by E. Van Lowe
His ghastly green fingers reached for me. His ruby red eyes gazed hungrily upon me as gobs of drool slithered down his chin.
Ohmygod! He's sooo cute!
Tome on, Dirk. We've got some training to do."
I pulled a hunk of raw ground beef from my Baggie and held it out to him. He lurched forward, grasping for the meat. I took a few quick steps backward.
"That's it. Follow me," I said as I lured him to the office of my guidance counselor, Miss Everheart.
Training a zombie is a lot like training a dog. You have to realize he only has one thing on his mind: food. To have success with zombies, the zombie must think of you as the sole provider of food when he does good, and punishment when he is bad.
Once in the office, I sat Dirk across from me and pulled out my supply of raw meat hunks and a rolled-up newspaper.
"Hello, boyfriend," I cooed.
Dirk growled, snatched up my hand, and tried sticking it in
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his mouth. Smack! I swatted him across the nose with the rolled-up newspaper.
"Yeeeeee!" He let loose a high-pitched whine and shrank back. He gazed at me, fear dancing in his eyes.
"Okay," I said, brandishing the newspaper. "Let's try it again. Hello, boyfriend."
I dangled the hunk of meat in front of him. Cautiously, he took it from my hand, then gobbled it down. Success, I thought. It was Dirk's first step in becoming my boyfriend.
After that day life was even more perfect than before. Aside from the occasional boyfriend trying to kill me, I was living the dream. Most popular girl at school, chairperson of all the important committees, and to top it all off, I had a boyfriend.
Top Ten Advantages to Having a Zombie Boyfriend
10. You will never catch him starting
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3. He will never try to convince you to go all the way. ("All the way " has a whole different
meaning in zombieland. If you've gone all the way with him, welcome to the living dead.)
2. He will never choose his friends over you. (Zombies
don't have any friends. If you provide him with meat, you're his lifelong pal)
1. And the number one advantage to having a zombie boyfriends. You will never hear the words
"We need to talk." (That's right, he will never, ever, dump you Yary!)
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Chapter Sixteen
"Tryouts for holiday carolers are being held in the gym this coming Thursday afternoon. All interested students should come and bring your best singing voices. Hot apple cider will be served. No zombies allowed."
I finished the morning announcement and turned to Principal Taft. He was frowning at me.
"Did I say something wrong? I know it's a little early for caroling, but I thought I'd get a jump on things."
"No, no, you were perfect. It's just that--"
A storm of doubt raged in the pit of my stomach. "You don't want us caroling at all?" I said, interrupting.
"No, caroling is commendable."
"You don't like the cheerleader uniforms?"
"Glamorously gorgeous."
"My hair, my attitude, the way I run the committees?"
"Excellent, excellent, excellent."
"Then what am I doing wrong?"
"It's not you. You are doing everything right. But my supervisor, Mr. Pennyfield, loves our Holiday Pageant. I'm sure he'll
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want to stop by. And I was hoping you could cook up some little extravaganza for him."
"It will be a little extravaganza with only me and Sybil in it."
"See, that's a problem. He's going to ask why there aren't other students participating."
"Because they're zombies!"
"Right. But of course we don't want him to know that, do we? Margot, you're a terrifically talented young lady..."
Compliment!
"I know you can come up with something to convince him nothing is amiss at Salesian High. Am I right in trusting you with this responsibility?" He smiled into my eyes.
"Of course you are, sir."
"We're going to stage a huge holiday musical with zombies? Have you lost your mind?"
Sybil, Dirk, and I were seated in the cafeteria on our lunch break. We had become our own pack. No longer were we required to tag along with other zombie packs to get around school. With Dirk in our lives we had our own inner circle. Just the three of us.
Sybil was staring at me as if I'd gone bananas.
"We can do it. We'll hold the Holiday Pageant and a week later the Winter Dance. And the best part is Amanda Culpepper can't participate in either of them. She's gonna be so jealous."
"I hate to rain on your parade, Margot, but jealousy is an emotion--and zombies don't have any."
Amanda and the Twigettes were seated across the room at a table with some nerd zombies.
"Wanna bet?" I whispered. "Look at her." We glanced over
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at Amanda. "She's glaring at us. She knows this is the first year she won't have the lead in the Holiday Pageant."
"No, I think she's eyeing that hunk of raw meat you just shoved into Dirk's mouth."
"I bet she wishes she'd bit us now." I scowled in Amanda's direction. "Well, it's too late," I mouthed. "Tough noogies. You had your chance. This school belongs to me now." I grinned at her like an eight-year-old with a brand-new Barbie, then slid my arm lovingly around Dirk's shoulder.
He tried to bite it. Smack!
"Yeeeeee!"
