You Are So Undead to Me (20 page)
For me, last night was all it took to cement Monica as my prime suspect. There was no denying that her “attack” had been super-fishy. First of all, why had she really been at the Hidden Hills Cemetery? She’d said something about a phone call telling her to go check out a grave that had been tampered with, but hello, she wasn’t stupid. Evil, yes—but not stupid. Why would she head out to Hidden Hills because of some weird anonymous phone call without telling SA or calling for backup of some kind?
And why—once she was there and saw the RC coming after her—didn’t she banish it? She was nearly a third-stage Settler and surely had the mojo to work a
reverto
spell on a single corpse. So why had she run instead of working the command? She’d said she “just got so scared she forgot the spell,” but I, for one, wasn’t buying. She’d been studying second-stage stuff since she was twelve, for God’s sake.
reverto
spell on a single corpse. So why had she run instead of working the command? She’d said she “just got so scared she forgot the spell,” but I, for one, wasn’t buying. She’d been studying second-stage stuff since she was twelve, for God’s sake.
Besides, everyone knew Monica didn’t
experience
fear; she instilled it.
experience
fear; she instilled it.
But the weirdest part of the whole thing was: Why had the RC—who’d bitten her on the leg before Ethan made it up the hill—seemed to chill once it had Monica’s blood in its mouth? I mean, Ethan had worked the
reverto
spell only a few seconds later, but I didn’t think I’d imagined the way the zombie’s face had already slackened, as if it was losing its black-magic charge.
reverto
spell only a few seconds later, but I didn’t think I’d imagined the way the zombie’s face had already slackened, as if it was losing its black-magic charge.
Every Settler knew a Reanimated Corpse would go back to its grave once it had a taste of its Maker’s blood. Could Monica have been that Maker and tried to kill her own homecoming date and staged the attack simply to cover her ass when she learned the Shane clones hadn’t killed me?
Or was I just letting jealousy cloud my perception? There was no denying the way my stomach had dropped when Ethan pulled Monica into his arms after the zombies were gone. He’d looked just as upset as when he’d learned I’d been in danger and just as close to doing more than picking up the bawling Monica and carrying her down the hill to his car.
If I hadn’t been following right behind them, would he have been playing tonsil hockey with Monica too? Maybe that was Ethan’s response to seeing a girl cry. Maybe our kiss had meant nothing; maybe—
No. I wasn’t going to go there. I did my best to banish all angst-ridden thoughts as I headed into the girls’ restroom to see if I could do
something
with my hair before lunch.
something
with my hair before lunch.
I’d let it air dry this morning and it was now a mass of frizzy, 1980s-perm-gone-awry waves. Yikes. Maybe I should have skipped the extra sleep and opted for some blow-drying time instead, no matter how wiped I was after being up until two.
“Nice look, Megan.” This evil pronouncement was accompanied by a snort that made it clear my look was anything but nice.
“Thanks, Monica,” I said in my sweetest voice as I twisted my hair up into a bun and jabbed a couple of number two pencils through it to hold it in place.
Evidently the fact that we’d both been “attacked” last night didn’t mean we were going to be new BFFs. Fine with me. Her getting bit by an RC didn’t make me like her any more than I did yesterday.
In fact, I would have gone ahead and accused her of being the one behind all this . . . if a part of me wasn’t scared to death of her. Not only was she the Monicster, she was a very powerful Settler, two years older than me and completely out of her gourd if she’d been raising zombies with black magic. I had to tread carefully and only play my hand when I had irrefutable proof—and hopefully several large, scary Protocol officers for backup.
“I was so beat I didn’t have time to fix it. I’m so glad you still think it looks okay.”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, making it clear how frustrating she found people who didn’t get her sarcasm. Ha! Disarmed by my niceness. Now to see if I could get any information to solidify my case.
“Sorry to hear about Mark. Bad for the team and for you.”
