A Boy Named Alice

Chapter Three

I got up earlier than Mom and Sheryl and made sure I had everything I'd need. I packed up my research and supplies, some comic books, a bottle of water, and some snacks for the ride. Casting a final glance around the room, I snagged my pocketknife, the old red one Dad had used growing up, and his sports old watch. He'd given them to me on my last birthday. The pocketknife went into my front pocket, and I put the watch around my wrist. The extra hole in the band helped it stay on.

I barely spoke at breakfast. Mom and Sheryl tried to start conversations, but I no longer cared. If they didn't feel the need to get my opinion, then I didn't care to hear theirs.

I did submit to hugs from both before dashing out the front door and down to the bus stop. Just because I was angry didn't mean I wasn't going to miss them.

The bus showed up, and I claimed the first empty seat I could find. Classmates past me by, clumping together with equally excited friends. They began chattering about summer plans.

I huddled down next to my bag and stared out the window. Houses passed by in a blur, familiar places I'd seen my whole life.

Danny's green house, the stump on the left side of the house the only thing remaining of the tree we'd fallen out of two years ago. Mrs. Smith's roses bloomed in soft pinks and snowy whites. The Moores' boat took up their driveway, ready for summer vacations on the lake. Heather, Lucy, Danny, and I had all been friends when we were younger. Then they made friends with the right people and Danny and I had a social plague. There were days I still missed them.

The bus pulled up to the school and everyone rushed for the doors. They streamed out, like water through a crack, spraying across the sidewalk once the gap was big enough.

I was the last one off. Bright sunlight hit my eyes though the morning was cool. Excitement and jubilation sparkled in the air. Freedom from teachers and homework was waltzing around the corner with long, lazy days and hours of playing video games. The last day of school had arrived.

I slunk through the crowd, head down. No one stopped me. Teachers gave me a cursory look, but went back to talking. They too, were happy to see the end of the year.

The first bell rang, calling everyone into class. I hitched my backpack higher, and darted towards the exit.

I hurried through the school, dodging other students, and various teachers, before heading for the playground.

I made it outside without anyone stopping me, and turned toward the back fence. Halfway there, I stumbled to a halt. A dead bird lay on the ground. It was big, and black. Its eyes were open, feathers still shining in the morning light, life like enough that I was sure it would fly away at any second.

"Ew. Gross."

I picked up a stick and tried to shove it into some bushes. A horde of white, wriggly maggots squirmed out, rustling the feathers as they slithered over the still body. The bird collapsed beneath the weight.

I watched fascinated as they swarmed over each other, tumbling off the carcass and into the dirt. Did this happen to zombies too? Did maggots slither into flaky skin, feasting on it while the zombie ate people? I shook my head and dropped the stick. The bird was dead and zombies were fiction. There was no point in watching. I had a bus to catch.

Reaching the fence, I tossed my backpack over and dropped to my knees. I slid under the chain length, dirt, leaves, and grass catching on my clothes and hair. I dusted off my clothes and pulled out my cell phone.

I brought up the GPS, setting my destination for the bus station. The app brought up a basic map, a little computerized arrow pointed in the direction I needed to go. Checking the volume, I tucked the phone into my pocket and picked up my backpack.