Why I Quit Zombie School (6 page)

“I guess the
library
is really special,” Franny said. “It’s open twenty-four hours a day, and they have thousands of books. And tons of computers with a very fast connection.”

“That’s nice,” Mom said with a smile.

“And the Dining Hall is pretty special,” Franny added.

I groaned. “Franny, you know that’s not what I meant.” My heart was pounding. I wanted to explode. Why was she
doing
this?

“Tell my parents about the zombies!” I screamed.

Several kids turned to stare at me.

Franny scrunched up her face. “Zombies?”

“Tell them what you told me,” I begged. “You know. That this is a zombie school. That you and I are the only
living
kids here.”

Franny laughed. “Matt, tell me you didn’t believe me,” she said. “I was joking. You know. A joke for the new kid in school.”

Dad slapped my shoulder. “Guess we won’t be hearing about
that
anymore,” he said. “Thank you, Franny.”

“But — but —” I sputtered.

Franny turned to the door. “I have to go study,” she said. She grinned. “You know. Meet up with the other zombies and maybe rip some live flesh while we do our math.”

Mom and Dad laughed.

I could feel my face go red-hot. I mean, my blood was
boiling
.

Franny took a few steps, then turned back. “Matt, are you coming to the dance party after all the parents leave tonight?” she called.

“Party?” I could barely get the word out. I felt so angry and upset, I was shaking. “I don’t think so,” I replied.

Franny waved good-bye to my parents. Then she hurried away.

“You should go to the party,” Mom said. “You’ve got to stop living in your own world, Matt.”

I didn’t answer. My head was still burning hot. My hands were balled into tight fists.

“You’ve got to make friends here and try to fit in,” Dad said.

Fit in?
That’s a laugh. Fit in with a school full of zombies. For sure.

“Franny seems nice,” Mom said.

Nice? She’s a liar and a traitor
, I thought.

She was my last chance. And now I was doomed. Trapped in this school with the living dead. Trapped here — until the kids discovered I was alive. And then they’d make me undead, too.

“What are you thinking about?” Mom asked.

I shrugged. “I’m thinking I should show you my room. I made it very cool,” I said.

I tried to act “normal” for the rest of the day. I didn’t mention zombies. How could I?

Parents Day was one of the longest days of my life. I couldn’t really talk to my parents at all. I just kept thinking about how I was DOOMED.

Finally, that evening, I said good-bye to Mom and Dad on the front steps of the school. I promised I would go to the dance party and tell them all about it.

Then I hugged them and watched them walk to their car. A wave of sadness rolled over me. I knew it would probably be the last time I ever saw them.

I didn’t want to go to any party. I wanted to run to my room, lock the door, and hide under the bed.

But before I could do that, I had to find Franny. I had to find out why she lied to my parents. Why she refused to save my life.

I found her upstairs in her room. She and her roommate, Marcia, were in front of the mirror,

doing each other’s hair, getting ready for the party.

I barged in without knocking. “Why?” I demanded. My voice came out higher and shriller than I’d planned. “Why? Just tell me why!”

Both girls turned to me.

“What’s your problem?” Marcia asked.

“I’m not talking to you,” I said. “Franny knows what I’m talking about.” I put my hands on my hips and waited for Franny to answer me.

She turned to Marcia. “He’s the new kid and he has issues,” she said.

Marcia made a face. “Issues? What does that mean?”

“He’s crazy,” Franny replied.

She tugged me out into the hall. A lot of kids were already heading to the party in the gym. She pulled me into an empty room.

“Matt, are you totally losing it?” she said in a harsh whisper.

“Why didn’t you tell my parents the truth?” I demanded. “Why didn’t you tell them this is a zombie school, and you and I are the only living kids?”

She put a finger on my lips to hush me up.

“I want to
stay
alive. That’s why,” she said. “Matt, there were at least a dozen kids listening to us talk to your parents this morning. Didn’t you see them?”

“No,” I said. “I —”

“I couldn’t talk in that crowd,” Franny said. “I couldn’t tell your parents the truth. If I did, we’d both be undead by now. I’m serious.”

