Grey Matters

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Greyson’s no slacker, but I really am fast. He loses me at the Calder’s field. Outside the church, I hide in the ragged bushes for a while, just to be sure. Call it instinct, but I don’t want him to know where I’m hiding. I would, however, like to know where he’s camping out with his friends…no, his “decoys.”  Those poor ZVs he’s herding are no better off than frogs hanging out with the biology teacher. 

The moon is gone and the street has been empty for a while. Wind rattles the dead leaves, bugs click and twitter in the still of the night. It’s really late, but I can still see the nightlight in Madi Calder’s window. 

I used to babysit her. She loved me and I’m pretty sure I was the only girl in the neighborhood willing to babysit at the funeral home. The only way I could talk her into going to bed was to tell her I knew the secret of keeping the dead people downstairs in their coffins. She was sure the corpses got up and walked around as soon as the lights went out. I used to do this special spell, sitting with my legs crossed and my palms pressed together in front of her bed, until she fell asleep. I never did tell her parents my secret.

When I think I’ve lost Greyson for sure, I slip down the stairwell. The basement door closes quietly behind me. When I moved in, one of the first things I did was oil the hinges. 

In the cubby, all my clothes are strewn on the floor and I start sorting through them. What’s the best outfit for breaking a friend out of an asylum? No way I’m going to sit here safe in my little hideout while the Institute “doctors” torture Bridger. He’s still human—disgusting eating habits, maybe—but human. 

My pale skin has an eerie glow in the dark. I stare at my hands and think of holding Bridger’s. He was like a little kid, loosing his speech, grasping at thoughts, limping. I try to hold it together, but a little tear slides down my cheek, my chest feels too small for the fat pain inside. That boy and I weren’t just a couple; we were friends. I swipe at the drop on my face. The virus is eating Bridger alive and we caught it together. I should be as far gone as he is. I wonder what freak of nature is making me stronger instead of devouring me from the inside out. 

I try to figure out why the virus god “smiled” on me, and I can’t come up with an answer that makes sense. If I were home, my mom would tell me that bad things happen to you so that you can feel sorry for other people when bad things happen to them; and good things happen to you so that you can help people that bad things have happened too. I guess both apply to me. Dans le royaume des aveugles, le borgne est roi. In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. Maybe I’m like this so I can save Bridger.

My mom’s not here, but I straighten up my pile of clothes before I leave because I know she’d be mortified if she came in and found it a mess. I’m amazed at how many books I have—not just that I have them, but that I’ve actually read them. It seems that time to kill and reading go together. Yeah, I caught the double meaning there. That’s not what I meant. 

The books arrived special delivery via Cory. That probably wasn’t a family decision. There’s a big, old maple tree on the very edge of the Calder’s field, right where the fence meets the canal. It got hit by lightning a few years back and now the center has a bunch of hollow dead spots. Cory and I used to hide fruit snacks and juice boxes in there so we could stay out and play longer.

On my birthday a couple weeks ago, I found Baby Oscar in the tree with a big bow around his neck. Bridger gave the doll to Amber. I’m not sure which one of us got more presents from him. Sometimes, I was a little jealous. Anyway, she named her baby doll Oscar after the little kid that the demon kidnapped in GHOSTBUSTERS. Amber loves Baby Oscar and here he is with me. I can’t think about that.