Leslie-Ann set down her own bucket and watched, marveling, as a quarter of an inch of water covered the bottom.When she looked away, she saw an older kid. Shed seen him around. But usually he was with Orc and she was too scared of Orc ever to get near him.She tugged on Howards wet sleeve. He seemed not to be sharing in the general glee. His face was severe and sad.What? he asked wearily.I know something.Well, goody for you.Its about Albert.Howard sighed. I heard. Hes dead. Orcs gone and Alberts dead and these idiots are partying like its Mardi Gras or something.I think he might not be dead, Leslie-Ann said.Howard shook his head, angry at being distracted. He walked away. But then he stopped, turned, and walked back to her. I know you, he said. You clean Alberts house.Yes. Im Leslie-Ann.What are you telling me about Albert?I saw his eyes open. And he looked at me.
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About Michael Grant, Plague
Michael Grant, Plague.