Tales From Gulinger High: Tale Twenty-Four - Julie Steimle - E-Book

Tales From Gulinger High: Tale Twenty-Four E-Book

Julie Steimle

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Beschreibung

For a boy who sees the deaths of everyone around him, it is almost impossible to keep friends. So when Carlos Mendez comes to Gulinger High, facing people who are cursed and hunted by the Mafia, he wishes had never been born. And who can blame him. Almost all of his classmates are doomed to die tragic deaths, right? That's what Carlos thinks until he meets Tom Brown and the gang. After all, those connected to Howard Richard Deacon III are in for an interesting future...one that can even defy death--or throw them in the middle of it.

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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

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Julie Steimle

Tales From Gulinger High: Tale Twenty-Four

Death in His Eyes

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Meet Morty

"Hey! There’s a new arrival!” Lee shouted, jogging over to Rick and Tom’s room. He looked in at the rust-haired Rick Deacon while ignoring Tom Brown altogether. Rick lifted his head from his homework as Tom peered his orange eyes over the cover of the comic book he was reading.

“Yeah? Does he look weird? What are you coming in here for?” Rick grimaced at the freckle-faced redhead then turned his eyes back to his work.

Tom rolled off his bed. “Mafi or ghoulie?”

Lee stepped back from the tall, pale senior. Tom those days looked like an orange eyed ghost with his white hair sticking up as usual. “No one knows. He keeps his eyes on the ground, and he doesn’t smile. He could be anything.”

“What’s his name?” Rick asked, tapping his pencil on the desk.

Grinning, Lee said, “Something Mexican. I don’t know. Maybe José.”

Lifting his eyes up again, Rick frowned at him. “You know, it’s rude to just assume stuff. Did you bother talking to him?”

Lee took another step back and rolled his eyes. “Fine, high and mighty wolf boy. I’ll go ask. I’ll even ask him if he’s our Thanksgiving turkey.”

He stomped off, his feet echoing down the hall.

“Wow,” Tom murmured to the ceiling. “We haven’t really had a newbie since Chen arrived.”

“What do you mean?” Rick peered over his book at him. “You’re not counting all those mafis that came? What about Keenan?”

Tom rolled his eyes and hopped back onto his bed. “No. I don’t really count the mafis.  Some of them are here only until foster families in witness protection are set up for them. And most passed on to West End Prep anyway. We haven’t even had a werewolf come since your arrival.”

“That’s because they’ve been doing house-call cures since the whole witch-at-the-school incident.” Rick then went back to writing.

Tilting his head and rolling over so he was on his back with his feet up along the wall, Tom asked, “Do you mean that cutie or Chen’s grandma?”

Rick cast him a glare. “That girl from Middleton Village was not a cutie. She was planning on ripping out your eyes for some gross potion making, remember?”

Tom cringed, slapping his book over his eyes to protect them. “Never mind.

“It’s just that I miss having cuties around. The world is a less colorful place now that Selena is off at college. And she isn’t coming back to New York for Thanksgiving so it doubly sucks.” Tom then let out a loud and long sigh.

Rick didn’t react at all.

Tom looked back just to make sure Rick was still in the room. Then Tom sighed louder, waiting for a reaction. Rick did nothing but write, looking to his textbook and thinking hard. Tom gave off one more heaving sigh.

“If you are in pain,” Rick said, hardly lifting his eyes from his homework. “You should go to the nurse.”

“When did you get so boring?” Tom rolled over, righting himself with disgust.

Lifting his eyes just then, Rick smirked. “Since day one. Haven’t you noticed that I actually do my homework?”

Tom blinked blankly at him. “Hmm…. Doing homework? I wonder if that’s why my grades are so low?”

Rick snorted knowing Tom’s lack of interest in schoolwork was the only thing that held him back. A boy with a one-eighty IQ could go anywhere on scholarship—if he actually did his work. Yet even with the looming college tests coming up that weekend, Tom acted as usual, not studying at all, though the others were all in the library cramming.

“Well, if you are not going to be any fun, I’m gonna go check out the new kid.” Tom hopped off the bed then sunk through the floor.

He landed in the middle the boys’ room below theirs where they were also studying hard.

