Why I Quit Zombie School (4 page)

Finally, the kids at the boy’s table jumped up. They stepped away from the table. But they didn’t scream or call for help. Their faces were blank. As if this happened all the time.

“UNNNNNNNNH.”

Another geyser of brown muck spewed over the boy’s table, over everyone’s food. It splashed onto the floor.

I jumped to my feet. I held my stomach. I felt like I was about to spew, too.

Still groaning and choking and vomiting, the boy staggered away from the table. He left a trail of brown muck as he stumbled out of the Dining Hall.

I turned to Angelo. He had a toothpick in his mouth and was bobbing it up and down between his lips.

“Wh-what happened?” I cried. “That boy —”

“No worries,” Angelo said.

“Huh? No worries?” I shouted. “I never saw anything like that. It was
horrible
! That poor kid —”

“He’ll be okay,” Angelo said calmly. “He’s going to the Reviver Room. You’ll see. He’ll be okay.”

I shook my head. “Angelo, something is very wrong here. That kid definitely didn’t look okay.”

Later, I met Franny in the Study Room on the third floor. The room was set up like a library with bookshelves on three walls. Stretching along the fourth wall were tall windows looking down on the playing fields.

Outside the windows, a red ball of a sun was lowering itself in the evening sky. Soaring crows made a wide circle in front of the sun.

There were couches and comfortable armchairs to relax on and read and study. And low tables to write on or to hold a laptop.

The room was crowded. It was a popular place to go after dinner.

A sign above the door read: QUIET, PLEASE. PEOPLE STUDYING.

But I pulled Franny to a couch at the back of the room so we could talk.

She lowered her backpack to the floor and slid back on the leather couch. I dropped onto the couch beside her, eager to tell her about the kid in the Dining Hall.

“Matt, why are you so wired tonight?” she asked.

“Me? Wired?” I said. “How did you know?”

She rolled her eyes. “You started drumming your fingers on the couch arm as soon as we sat down. Your whole face looks like it’s ready to burst….”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “So I’m a little wired.” I raised my eyes to hers. “It’s a new school, right? And there are some things about it —”

She sighed. “That again?” She slid her backpack closer. “I thought we were going to do the science worksheets together.”

“Yeah. Fine. No problem,” I said. “But first can we —?”

A tall, dark-haired girl from our class stepped up beside Franny. “Hey,” she said. “Are you doing the worksheets?”

Franny nodded. “Yeah. If I can get Matt to get off my case.”

“I’m not on your case,” I said. “I just wanted to ask —”

The girl was staring down at me. She had straight black hair parted in the middle, cold blue eyes, and she wore black lipstick. “Are you the new guy?” she asked. She had a soft, whispery voice.

“That’s me,” I said. “I should have a T-shirt made — NEW GUY.”

I thought it was funny, but she didn’t laugh.

“I’m Alana,” she said. She motioned for me to scoot over. “Can we do the worksheets together?”

I really wanted to talk to Franny. I had about five hundred questions about this school I needed her to answer.

But Alana was already squeezing between us. I had no choice.

We pulled out our worksheets and leaned over the table in front of the couch to fill them out together. They were long and hard. Luckily, Alana knew this chapter in the text really well. She helped Franny and me out with a lot of answers we didn’t know.

I was desperate to talk to Franny alone. But every few minutes, the two of them would stop work to talk about boys in our class or some bit of gossip. Of course I had no clue of who they were talking about.

So, the study session stretched on and on. It was pitch-black outside the row of windows now. The Study Room was nearly empty.

Finally, Alana said, “Catch you guys later.” She packed up her stuff and headed out the door.

I turned to Franny. “Can we talk now?” I asked eagerly. “I have some questions….”

Franny jammed her worksheets into her backpack. “Can it wait till tomorrow, Matt?” she said. “I really have to get upstairs.”

She didn’t give me a chance to answer. She jumped to her feet.

“But, Franny —” I frantically started to gather up my papers. I dropped my textbook onto the floor.

When I looked up, Franny was already at the Study Room door. She turned back suddenly and walked halfway back to me.

“Hey, Matt, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said. “When did you die?”

I laughed.

Did I hear right? Is she joking?

I pinched my arm. “I don’t think I died yet,” I told her. “I’m pretty sure I’m alive.”

Her mouth opened in an O of surprise. She dropped her backpack to the floor. Then she rushed over to me.

She grabbed my arm and tugged me off the couch.

“Hey — what’s your problem?” I cried.

