Dead Rules by Randy Russell Page A

balcony.
    Like the sky, she thought. It was always about to move, about to act. Jana wished she could copy the unreleased power that was in his every moment. If she could move like that, stand still like that onstage or in front of a camera, no one would be able to take their eyes away from her when she performed.
    Jana was old enough to be honest with herself. She was attracted to Mars. And he was attracted to her.
    She wasn’t pretty enough to attract every boy she met. And she rarely sought to sparkle in person. She’d just come up short. Jana kept her brown hair in a simple cut so she could hide, when she needed to, by ducking her head. She almost never wore earrings or a necklace. She never tied her hair back to show off the long clean line of her arching neck.
    When she was acting, it was different. Jana held her face upright, her shoulders back, her entire self on display until what beauty she possessed sparkled like a star. She didn’t mind being plain. Or ugly. As an actress, Jana could be either one. That’s why she liked acting. She didn’t have to be as beautiful as her mother.
    Mars wasn’t attracted to Jana the way men were attracted to her mother. Yet something drew him to her. Jana could feel it, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It was deeper than some boy thinking she was cute. It was more like she was food and he was hungry. It was as if Mars needed her to survive.
    This was why she had selected him to come with her today. He needed to see Jana with Michael. With Michael, she was more than Jana Webster. She was bigger. Bigger than life. Bigger than death. Jana and Michael were forever.
    Mars needed to know, to see it for himself.
    â€œGot your cell?” he asked, sitting next to her on the bus.
    Jana fished her phone from her skirt pocket and handed it to Mars. She didn’t need it as urgently as before. She would be seeing Michael soon. She could say everything she wanted to say in person.
    As the bus began to move, Mars pried the cover off one side of her phone and flicked out the flat square battery. He reached inside his shirt and removed a fresh battery from a plastic Baggie. He slipped it into place and snapped the cover back on to her phone.
    â€œNow, don’t open it and don’t turn it on,” Mars said, handing the phone back to her. His fingers touched hers and a river of warmth surged through her arm.
    â€œIt won’t work on the bus,” he added. “You’ll just drain the battery. Once we’re off the bus, I’ll show you how we can make it work.”
    Jana fumbled the phone down into her skirt pocket and leaned back against the seat. Being next to Mars reminded her how cold she felt. Jana wanted Mars to drape his arm over her shoulders. But only for the warmth of it.
    She tried to think of something else. Her funeral was on the horizon. Michael was waiting for her. Michael would be warm too.
    They stood in front of the funeral chapel.
    The street was lined with cars. Classmates stood in the small groups along the sidewalk. There were people Jana thought she recognized but didn’t really know. Someone was dressed in a cheerleading uniform.
    â€œIt’s like that when you die in high school,” Mars said. “Everyone goes to your funeral.”
    â€œLook at her,” Jana said, pointing at the cheerleader. “How stupid is that?”
    Mars walked beside her as she climbed the steps to the ornate double doors.
    â€œYou don’t even know their names,” Mars said. “It’s like that.”
    â€œSome of them,” she said. “I know some of them. I’ve seen them all before.”
    Jana reached for the handle on one of the doors but couldn’t get her fingers around it. She tried the other one.
    Her grasp wouldn’t work.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with me?” Jana mumbled to herself.
    Mars opened the door for her. She could have walked through the door without opening it at