Aar's POV:-
Being an actor is fun. I'm not a professional, but whatever. I'm a good actor, that’s all that matters. One of these days, you’re gonna see me on one of those big billboards, my face selling blockbuster after blockbuster.
If, that is, I can pull myself outta this mud I’ve stepped into.
Bee is composed as she always is; I dunno what I’d do without her. We've been friends since before I have memories from. She’s sifting through e-books now, done with her physical ones for once.
Her dog is lying beside her, the large goof called "See," drooling all over the place. I've known the guy for eight years now, still don’t like how disgusting he can be. Bee says getting See to take a bath is harder than learning all the boroughs in all the kingdoms and princedoms of old times combined.
Marra’s Uncle is asleep, and his snores are as annoying as people popping their joints for no apparent reason.
The spirit – Es, she’s called – is flirting about from airplane window to window, sometimes disappearing altogether and sometimes humming an irritating rustle-hiss.
Marra himself – I think he plays it off in humor and spirit, but he’s the most afraid of us all. He's been mumbling to himself this whole trip, smiling at times and at times on the brink of tears. Poor pal. If I’d have been through what he has, I’d probably kill myself. Then again, that’s not much of an option for our Marra.
The first time I saw him die, that’s probably the most memorable moment of my entire life. Scarring, sure, but memorable too.
I mean, we were in that alleyway, going to Marra's Uncle’s house, and the Gabocks had found us and whatnot. And Marra had temporarily distracted them, giving me an opening to run. I hadn’t ran, though, being the idiot that I am. I had tried to stay and somehow convince Gaba to leave us be – how credulous of me.
But the Gaba had smashed Marra’s head against this graffiti-ridden, dirt-laden wall and it was like someone had turned on a faucet of blood as his head hit the bricks.
Marra had fallen to the ground, blood still spurting out in a jet from his head. His . . . dead head.
It was all so graphic, that even now I can see it clearly in front of me – Marra’s sans-breath body, the Gabocks' horrified expressions and my own terrified gasp.
(Gimme a moment, I am shaking badly right now. Yeah, I’m fine, Es; go bother someone else. Wait! Don’t make that face! I meant no offense, come on!)
(I'll deal with her later, oof.)
(Okay, ready to continue now.)
So . . . Marra was dead.
I stood there, petrified. So did the jocks.
But Gaba (me and Marra have decided to pronounce his name as Gaah-Baah) had broken out of his daze. His face was pale, pale as newly drizzled snow, but he seemed to have regained his sense, at least. Unlike the rest of us.
He turned his dotty eyes to me.
‘Get him,' he said in a low tone.
I was too scared to move; my eyes kept darting between my dead friend and my mad foe.
'Get him, you clods!’ Gaba yelled louder this time.
When none of his minions moved a toe, he said: 'If he gets away, he's going to tell everyone about what happened here. Then you – me – all of us will be behind bars!’
‘But, Gaba,' one of the jocks said, 'you were the one to kill him. Why would we go to jail?’
Gaba raised his fists. The jocks moved to work.
I had to overcome the shock of the whole situation, defreeze myself and run for my life. I take it back. Seeing Marra die isn’t the scariest moment I’ve lived through.
It was this, running with my heart in my mouth, hoping I don’t get the same fate. Hoping I get to give these bastards the punishment they deserve.
I didn’t even realize I wasn’t going to Marra’s Uncle’s mansion, perhaps due to fear – how would I tell him what had become of his nephew?
Running. Running. Running.
Running with the jocks chasing me.
Running. Running. Running.
Running without realizing I had already left them far behind (I’m a fast runner, as I’m sure Marra has mentioned).
Running. Running. Running.
Running towards the only place that came to my panicked mind.
Running. Running. Running.
Running towards Bee's.
Running. Running. Running.
Running towards another chapter.
YOU ARE READING
Sort of Dead
Humor**This book features short, fun, snappy chapters** **Perfectly fine as a standalone** [Caution: may pack a couple of gutpunches.] "First things first: this is the story of how I die. Over and over again." __________________________________ Marra is...