“It’s not like we were going to beat Danderville anyway,” she said, showing a decided lack of school spirit for someone who was cocaptain of the pom squad as she stalked across the bathroom, peeking under the doors of the stalls.
“You’re probably right. Still, I—”
“What the hell are you trying to do? Make sure I get relocated too?” Monica turned back to me with a hiss. “There could have been someone in here.”
“Sorry. I didn’t say anything about the graveyard or—”
“Damn right you didn’t, and you’re not going to say anything now.” She closed the distance between us, getting close enough I would have backed away if the sink weren’t right behind me. “You might be fooling the Elders, but I’m not buying the innocent act, Megan.”
“Innocent act?” I asked, totally dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?”
“Really, it’s pathetic,” she said, smiling as she backed away, giving me a slow, assessing up-and-down look, making clear just how pitiable I was. “I mean, are you that desperate for Ethan’s attention? That you have to keep staging attacks on yourself?”
What?! “That’s ridiculous, Monica, and you know it.”
You’re the attack stager,
I wanted to add, but didn’t. She was close enough to claw my eyes out, and those nails looked very,
very
sharp.
You’re the attack stager,
I wanted to add, but didn’t. She was close enough to claw my eyes out, and those nails looked very,
very
sharp.
“All I know is that you’re going for a review this afternoon and I’m not.”
“So what? That’s because I used a third-stage command, not—”
“Right, sure you did. And you’ve been back on Settler duty for how long?” She laughed and stepped up to the mirror next to mine, checking her black-like-her-soul eyeliner. “You should just understand one thing. Whether you show up at school tomorrow or not, there’s no way you’ll have a chance to sic any of your little friends on me again.”
I tried to laugh but couldn’t. This just wasn’t funny. “Strange you call them
my
friends, Monica. I was pretty sure that RC at the cemetery last night was something you cooked up.”
my
friends, Monica. I was pretty sure that RC at the cemetery last night was something you cooked up.”
I could at least accuse her of that, though I’d have loved to accuse her of a lot more.
“I don’t need to do things like that to get attention.” She whipped a lipstick from her purse and applied a smooth coat of gloss. “The Elders know it, and so does Ethan. He told me last night he’ll be making sure I’m safe from now on.”
“Of course he will. He’s with Protocol and—”
“It’s a little more . . . personal than that.” Monica smiled and turned to face me, the triumph in her expression making me want to wring her neck. “You’re going to need to find another date to the dance, assuming you’re not in SA custody before then. Ethan will be taking me.”
She wasn’t lying—I could tell from the smug smile curling her evil lips. “Fine, so he’ll be your fake boyfriend instead of mine. I couldn’t care less.” I shrugged, hoping I had done a decent job of concealing my surprise . . . not to mention my hurt.
How could Ethan have let me find this out from the Monicster? Didn’t he think he should tell me he’d been reassigned himself?
“Fake boyfriend?” She laughed again. “There was nothing fake about what happened when he took me home last night. It was just like old times.”
My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t help myself, even though I regretted showing my shock the second Monica’s eyes lit up in victory. That was what had been niggling at my brain in the locker room the other day. Five years ago, after Monica helped me banish the zombies, I’d tried to thank her. But she’d told me to thank her boyfriend. She said if they hadn’t stayed behind to make out in the woods before the second-stage ceremony, they never would have heard me scream.
Her boyfriend’s name? Ethan.
God! How could I have been so stupid?
Before I could think of a way to salvage what was left of my pride, she was heading toward the door, throwing her parting shot over her shoulder. “And remember—don’t count your pompoms before those names go up on the gym wall Saturday morning.”
Oh. My. God. She
didn’t
just act like I wasn’t a shoo-in for the team. Even distracted by murdering zombies, my crush on Ethan, and a dozen other things, I’d still learned the routines yesterday faster than anyone.
