Why I Quit Zombie School (7 page)

I uttered a cry. I wanted to run.

But Evie grabbed my hand with both of hers and held on. “It’s warm! It’s WARM!” she screamed.

I tried to pull myself free. But she had surprising strength. I realized there was nowhere to run anyway.

The music stopped. A crowd of kids gathered around Evie and me. Ernie and his friends pushed them out of the way to get to me. Evie let go of my hand and backed away.

My mind spun. How was I going to get out of this one? I searched the crowd for Franny. But the faces were a blur. I couldn’t find her.

Ernie stepped up inches from my face. He gazed hard into my eyes. “Matt, when did you die?” he demanded.

Think fast, Matt. Think fast.

“Uh … last Sunday,” I said.

Ernie narrowed his eyes at me. “That can’t be right,” he said. “I remember you arrived here at school two Sundays ago.”

Panic gripped my throat. I could barely choke out a sound.

“Uh … let’s see,” I rasped. “I guess … I died two weeks ago. No. Three. I remember it was a Tuesday.”

This was
not
going well.

The huge gym grew silent. The air suddenly felt steamy and hot. I had sweat pouring down my face.

Again, I searched for Franny. No sight of her. Besides, what could she do to help me? She had to keep
her
secret safe.

Ernie leaned over me. I could smell the rotted meat on his breath. “This is a special school,” he said. “I think you know what I mean by
special
.”

“Yeah. Of course,” I choked out.

“And we don’t want outsiders to find out about our school,” he said. “They might decide to cause trouble.”

“No. N-no trouble,” I stammered.

I gazed over his big shoulders to the gym doors. No way I’d ever make it. I was trapped.

“Test him!” a boy cried from the crowd. “Give him the test.”

I turned and saw that it was Angelo. Some friend!

“Test him! Test him! Test him!” Some kids took up the chant.

Ernie grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. He pushed me toward the gym doors.

“Where are you taking me?” I cried.

Panic made my legs quiver like rubber bands. I nearly collapsed to the floor. But Ernie held on to me.

“What are you going to do?”

“This way,” Ernie ordered. He pushed open the doors and shoved me out into the hall.

“Test him! Test him! Test him!” The chanting zombie kids came following close behind us.

“Uh … could I take a makeup test?” I said. “Maybe next week?”

My words were drowned out by the loud chant of the excited kids. Their cries rang off the tile walls as we marched down the halls.

The long halls twisted and turned. The school was built in circles. As we followed the halls around, I totally lost my direction. In my panic, it all became a frightening blur of empty rooms and gray lockers and dimly lit hallways.

Until we stepped into the Center Court.

Then every thing snapped back into focus. The wide, round, open space in the center of the school. The domed ceiling. The balcony circling the court, high above.

Yes, I knew where I was now.

I felt Ernie’s hands on my shoulders as he
guided me from behind. Guided me up the long, steep stairway that led to the balcony.

“Nooooo. Please —”

Was that
me
pleading in that high, trembling voice?

Yes, it was.

I didn’t want to climb up to the balcony. I didn’t want to be up there. Because I could guess what was about to happen.

The noisy, excited crowd of kids stayed down below. And now a
new
chant rose up: “Bungee jump! Bungee jump! Bungee jump!”

The words rang in my ears until my head felt about to explode. I knew. I knew what my test would be. The test that would definitely show if I was alive or undead.

Ernie pushed me to the balcony railing. I gazed down. The kids filled the court, all eyes raised to me. Chanting … chanting.

The floor was a mile down. And solid marble.

I knew I couldn’t survive a jump. When I hit, I’d break every bone in my body.

“What are you waiting for?” Ernie demanded, giving me another push.

“Well … I have a problem with heights,” I said.

“Get up on the railing,” he ordered. “Go ahead. It’s easy. Once you pass the test, I’ll get out of your face. Promise.”

Pass the test?

How could I pass the test?

I glanced down again. Big mistake. The sight of the hard marble floor so far below me made my whole body shudder.

I shut my eyes. I pictured an egg falling from high up.
Craaaack. Splaaaaat.

I tried to back away from the balcony edge. But Ernie stood right behind me. I couldn’t move an inch.

“Bungee jump! Bungee jump!” The cry rose up from the kids down below.

I wrapped both hands on the balcony railing and pulled myself up.

Were these my final seconds of being alive?

What could I possibly do to save myself?

Nothing.

I shut my eyes. I thought:
Good-bye, Mom and Dad. Good-bye, Jamie.

Good-bye, everyone.

Then I remembered the fake rubber hand.

I had tucked it into a pocket of my cargo jeans. Could that rubber hand save my life? I suddenly had an idea.

I twisted my body so that Ernie couldn’t see what I was doing. Then I pulled the hand out from my pocket.