I turned to Dirk all apologetic. "Baby's sorry she had to do that to Snookie, but Snookie can't bite Baby." I pulled another hunk of raw meat from a Baggie and threw it to him. He grabbed the meat in midair and gobbled it up. "I taught him that," I said proudly.
"Snookie?" Sybil's lips twisted into a frown.
"That's what I call him--Snookie. I think it's cute when couples have pet names for each other."
"What does he call you--Lunch?"
"Sounds like somebody needs to sit over there with the other jealous girls."
Tin not jealous of a zombie," Sybil barked. She folded her arms across her chest and began to pout.
"Good. Then you won't mind if I cancel tonight."
"What? Again? You canceled on me last night."
"Well, somebody's gotta choreograph the Holiday Pageant." I leaned in and lowered my voice. "Besides, I'm teaching Dirk something new, and he's a little slow."
"Oh? And what are you teaching him?" she asked through clenched teeth.
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I fixed her with a firm, steady gaze. "Well, if you must know, I'm teaching him how to sing."
She stared back, her eyes narrowing. I could practically see slow wisps of steam rising off her forehead. "You're teaching a zombie to sing?" Her voice was low and filled with scorn.
"Yes. Christmas carols. As president of the Caroling Committee it's my job to make sure we have the best carolers the school has to offer. And in case you haven't noticed, we need a bass to offset your soprano and my alto."
"We cannot take Dirk caroling with us," she said, eyeing him with contempt.
"Why not?"
"Because instead of caroling Dirk will be consuming everyone in his path. He's a zombie, remember?"
I lowered my voice and again leaned in. "Don't be a name caller." I wagged a chastising finger at her. Then I turned to Dirk. "Hey, Snookie, wanna go for a walk before class?"
A low moan rose from deep in his chest.
"Me, too." I got up and faced Sybil. "We're the in-kids now, but remember where you came from, Syb. You didn't like anyone calling you names. Let's not become them," I said, throwing a glance over at Amanda and her green-with-envy ghoul-friends.
Sybil shook her head slowly. "You don't get it, do you?" she said, her eyes softening. "Margot, we have an opportunity to do something good this semester. We should be trying to make our time among the zombies mean something."
"I am doing something good. I'm teaching Dirk how to sing."
Sybil opened her mouth to say
something more, but must have thought better of it because she closed her mouth and just stared.
A moment later Dirk and I blended into a pack of zombies
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passing through the cafeteria. I didn't look back, but I was certain Sybil's eyes were burning a hole in the back of my head.
Later that evening, Dirk and I sat in my room. I was alternately feeding him scraps of ground beef and flipping through my songbook in search of just the right holiday songs for caroling. I felt a pang of guilt knowing Sybil was at home alone. But isn't that what an it-girl does--dump her friends for her boyfriend?
"Margot!" my brother Theo called from the other side of my bedroom door. "Are you guys eating in there? You know Mom doesn't allow food in the bedroom."
"We're not eating. And if we were eating it wouldn't be any of your business."
"I smell food," the little brat chimed.
"You smell your upper lip," I countered. Oh, how I wanted to yank open the door, tie a leg of lamb around his scrawny little neck, and let Dirk have at him. But the thought of Theo roaming the Earth forever sent a chill up my spine. I couldn't do that to the human race. "Go away," I called. "We're busy."
"Margot and Snookie sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g," he sang as he clomped off down the hall, snickering all the way.
A sudden emptiness drifted over me. If only Dirk and I could share a kiss. 1 sighed. Most girls spend half their lives romanticizing about their first boyfriend, wondering what the first kiss will be like. First kisses are important. Now that I had a boyfriend I had to face the reality that a kiss between us could never be. It's all right, I told myself, A girl can't have everything.
Technically I had my first kiss back in the eighth grade. Sybil thinks I did--with Percy Paulson. If she only knew it never came off.
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Percy was this cute boy with sandy-colored hair and freckles. I met him at the walkathon for breast cancer that Sybil dragged me to soon after we'd met. Percy hung out with us the entire day, cracking jokes and keeping things lively. It was obvious I was attracted to him.
At the end of the day Sybil left us alone to exchange phone numbers. That was all we did, although I let her think something more happened.
Sixteen years old and I've never been kissed, I thought. That's a secret worth keeping.
"Grrwl," Dirk called, dragging my thoughts back to the present. I was out of meat scraps and he was eyeing my arm, drool running down his chin. I sighed again over the fact that kissing between us was a definite no-no.
"Wait here," I said, brandishing the newspaper. Then I left the room, making sure I shut the door, and raced down to the fridge, where I replenished my supply of raw ground beef. I couldn't have been gone more than five minutes, but when I got back to my room the door hung open. Dirk was nowhere in sight.
Frantically, I yanked open my closet door. "Dirk?" I dove under my bed. "Dirk?"
