Read Online Dead and Beloved by Jamie McHenry - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jamie McHenry
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again, hovering over me.
“Dead man walking,” someone yells behind him.
The kids around us snicker.
I try wrenching my arm away, but Tyson's grip is too strong. Some of my flesh burns me and peels away.
“Gross! Zombie boy bled on me.” Tyson drops his grip and flings his fingers toward the crowd that is forming in the hall.
A couple girls scream and some of the kids dart away, shoving the others as they exit. Suddenly there’s panic and yelling. One girl faints.
“Look what you've done, freak,” Tyson tells me.
I shake my head, unwilling to apologize. I need to get to class. I don't want detention.
“Hey. Where you going?”
Before I can escape, someone has shoved me from behind. I smash into the wall and taste blood on my lip. I duck low to avoid what I think will be a strike to my head. I'm right. Tyson smashes the brick, yelling in pain as I scramble away.
“Freak.” Tyson chases me and shoves me again.
This time, I fall to the ground. He steps on my back and I feel the cover of my tablet crack between his foot and my back.
“I'm sorry, Tyson,” I say. “I just want to get to class.”
“You don't belong here, freak,” he tells me. “You don't belong anywhere.”
“Except a graveyard,” someone says.
There's more shoving and pushing and I'm in the middle of it. I feel flesh from my arms being torn away. My body feels hotter and hotter. I don't want to fight and clench my fists to fight the pain. Another shove into the wall, this time I hit a locker. I feel the metal bend around my shoulder.
“Stop it,” I say. I wipe my face. I'm bleeding.
Everyone is far back now, but no one has gone to class, despite the tardy bell. Tyson takes another shot at me. I shove his arm to the side and strike his face. And smile. Now I'm in my hospital room again, hitting and striking the dummy given to me to control my condition. With a thousand punches and kicks, I shock Tyson and the students around us. The workout is exhilarating, but I don't feel like myself. I'm hot, and dizzy, and angry. Someone is screaming.
“Stop. Stop!” Mr. Todd waves his arms in front of me. He has two school guards with him. They shove me back, forcing me into the wall. I'm done now, finished with my exercise, and I see what I've done to Tyson. He's crouched on the floor, bleeding from his head and his arms. He's yelling in pain. Everyone else is silent and staring.
“Go to class now.” Mr. Todd clears the hall with one resonating order.
In a flurry of commotion, like a stampede of elephants, the student body clears and leaves us alone. The zombie, two guards, Mr. Todd, and Tyson. Nurse Jennings arrives, makes a frightened glance at me, and then attends to Tyson. He's bleeding through his shirt.
The ceiling moves from side to side, then it swirls. I'm spinning. I see lights. I hear sirens. Paramedics run into the school and wheel Tyson out on a stretcher. I'm held in place until police arrive. These aren't the usual cops in uniforms with handcuffs. These cops are dressed in black with SWAT embroidered on their shoulder patches. The men smother me, each grabbing an arm or leg, and carry me out to a dark van. I curse a protest as they shove me into the back.
~ O ~
It's dark in the room and colder than most. Blinking lights of two cameras in the corner announce that somewhere, someone is watching me. I crouch around my knees and cradle my arms. One of them is still bleeding and the skin peels open and closed like a flap, exposing the mechanics under neath. No nurses come. It's only me, steel walls, and the comfort of a cold cement floor.
I expect someone to enter, some detective or authority announcing his presence with a long title. I'm in trouble, I know that, but this was only a fight and I was defending myself. Once I tell my side of the story, I'll be sent back to the hospital.
But no one comes. It's nighttime. I know this because my body feels week. I feel like my energy is draining like water from a
“Dead man walking,” someone yells behind him.
The kids around us snicker.
I try wrenching my arm away, but Tyson's grip is too strong. Some of my flesh burns me and peels away.
“Gross! Zombie boy bled on me.” Tyson drops his grip and flings his fingers toward the crowd that is forming in the hall.
A couple girls scream and some of the kids dart away, shoving the others as they exit. Suddenly there’s panic and yelling. One girl faints.
“Look what you've done, freak,” Tyson tells me.
I shake my head, unwilling to apologize. I need to get to class. I don't want detention.
“Hey. Where you going?”
Before I can escape, someone has shoved me from behind. I smash into the wall and taste blood on my lip. I duck low to avoid what I think will be a strike to my head. I'm right. Tyson smashes the brick, yelling in pain as I scramble away.
“Freak.” Tyson chases me and shoves me again.
This time, I fall to the ground. He steps on my back and I feel the cover of my tablet crack between his foot and my back.
“I'm sorry, Tyson,” I say. “I just want to get to class.”
“You don't belong here, freak,” he tells me. “You don't belong anywhere.”
“Except a graveyard,” someone says.
There's more shoving and pushing and I'm in the middle of it. I feel flesh from my arms being torn away. My body feels hotter and hotter. I don't want to fight and clench my fists to fight the pain. Another shove into the wall, this time I hit a locker. I feel the metal bend around my shoulder.
“Stop it,” I say. I wipe my face. I'm bleeding.
Everyone is far back now, but no one has gone to class, despite the tardy bell. Tyson takes another shot at me. I shove his arm to the side and strike his face. And smile. Now I'm in my hospital room again, hitting and striking the dummy given to me to control my condition. With a thousand punches and kicks, I shock Tyson and the students around us. The workout is exhilarating, but I don't feel like myself. I'm hot, and dizzy, and angry. Someone is screaming.
“Stop. Stop!” Mr. Todd waves his arms in front of me. He has two school guards with him. They shove me back, forcing me into the wall. I'm done now, finished with my exercise, and I see what I've done to Tyson. He's crouched on the floor, bleeding from his head and his arms. He's yelling in pain. Everyone else is silent and staring.
“Go to class now.” Mr. Todd clears the hall with one resonating order.
In a flurry of commotion, like a stampede of elephants, the student body clears and leaves us alone. The zombie, two guards, Mr. Todd, and Tyson. Nurse Jennings arrives, makes a frightened glance at me, and then attends to Tyson. He's bleeding through his shirt.
The ceiling moves from side to side, then it swirls. I'm spinning. I see lights. I hear sirens. Paramedics run into the school and wheel Tyson out on a stretcher. I'm held in place until police arrive. These aren't the usual cops in uniforms with handcuffs. These cops are dressed in black with SWAT embroidered on their shoulder patches. The men smother me, each grabbing an arm or leg, and carry me out to a dark van. I curse a protest as they shove me into the back.
~ O ~
It's dark in the room and colder than most. Blinking lights of two cameras in the corner announce that somewhere, someone is watching me. I crouch around my knees and cradle my arms. One of them is still bleeding and the skin peels open and closed like a flap, exposing the mechanics under neath. No nurses come. It's only me, steel walls, and the comfort of a cold cement floor.
I expect someone to enter, some detective or authority announcing his presence with a long title. I'm in trouble, I know that, but this was only a fight and I was defending myself. Once I tell my side of the story, I'll be sent back to the hospital.
But no one comes. It's nighttime. I know this because my body feels week. I feel like my energy is draining like water from a
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