Jennifer Anne Kogler - The Death Catchers

Contents

Copyright 2011 by Jennifer Anne Kogler

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

First published in the United States of America in August 2011
by Walker Publishing Company, Inc., a division of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc. E-book edition published in August 2011
www.bloomsburyteens.com

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Walker BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010

Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Kogler, Jennifer Anne.
The Death Catchers / by Jennifer Anne Kogler.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-8027-2184-6 (hardcover)
[1. DeathFiction. 2. GrandmothersFiction. 3. SupernaturalFiction. 4. Lady of the Lake (Legendary character)Fiction. 5. Morgan le Fay (Legendary character)Fiction. 6. CaliforniaFiction. 7. Letters.] I. Title.
PZ7.K8215De 2011 [Fic]-dc22 2010031904

ISBN 978-0-8027-2343-7 (e-book)

For Mom and Dad

Darcy mentioned his letter. Did it, said he, did it soon make you think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its contents?

She explained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually all her former prejudices had been removed.

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Mrs. Vicky Tweedy

Room 122, English Building

Crabapple High School

Crabapple, CA 91292

Dear Mrs. Tweedy,

I know that a letter may not be what you had in mind when you said I could save myself from flunking your class by writing a defense paper on the topic Why I Should Still Pass English Even Though I Did Not Turn in My Final Project . By the way, I honestly couldve given you a big hug right on the spot if I didnt think word would spread that weirdo Lizzy Mortimer had stepped one foot closer to crazy and bear-hugged her English teacher.

Ive got to admit, though, my heart sank when you said that, in my paper, I had to find a way to adequately demonstrate my mastery of the literary devices and techniques wed learned about in class this semester. Sure, I can recite all the terms Ive learnedallegories and alliteration and climax and characterization and conflictand you get the picture. But whenever I try to write something thats any good, its like I downshift into auto-horrible-clich-pilot.

My grandma Bizzy is always saying the same thing to me: You have such a gift with words, Lizzy-Loo a way of throwin em together like the most unexpectedly tasty word casserole. When I began to puzzle over why my grandma thinks Im a supergenius with words and a lot of my teachers think Im an idiot with them, I realized something. Im pretty sure I can talk with the best of them. Ask around. I only get really mixed up when I write words down.

After Jodis letter worked so well, I decided to make my defense paper a letter. What Im really doing is pretending Im having a conversation with you, except Im the only one doing any talking.

I know you may not believe any of it. Two months ago, I sure wouldnt have. I seriously thought about making up something that youd be more likely to believe.

But Im so tired of lying to everyone about everything. Besides, its like Bizzy always sayssticking to the truth is the only guarantee that youll keep your story straight.

Before I learned my best friend was going to die, I never understood why writers went on and on about setting. It didnt make sense to me when Mom would go hog wild if a book was set someplace exotic like Turkey or Malawi or Canada. The way I figured it, people were what moved a story forward, you know? I realized the time and place where events occurred were important, but whenever I read a book, I usually skimmed the background stuff because it made my eyes droop. You can do a lot of things when your eyes are drooping, but concentrating on a book is not one of them.

Of course, I was dead wrong about setting. Dont get me wrong. I know people are really important to any storyespecially mine, where most everybody turned out to be totally different than I thought they were. But Im now sure none of this sinister stuff couldve happened anywhere but Crabapple. So, though Ill try not to bore you, Mrs. Tweedy, there are certain things about this town that arent at all what they seem.

The official name on the welcome sign is Crabapple-by-the-Sea, but the town is just plain old Crabapple to everyone except the occasional tourist.

Lets be honest: Crabapple is an odd name for a town. Whats even odder, though, is that there are no crabs here at all and the only apples are the ones at Miss Moras Market. That doesnt really seem like anything worth naming a town over, now does it?

Crabapple is a little blotch of a village. When you fly over it in an airplane, thats exactly what it looks likea tiny hunk of civilization resting on towering, jagged cliffs above the Pacific. Theres one two-lane road leading in and out of town. Some say Crabapple sprang up as a coastal mining town between Oregon and San Francisco and later became a retreat for progressives and freethinkers in the 1920s. I used to think that explained why there were so many peculiar people living here. Of course I dont mean you, Mrs. Tweedybut peculiar doesnt even begin to cover it.

Take, for example, Crabapples monthly town Round Table meetings. On the first Monday evening of every month, the whole town crams into the Crabapple Community Center and votes on proclamations like, Commuting by bicycle shall be encouraged whenever possible (in fact, lots of people, including me, ride their bikes around town). Ive never seen you at a meeting, Mrs. Tweedyyou probably have a lifebut Im sure youre well aware that all house names must be approved by a majority of citizens at town meetings.

Many of the houses in Crabapple are stone cottages that look like theyve been here forever. They all have name placards out front. There are no street addresses at all. Some house names are historic, some are geographic, some descriptive, and others nobodys quite sure about. Its supposed to be quaint, but I find it confusing more than anything else (as does the postman, Mr. Westerberg, Im sure). Our house is named Beside the Point because its on a cliff right next to a lookout over the whole Pacific. On the south side of us is The House of Six Gables (the Dandos planned on the traditional seven gables but ran out of money) and to the north, Periwinkle (repainted an eye-popping blue violet color every summer by the McGraw brothers).

At a Round Table town meeting a few years ago, Bizzy almost got into a shoving match with the head of the Crabapple Historical Preservation Society, Mr. Primrose. The grouchiest man in Crabapple, Mr. Nettles, wanted to change the name of his house from Windbreaker to Breaking Wind, in recognition of his newfound habit of public flatulence. Mr. Primrose, outraged, argued the name would bring shame and dishonor to each of Crabapples citizens. My grandma Bizzy yelled out that Mr. Primrose should consider renaming his own home The Cranky Cottage. I didnt think it was that funny, but it got a big laugh from the crowd. Things got heated and Bizzy and Mr. Primrose eventually had to be separated. Obviously, Mr. Primrose is one of Bizzys many detractors.

Im no expert on whats normal, but Ive watched enough television to know that most towns arent anything like Crabapple. Which is why I shouldve realized how strange (and terrifying) Crabapple was long before I did.

Even the weather here is unusual. Bizzy says that Crabapple doesnt have air, it has fog. Its true. Large, soggy cotton fingers of fog creep in from the Pacific at night, seize Crabapple, and dont let go until midafternoon when the sun finally slaps them away from above.