“Hey! Get out, Trouble!” “Tom!”

With a snort, Tom stood up and strolled to the door as if no one were shouting at him. Going into the hall, he looked left, then right as he listened to the air for the shout of imps. If the new boy was a ghoulie, his imps would be shouting strange things. So far he just heard more of the usual.

“Steal that boy’s candy bar! You know where he hides it!”

“Sneak off to the Maceys Parade like those ghoulies did last year.”

“Go sneak into her office and take the test notes. You can sell them for good money!”

“Short-sheet his bed!”

“Take his pen, he won’t miss it!”

“Come on. Everybody’s doing it! One puff. You won’t get caught!”

“He’s not here. He won’t see you trying on his underpants.”

Tom blinked at that one and tilted his head, wondering which boy that last imp belonged to.

But he continued on, listening while he sauntered over to the stairs, since it was clear he was not hearing the voices of any new imps. The imps he could see were also the usual varieties. Rick’s imps were the surly starved kind, desperate and often shouting for him to bite people though Rick never listened to them. The imps that belonged to Matt were the usual type, usually suggesting he sneak something or ‘borrow’ something without permission. When Chen was still at the school, his imps actually suggested he mess around with the girls and cheat on his tests…so much that Tom wondered how he was faring at college with those growing temptations.

“Trip him!”

“Take his book away and hold it out of his reach!”

“Toss his shoe down the stairwell!”

“Your life is worthless. Slit your writs.”

Tom halted on that last one. He turned, listening for that imp. It had been a while since he had heard suicidal cries from imps though they came now and again among some of the mafis and occasionally among the especially cursed ghoulies. Sometimes when Troy got low, he heard those shouts. But Troy always stubbornly fought them off. Not long after Rick’s steward had been murdered, Rick’s imps shouted for him to kill himself, blaming him as he grieved the same way they laid blame for his mother’s abandonment of him. Chen’s and Selena’s had occasionally made such shouts at them when they were stressed. And when Joshua Johnson still attended Gulinger, his imps shouted it at him all the time, telling him he deserved to be among the dead he saw. The imps even looked at Tom on rare occasions and made such calls—though with Tom staring dryly back at them, they didn’t last very long. This particular imp did not even shout. Its voice was low and degrading without any need to shout to be heard.

“Come on. Just take that piece of glass and slit your wrist. No one is around to stop you.”

It came from the stairwell.

Hopping in then following the imp’s voice, Tom traveled down soft-footed.

“Cut deeper.”

Reaching out, Tom snatched the piece of glass from the hand of a boy only twelve years old. The boy looked up. Tears rolled down his face and his nose ran mucousy tracks. He was in a new Gulinger uniform, clearly Hispanic, with rough wavy hair, dark skin and dark eyes.

“What are you doing?” Tom smacked the boy on the back of his head.

The boy jumped from him and shouted. “You will die blind!”

Then he ran away, dashing down the stairs like a rabbit until he was gone. Tom stood there, a little bobbly in the knees, wondering if he had just been cursed or if the kid was just completely nuts. Walking heavily down the steps, he looked at the piece of glass in his hand. It was stained with blood.

Tom broke into a jog. Going quickly down the stairs, Tom listened to the air. Cursed or not, that kid was seriously listening to his suicide driving imps. He had to stop it. Nobody was dying on his watch.

But the imps were shouting the usual things on that floor and also on the floor below. In fact, he could not find that one imp again until after he gave up and marched his feet to the nurse’s office to report that their new kid was suicidal. There he found the boy, getting his wrists bandaged up. The boy’s eyes were crammed shut.

“Oh, good.” Tom exhaled with relief, nodding to the nurse.

She lifted her eyes with a nod back to him. “Did you need something, Tom Brown?”

“Tom Brown’s body was a-moldering in the grave.”The new boy broke into song, his eyes crammed tight shut.“Tom Brown’s body was a-moldering in the grave. Tom Brown’s body was a-moldering in the grave, and he—”

Tom smacked the kid on the back of his head. “Stop that! I hate that song!”

The boy looked up again in horror and pointed. “You die blind!”

Slapping the back of the boy’s head again, Tom snorted. “You already said that! I’m still alive!”

