The Death Catchers by Jennifer Anne Kogler Page A

happened, it’s hard to tell everything apart. Things repeat. Then they repeat again. People try to convince themselves that things won’t repeat yet again, but they often do.
    There are the obvious things in life that always feel the same—sunrises, trips to the dentist, the piercing sound of an alarm clock in the morning, stubbing a toe. You’ll have to take my word for it when I tell you that death-specters are the same way. When I had my second death-specter, the beginning of it felt almost exactly the same as the first.
    Then it got much worse.
    I remember the sentence I was reading when the page went blank: King Arthur and his passengers sailed from Avalon on the eve of the Feast of Samhain.
    At first, I thought the bulb in my bedside lamp blew out.
    I blinked hard and refocused on the page.
    The letters had disappeared completely.
    I gasped.
    I slammed the book shut.
    I closed my eyes as thoughts raced around and crashed against the inside of my skull. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead and I went into all-out-panic mode. I stared at the plain leather cover of the book.
    I pressed my elbows to my chest, wishing that this was a dream. My arm settled on my collarbone and I heard the soft crinkle of Bizzy’s note in the pocket of my shirt.
    I pulled it out.
    Write it all down. Dates, pictures. Everything. We’ll deal with it together.
    I knew exactly what Bizzy wanted me to do. We’ll deal with it together , she’d written. After what Agatha had told me, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to deal with it at all … but I’d decide on all that later.
    I opened up the book to the page I’d been reading. This time, there was no normal book print. There was large, bold print at the very top of the first page.
    D RAKE W ESTFALL ’ S B ODY D ISCOVERED AT C ANNERY
    The entirety of Crabapple was stunned Monday by the loss of Drake Westfall, honor student and captain of the Crabapple Knights water polo team. At four in the afternoon on Tuesday, officials announced that Westfall’s body had been discovered among the rubble of the burned-down Del Monte Cannery. Investigators have not yet determined the cause of the fire, though some locals reported hearing a large explosion in the early morning. An autoposy will be performed. Local authorities have not ruled out foul play, though the preliminary cause of death is believed to be smoke inhalation. Westfall was beloved by many and is survived by his parents, Mark and Melody, and his older brother, Damon. Memorial services will be held this Friday, December 18. The family has requested that, in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the Westfall Memorial Scholarship Fund.
    I squeezed my eyes shut once again. I counted to ten, hoping I could write all of it off as a very bad dream.
    When I opened them again, the letters were still there, floating in the middle of the blank page, reporting the death of Drake Westfall. Then I saw something gradually appearing on the other side.
    A faded color photograph.
    Of Drake Westfall.
    It was his water polo picture. He looked tan. His hair was dark, with a golden shine to it from a constant barrage of chlorine and sun. Drake was smiling his perfect white smile. He looked very alive. I tried to swallow but found my throat closing up. I remembered the look in Drake’s eyes when he handed me Bizzy’s note. My eyeballs bounced from the words in the book to the note. Without thinking, I rushed to my desk and grabbed the first thing I could—my copy of the Crabapple Intermediate Yearbook. Frantic, I flipped to a blank page in the back and began jotting down notes.
    -Drake Westfall, Del Monte Cannery—body found
    -Explosion?—Early morning on Tuesday
    -Official announcement, 4 p.m., body discovered
    -Authorities think foul play???
    -December 18—Funeral
    As I read the words about Drake Westfall again, making sure I didn’t miss anything, they faded away.
    â€œCome back!” I