Reapers - Thirteen Brothers

V - Rumors (2 of 2)

--XIII--

"What did Vincent Sinclair ever do to you?" Carter nagged in an undertone just in case the science club members—led by a mousy-haired girl, Macy Cartridge—on the other side of the lunch table were eavesdropping.

I stuffed my mouth with mashed potato and shrugged blankly. "He's a jerk. Plus, he sleeps through Spanish and Miss Cruz lets him get away with it. He's a force that goes against all laws of fairness."

Carter shook his head apprehensively. "If Lindsay were here, she would probably go ballistic. And minus all the superstitions and rumors about Vincent, you should probably not talk to him. I mean ever."

"What rumors?"

"You've heard about Hazel Hemlock?" He lowered his voice so I could barely hear him.

I just nodded and gestured for him to go on.

He looked around to check that no one else but me was listening. "Last person she talked to before she died was him. Vincent Sinclair. I don't know if it makes any sense at all but... Ben Moore; he talked to Vincent the day before his grandfather died. Same with Kelly Richards. Her mom died a day after she borrowed an old piano piece from Vincent. Charity Fenton, Lauren Chase, Tim Powell and many others—they all talked to Vincent Sinclair and in the next day or two, one of their family members died."

I knitted my brows. "People die every day. Surely, Vincent wasn't the only one they talked to... No one could possibly cause death by lending an old music sheet."

I had heard Dad talk about strange deaths due to Anthrax bacteria being spread through the mail. But that was decades ago. And knowing Dad, he might just be making it up. If Lindsay hadn't told me about Vincent's possible involvement in Hazel Hemlock's death, I might have been even more skeptical.

Again, Carter shook his head in frustration. He leaned closer.

"Vincent rarely talks to anyone. In fact, he never talks to anyone. Besides, those students—most of them claim that Vincent asked them about their family members. How things are going in the house. How's everyone doing. Basically the same small talk. Some people here believe that he's spreading some kind of curse whether by purpose or by accident. Most of the people who died, died in their sleep. Is it just a coincidence? No one could tell. None of the corpses were autopsied. But it doesn't matter. Just... don't talk to him okay?"

"Okay..."

I still wasn't all that convinced with Carter's theory. There was more to it—something I didn't want to find out. But it was too late. Before I knew it, I was way in too deep.

When Carter sensed that I wasn't buying it, he sighed and rolled his eyes. "Plus... he's notorious for turning down every girl, and I mean even the prettiest girls in the whole school. And believe me, subtlety and empathy aren't in his dictionary."

"By prettiest, you mean Mira Webber, the cheerleader," I humored him.

"Exactly—" he agreed but threw me a scowl the instant he realized that I was just teasing him.

I couldn't help but laugh when he pouted like a little boy.

"Seriously though," he mumbled, turning his attention to his mushy peas. "If you don't want to attend a funeral anytime soon, or worse, get turned down in public, don't even think about it."

"You seriously need to check your priorities." I tried to straighten my face while holding back a chuckle. "Besides, I wouldn't be attending a funeral if it was my funeral, right?"

His face paled. And here I thought I was being funny.

We were heading to Trigonometry when I caught glance of them across the hallway. Vincent, Vladimir and the raven-haired girl I met this morning were huddled silently near an open locker. Vladimir was talking and all the while, the girl kept nodding while looking down.

As much as I wanted to avoid stumbling upon them every now and then, I didn't own the school.

"That's Mei," Carter said when he noticed me looking at the girl. "Zhu Xi Mei, to be exact. She's a junior exchange student. Weird thing is, she never went back to Beijing. I think she's the younger Sinclair's girlfriend or something," he muttered sourly.

"Who? Vladimir?" I dragged Carter along, quickening my pace as soon as Vincent lifted his gaze and saw me looking.

"Wait. Yeah... You've met him?"

"Long story. You don't want to know. Isn't he like in middle school?" I asked changing the topic.

Carter let out an exasperated sigh as though I shouldn't be asking things like that. In any case, he still answered.

"Nope. He's a junior. Accelerated. He's supposed to be some super genius wonder boy," he quoted with his fingers. "Apparently, unlike his brother, he actually likes girls—older girls though. Even so, people don't usually talk to that little squirt. Most teachers like him but because of his brother, his own reputation's practically falling down the popularity ladder."

During the next few classes, Carter talked and talked. Like you wouldn't believe. I was beginning to wonder when he was going to run out of stories and rumors about virtually everyone in the school.

"Do you have plans after class?" I interrupted Carter in midsentence.

It was Gym Class. We were in the bleachers waiting for our turn to do two laps in the track. I had an excuse slip saying I couldn't engage in strenuous activities because of my asthma, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself. And I didn't want to look like a wimp.

Carter was talking about a certain Tommy Johnson and his missing underpants. I couldn't keep track of the rest.

"Nope. But I have a date at six o'clock with Homework and a nine p.m. appointment with the save-the-world-from-Global-Warming project."

"Really? No kidding." I gave him a derisive smile. "Clear your schedule for the evening. I got a better idea."

It might just be my imagination but I thought I saw him blush, his face having a look like he had just been doused with a bucket of ice. "Y-you... you mean you're asking me out?"

"Uh... yeah. Isn't it obvious? I have no idea how to get to Lindsay's house."

With that, his shoulders sagged and did that boyish pout again, which might have even been a bit cute if I wasn't just too preoccupied with figuring out how I would be able to stay alive after talking to Vincent Sinclair not just once.

So that was why the class kept silent whenever Vincent Sinclair said something. It was because no one talks to Vincent Sinclair. And no one talks to him the way I just did. Because, like Lindsay warned me about, something might go wrong. Horribly wrong.

No matter how crazy it sounded, the rumors still scared me. Maybe it had some connection with silver-eyed boy I saw last night.

Or maybe not.

I had to talk to Lindsay. I was sure she would have better insights other than me dying.

Hopefully.