“Mr. Brown!” Standing between them, the nurse pushed the boy behind her, shaking her head. “Is that how you greet a new student?”

Rolling his eyes, Tom then stuck out his hand, watching the boy duck his eyes. “Come on. Shake. I’m your upperclassman. Senior. Tom Brown.”

“That’s pronounced Señor,” the boy said.

Tom blinked then smirked. “Mouthy one, huh? Well, I’ve got news for you, it’s pronounced senior, as in I am a senior and you are just as seventh grader. Got it?”

“That is not a proper introduction,” the nurse retorted, glaring at Tom.

Rolling his eyes again, Tom glanced down the hall with the dire wish that his pals were not all busy studying for their SAT’s and ACT’s.

“Look,” Tom turned his gaze to the nurse whom he had been taller than for about a year now, “just tell me if he is here as a mafi or a ghoulie.”

“Why? So you can rig your bet with your friends?” the nurse asked, smirking. She nudged the new boy out of her office. “No way. You figure it out on your own like you always do.”

The door closed heavily, leaving both boys out in the hall. The twelve-year-old shuddered and looked up at Tom again, trembling.

“So.” Tom lifted his chin. “What’s your name?”

The boy took a step back from Tom. “You’re not scared of what I just said about your death?”

Snorting, Tom chuckled. “Should I be?”

“Then you don’t believe me.” The boy exhaled with relief.

Blinking dryly at the new kid, Tom shrugged. “What’s to believe? Unless you are threatening me, I’ll have you know I can predict what bad things people would do. It’s not like I can’t see you coming. Or hear it.”

Puzzled, the boy just stared at him. “I’m not talking about what I can do. I can’t do anything except see how a person will die.”

Tom halted. He turned his head then peered hard at the kid. “What did you say?”

Nodding, the boy drew in strength. “I see you believed that. You loco. I see death everywhere. I see your death, the nurse’s death, everyone’s death.”

Closing one eye, Tom took off his sunglasses. The kid jumped upon seeing the orange eyes, but Tom set a hand on the new kid’s shoulder so he could not run away. “Are you saying that you can predict the deaths of people? Or that you see gross mirages of death all the time.”

Shaking, the boy stared at Tom. Then he pointed. “Your eyes! That’s why you die blind!”

Tom jerked back, breathing hard. He hovered a step before landing again on the linoleum.

“Someone takes you eyes before you die!” the boy shouted, pointing right at him.

“A witch?” Tom asked, suddenly feeling very weak.

Shaking his head, the boy inched backward from Tom. “I did not see that…and now you understand. I am terrible. I should die!”

The boy darted off down the hall.

Tom did not chase him this time. His arms and legs felt weak, as his entire body trembled. He knew what the boy had seen had to be real. Now all he wanted to do was know when and where so he could protect himself.

“Hey, kid!” Tom hopped up again, searching that floor, listening for his imps.

Two shouted from around the corner. “You should run away!” “You should kill yourself.”

However the kid just ran, jogging straight to the stairwell, going down into the basement. The cafeteria was only barely open, the cooks preparing dinner. Tom ran in after him.

Mucho Loco

Ahead on the other side of the cafeteria doors, Tom heard a loud bang, a yowl from a cat, and then the shouting of a boy. “Watch where you’re going! Jeeze!”

“You have a stroke!” the twelve-year-old shouted.

Tom pushed open the door.

Randon Spade grabbed the new kid’s shirt collar and dragged him closer. Sticking his face in the boy’s, the midnight-haired senior hissed out, “If that is a witch’s curse, it is a pitiful one. I’m not having a stroke.”

“How old is he when he dies of a stroke?” Tom marched in.

The new kid whipped his head around, taking in Tom again, though this time he did not shout out a death sentence. “Why are you following me?”

“What witch takes my eyes?” Tom grabbed the kid’s arm, ready to shake him. “When?”

“I don’t know! I don’t see that! You’re already blind when you die!” The boy shouted back.

Randon let go of him, staring at Tom who had broken into a sweat. “What’s going on?”

Jerking up on the new kid’s arm, Tom shouted back. “He can see how we die. He’s a ghoulie.”

“Really?” Randon took another step back. “Then I die of a stroke, huh? And Tom asked it, so how old am I when this happens?”