I stared at her. “You could have saved my life.”

She shook her head. “No way. Those kids were listening, Matt. They wouldn’t let you leave the school with your parents. They would have gotten to you before you stepped out the door.”

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came to me.

“They are watching you, Matt,” Franny said. “I think they are starting to suspect.”

That sent a chill to the back of my neck.

“You don’t understand how much danger you are in,” she said.

“You’re not cheering me up,” I said.

It was kind of a joke, but she didn’t laugh. “Just be careful,” she said. “Listen to me. At the party tonight, be very careful.”

If only I had listened to her …

My parents told me to go to the party and
try to fit in
. What a joke.

I didn’t want to fit in with the kids in this school. I kind of wanted to be
alive
.

But Franny convinced me I had to go. She said if I didn’t go to the party, kids would wonder why I wanted to be different.

“I can do this,” I told myself. I figured if Franny could play dead and fool everyone, I could, too.

I pulled on a fairly clean pair of faded cargo jeans and a black pullover shirt. Then I pawed through my horror collection.

I was looking for something the other kids might think was funny. You know. Something to convince these zombies that I was a good guy.

I pulled out the perfect thing. A human hand. Actually, it was made of rubber. But it looked very real.

I turned it over in my hands a few times. I decided I could probably make kids laugh with it. So I tucked it into my jeans pocket and headed to the gym for my first party at Romero.

I don’t know what I expected. Maybe black crepe streamers on the ceiling. Black candles. Gravestones for decoration. Music by the Grateful Dead.

I pushed open the gym doors and gazed inside. It looked like a normal party.

Red balloons bobbed overhead. Kids hung out around a long food table against one wall. Some kids sat in the bleachers, talking and laughing.

A few girls danced together to loud music in the center of the floor. Some boys leaned against the wall, watching them.

I strode quickly across the floor — then stopped. I remembered what Franny had said.
Not too fast.

I took a few lurching steps. I pretended to stumble. Then I staggered toward the food table.

I could see kids in the bleachers watching me. I hoped my zombie walk looked real to them.

Slow, Matt. Keep it slow.

I waved to Marcia, Franny’s roommate. She stared back at me. I don’t think she liked me. Maybe she suspected I didn’t belong in this school.

I wondered if she suspected Franny, too.

I spotted Angelo and Mikey and some of the other soccer players at the food table. They held big hunks of red meat in their hands. They were stuffing their faces, gobbling and swallowing so loudly, I could hear them above the pounding music.

I lurched toward them, remembering to stagger and stumble. I was halfway across the gym floor when Mikey suddenly erupted.

A hoarse honking sound burst from his throat like a blast from a tuba. His eyes went wide. He grabbed his throat with both hands.

Mikey staggered crazily over the floor, making frightening honking, bleating sounds. It took me a few seconds to realize he was choking on a big hunk of raw meat.

Angelo stepped up behind Mikey and pounded him hard on the back.

Mikey made a sickening ULLLLLP sound.

Angelo pounded his back again. A few kids gasped as Mikey’s big pink tongue came flying out.

The tongue sailed several feet. Then it hit the gym floor and bounced once or twice.

I gaped at it in horror. My stomach tightened into a knot.

The tongue was
moving
!

It wiggled on the hardwood floor.

No one screamed. No one made a sound.

Mikey stopped choking. He bent down and
picked up his tongue in one hand. Then he hurried out of the gym, carrying it carefully in front of him.

I made my way to Angelo. “Mikey’s tongue —” I choked out. I couldn’t keep the alarm from my voice.

Angelo waved his hand. “He’ll be okay,” he said. “He does that all the time.”

My stomach was doing flip-flops. I kept picturing the tongue wiggling all by itself on the gym floor. But I tried to act normal.

Angelo offered me a huge chunk of red meat. “Snack?” he asked.

It smelled rotten. I forced myself not to make a disgusted face or back away.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I had that for dinner.”

He blinked at me. “You coming to practice Monday?”

I nodded. “For sure.”

