Juliet Immortal

participation.”
    Romeo races to the door, stumbling over an empty desk in his hurry to leave the class. A few people laugh, but I know there’s nothing funny about his sudden flight. He isn’t having a bathroom emergency; he’s running away from a monster. From the putrid remains of his true self.
    The pen in my hand falls to my desk with a distant clack. There it is, in the corner of the room, crouched behind themodel of the human skeleton Mrs. Thurman calls Mr. Bones. Romeo’s body scuttles from its hiding place, a savage grin on its face, as if it realizes it’s playing a joke by hiding one skeleton behind another.
    I suck in a breath and grip the edges of my desk, eyes sweeping from one end of the room to the next, desperate for someone to notice the thing, to assure me I’m not alone. But no one seems to see the hissing corpse prowling down the last row of desks, gurgling, choking … laughing.
    It’s laughing. Relishing each slow step that brings it closer to its prey, giddy with the knowledge that I don’t have anywhere to run. Down one row and up another, its grin still in place, its yellowed nails clicking on the tile. It passes by again—this time with only two desks between us—and pauses to stick out its black tongue, wagging it back and forth, jabbing it through the hole in what remains of its cheek.
    Bile rises in my throat and my hand shoots into the air, but Mrs. Thurman ignores me, continuing with her instructions. Only one person can be excused at a time. I know the rules. I’ll have to wait until Romeo gets back. Or run from the room without permission, earning more after-school detention and furthering the general opinion that Ariel is a freak and probably out of her mind.
    Not her mind.
My
mind. I’m the one who’s losing her mind. This thing can’t hurt me, not right here in a room full of people. Can it?
    No one else can even see Romeo’s corpse. He’s been sent for Romeo, and if he follows the pattern that’s held so far, he’ll be gone soon enough. And I’m tired of running. I’ll wait right here, show it that I’m not afraid. I’ll face it here in this room full of people or anywhere else it chooses to—
    “Yes. Now. Love.”
The whisper makes me spin in my seat. Even hushed and husky, I know that voice,
my
voice.
    Only a few feet behind me—still dressed in my blue wedding dress—stands my old body, reaching for me with her pale hands. Hands that are covered in blood. I suck in a breath and hold it, refusing to cry out, though the hole in her chest is more horrifying than ever, a raw place where skin and flesh have been torn away. I can see the whites of her broken bones and the frantic racing of her heart behind them.
    Her heart. I can actually
see
it. Slick muscle tissue that pounds faster and faster in time with my own speeding pulse.
    “Close. Better now,”
she says, one hand pressing against her chest, fingers slipping between her shattered ribs, probing the trapped animal behind. I feel the echo of those fingers inside Ariel’s body—curious invaders tracing things inside me that were never meant to be touched—and scream.
    A couple other girls scream as well—responding instinctively to the terror in my voice—a few boys laugh, and Mrs. Thurman shouts my name, but I can’t think about the reaction I’ve caused. I only know I have to get out of here, have to run, have to—
    “Ariel had a spider on her neck. It was huge. I think it bit her.” Gemma suddenly appears beside me and slips her arm around my shoulders, helping me stand and pulling me toward the door. I stumble after her, heart clenching in my chest, throat so tight I can barely breathe.
    “Oh no,” Mrs. Thurman murmurs as we pass by her desk and keep moving. “Well, did you squash it? Is it still—”
    “It crawled away, it’s probably still down there on the floor somewhere, looking for fresh meat,” Gemma says, making half the heads in the room turn to survey the ground around them.But my eyes are all for the girl with her heart in her hand and the horror crouching beside her. Romeo’s corpse is squatted by my old body’s feet like a pet, head cocked, curious to see me leave when she has told me—
    “Better now. Close!”
She smiles and I fight the urge to scream again as I meet my own brown eyes. Who is in there? It isn’t me. She’s empty, a husk with a shadow inside. I’m not there; I’m here. I’m Ariel.
    No, not Ariel, but not—
    “I’ll take her straight to