Blinking and panting, the new kid’s body quaked. “I don’t know. You’re all wrinkly and—”

Randon sighed with a roll of his eyes. “So, then I still have some time left.”

“And how old am I?” Tom shook the kid.

Trembling, the kid shouted out while cramming his eyes shut. “I don’t know. About as old as he is when he dies!”

“I die an old blind man? That’s all?” Dropping the boy, Tom rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “All that fuss for nothing.”

Still shaking, the boy peered up at them. “Then…then…then you don’t hate me?”

The pair of them cast their eyes down on him and frowned. Randon folded his arms as Tom rubbed his own forehead in agitation.

“I asked you before, but what’s your name kid?” Tom peered at the boy.

Standing up, the boy replied with an abashed blush, “Carlos Mendez. But the kids all called me Muerte”

“Morty?” Tom tilted his head, rubbing his temple against a headache. Carlos’s imps were throwing fits that the boy was no longer listening to them.  

Carlos blinked. “No, Muerte. Death. I once predicted a kid’s death by drowning, and it happened the next week. I saw my neighbor die, shot before it happened. And my Abuela, I saw her strangled by some nasty men, and it happened. Everyone says I bring death.”

“But you saw us die of old age,” Randon replied with a snort, looking to Tom. “That is the best news I’ve heard in ages. I always thought a witch would find me again and take my blood for some foul potion.”

Tom frowned. “But I die blind. Which means, somewhere along the line I lose my eyes to a witch. That sucks.”

Randon shrugged. “Well, at least you know ahead of time to learn how to use Braille.”

“Very funny. Ha. Ha.” Tom was not at all happy. He then turned to Carlos. “Look, kid. Obviously you don’t like seeing all that death. But why don’t you just keep what happens to yourself?”

“I can’t,” Carlos said, averted his eyes to the ground. “Whenever I see someone die, it just bursts out of me, and before I know it, I’m telling that person how he dies. The only way to stop it is to not look at his face.”

Randon glanced over at Tom. “Hmm. Well then, that must be hard.”

Tom grimaced, peering down at the kid. “Fine. But don’t you try to kill yourself again. I can hear those imps telling you to do it, and I hate that.”

With a stare of awe and also horror, Carlos pulled back. “You can hear my thoughts?”

“Only the bad ones.” Randon said, his mouth curling into a smile.

“Don’t you listen to them,” Tom said, leaning close to Carlos. “You killing yourself will not make anything better. It will only make me angry.”

Nodding, Carlos pulled back into a retreat, but Tom set his hand on Carlos’s back and pushed him forward to the stairs. “Come on. It is time you joined the rest of Gulinger and accepted your fate.”

“Are we taking him up to meet Matt and Troy?” Randon followed, going up slower than Tom and Carlos were, with a glance at the cafeteria. He bent down and picked up some of the food he snitched. “Because we really shouldn’t bring him to see Rick.”

Tom halted. “And why not?”

Randon jogged to catch up, glancing at Carlos. Randon hissed into Tom’s ear, “Because, you know how many hunters are after Rick. The chances of him dying young are higher than the rest of us. I’d rather have Rick not know if he will die tomorrow.”

“Well, what about Troy being chased by vampires?” Tom clenched harder onto the back of Carlos’s neck, already hearing his imps tell the kid to kick him in the shins and run for it. “Don’t you think the possibility of them finding him his also high?”

Cringing, Randon nodded. “Yeah, if you put it like that.”

They walked up farther until they reached the middle floor. There they practically dragged Carlos into the library despite how the boy held back with all the dead weight he could muster. Randon went in first to warn their pals of what would happen, as Tom made sure Carlos stayed put. A seventeen-year-old with imps at his command versus a scrawny twelve-year-old who could see death? No contest.

“You people are loco,” Carlos said, staring horrified up at Tom. “You actually want your friends to know their day of death?

It did feel weird, but Tom did not let go. Instead he watched his pal Matthew Calamori lift his head up and blink at him and Carlos. From that alone, Tom took as a sign to bring Carlos over.

“So,” Tom’s Italian-American pal said in a whisper. “You are the new ghoulie.”

