Dead Romantic by C. J. Skuse

Author:C. J. Skuse
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Australia

Nerves

I was way too antsy and emotional and sleep-deprived to go into college the next day and I really didn’t want to see Louis in double History so I got my dad to call in sick for me. I tried to ignore what Louis had said, I really did. But somehow it had gotten into my brain, like a little worm, and met up with the little worm of doubt I had put there myself and they had made lots of babies and filled my head with worry worms.

She’s a psycho. Zoe is a psycho.

The worry worms niggled all the next day. I Googled the word psychopath.

So when I first met Zoe, she was digging in her father’s grave. Digging him up? Putting him back? Borrowing something? Burying something? What part of Professor Lutwyche had she stolen for the project? Maybe that’s where the hands had come from? Maybe it had been his organs she had taken.

There were lots of different types of psychopath on the Internet and all sorts of mega-complicated detail about them. Primary psychopaths. Secondary psychopaths. Distempered psychopaths. Charismatic psychopaths. And then there were sociopaths, a whole other bag of bunnies. I didn’t understand any of it and there were all these quotes from scientists and psychologists, and footnotes and references that I couldn’t force my brain to read. However, some words jumped out at me and left the rest to rot:

Psychopaths convey no emotions.

They are very intelligent.

They are good liars.

They are antisocial.

They are insane.

And they have something called ‘parasitic tendencies’. I almost ignored this one until I read the line describing it. ‘A reliance on others to do things for them.’

That was me! That was the reason she wanted me involved! I was Herbert West’s assistant in that story! And Zoe was Herbert West. She was a psychopath who got me to do all her donkey-work for her. And if we did get caught, she would blame it all on me and I’d go to prison and it would probably kill my mum and dad off altogether. They couldn’t take stress at the best of times. My dad went into shock if the postman was late.

I played ball with Pee Wee in my room. I taught him to roll over and stay. I gave him treats when he did it right. It took my mind off what was in my mind, for a while. But taking your mind off your own mind isn’t easy. Thoughts kept knocking. One thought was this: I had to stop her. Zoe Lutwyche, my best friend, was a bed-wetting, mother-abandoned, head-chopping psychopath. Louis was right. Who was next on her hit list? I couldn’t let her finish making me a boyfriend, not if he was made out of people I knew. That just wasn’t right. I had to go to the police and tell them everything and put an end to it.

But more thoughts started knocking: if Zoe did finish Sexy Dead Boy, I’d have a date. And I’d have a friend again.

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