Angelo grinned and pumped his fist in the air. “The Vultures are going to
kill
this year!” he cried. “Kill, kill, KILL!”

“Yeah. Kill,” I repeated.

The music changed. Some kids shouted: “Time for the Stomp! Everyone! Do the Stomp!”

I watched in surprise as everyone formed a line across the gym floor. The music pounded, and everyone started a weird, stomping dance.

Two girls I didn’t know pulled me into the line. They stomped their feet, then shuffled to one
side. Then they stomped some more and slid the other way.

Everyone in the gym seemed to know this dance. Everyone but
me
.

I struggled to catch on quickly.

Stomp stomp stompstompstomp slide.

Stomp stomp stompstompstomp slide.

“Ohhh,” I cried out as I fell into the girl next to me. We both nearly hit the floor.

Another girl pulled me back up. I tried again. Everyone was doing it. Everyone was dancing and stomping and having a great time.

Stomp stomp stompstompstomp slide.

“Owww.”
I slid onto my own shoe and tripped. I hit the floor. Banged my knees hard.

The music stopped. I was still on my knees.

A heavy silence fell over the gym. I turned to see everyone staring at me.

Slowly, I climbed to my feet. “I’m such a total klutz,” I said. “I … uh … I’m usually great at the Stomp. It’s my favorite.”

Four grim-faced boys came marching toward me. They squinted at me menacingly.

I turned to run. But some kids moved to block the gym doors.

The four boys lurched up to me, hands on their waists. They didn’t blink. They stared hard, as if studying me.

A chill ran down my back. “What’s the problem?” I asked in a tiny voice.

I’d seen these guys in the halls. They always walked together, kind of strutting. They waved and called out to everyone they passed.

They were popular. They seemed to know everyone.

All four of them were dressed in dark khaki cargo pants and black shirts that came down nearly to their knees. Like they were in a club or something.

They were pretty okay looking for zombies. Tall and athletic. Three blond dudes and one with red hair. The red-haired guy had a black patch over one eye.

Their skin was very pale and tight on their faces. Otherwise, they could pass for normal living kids.

They formed a semicircle around me. They grinned at me, but their eyes were cold.

“I’m Ernie,” one of them said. “How you doing?”

“F-fine,” I stuttered. “Good party.”

“You like it here?” he asked. He seemed to be the spokesman. The other three had their grins frozen on their faces, like they were wearing masks.

“Yeah. Good school,” I said.

Ernie looked me up and down. “You
sure
you like it here?”

“Yeah. Sure,” I said. My legs were shaking like they were made of Jell-O.

“Hard being the new kid, huh?” Ernie said. The other three boys snickered.

I swallowed. “Yeah. But everyone’s been totally nice,” I said. My voice cracked on the word
nice
.

Ernie’s grin turned into a sneer. “You’re not too good at the Stomp,” he said. He swung around to his friends. “Not too good, is he?”

“Not too good,” the red-haired dude chimed in.

“Maybe he needs to practice,” another guy said. “You know. With us.”

“Yeah. Maybe he needs to practice,” Ernie agreed. “What do
you
think, Matt? Think you need to practice?”

“Well … uh …”

Before I could answer, Franny appeared. She pushed her way into the center of the group. “What’s up, guys?” she asked.

“We were just making friends,” Ernie replied. “Trying to help out the new kid.”

“Yeah. Making friends,” the red-haired guy repeated. His expression didn’t look too friendly.

“Come on, Ernie. This is a party,” Franny said. She pulled me away. “Give Matt a break. Why do you want to get up in his face?”

Ernie threw his hands up. “Just making friends,” he said. The other three laughed.

Franny dragged me away. “Those guys are dangerous,” she whispered.

The music started up again. Everyone started talking at once, as if someone had pushed an ON button.

Franny pulled me behind the bleachers. A food fight had broken out above us in the seats. Kids were heaving blobs of meat and rotten fruit at one another. The bleachers shook from all the commotion.

“Those guys are really popular,” Franny said. “They rule the school.”

“They weren’t being friendly,” I said. “They lied about that.”

“They suspect you,” Franny said. “They think you’re alive.”

