Read Online A Fate Totally Worse Than Death by Paul Fleischman - Free Book Online

often—and causing her diaper to audibly crinkle. She tried to evict the vision from her mind. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
    â€œI thought I’d work out in the gym before school.”
    Tiffany scented deception. “Yeah?”
    â€œMaybe do some gymnastics.”
    The word sent more pain into Tiffany’s joints. “When did this start?”
    Brooke didn’t answer. Then Tiffany realized she was crying.
    â€œThis morning,” she sniffled.
    Tiffany halted, alarmed. “Helga?”
    Brooke nodded her head. “My clothes haven’t been fitting lately. The way they used to.” She dabbed at her eyes. “This morning I measured myself. And I’m
shrinking!”
She gave herself up to unrestrained bawling.
    Tiffany viewed her in terror. It was true. Brooke was shorter by an inch or two. “Jesus Christ,” she murmured.
    â€œI thought maybe hanging from the bars might help,” Brooke wailed miserably.
    Tiffany patted her shoulder. “Of course it will.” Privately, she had her doubts.
    Brooke mopped up her tears. They inched down a walkway, Tiffany fantasizing being pushed in a wheelchair. Then both of them halted. In the distance, Helga crossed between two buildings.
    An eerie chill skittered up Brooke’s spine. Both girls exhaled when she disappeared.
    â€œHow am I supposed to pass her in the hall?” said Brooke. “Knowing what we know?”
    â€œNot to mention what
she
knows,” said Tiffany.
    They pushed on in silence.
    â€œAt least we haven’t been called in to the dean’s office for trying to cut her hair,” Brooke spoke up. “It probably would have happened by now.”
    Tiffany sighed, “Great. So now we know for sure that she couldn’t care less about that. She’s after revenge for Charity.”
    Brooke cleaned out her left ear. “For what?”
    â€œFor
Charity,”
Tiffany repeated.
    â€œClarity?”
    â€œCharity!”
    Brooke nodded. “I almost wish she’d get it over with. And put us out of our misery.”
    Tiffany grabbed her arm for help in ascending a short flight of steps. She rested at the top, then put her mouth to Brooke’s ear and shouted, “Me, too.”

CHAPTER 12
    â€¦â€¦â€¦1:30. 1:48. 2:17. 2:27.
Time flies when you’re having fun,
Danielle mocked herself. It was Wednesday night and insomnia, not fun, was what she was having. It was the latest symptom of her advancing age. She hadn’t minded the first two nights, when she’d been madly skimming her horror novels in search of help against Helga. Now, however, the bags under her eyes were as big as gunnysacks. She hungered for sleep. She’d tried warm milk. She’d counted sheep, Gucci purses, new BMWs. She now tried guided fantasy, strolling hand in hand with Drew along the beaches of Bermuda, listening to him marvel aloud at her physical and spiritual beauty. When this failed, she turned to truly desperate measures: her history textbook.
    She opened Chapter Five of
Let Freedom Ring
and forced herself to read. Looking ahead, she held great hopes for the discussion of the Stamp Act crisis, and was astounded to discover herself still awake at the end of the chapter. Though Chapter Six, “The Tide of Independence,” promised to induce sleep, and possibly death, she couldn’t bring herself to administer the dose. Instead, she scanned her paperbacks for any she’d missed, reached for
A Score to Settle
, and opened a page at random.
    Rolf’s lips met hers. Ashleigh closed her eyes and fell deeply into the kiss. Down and down, plunging blindly into the unknown, the voices in her head growing ever fainter. Her father yelling that he wished she’d died in the car wreck instead of her beautiful sister, that she was ugly, that no boy would ever kiss her. Margo saying that Rolf gave her the creeps. Megan saying he had the eyes of a killer. Old Mrs.