The Less-Dead by April Lurie

Author:April Lurie [Lurie, April]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89589-0
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2010-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

{fifteen}

MY ROOM smells like Limburger cheese. At least, that’s what Melanie tells me every time she walks in. Mainly it’s because I haven’t showered in four days, but there’s also that half-eaten gyro I shoved under my bed a couple of nights ago, along with a slice of pizza and a carton of moo shu pork. Carson’s been bringing all my favorite foods, but I have no appetite.

Atop my desk, the TV is droning. I’ve been watching local news round the clock. Right now a man from the Austin GLBT group is being interviewed. “Yes, we’re very concerned,” he says. “For years Austin has been a safe haven for gays and lesbians in the state of Texas, and now we’re living in fear… .”

Newspapers are stacked on my dresser. Articles about each murder. Questions about Warren Banks and the Westboro church. Is one person responsible for the killings or is there a hate group involved? The police claim they have things under control. The FBI is continuing a thorough investigation. It’s just a matter of time before they make another arrest.

There’s a knock at my door. “Noah? Can I come in?” It’s Melanie. She just got home from school—a place I haven’t been in a while.

I roll from my stomach to my back. “Yeah, whatever, come on in, Mel.”

She sits on my bed and crinkles her nose. “Noah, there’s an oil slick on your pillow. That’s gross.”

“Yeah? Maybe I like oil slicks. Maybe I like gross. Maybe I like Limburger cheese, too.”

“Come on, this isn’t funny! You need to get out of bed!”

That’s what my parents have been telling me for the past few days. My mother even begged me to see this shrink who goes to our church—supposedly he uses biblical principals when he psychoanalyzes you—but I flat-out refused. Screw talking. Especially to a church member. I just want to be left alone.

Melanie shakes me. I pull the covers over my head and will her to disappear. Finally she stops. The room is quiet again. For some reason, my yeasty smell is comforting. Who knows, maybe if I lie here long enough, I’ll rise like a loaf of bread. Just as I’m about to doze off, I hear “Noah? Whose book is this?”

Suddenly I remember I left Will’s notebook of poems on my dresser. I lift off the covers and sit up. Melanie’s thumbing through the pages. I snatch it from her. “Mel. Get out of here. I’m trying to sleep.”

“I asked, whose book is it!”

“It’s mine, all right? Now get lost.”

“You think I’m stupid? It’s not yours. I know what your handwriting looks like. Besides, those poems are good.” She scrunches up her nose again. “Yours suck.”

“Gee thanks.”

“Plus there are some weird things written in the margins. Things that don’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

She rolls her eyes. “I thought it was your book, Noah. Don’t you know what’s inside of it?”

The truth is I don’t. Every time I pick up Will’s book, I think about the one he gave to me.

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