Good As Dead

Chapter Three

Finally, the door unlocks from the inside. The crowd ripples back as if the noise is an actual push. Ms. Darzi peers out. "Well, well. For once, everyone wants to be here. No safety goggles needed today, but Darren, don't think you can chew that gum inside. There are still chemicals present, even if we're not using them."

Students and whispers drift into the classroom. While waiting for the crush to pass, I glance down the hallway a final time. There's Elliot, all the way at the other end, sneakers squeaking as he rushes toward me.

"Where were you?" I say, more surprised than anything. His normally pale skin looks flushed, and his smile is missing its usual sarcastic bent.

"Got held up," he says, giving me a quick kiss on the neck.

I twitch, startled by the action. Man, he's really happy. "What's up?"

He grins. "Found a dead crow in the street and got to photograph it without any traffic in the way. There wasn't much blood, but the way its neck was twisted made up for it. It was so perfect, Nina. A symbol of death crushed by the force of human invention. It's the ultimate representation of this entire fucking community."

I try to look interested, though talking about dead birds doesn't appeal to me. But it's important to him; I can tell by the brightness in his eyes.

I must do a bad job of faking it, because his smile fades. "This probably grosses you out, right?"

"It's okay. You look so happy right now," I say, twining my hand with his.

His fingers squeeze mine. "Makes this shitty existence worth living. It and you."

A pit forms in my stomach. Those are sweet words; I should swoon over them. Instead, talking about dead things makes me think about Gran's uncontrollable shaking, and Laci's mom back home in a grave while Laci waits here, and gold eyes gleaming in the dark as they pick out my pulse.

What the hell is wrong with me? I hide muddled feelings behind a smirk. "Not sure I like being on a level with roadkill."

That gets his smile back. "Nina, I want to take pictures of you so badly. It would be amazing. You have a face the camera would love." His thumb strokes my cheek.

I shake my head. No. He doesn't look too upset that I refused again. More sad. He knows if he asks enough, my no will blur into a yes. I think he just wishes I'd say yes sooner so less time is wasted.

But that word sticks deep inside my throat, because I know if I say it, he'll push for photos of me and Gran. And the thought of a camera's greedy gaze on her makes me want to shred something. She never left the house without every strand of hair in place. No way would she ever want to be photographed in the state she's in, now. I won't put her through that.

Just then, Ms. Darzi leans through the doorway and clears her throat. "If you please? Unless you'd rather be marked late."

By the time we walk in, there aren't any pairs of seats left. After giving my fingers a final squeeze, Elliot takes the last available chair in the back row of tables. I end up in what's called the garbage seat, my right arm pinned against the wall while leftover supplies used for the astronomy class taught here on off days poke at my back and head. I'll have a hell of a crick in my neck by the time class is over.

The two INKtech agents wait at the front of the classroom while everyone settles down. White guys, though only the older one has that pasty rabbit look. The younger agent looks like he's seen enough sun to develop a tan. They're both dressed in dark suits, but the younger one's striped tie and pocket square make him look sharp instead of stuffy. When Ms. Darzi steps up beside them, I realize her lab coat is crisp and pristine white, and she's wearing jewelry. Good jewelry, if that's real turquoise in her necklace. This must be something special.