“I
am
alive,” I said. “We’re both alive, right? How come they don’t pick on
you
?”

“Because I’m a better actor than you,” she said.

Loud cheers rang out above us. The bleachers shook. A fat blob of meat came sailing down and squished at my feet.

“I’m going to help you,” Franny said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. First, you’re going to
dance with me. Dance like a zombie. Everyone will be watching you.”

“Nice. No pressure,” I said.

“Don’t make jokes. Your life depends on this,” Franny said, frowning. “After our dance, go over to the food table. Convince everyone there that you’re one of them.”

I gulped. “You mean —?”

A new song started. Another stomping beat. Franny pulled me out onto the floor.

A lot of kids were dancing now. Strange, stiff-legged dancing, as if their knees didn’t bend.

“You can do it. Just copy them,” Franny said.

We started to dance. I kept my knees stiff. I bumped into Franny a few times.

“Good!” she said. “Keep it up.”

We danced a bit harder. I stumbled around in a circle.

“Good!” Franny urged me on. “Now stagger right into the wall.”

I followed her instruction. I staggered into the wall. Then I shuffled back to her.

“Franny,” I said. I had my eyes on the bleachers. “Ernie and his friends — they’re still watching me.”

“Of course they are,” she replied. “Listen, Matt, I’ll help you as much as I can. But you have to do every thing you can to make them think you are undead.”

“Everything?” I asked.

Franny gave me a shove. “To the food table. Now. Put on a good show, Matt. After a while, they’ll stop watching you.”

I had no choice. I staggered over to the food table. I saw a swarm of flies buzzing over the decayed fruit and plates of raw meat. Some of the meat had turned green.

I held my breath to keep the putrid smell from my nose. I gazed down the table, searching for something I could possibly eat.

No way.

A tall, black-haired girl in a short purple skirt and purple sweater tapped me on the shoulder.

Startled, I spun around. “Oh. Hi.”

“I’m Evie,” she said. “Here. Have you tried this? It’s just ripe enough.”

She picked up a blob of green, rotting meat and dangled it in front of my eyes.

I tried not to make a face, but I couldn’t help it.

She laughed. “Go ahead. Try it.”

“I … don’t think so,” I said. I saw Franny watching me from the dance floor. I knew I had to do as Franny said. I had to convince Evie I was a zombie like her.

But
no way
could I eat that putrid raw meat.

I grabbed a rotted pear from the bowl. “I … I like fruit,” I told her. “Have you tried the pears?”

“I’ve had six of them,” she said. “They’re awesome.”

Evie waited for me to eat the pear. I gazed at it, and I nearly heaved.

The skin had rotted off, and the fruit inside was spotty brown with green stuff growing on it. It was covered in deep wormholes.

“Yummmm,” I said.

I can’t do this,
I thought.
I’m going to heave. I really am.

Evie didn’t move. Her eyes were on the pear. I turned and glimpsed Ernie and his three friends at the other end of the food table. They were watching me, too.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. And held it.

Then slowly … slowly, I raised the rotted, wormy pear to my mouth.

Every muscle in my body tightened as I opened my mouth — and shoved the pear inside.

It felt dry and lumpy against my tongue. Like a dead frog. That’s what I suddenly pictured — a dead frog.

I couldn’t chew it. My stomach was heaving … heaving.

I … swallowed it whole!

My whole body shook. I swallowed again … again. I knew I’d never get that bitter, rancid taste from my mouth. Never.

Evie smiled at me. “Good, huh? Try another one.”

“Uh … no,” I said. My mind was spinning.

How could I get away from this horrifying food table?

“Want to dance?” I asked.

She nodded. “Sure.”

She took my hand. She started to lead me to the other dancers.

Her hand was ice-cold. The cold made my whole arm tingle.

Suddenly, she stopped. Her smile faded. She let go of my hand. Her eyes went wide.

“Oh, Matt, nooooo,” she moaned.

Then she turned to the other kids and started to scream at the top of her lungs:

“Hey! He’s still warm! Hey, everyone — he’s still WARM!”