GENRE: MG Contemporary Fantasy
A thirteen-year-old amnesiac and a cockroach have five days to stop Death from triggering the apocalypse.
Death never told me how I died. He just pointed with a bony finger and said, “Come.”
I had to obey. I couldn’t think about not obeying.
The jerk didn’t even tell me I was dead until after he threatened to kill me twice.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I should start earlier–maybe that first morning, when I was normal. At least, I thought I was.
Mom slid her briefcase onto the kitchen counter then poured a coffee. She stared at the mess on top of my head. “Did you brush your hair?”
I mumbled through a mouthful of cereal. “Yeah.”
She knew brushing never made a difference. The only time it ever stayed in place was when it was short. And I wasn’t a crew-cut kind of guy.
“Well brush it again.”
I rolled my eyes and slouched.
Mom whacked my head. “And cut the attitude.”
She didn’t hurt me or anything. It was just part of what most mornings were like. I bugged her. She bugged me. We got along okay, but she was always ‘helping’ me. Helping me dress neater. Helping me study harder. Helping me practice more. I told her it wasn’t really helping if I didn’t want it, but that never stopped her.
Mom sipped her coffee before asking, “Are you going to the dance on Friday?”
I almost choked on my juice. “How do you know about that?”
“You left the form in your pants. I do wash things occasionally.”