She didn’t answer. She dragged me out to the hall. A few kids looked up as we passed. I heard a boy laugh.

Franny pulled me to the end of the hall. The lights were dim back there. No one around.

She backed me against the tile wall. “You’re alive?” she asked in a harsh whisper.

I nodded. “Unless you know something I don’t!” I joked.

Franny grabbed me by the shoulders. Her eyes locked on mine. “Matt — don’t you realize what that means?” she cried.

I stared back at her. “No. What?”

“It means you and I are the
only living kids
in this school!” she whispered.

I blinked. My mind went blank. I couldn’t think of a reply.

“You’re trying to scare me?” I said finally. I grinned. “Oh, I get it. This is something kids here do to all the new students?”

“You idiot,” Franny said, shaking her head. “You really haven’t figured it out?”

I blinked again. I suddenly had a cold feeling at the back of my neck.

“This is a
zombie
school, Matt,” Franny said. “The kids here at Romero are all undead. They are all zombies except for you and me.”

She was breathing hard. She had her hands drawn into tight fists.

I finally realized she was serious. The cold feeling at the back of my neck sent a chill down my whole body.

She studied me in silence for a long moment, staring hard into my eyes. “You really are alive?”

I nodded. “I — I guess my parents didn’t know what kind of school this is when they enrolled me,” I stammered. “I mean, they found the school
on the Internet. We didn’t have time to visit here or anything.”

Franny raised a finger to her lips. “
Ssshh
. It’s very dangerous, Matt,” she whispered. “We have to keep our secret.”

“Huh? Dangerous?” My voice cracked on the words.

“We have to keep it secret that we’re alive,” Franny whispered. “We can’t let anyone know.”

“But that’s …
crazy
,” I whispered back. “If they’re dead — or I mean, undead, how can we keep them from seeing that we’re different?”

Franny shoved my shoulders again. “Listen to me,” she said. “Listen carefully. Not too fast.”

I squinted at her. “Huh?”

“Don’t move too fast,” she repeated. “Walk like a zombie. Stumble sometimes. Stagger to class. Bump into the wall once in a while. Don’t show off by raising your hand in class. Don’t try to be the first one to answer Miss Whelan’s questions. You have to act like you’re undead, Matt.”

I stared at her, shivering from the chills rolling down my back. “You mean — I have to act like a
zombie
?”

She nodded.

“No. I can’t,” I whispered. “I’m out of here. I’m leaving now. I’m not even going to pack.”

She squinted at me. “Escape? Do you really think you can escape this place?”

“It’s pitch-black out,” I said. “I can run. No one will see. I can run to the highway and then —”

Franny shook her head. “Did you see the crows outside? They’re not normal crows, Matt. They’re trained to guard the school grounds. You won’t get ten feet before they start screeching in alarm. No one has ever escaped.”

I stared hard at her, my whole body trembling. I could see she was telling the truth. There was no escape.

“So … I have to convince everyone I’m a zombie?” I whispered.

She nodded again. “If I can do it, you can,” she said. “If they find out we’re alive, they’ll
kill
us!”

I hurtled up to my room. I grabbed my cell phone. My hand shook so hard, it took me three tries to call home.

Dad picked up on the third ring. “Hi, Matt. How’s it going?”

“You — you enrolled me in a zombie school!” I blurted out.

Silence on the other end.

“Dad? Can you hear me?” My voice came out tight and shrill. “The kids at this school are all zombies!”

I heard Dad snicker. “It’s Matt,” he told my mom. “We put him in a school for zombies.”

I heard them both laugh.

“You’ve got to listen to me this time. Please!” I begged.

“Talk to your mom,” Dad said. “She’s been really missing you.”

He handed her the phone. “Hi, Matt. We were just talking about you. Really. We —”

“Mom, I’m in danger,” I said. “I’m not kidding. I’m in danger.”

“Well, Dad and I will be there next weekend,” she said.

“Next weekend?”

“It’s Parents Day,” she said. “We’ll be there Saturday morning. We’ll take care of what’s upsetting you.”

“No, you won’t,” I said. “Saturday might be too late. This school is a zombie school, Mom. The kids are all zombies.”

“Are you making any friends?” Mom asked.

I opened my mouth to answer, but I started to choke. Didn’t she
hear
what I was saying? Didn’t my words mean
anything
to her?