Gripping it tightly in my right hand, I pulled the rubber hand into my shirtsleeve.

I leaned over the balcony.

The chanting stopped. The kids grew silent. Everyone froze.

I leaned a little farther over the edge. I could see the eyes all raised to me. See the eager looks on all the faces.

I leaned even farther. Stretched my hands over the side. And dropped the rubber hand from my shirtsleeve.

Kids gasped as it fell. It hit the floor hard and
bounced two or three times. It rolled into a corner beneath the balcony and stopped.

“My hand!” I screamed. “My hand! That’s the
third
time! I can’t keep it on!”

Silence down below. An eerie hush as kids thought about what had just happened.

And then a few kids cheered. Others laughed.

Ernie patted me hard on the back. “Guess you passed the test, Matt,” he said.

We bumped fists. I was careful to use my left hand. I kept my right hand hidden in the shirtsleeve.

“Back to the party!” someone shouted.

“Back to the party!”

I breathed a long sigh of relief.

Ernie started down the stairs. Then he turned back to me. “Go get your hand,” he said. “I’ll take you to the Reviver Room.”

I nearly choked. “The Reviver Room?”

I remembered how the Reviver Room worked. The high voltage. A shock so powerful it brings the dead back to life.

“A few minutes in the Reviver Room will glue that hand on to stay,” Ernie said. “Come on. I’ll wait for you.”

He turned and clomped down the stairs.

My victory hadn’t lasted very long.

I hadn’t counted on the Reviver Room. Now, instead of being a smashed egg, I was about to be a
fried
egg.

I made my way slowly down the stairs. I knew I didn’t have any more tricks hidden in my pockets.

I tried to come up with a new plan, a new way to fool Ernie. A way to keep him from leading me into that terrifying room.

But my brain froze. I was too frightened to think straight.

I found the rubber hand on the floor against the wall. I quickly tucked it back into the pocket before Ernie could see it clearly.

He motioned to me from an entrance to the court. “Move it, Matt. A few minutes in the Reviver Room. Then you’ll be ready to party again.”

I … don’t … think … so.

I had no choice. I had to follow him.

The music had started up again in the gym. But my heart was pounding faster than the dance music.

From the party, I heard loud voices and kids laughing.

I wasn’t laughing.

Ernie led me to the door to the Reviver Room. I struggled to think … think of a way to escape. But my brain was letting me down.

Ernie opened the door a crack. I peered inside. Red light filled the room. I saw lots of wires and a wall of electric equipment. I glimpsed a metal chair in front of the equipment.

“I’m kind of hungry,” I said. “Maybe we should get something to eat first. Couldn’t you go for a few pounds of meat?”

“Fix your hand first,” Ernie said, staring at my shirtsleeve. “The longer the hand is off your arm, the longer you’ll have to stay in the Reviver Room.”

The red light seeped out of the room and washed over me.

Ernie opened the door wide. “The Reviver isn’t here,” he said. “But we don’t need him.”

“The Reviver?” I asked. “Maybe we should wait for him to get back.”

“He won’t be here till morning,” Ernie said. “This is an emergency. No worries. Go in.”

He motioned me into the room. “Go ahead, Matt,” he said. “Take a seat in the Reviver Chair. It’s all hooked up. You’ll get a good blast.”

“A blast?” I uttered. My voice cracked.

“Take your hand and hold it onto the end of your arm,” Ernie instructed. “Then …”

“Then?” I said. My voice cracked.

“Then I’ll throw the switch,” Ernie said.

I stepped into the red light. It was hot inside the little room. The electric equipment buzzed and crackled.

I gripped the chair back with my one good hand.
“Owww.”
The metal felt hot.

“Sit down,” Ernie ordered. “What are you waiting for?”

Well … I’d just like to take a few more breaths before you FRY me to a crisp.

I started to lower myself onto the hot metal chair. But I stood straight up when I heard voices.

Through the open door, I saw two of Ernie’s friends come running up to him.

“Hey — here he is!”

“Ernie — what are you doing here?”

“We’ve been looking all over for you. Come on, dude. Come back to the party.”

“Hurry. The Stomp Contest is starting. We need you, dude.”

Ernie tried to explain to them what was happening. But they didn’t give him a chance. They pulled him away, back toward the gym.

I stood there holding my breath till I heard the gym doors close behind them. Then I ran out of the Reviver Room.

I slammed the door behind me. I blinked in the bright light.

I couldn’t help myself. I lost it. I did a happy dance. “I’m alive! I’m alive! ALIVE!”

I stopped in middance. I suddenly realized the words I was shouting could get me killed.

I glanced up and down the hall. No one there. I could hear the pounding drumbeats of the music in the gym.

I realized my hand was still tucked into my shirtsleeve. I pushed it out and moved the fingers to get the blood flowing.