Carlos stared at Matt and then pointed. “You…you…you are weird.”

Randon and Tom shared a look. Though Troy ducked his dark mop down—not yet sure he wanted to know his death.

“Weird how?” Matt asked, growing curious with each second

Peering at his face, Carlos nodded. “You come close to death many times, but do not die until…” He then blinked. “…you pass in your sleep. So old.”

“Lucky!” Tom clenched his hair. “And not fair! I lose my eyesight before I die.”

“Shhh!” Everyone turned and hissed at him.

Carlos turned also. He stared at a boy who glared at him from across the room. “You get hit by a car.”

That boy rolled his eyes and went back to his work. Most in the room ignored them.

“Why are they not afraid?” Carlos asked, turning to Matt, then Tom. “You were not afraid when you heard.”

“Shhh!” More hissed at them.

Matt gestured for them to go out of the library. Troy got up, but ducked behind Randon so Carlos would not see his face. Tom tugged on the new kid to go out with them. Shrugging, Carlos really didn’t have a choice anyway. He and the other four boys exited the library then stood in the hall.

“So, Troy, do you want to know?” Tom peered over Randon’s shoulder.

“I’m scared to,” Troy said, keeping his back to Carlos.

Carlos was more comfortable with that reaction. However, he also hunched over with anguish. “It’s ok. I am terrible.”

“No…” Troy hid his face though. “Not you. It isn’t like you make the deaths happen. You just tell it how you see it.”

Looking up, Carlos frowned. “I don’t think so. I once told someone, and in his panic he killed himself.”

“What did you say he died of?” Matt asked watching the new boy shift the weight nervously from one foot to the other.

“Gunshot,” Carlos replied, averting his eyes.

Matt looked to Tom who shrugged.

“How did he kill himself?” Randon asked.

Carlos peered up at him sadly. “He shot himself in the head.”

“Is that how you saw it?” Randon blinked at him.

With a shrug, Carlos looked to the ground again, he sighed. “Sometimes, I only get flashes. Especially when it is quick and violent.”

“Meaning, it could have been anything,” Matt said, casting Troy a look.

“That guy was an idiot,” Tom replied then rubbed Carlos’s head. “Ok, kid. Obviously you’ve got a big problem. Is there any way to block it? Do sunglasses help?”

Carlos stared at Tom as if he were stupid. “No. Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

“Not everybody does,” Matt said, glancing to Tom. “We knew a boy who could read everybody’s past with a shake of the hand, and he never thought about wearing gloves until recently.”

“We have to assume that you are rookie ghoulie, you know,” Tom said.

“A what?” Carlos peered at him and then at all of them like they were crazy. His eyes fell on Troy’s interested stare and he shouted out. “You! You…you…you are weirder than him!”

Troy yelped then hid behind Randon.

“Too late!” Tom said, but not laughing like he would have normally.

Hanging his shoulders, Troy stepped out from behind Randon. “Ok. Ok. How do I die?”

“Die?” Carlos shook his head. “I do not see death in your future.”

“Crap!” Troy then cursed worse and kicked the wall. Then he punched it.

His friends watched him, sighing. Carlos watched also, though he grew more and more amazed by it.

“It’s not fair! No matter how hard I try, they are going to find me!” Troy punched the locker again.

Carlos jumped.

“Calm down!” Randon lifted up his hands, going to his pal. “At least he didn’t see you with a stake in your heart. That would be death.”

Turning to look at him, Troy grabbed his forehead. “Yeah. You’re right. I just didn’t want to become a vampire.”

“Can they make you?” Tom asked, following him. “I still don’t see how. Vampirism is still voluntary. You know it.”

“Maybe they figure out a way,” Troy said. Then he glanced at Carlos’s distressed expression, realizing that he still brought bad news. “This is not your fault. My parents are vampires, and they are hunting me. I was hoping to avoid them, but we’re graduating after this year. Because of that, we’ll all be going off to college, leaving us out in the open inside the real world. We’re all safe here, kid. Out there is scary.”