“I can’t make friends, Mom,” I said, sighing. “The kids are all dead. They are the living dead. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I do, Matt,” she replied. “You mean you are unhappy being away from home and in a new school. But you’ll get used to it.”

“Huh?
Used
to going to school with dead people?” I screamed.

“Please lower your voice,” Mom said. “Once you make some friends, you’ll feel right at home.”

“I’ll be dead,” I said. “If I try to make friends …”

“Your dad wants to know if you tried out for the soccer team,” Mom said.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “I’m supposed to try out tomorrow, but —”

“Well, good luck. Let us know how it goes, okay?”

I sighed again. Was I getting anywhere? No. Did she hear a word I was saying? No.

“We’ll see you bright and early Saturday morning,” Mom said. “Bye, Matt.”

“Bye.” I clicked off the phone.

“Bright and early?” I muttered. “Just in time for my funeral.”

A knock on my door made me jump.

“Who is it?” I called.

But the door swung open without an answer. Angelo and three other big, tough-looking boys burst into the room.

“We just found out about you,” Angelo said.

I jumped off my bed and tried to back away. But I bumped into the dresser and nearly fell over.

“Listen, guys —” I started. “Please —”

“We just found out about you,” Angelo repeated. “We just found out you were the allstar player on your old soccer team,” he said.

“I —
what
?” My heart was pounding so fast, I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“Mikey here knows a guy who went to your school,” Angelo said. He tapped Mikey on the chest. “That guy said you set the school records on your old team.”

“Well … yeah,” I said. I began to realize they were going to let me live. “I scored five goals in one match. But I had a lot of help. I mean, the whole team was really good.”

“So you’re trying out for Coach Meadows tomorrow,” Angelo said.

“Yeah. Sure. Okay,” I said.

“We’re not giving you a choice,” Mikey said. The others all laughed. “We want you on our team.”

“No problem,” I said.

Just don’t kill me!

“Wayne didn’t revive,” another kid said. “So we need new flesh.”

“Right. That’s me,” I said.
New flesh.
“See you tomorrow after class.”

They turned and marched out.

I stood there trembling. Was I going to be the next great zombie soccer star?

“Matt, go in and play forward,” Coach Meadows said. He didn’t look like a coach at all. He was bald and had a thin, saggy face with droopy eyes and drooping cheeks.

He was skinny as a broomstick and a little stooped over. The whistle around his neck hung down to the waist of his gray sweatsuit.

“I know you can kick,” he said. “I want to see good offense, too.”

He motioned me into the practice game. Two teams — one in black, one in red — were already warming up.

I pulled on a red sweatshirt and jogged onto the field. We lined up, and Coach Meadows blew the whistle to start the match.

The red team kicked off to the black. The kick didn’t go far. A black-shirt player kicked it
upfield to a teammate. They kicked it back and forth to each other, running toward our goal.

But they moved so slowly, I jumped in front of them and stole the ball. I dribbled it between my feet, then passed off to Angelo in the corner of the field.

My kick was too hard. Angelo couldn’t get to it, and the ball bounced off the field.

Angelo tossed the ball inbounds. The other players lurched toward it. But I got there first. I dribbled it halfway down the field.

I looked for someone to pass it to. But the players on both teams were far behind me. I was all alone with the goal in front of me.

That’s when I glimpsed the sidelines — and saw that everyone was staring at me. Staring hard.

At first, I thought it was because I was playing so well.

But then I remembered Franny’s warning — and I knew why they were watching me with such unpleasant looks on their faces.

Don’t move too fast. Walk like a zombie.

That was Franny’s advice. And here I was, showing off my skills. Showing off how fast I was.

I was so much faster than the other players, they were starting to suspect me. Starting to suspect that I was
alive
.

I deliberately stumbled. I let the ball roll away from me. And I fell facedown onto the grass.

A black-shirt player caught up to the ball and began moving it the other way.

I pulled myself to my feet slowly. I turned and started toward the ball.

Slow down, Matt,
I told myself.
Take slow, lurching steps.

The other players were all moving in slow motion. And now so was I.

I glanced at the sidelines. Coach Meadows had a smile on his droopy face.

I was fooling him. I was fooling everyone.

Slow … slow …

The ball was loose. I moved in to kick it downfield.

I gave a hard kick. I saw the red-shirt player in front of me. Saw his mouth open in surprise.

I didn’t mean to kick him. But my shoe slammed hard into his leg.

I heard a sick
craaaack
.

The boy uttered a gasp as his leg cracked.

And then I screamed as the whole leg came flying off.