Framed & Dangerous (9780545443128) (11 page)

On
the professional side, I would like to thank my agent, Scott Miller; my editor, Aimee Friedman; and the Scholastic crew — Lauren Felsenstein, Nikki Mutch, Becky Shapiro, Jackie Hornberger, Tim Hall, and Yaffa Jaskoll. Also props to Erwin Madrid for the incredible cover illustrations.

On the personal end, thanks to:

My friend Josh Plati, for answering all my school questions.

My son, Ryan, for making me laugh and making me proud.

Mike, my parents, and Susan, for listening to all my crazy plot ideas. And for putting up with me when I'm … well … crazy.

Local friends and kids in town, for being so excited about this series.

And, most of all, thanks to you. Yes, YOU. Without readers there would be no writers. And all these characters would just be stuck in my head with nothing to do.

 

“The girls in the dorm room next to yours are mean. Really mean.” Sam grimaced as they walked by a purple-painted door decorated with three cutout gold stars. Each star had a name on it: Brooke. Betsy. Brenda.

“‘Zom-Bs,'”
Megan read the big letters printed above the names.

“My advice,” Sam said, “is to ignore them. Fly under their radar. The Bs are nasty.”

Megan thought about Brett's sister, Hailey Hansen, and her gang of mean girls. “Gotcha,” Megan told Sam. “I know girls like that at home.”

“We all do,” Sam said with a sigh.

He knocked on a plain brown wooden door. “Home sweet home.”

The girl who answered the door wore a black dress with black shoes and tights. Her hair was dyed black. Her eyeliner was black and so was her eye shadow. Even her lipstick was black. She looked like a vampire, not like someone with zombitus.

“Hey-ya, Happy,” Sam said as if the girl's appearance was totally normal. “Do any painting today?”

Happy didn't seem very happy. She sulked across the room and turned an easel to show Sam a fresh canvas.

“Finished it,” she said in a voice that sounded like Eeyore from
Winnie the Pooh
.

The painting was, well, black. Completely black to the edges of the canvas.

“Wow!” Sam exclaimed. “That's one of your best!”

Happy moaned. “It's not very good.”

Sam turned to Megan. “Picasso had his blue stage. Happy's in a darker phase.”

“I call this one
Midnight
,” Happy explained.

Megan could see how the title fit. “It's … pretty,” she said.

“Thanks,” Happy muttered, stepping away from the canvas. She pointed to a twin bed on the other side of the room. “That's yours. The mattress is lumpy.”

Megan could have guessed which bed was hers. It had white sheets and yellow covers, whereas the other bed … all black.

“I'm sure it will be comfortable,” Megan said, trying to stay upbeat.

“No,” Happy replied. “It won't.”

Megan let out a huge sigh. She assured herself everything would be okay. Zach had told her that zombies didn't sleep much, anyway.

 

Becky climbed out of bed. The floor was cold against her feet as she moved hesitantly toward the window, following the sound. When she looked out the window, the scene was shadowy, but lit by the full moon.

Maybe there was a stray cat or lost dog in the McNally yard, as Becky's parents had suggested. She peered down into the patch of the house next door that she could see through her window. The whining was a little louder now, and irregular. Not the sound of the porch swing creaking or a branch rubbing against the house, but definitely some kind of animal. Becky pressed her forehead against the cold window pane, trying to see.

Something moved in the shadows on the other side of the fence.

It was a huddled shape below one of the evergreen trees in the McNally yard. As Becky watched, it moved a little farther into the moonlight.

Was it a cat, after all? It seemed like it might be cat-size, but the shape didn't seem quite right. The tail was too short, the body looked off somehow. It was moving stiffly, not with the smooth glide of a hunting cat.

The animal raised its head and looked right at Becky. Its eyes flashed a sick, glowing yellowish green.

Instinctively, she moved back, away from the window. Had it seen her? Her heart pounded and she felt like she couldn't catch her breath. Panic bubbled inside her.

Suddenly, she gagged. There was a horrible smell coming from somewhere. From outside? A smell like rotting meat. It smelled like … death.

The smell couldn't be coming from the animal — it was just a stray in the yard next door, right? But maybe it was sick and needed help. And the flash of glowing eyes must just have been a reflection of light from somewhere, maybe of the moonlight. Steeling herself, she moved back to the window and looked out again.

Becky gazed down into the McNally yard. She scanned the shadows and the patches of moonlit ground, but, whatever the creature had been, it was gone. The smell lingered, although it seemed a little weaker now, and Becky's stomach turned over.

The animal, whatever it was,
had
seen her with its glowing eyes. Becky
knew
it on some level. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shuddered.