“Guys, listen to me,” David said to them. “You know me. I wouldn’t do something like that!”
Sam grabbed a fistful of David’s hair and cranked his head back. Sam’s eyes were flared open so wide that David could see white above his corneas. He spoke in a raspy hush that only David could hear.
“You just had to start it back up, didn’t you?”
“Sam, don’t do this.”
A scraggly vein inflated across Sam’s forehead.
“You did this to yourself.”
“Just-just think for a second. What are you doing?”
“Lift!” Sam said.
David heard a collected heave of effort from behind him.
The cord clenched his neck so hard his head wanted to pop off his body. Again, his feet couldn’t find the floor, his lungs were stuck empty. His hangmen heaved again, and David rose farther above the heads of the crowd. His feet chopped at the air.
He couldn’t scream. He looked into the crowd. Someone needed to help him. They had to. But each person he looked to looked away, as though he wasn’t there. As though he wasn’t being lynched right in front of them. They did nothing.
The sound of his own gagging became muffled, like he was hearing it through a pillow. The world darkened. He was an anvil dropped into the ocean, sinking away from life, down into the dark and the cold.
He saw Will.
His vision was dull, but he opened his eyes wider. Will charged into the far end of the hallway. He lugged an overstuffed black garbage bag over his shoulder. Within seconds, a stampede of hollering Varsity guys rushed into the hallway after him. Will ran into the dense crowd, and the stampede barreled in right after him. The smashing of bodies sparked a ripple of violence as opposing gangs careened. When Will broke through to the open circle, he swung the bag around.
Food flew out in a wide arc and scattered onto the floor. The hallway went berserk.
Fights erupted everywhere. People punching, whelping, falling down below him. The tumult overtook the clear circle of floor underneath him. Fudgey and his other hangmen were knocked to the floor. David heard the noose zip over the pipe.
He felt air rush down his throat and his body lose all weight for a moment before he smacked down onto the floor. The feet of the brawlers above kicked him and stepped on him.
Chubby hands picked him up. It was Belinda. She had her arms around his hips, holding him into her plush flank. Mort’s sweaty hands held his head and shoulders. Together, they rammed their way through the thrashing crowd, carrying him. Leonard, Nelson, and the weird twins crowded around, shielding David from view. They carried him away from the hallway riot, out of the market, and into a dark hall. The roaring chaos in the market faded until all David could hear was the huff and wheeze of Belinda’s breathing.
12
Will took the corner fast. Fear tickled the back of his neck, making him run harder. There easily could have been fifteen of them still after him. He covered the next hallway in seconds and hooked a right at an intersection. His pursuers were the best athletes in the school; he was never going to outrun them.
He saw a locker grave. RIP was scratched into the paint in tall letters. Someone had broken the duct tape seal, and the stench of death permeated the air. He whipped the locker open. A rotting body stared down at Will’s shoes. Its arms were snaked through the straps of an old blue backpack that hung on a coat hook. The reek fouled his stomach. The growling pack of Varsity goons neared the corner. He plugged his nose, covered his mouth, and stuffed himself into the locker, closing the door behind him.
He heard Varsity run past the locker. His hand brushed against a knob of dry, shrunken flesh. He didn’t breathe. The Varsity guys were talking to each other, but he couldn’t hear the words through the door. Something was poking him in his back. It could have been an elbow. Or a broken rib. He heard the sound of multiple lockers being opened down the hall. He wanted to take a breath. They opened more lockers, right by Will. He let a little air out and took a quick breath in.
He stifled vomit, and the acid burned his throat. He was sure that he’d just inhaled particles of death. He heard the locker next to his being opened and slammed shut. He braced for an attack. But his locker didn’t open.
He didn’t hear any more noises.
Were they gone?
He couldn’t hold his breath.
Ten seconds, maybe he could last ten more seconds.
By five, he was ready to die. After seven seconds, Will pushed open the door and fell to the hallway floor on his knees. He looked down the hall, expecting Varsity eyes to be staring back at him. There was no one there.
Will laughed. He’d single-handedly ruined Sam’s big show, and his brother was saved. As soon as he’d heard the announcement over the PA. system about David’s execution, Will couldn’t hide under those gym bleachers any longer.
Who were those kids that carried David off? Scraps, clearly, but he’d never seen Scraps band together bravely like that before. And where did they take David?
As long as David wasn’t in Varsity’s hands, Will was pretty sure David could take care of himself. He had to get back to Lucy in the elevator. He was dying to tell her everything that had happened. He was tingling as he relived the glory, his lips moving slightly as he rehearsed his delivery.
Buoyant conversation and laughter echoed down the hall.
Will ducked into the nearest stairwell and pressed himself against the wall. He had a clear view of some Freak girls. They had smudged ash mascara and matching blue bobs that hid their eyes. They were returning home from the market.
“That was literally the sickest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“In a good way?
“Totally. I’m in love.”
Will grinned, psyched to hear about his handiwork.
“David’s cute, huh?”
What?
“Is it wrong that the cord around his neck got me hot? I just wanted crawl on top of him—”
“Omigod, you are mentally ill!”
The girls laughed.
“People are saying he planned the whole thing. Like, he let them capture him so he could make Varsity look stupid.” Will curled his lip.
“Whoa. Really? Wow. It totally worked.”
“That sounds so like him. I used to know him. He’s kind of a genius.”
How could they call David a genius? He didn’t plan dick.
The Freak girls walked toward the stairwell. Will had enough time to run up the stairs and disappear, but he didn’t.
He stuck his hands in his pocket and leaned against the wall inside the stairwell with his coolest pose. These girls were going to get all flustered when they saw the guy who saved David’s life. The girls stepped through the doorway.
He smirked at them, “’S up?”
“Ew… Scrap,” the first said.
The second girl pulled her friends along, up the stairs.
They had to be joking. Did they just not see what he did?
“David stands for something. Like, he’s a really good person,” the third said as the girls continued up the stairs.
“I know,” her friend said. “He’s, like, a saint for taking care of his little brother with all those problems. Its so sad.”
“You’re sad!” Will shouted.
The girls flipped him off and disappeared up the next flight.
Unbelievable, Will thought. Freaks suck. He rolled back into the hall to go home.
Ten minutes later, he was at the elevator. He slipped into the control closet and then up through the vent. After a few rungs of the ladder he hopped into the darkness, knowing
just where his feet would land. They made a brassy boom against the metal of the elevator. The sound hung in the air. There was no light on inside the car. He dipped his head down inside, gripping the sides of the hatch hard. No one was inside.