Tomorrow, I’ll tell Ernie I threw the switch myself,
I decided.
I’ll tell him it worked perfectly, and my hand is back.

I decided not to return to the party. I wanted to go up to my room and celebrate my good luck.

The kids all thought I was undead now. I had passed the test. I could relax now. No more suspicious stares. No kids following me around, watching my every move.

The rubber hand was a stroke of genius.

“I’m a genius!” I told myself. “A genius!”

“Hey — what are
you
so happy about?” a voice behind me boomed. I spun around. Angelo.

How long has he been standing there?

How much has he heard?

I raised my right hand and wiggled the fingers. Then I pointed to the Reviver Room.

“All fixed,” I said.

Angelo grabbed my wrist and studied the hand. He turned it over and rubbed his fingers along the skin.

“Wow. Perfect,” he said. “You’d never know it fell off.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I got lucky,” I said.

“Hey, your hand is warm,” he said. He eyed me suspiciously.

“From the high voltage,” I said.

He nodded. “You going back to the party?”

“No,” I said. “All that electricity kind of wiped me out.”

“Catch you at practice,” Angelo said. He waved good-bye and headed back to the gym.

I couldn’t keep a grin from spreading over my face. “Matt, you’re definitely a genius!” I told myself.

Guess how long I stayed a genius.

The next morning, I woke up with another brilliant idea.

Since the day I arrived at Romero, I noticed something strange and a little creepy about the kids. Most of the undead kids had a pale blue tint to their skin.

I had proved to them at the dance that I was a zombie, too. But I still needed to do every thing I could to keep them from guessing the truth about me.

That meant I should have pale blue skin, too.

No problem. I took out my horror-makeup kit. And I very carefully dabbed a blue tint over my face, my neck, and my arms and hands.

When I finished, I checked myself out in the mirror. Yes. The color was perfect. Just a hint of blue.

I got dressed and hurried down the hall. I wanted to show off my skin to Franny. I knew she’d agree that Matt the Genius had struck again.

But she wasn’t in her room. She had already gone to breakfast.

I walked through the crowded halls with confidence. No one turned to stare at me. No one followed me, hoping to prove I was alive.

I was accepted. I was one of them.

Everything went perfectly — until gym class.

“We’re going to run track indoors today,” Coach Meadows announced. He blew his whistle. His whole body appeared to deflate every time he blew it.

He had us run laps around the gym. I ran between Angelo and another guy from the soccer team named Steven.

You couldn’t really call it running. It was more like stumbling and staggering. Angelo was talking about a soccer match the Vultures were playing against a team called the Spotted Owls.

“Why would anyone name a team that?” Angelo demanded. “What kind of name is Spotted Owls?”

Steven agreed.

“Maybe they don’t give a hoot,” I joked. I thought it was pretty funny. But neither one of them laughed. I was beginning to catch on that zombies didn’t laugh very much.

We ran another lap. Kids trotted slowly, lurching and stumbling. One boy staggered right into the gym wall and then fell flat on his butt. No one seemed to notice.

It felt good to run, even slowly. We didn’t get much exercise at this school. I think that’s because the undead kids were afraid of body parts falling off.

I let Angelo and Steven run ahead. I wanted a little freedom. A few moments to stretch my muscles and move by myself.

Halfway around the gym again, I thought I saw some kids watching me.

I scolded myself.
Matt, don’t start imagining things. You’ve got them all fooled — remember?

But I wasn’t imagining it. I passed the locker room door and kept trotting. Some boys moved forward to trot right behind me.

I saw others turn and stare.

What was up with that? Just about everyone was staring hard at me now as we all lapped the gym.

My heart started to race. I knew something was wrong. But what could it be?

As I came around again, I grabbed the handle to the locker room door. I pulled the door open and hurried inside.

The air was hot and steamy in the narrow locker room. Someone had left a shower running.

I hurried up to the mirror. I saw kids coming up behind me. What had I done wrong? Why were they chasing after me?

Frantically, I rubbed the mist off the mirror with my hand. I stared into the glass.

I knew instantly that I’d made two mistakes.

The first mistake: I was sweating. Zombies do not sweat.

Mistake number two: The blue makeup. My sweat made the blue makeup run. And it had run onto my white gym T-shirt.

A deep blue stain ran around the collar of the shirt.

I spun around. A large gang of boys had jammed the locker room. Most of them were staring at the sweat pouring down my face and the ring of blue on my shirt.

“Uh … this isn’t what it looks like,” I said. “I mean … I was testing something … for Halloween. I mean …”

My explanation was not going over.

A huge mountain of a kid grabbed the front of my shirt. He rubbed a hand on my sweaty cheeks. And the blue makeup came off on his fingers.

“Uh-oh,” he said softly. “Uh-oh. Uh-oh.”