All four of them nodded. Their anxieties had less to do with their SAT’s and more to do with what would come after that. Every one of them had worried in his own way. Watching Joshua leave with his ghostly curse, somehow surviving out there with the goal to become a homicide cop, they had hoped that things would go for them as smoothly. But for Chen it had not been so easy. He had written back with desperation about how difficult it was for him among the college set—especially since he had to make sure no one bumped into him or held him tight. It really messed up with his dating scene. And Selena wrote often, talking of how she missed being with people who knew of her ‘condition’… though the rest of her letters were long and syrupy romantic to Tom. All that, and it had been a long time since any of them had really been among people on the street, taking shelter in the walls that Mr. Deacon had provided so they could grow up unharmed. What would it be like once they no longer had the school to rely on?

“Ok, that’s it. We don’t let Rick meet him,” Randon said as he turned to the others.

Troy and Tom nodded, sure now that the worst-case scenario would certainly befall that werewolf.

“In the mean time,” Matt added as he gently forced Tom to let go of Carlos, “We had better help this kid cope with his, uh, peculiar gift.”

“Curse. It is a curse.” Carlos muttered then looked up at Tom. “You are all mucho loco.”

Running Interference

Keeping Carlos out of Rick’s sight was harder than they thought. As fate would have it, almost all of Rick’s classes passed near Carlos’s. The sophomores had PE right before the seventh graders. So when Rick’s class went in to change and shower off, Carlos’s class came in to dress into their gym clothes. Imps under Tom’s command hindered the chances of Rick and Carlos meeting there though. Tom sent them in on the first day to turn on all the hot water faucets and flood the place with steam and water, giving Carlos plenty of cover to change without seeing any of the older boys.

Then there was History class. Rick’s classroom was next to Carlos’s English class. Going in, they were sure to see the other, so Matt stopped Rick in the hall as a distraction while Carlos hurried into his room. Mr. Jones peered after them in the doorway, watching the boys for a second before whistling to urge them to hurry up to class. Later at the bell they were sure to cross paths going from their classes to the next ones, so Randon tripped Rick in the hall as Carlos scurried by. Mr. “Dennison” noticed with a shrug, urging Carlos into his room. Tom was already there explaining to the CIA agent in whispers what was going on.

“Snickerdoodle! Why did you do that?” Rick grabbed his textbook and swore. “You guys have been acting really weird. First Matt, now you! What is wrong with you?”

“Rrow!” The cat reached up his paw and jumped on Rick’s books to keep his eyes down.

“Why are you behaving like a cat?” Rick shoved him off. “Don’t you have SAT’s to study for?”

The cat hissed at him. Rick stood up, the hall empty.

Rick just about stomped away to his classroom, muttering under his breath. Dropping into his seat, Rick fumed, shoving his books onto the desk. “What is with them?”

“Missing your buddies, wolf boy?” Lee leaned forward in his seat. “Didn’t you notice? They’ve adopted that new kid. They’re all over him like they used to be over you. I guess he’s their new mascot.”

Rick turned around in his seat to give him a dry look. “Mascot?”

“Yeah. You were their new mascot three years ago. Now they have this new kid.” With a snicker, Lee asked, “Come on. Aren’t you the slightest bit curious?”

“Why should I be? I’ll meet him when I’ll meet him. Ok?” and Rick went back to smoothing the wrinkled pages in his books.

“They’re working on making him popular, introducing him to everyone,” Lee continued with a grin of enjoyment. “Except you.”

Halting, Rick stiffened. “What?”

“I hear Tom started it,” Lee said. “You’re no longer a novelty to them.”

Rolling his eyes, Rick went back to what he was doing. “Lee, you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah?” Lee kicked the bottom of Rick’s chair. “Well, go and see if they eat with you at dinner. I bet they’ll find some way to drive you off, or hide that boy from you.”

Rick snarled, his face elongating with his teeth. “Shut up!”

Yet Lee leaned back with a smug grin, folding his arms.

*

When the last of his afternoon classes had finished, Rick stalked over to Matt’s room to search for him. But when he got there, only Matt’s mafi roommate was inside.

“Hey,” Rick rapped on the doorjamb with his knuckles. “Have you seen Matt?”

Looking up, the mafi backed a little. He had always been nervous around Rick. “He’s gone. He said something about showing Morty the lay of the school.”

“Morty?” Rick walked into the room. “Is that the new kid?”