Call Me Grim by Elizabeth Holloway Page B

his job. It sounds morbid and scary and better suited for a chick with dyed black hair. I can’t even watch a horror flick without my hand over my eyes half of the time. But I don’t want to die either. And Aaron doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would mess around with something like this. He is Death, after all.
    “So, what if I say I’ll do it?” I’m still light-headed, but at least I’m not in danger of going face-first into the railroad tracks.
    “Then we start your training.” Aaron’s eyes twinkle with excitement. “The sooner the better. Once you say you’ll take the job, you only have a week to learn how to do it. And there’s a lot to learn.”
    “Fine. I’ll take the—”
    “Shhh.” He places a finger over my lips. “Before you say it, I’m obligated to tell you what it’s like being a Reaper. It’s part of the rules. But remember this: I can only save your life twice. Your death will be rescheduled each time. And if you don’t decide before the last rescheduled time, you’ll die.”
    “The accident counted as the first?”
    “Yes. And at 3:12 p.m. tomorrow I can save your life for the second time. Which means, if you decide not to take the job, you will die on Saturday—”
    “At 3:12, sharp. I get it.” My knees turn to rubber again, but I manage to hold myself up. “So I have until 3:12 on Saturday to decide.”
    “Exactly.” He’s giving me the proud teacher look again, and I feel like I’m about to hurl all over his shoes.
    In just a few hours, my life has changed. Forever. No matter what I decide, it will never be the same. Everything I’ve wanted. All of my hopes, dreams, and plans for the future. Gone.
    “Just one more question before you start your sales pitch.” I keep the vomit where it belongs and try to rub some warmth into my arms. Wind or no wind, I’m shivering. “I already asked you this, but you didn’t answer. Why me? Why not ask one of the other dim bulbs in this town? I can’t be the only one who’s about to burn out. There must be dozens. Why not ask Rosie?”
    “Because she’s too old. Abaddon only accepts Reapers who are eighteen or younger.” He shrugs. “There aren’t any other kids scheduled to die soon. So, it has to be you or I don’t know how much longer I’ll have to wait.”
    “For what? What do you need to do?”
    “Never mind,” Aaron says. “It’s personal.” He yanks at the hem of his navy blue T-shirt. It’s a shirt I’d expect Kyle to wear, not Death.
    A high-pitched whistle cuts through the night. My right foot rests on the rail. It’s been vibrating for a while, but I just now notice. The train that sometimes startles me out of sleep is about to make an appearance. Right on schedule.
    I move my foot off the rail and take a few steps back. The gravel slips out from under me and I skid down the incline backwards, arms wind-milling. Aaron catches my hand and steadies me. His skin is warm, his grip solid. He leads me to a pile of old railroad ties at the edge of the woods, far enough away from the tracks to be safe from the speeding train, but still a little too close for me to feel comfortable.
    The whistle pierces my skull again. The train is close. The tracks rumble as the headlight rounds the corner. The blast of wind from the engine as it passes blows me back into the pile of old wood, and I sit down hard. Something stabs the back of my leg, but I’m not about to grope my own butt for splinters in front of Aaron.
    “So, what was the fight with your mom about?” Aaron yells over the roar of the train. He settles next to me on the plank as if the hurricane-force wind is a light breeze.
    “I don’t know. Stuff.” I’m not paying attention to him. I’ve never been this close to a speeding train before, and I’m focused on the wind, the rails, and the solid wall of metal moving in front of me. Anything to distract me from the insanity Aaron just told me, even if it’s only for a few minutes. I stretch my