Voice of the Undead by Jason Henderson

throat. All eyes turned to see Bill Merrill standing in the doorway.
    Bill looked haggard—he was still muscular from countless hours at soccer practice and beating smaller students senseless, but his cheeks were hollow and his eyes were lined with mottled blue. Bill handed Sangster an official-looking note, probably from the office, and Sangster nodded. Alex made out, Like to take a seat? and Bill slowly made his way to an empty desk.
    Vienna sat up with interest and waved at Bill as he sat. She leaned over, whispering about Steven. Bill gestured back with open hands, I’ll tell you later.
    Sangster said, “For those of you who want to send a card to Steven, I think you can give them to Bill. I understand some of the students are organizing a visit if any of you want to go.”
    Several people patted Bill on the shoulder. Alex was thinking about Steven once coldcocking Paul on the side of the head to distract Alex so Bill could punch him in the nose, and of the Glimmerhook landing on Steven’s back.
    Ms. Daughtry spoke, bringing the class back to form. They went over Blake, but Alex felt befuddled by the obscene and forced normality of trying to have a class when students were homeless and Steven was in the hospital. He kept dropping into the lecture and then zoning out until finally she said, “Before we wrap I need to catch you all up on the Pumpkin Show.”
    The what? The boys in class were obviously lost as to the meaning of this, but the girls chattered sotto voce to one another. Ms. Daughtry continued, “This is a LaLaurie tradition, so those of you who are new get a chance to join us at our best—well, our best next to Christmas.”
    Minhi whispered to Sid, “You’re going to love this.”
    â€œStarting this week, with available slots after school, students will be presenting original works—generally written, but if you choose you can sign up to sing, dance, display a collage; it doesn’t matter. The theme is the autumn season.”
    â€œYou mean like Halloween?” Sid asked, a little too excitedly. “Like, vampires and ghosts?”
    Daughtry opened her hands. “Whatever suits. Vampires, ghosts, meandering stories about the decay of the fall; we get a fair amount of those. The theme is the season; the prize is the Plaque,” she said almost wistfully. “Next to the library you’ll find a case displaying the names of our winners going back to 1945. It’s like a harbinger of success; every single winner has gone on to great things. Not that there’s any pressure.” Ms. Daughtry smiled. “Performances will be voted on by the attendees.”
    â€œPerformances,” Sid muttered, slumping a little. He clearly liked the idea of writing, but reading aloud sounded a bridge too far.
    â€œCome on,” said Alex. “You could do that.” At least, Alex thought so. Sid seemed to spend every moment writing something or other, most of it descriptions of characters from his vampire games. Alex had never met anyone who carried around so much information on one subject—if it might be called a subject—in his head.
    â€œWe start reading on Tuesday, so get those stories written and those monologues practiced and get your names on the sign-up sheets,” Daughtry concluded. And with that, class was over.
    As the class filed out, Alex turned to Sid excitedly. “This is a great idea, man.”
    â€œI’ve never read a story aloud before,” Sid said. “I’ve never even written that kind of story.”
    â€œYou’ve written whole books on that vampire game,” Paul said.
    â€œThose are more like articles,” Sid protested. “They’re in a folder where you already know the game. This is . . . harder.”
    Alex watched Vienna go talk to Bill, who glared at Alex hatefully but then softened when he talked to her.
    â€œWell, I do this every year,” Minhi said.