And
I’d danced them as well as, if not better than, the seniors running the clinic. So if Monica was insinuating I might not make the squad, she had to be planning something sneaky and underhanded.
didn’t
just act like I wasn’t a shoo-in for the team. Even distracted by murdering zombies, my crush on Ethan, and a dozen other things, I’d still learned the routines yesterday faster than anyone.
And
I’d danced them as well as, if not better than, the seniors running the clinic. So if Monica was insinuating I might not make the squad, she had to be planning something sneaky and underhanded.
Now I just had to find out if it was average senior-girl sneaky and underhanded or if she really was the one who’d tried to kill me. And if she’d have the guts to try again while a Protocol officer was tailing her every move.
My life was just getting more and more complicated, not to mention dangerous. And now it looked like I didn’t even have a bodyguard anymore. If I hadn’t been so upset, I would have tried to call Ethan during lunch to get his version of the story. But I didn’t. I figured I’d find out the truth this afternoon.
If I went outside after pom clinic and he was still waiting to give me a ride to SA headquarters for my review, I’d know Monica was lying. If not . . . I’d deal with it. I
had
to deal with it and stay focused on exposing Monica or whoever else was raising murderous corpses. My life could depend on it.
had
to deal with it and stay focused on exposing Monica or whoever else was raising murderous corpses. My life could depend on it.
“Thank God you’re finally here! Where were you?” Jess pulled me inside the house without even saying hi. Despite the fact that she hadn’t even raised her voice, I knew she was pissed.
“I’m so sorry. I had to run by Del’s to drop off her homework.”
“You were at Del’s all this time?” Jess asked, shooting me a strange look.
“No, I just stopped by really quickly.”
Long enough to see that Del was clearly sick and not up for raising zombies,
I mentally added. “Then I got stuck at my mom’s work. She said she had to go get this one little thing, and that turned into two things, then three,” I said as I bent over to take off my shoes, finding it easier to lie when I wasn’t looking Jess in the face. “We just got home ten minutes ago, and I grabbed my stuff and came right over.”
Long enough to see that Del was clearly sick and not up for raising zombies,
I mentally added. “Then I got stuck at my mom’s work. She said she had to go get this one little thing, and that turned into two things, then three,” I said as I bent over to take off my shoes, finding it easier to lie when I wasn’t looking Jess in the face. “We just got home ten minutes ago, and I grabbed my stuff and came right over.”
“Don’t take off your shoes. We should practice in what we’re going to wear for tryouts.”
“But won’t Clara have a meltdown?” I asked in a whisper, just in case her stepmom was nearby.
Clara was actually very cool about most things, but she was a total neat freak. She’d burst into tears one time when Jess and I spilled a bag of Doritos on the couch in the living room and hadn’t stopped even after we’d picked them all up and vacuumed the area twice. Jess had said she was still crying an hour and a half later when her dad got home from work. I mean, I understand cleanliness is a virtue and all that, but Clara definitely had issues.
“No, I promised her I’d pay for the carpet cleaners to come do my room next month out of my allowance.” Jess rolled her eyes and tugged me up the stairs, obviously not in the mood to talk about her stepmom.
Clara was the one person in the world who could get under Jess’s skin. It was a shame she was forced to live with the woman until she was eighteen. Jess’s bio mom had run off when she was still a little kid, a fact I knew had really messed her up for a while, even though she refused to talk about it. When we were in middle school, she’d cry every time we watched a movie that had anything to do with moms and daughters. Even
Dumbo
would make her totally lose it. And that wasn’t even about people.
Dumbo
would make her totally lose it. And that wasn’t even about people.
“So did you get a copy of the tryout CD they made?” Jess asked as soon as we were safely ensconced in her room, which was kind of like being inside our own giant loft apartment.
Jess’s dad, Mr. Thompson, was a psychotically rich investor type and had specially designed this room for his Little Princess when she was ten and started getting really serious about dance. One corner of the massive space was totally devoted to her passion, with full-length mirrors on the wall and a dance bar and everything. Her sound system made the one we used at the Dance Zone seem positively ghetto.
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