Read Nice Day to Die Online

Authors: Cameron Jace

Nice Day to Die (3 page)

“It’s rumored that he is a member of the Breakfast Club,” says Timmy.

“What’s the Breakfast Club?” asks Ariadna.

“Nooo. Nooo. No one talks about the Breakfast Club,” Timmy is looping his hands around his head again. “Bzz. Zz. Bzz,” Timmy stutters. He tries to say something we don’t understand. He has been like that since forever. I don’t know if it’s some kind of illness, or if he is having some psychotic episode. Maybe it has to do with why he is a pre-Five. “They are th-th-the s-s-secret revolution against the Summit. D-don’t even tell anyone I t-t-told you.”

Sam laughs, watching Timmy buzzing like an electrocuted bug. “Th-th-the B-b-breakfast Club?” Sam mocks him bluntly, hiding his eyes behind black sunglasses and chewing on a match in the corner of his mouth. The name Sam Shades fits him all right. “Sounds more like a junk food club.” Sam steps over and slaps Timmy on the head with his rigid fingers. Timmy stops buzzing instantly, and I speculate that it’s because he is scared of Sam.

“Take a hike, Sam,” Ariadna blurts out. “If you want to bully someone, better bully Nines and Eights.”

“Is that an invitation?” Sam grins, approaching Ariadna, licking his lips. Ariadna seems to suddenly become aware of herself being a pre-Nine.

I argue with myself, wondering if I should step up for Ariadna. It’s one of the moments when I hate being afraid of Sam because I am so self-conscious about not wanting to lose my Seven rank. Before Sam can hurt Ariadna, a friend of his approaches with an iAm in his hand, while laughing hysterically at a video he found on Zootube. Sam checks the video out and laughs too.

The video is a recap of last year’s Monster Show where a sixteen-year-old was killed by one of the cruelest killing instruments, a white, one-eyed tiger called Carnivore. It’s also the crowd’s most-favored segment of the sacrifice.

“I love those freaky Monsters,” Sam says as a couple of girls walk by and wink at him. “The Monster has to die,” they say.

I take a peek at the video and regret it immediately. I shy  away as tears threaten to roll down my cheeks. Ariadna holds me tightly and pulls me away from Sam and his friends. I am not that intimidated by the brutal scene of the Carnivore killing machine; they broadcast recaps of Monster killing on TV every day. It’s the boy who died in last year’s game that brings tears to my eyes. I know him. He was my best friend since I was seven. His name was Woo. He died in last year’s game.

“It’s all right.” Ariadna puts her arms around me. “Don’t you cry now. Woo wouldn’t have liked to see you cry.”

I nod, while trying not to sob. Woo insisted that I never cry if he stopped saying “I am alive” in the Monster Show.

There is only one rule in the Monster Show. As long as the Monster screams “I Am Alive” into his iAm, the show must go on. Once he or she can’t say they are alive into the iAm, they are considered dead, which makes Sam and the rest of our nation happy.

“I remember,” I say to Ariadna, and dry my tears. “I have to stay strong.”

“That’s my girl,” says Ariadna. “Woo did that to himself. He was a rebel by nature, and he caused the iAm to rank him as a Monster. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” I say. “I just miss him so much.”

“We all do. But if you check Zwitter right now, you’ll see how many teenagers are zweeting about how brave he was,” Ariadna says.

Woo told me that Zwitter and Zootube were not the right names for these social networks. He said the Summit favored the letter Z for some reason, and usually manipulated the words previously known in the Amerikaz without that letter. I’ve always wondered what ‘zweeting’ meant.

“Speaking of Monsters, what is she doing here?” Ariadna says, pointing behind me.

When I turn around I see Eva Hutchinson and her brother Don. Eva stands about five steps shy of everyone else. She is slouched, and barely makes eye contact with anyone. Her brother is holding her hand and a little black box. Guys like Sam call girls like Eva ‘the living dead’ because she is a pre-Monster who insists on attending the Ranking. When I first learned about her, I didn’t get it. There was nothing wrong with her. She looked and acted normal. She used to be friendly and did well at school. Her only mistake, according to the picky iAm, was that she had a short life expectancy due to a rare illness.

Her brother pulls out a breathing device from the box. I think it’s called an inhaler. I think she has asthma or a mysterious illness that only the iAm knows about.

I remember when I asked my father about how the iAm calculated the results. He answered me from behind a newspaper, saying, ‘The iAm works in mysterious ways
.

‘The Monster must die!” shouts another girl in the hall. Nines and Eights start to throw paper planes across the hall at Eva, urging her to leave school. Sam folds his hands and looks amused.

I understand that most of the Nines are spoiled and arrogant and disrespectful to others, but the Eights are supposed to become politicians and work in the media. How can they be so cruel to Eva?

“Stop it!” I snap at the students.

“There is no point in standing up for her.” Ariadna pinches me, trying to hide her embarrassment. She doesn’t like it when I support a pre-Monster. Sympathizing with Monsters is a serious act of defiance against the Summit.

I ignore Ariadna and try to swipe the paper planes away before they reach Eva. I can’t stop the insults though.

Eva hides behind me, her hands on my shoulders
.

“Don’t let her touch you. Not on your Ranking Day. Bad luck,” a boy warns me.

The classroom door swings open. Madame Delacroix looks angry about the noise in the hall. I expect her to shush the Nines and the Eights. Instead, she looks at me as if this is my fault. “You,” she demands, pointing at me. “Follow me inside.”

“I told you it wasn’t worth it,” Ariadna mouths, looking sideways at the classroom door. “What do you think will happen now?”

