden movement causes the swing to twist on its chains. “Why would the Grim Reaper want to teach you how to collect souls, Libs?”

I stop the dizzying motion of the swing with my foot.

“Because I was supposed to take over for him and disappear. And in fifteen hours…” I swallow against the lump in my throat. “You’ll never see me again.”

Kyle’s eyes grow dark and his lips form a thin, scar-like slash. “If this is some elaborate, yet lame, attempt at the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ line, it sucks, Libs. Really.”

“I’m not feeding you lines, Kyle!” My words echo down the street and I smack my hand over my mouth. That’s all I need, to wake Mom or have one of the neighbors call the cops.

“Remember last week, when Jason totaled Salma’s car? He was supposed to total me too. I was supposed to die that day, squished between Salma’s Honda and Jason’s truck, but Aaron saved my life so I could take over for him. I had to choose between dying and becoming the next Grim Reaper, and I chose to take his awful job. For you! All for you!”

“For me?” The eye I can see twinkles with dark humor. “What does any of this craziness have to do with me?”

“It’s all about you. The reason I lied. The reason I kissed you.” I lean forward and touch his hand. “You’re marked, Kyle. And that mark means you’re going to kill someone, soon. Probably yourself. I decided to take Aaron’s job so I’d have the chance to change your mind. But nothing has worked. Your mark is getting worse.”

Kyle’s eyes widen with surprise. “What are you talking about, Libs? I don’t want to kill myself.” He slides his hand out of mine and crosses his arms over his chest. “Who told you this crap? Aaron? Did you ever think he might be trying to scare you?”

“He’s not. And he didn’t need to tell me about your mark. I can see it for myself.” The swing’s chains squeak as I stand up in front of Kyle. “It’s right here.” I run my finger down the middle of his face, outlining the crack in his soul. I expect to feel the sharp, jagged edges of the mark and the hot and slimy stuff inside, but instead I feel the hidden curve of his brow, the bridge of his nose, and his moist lips. Kyle leans his cheek into my palm and closes his eyes.

“Please, Kyle,” I whisper. “Promise me you won’t kill yourself.”

“I don’t want to kill myself and I never would. You should know me better than that,” he says, and I believe him. But the mark still covers most of his face. Maybe he hasn’t made the decision yet. Maybe his suicide will be impulsive. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done something without thinking it through.

“Promise me,” I say. “I need to hear you say it before I die tomorrow.”

His eyes snap open and he stares at me. Anger and fear morph his face into a mask I’ve never seen on him before.

“Where is this guy?” he seethes. “Where does he live?” He yanks his single drumstick out of his back pocket and smacks it against his palm, like he can’t wait for another chance to whack Aaron with it.

“Aaron?” I say. Stupid question. Of course he’s talking about Aaron. “Why?”

“Because he’s done something to you, Libbi. Drugged you. Brainwashed you. Something. He can’t get away with that.”

“Aaron didn’t do anything to me, other than save my life and give me a choice.”

Kyle seizes me by the arms and shakes me. I hear crackling in my ears.

“Snap out of it, Libs. None of this is real.” He searches my face. His deep eyes swim with concern. “Come back to me.”

“Let go of her.” Aaron’s voice emanates from the empty air beside us.

Kyle jumps back, releasing his kung-fu grip on my arms, and turns toward the deserted porch and Aaron’s voice. The skin where he grabbed me stings. I’ll probably have a bruise, not that it matters.

The air pops and crackles as Aaron materializes in front of us. The muscles in his jaw clench as he focuses on Kyle.

“What the—” Kyle backs into the siding of the house.

“Are you okay, Libbi?” Aaron’s eyes remain locked on Kyle and his mouth barely moves.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I rub the sore spot on my arm.

“Good,” he says. “Do you mind giving your friend and me a few minutes? If you’re up in your room with the window shut, I should still be visible to him.” I can’t tell if his tone is threatening or not when he says, “Kyle and I need to talk. Alone.”

“Really, Aaron, it wasn’t a big deal.” I hold my hands up and step between them. “He wasn’t trying to hurt me. He wants to help, though he’s still pretty clueless. You, of all people, should understand that.”

“It’s not that,” Aaron finally looks at me. I don’t see anger in his hard eyes or even concern in the tight pull of his lips. I see determination and the same fear I saw in Kyle’s eyes a minute ago when I told him I’m going to die. “Just a few minutes. Please.”

“Whatever you have to say to Kyle, you can say in front of me.” I cross my arms over my chest and widen my stance.

“No, Libbi.” Aaron takes my hand. “You have to go.”

“I’m not leaving.” I tilt my chin up in defiance and rip my hand out of his. “You’ll have to make me.”

“Fine.” Aaron touches my uninjured shoulder. “I’m sorry I have to do this, but…”

My shoulder droops under the weight of his hand. Actually, both shoulders droop, and so do my eyelids. I suddenly don’t care about Aaron or Kyle. Or Haley, or Mom, or Max, or my death. All I care about is how comfy the porch swing looks and how much I need to sit down. No, lay down. No, sleep.