As I follow Madame Delacroix into the room, I see Eva asking Ariadna if she has seen her iAm, which Eva seems to have lost. Losing one’s iAm is a crime. However, the Gatekeeper claims he has lost his electric cattle prod all of a sudden as well. This can easily downgrade him to a Monster too.

Madame Delacroix opens Classroom Z using a magnetic card that can only be used from outside. As she closes the door behind us, I look at it worriedly. What if she decides to kill me like she did her children? I roll my eyes at my silly thought. Only Monsters get killed.

“Hand me your iAm, please.” Madame Delacroix stretches out her hand across the table separating us in the almost-vacant room.

I obey silently as I examine her serious face. However peacefully she poses, I can’t stop imagining her killing her children. How did she do it? Did she drown them? Eat their hearts and livers like the Snow-White Queen? How can someone kill their own child, no matter how monstrous they are?

I laugh at myself. I remember my mother trying to kill me when I became a pre-Monster when I was seven. Dad had a better idea; to abandon me and let me become homeless so they could convince the Summit they had lost me in the mall.

Mom and Dad. Thank you very much.

It was Woo who saved me at such a young age. Although he had a rebel heart, he cared for me for reasons beyond my comprehension. Woo taught me how to control my instincts and desires, how to force myself to follow the Summit’s orders, and how to please the iAm. That is why I cried myself to sleep every night since he died. I owe him my rank today.

“I am sorry about what happened outside with Eva,” I say as Madame Delacroix checks my iAm, connecting it to a master computer to check if I was cheating.

“Who is Eva?” Madame Delacroix says absently.

“Eva, you know, the…”

“Ah. The Monster.” She clicks her keyboard, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her. “Who cares about Monsters.” She takes a sip from her cold coffee.

“How can you be sure she is a… you know?” Sometimes I can’t bring myself to say the word.

“It’s so obvious. I called her parents yesterday to prevent her from attending the Ranking Ceremony, but they didn’t listen. When I assured them that the iAm’s latest predictions were rarely wrong, and that she was going to be a Monster, they said that Eva attending the ceremony was going to be more of a last wish before dying.” Madame Delacroix licks her gummy lips, tasting the sweet coffee. “I hate when parents say that.”

“Why?” I wonder. “She is going to die if she attends the Monster Show.”

“You never know. She could be the first ever to survive the Monster Show and get ranked.” Madame Delacroix chuckles mockingly.

“How do you expect anyone to survive the crazy games and deadly puzzles in the Monster Show? It’s impossible. Besides, if someone survives the games, how are they going to live among us? Everyone will try to hurt them.”

“Yeah. And that’s the fun of it,” Madame Delacroix nods as if both of us share a secret. “The Monster has to die,” she whispers. “Besides, the sun in shining bright today. For a Monster, it’s a nice day to die.”

“And what’s going to happen to her parents?”

“Her parents are both Fives. They’ll be downgraded to Monsters. The Summit hates that.”

“Why?”

“Older Monsters are not fun to watch on TV. They’re slow and usually lack motivation. It makes the show dull and boring. Do you know that Eva’s younger brother might be a Six? If I were her parents, I would have killed her years ago and saved the family.” She smirks at her reflection in the monitor as if remembering killing her own children.

I start to feel uneasy being alone in the room with her. What if I turn out to be a Monster right now? Will she kill me on the spot, here in this room? This reminds me that my brother Jack is a pre-Nine. If this happens, he will be the first in our family, who are all Sixes and Sevens.
Anything you want to share with me behind Dad’s back, Mom?

“Ah.” Madame Delacroix lets out a long sigh, staring at the monitor. “I see you might be surprised with your results, girl.”

I don’t comment. My eyes are fixed on hers. I can’t help but feel disgusted by her as I try and look harder for a human soul behind those eyes. I’m still imagining how she killed her children.

“You have a big chance of becoming an Eight today.” Madame Delacroix looks happily at me. “You’re still a Seven though. Your score is very close to an Eight. Who knows? Maybe the iAm changes its mind.”

I am not pleased with her news. I keep staring at her.

“How did it feel, Madame Delacroix?” I say slowly, my voice low and colorless.

“Excuse me?”

“How did it feel killing your children?” I ask her as I feel the beast in me rising.

“How dare you ask me about—” She doesn’t complete her sentence as she notices the sudden, dark change in my personality.

I jump over the table and shock her with the electric cattle prod that I stole from the Gatekeeper outside. She buzzes like a huge fly, but I catch her before she falls to the floor.

“Don’t you dare fall sleep on me.” I kick her. “I swear if you don’t do what I say, I’ll buzz you to death.”

“Okay. Okay.” She obeys, drooling uncontrollably. “What do you want?”

“I want you to switch the results on this iAm with mine,” I demand as I show her Eva’s iAm, which I stole in the middle of the fight outside. “Now! I have no time.”

“But that is impossible,” she says, looking at me as if I have turned into a ghost. “The iAm is connected to a small receptor in your brain, right under your ear. It’s the size of a grain of rice. It can’t be removed, and I can’t change the results.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” I growl. “That receptor only gathers information about us and connects it to the iAm from the day we are born until we’re sixteen. Right now, the iAm and the Summit know that the owner of Eva’s iAm is a Monster, and that the owner of mine is a Seven. Switching the iAms now will work. I’ve been studying this for a year and I know what I am talking about. There is a program that allows you to divert the iAm to a different receptor, which means a different teenager. This is how the Summit forges the results when they want to get rid of rebellious teenagers.”

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