I stepped back into the corridor. 77 Theo, I thought. I'll kill him.. . if Dirk hasn't done it already.
"Mmmmm." A throaty moan... coming from the living room. Bad. Very bad. Mom and Dad were in the living room.
"Grrwwwwl!"
Oh, no! That growl sounded feisty. I took off for the living room at a dead run.
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Chapter Seventeen
I love my parents. Despite all the horrible--albeit true-- things I say about them, I love them dearly. Some of my fondest memories include them: my first Barbie doll, my first CD player, cash under my pillow when I lost a tooth, my first CD, my first trip to Six Flags, cash for every other trip to Six Flags, cash for more CDs, my first miniskirt, my first pair of heels, my first car. And while I had not yet received said car, I was expecting them to come through with one by the time I graduated. A royal blue Mustang convertible. Their demise would greatly hinder the prospect of that ever happening. So the pain of walking into our living room and finding them dead, or undead, would be almost too much to bear.
I peered into the living room. There they were: Dad, Mom, and Dirk, staring dazedly at a documentary on the Discovery Channel. A gob of bloody flesh hung from Dirk's lips.
"How could you!" I said loudly. Slowly, three heads swiveled in my direction. Three sets of eyes stared at me with distant, faraway looks.
"Mmmmmph," said Dirk.
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And then to my surprise, my mother spoke. "Is something wrong, dear?"
Huh? It didn't make sense. Zombies can't talk. Can they? It was then that I saw Dirk's hand snaking into a bucket of fried chicken that rested on the couch between him and my father. He pulled out a thigh and bit into it with gusto. "Mmmmmph," he said again.
I shook my head. "Umm r no," is all I could muster.
All attention went back to the TV. It wasn't bloody flesh I'd seen hanging from Dirk's lips, but greasy fried chicken. A careful look into my parents' eyes revealed they weren't un-dead at all. The catatonic state I'd found them in was their typical catatonic state. This was how they spent most evenings, sitting zombie-like in front of the boob tube. Dirk had wandered in because he smelled the chicken, and he didn't bite them because .,. he assumed they were already zombies.
"Hmm," my father grunted at something that happened on the TV.
"Hmm," Dirk replied. He reached for another piece of chicken.
I was engulfed by a wave of hope as I observed Dirk seated on the sofa between my parents. He wasn't attacking them. They had no idea he wasn't anything but a normal, hungry teenager. Perhaps there was a chance for romance after all. Maybe Dirk would have the all-important first dance with me at the Winter Dance. And maybe, just maybe, he would be able to find the restraint to take me into his arms and kiss me without killing me.
I sighed. It was a tall order.
There were four weeks left in the semester, and I still didn't have an idea for the Holiday Pageant.
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I have always loved the holidays. It is my favorite time of year. Roving bands of carolers roaming the streets of our town during the winter evenings, bringing cheer to all. When I was old enough to realize the carolers were all students from Salesian High, I told myself that when I attended Salesian I would become a caroler, too.
You can't imagine my joy when the announcement for carolers came during my freshman year. Twelve of us showed up that first day. A good-sized group. I envisioned us bundled up in our winter gear, singing together, laughing together, exchanging holiday gifts. Then Amanda Culpepper swept in, clutching the sign-up sheet. Upon seeing the group, she frowned.
"Oh, my. There's more of you than I expected." Her eyes pored over us, stopping occasionally as she pinched up her nose and twitched her head as if we all smelled.
"There were sixteen of us last year," a boy said.
"Hmm, really," Amanda responded, turning her gaze on the boy, eyeing him as if he were a new species she was observing for the first time.
"Yeah, but it all worked out. We just didn't sing so loud,"
"Ohhh," Amanda said, a sardonic smile on her lips. "You thought that was a question. It wasn't. It was a statement, and what it meant was, last year was last year and this year is this year." She smiled at the boy--at least her lips arched into what should have been a smile, but it was a joyless expression.
"You can't turn people away. Everyone who shows up gets to carol. It's kind of a holiday tradition at Salesian. No one has to feel left out."
Amanda stared at him for a long moment. "Oh, was that a question?" Her voice dripped sarcasm. "If it was, the answer is of course I can turn people away. I'm chairman of the Caroling Committee. And I'm starting with you."
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"But-"
"You're not even in the Glee Club. And from the whiny sound of your voice, singing is not your thing."
"But-"
"That's all. Thank you for coming. And by the way, that wasn't a question, either. It doesn't require a response. All it requires is for you to leave."
Beaten and humiliated, the boy and seven others slinked
from the room. I was among the seven who didn't want to be personally humiliated by Amanda, so I left before she could turn her wrath on me.
But this year was different. This year Amanda would be the one at home turning up her TV to drown out the holiday
sounds Okay, I know Amanda is a zombie who has no idea
she's not being included in the festivities. I wish she did.
"'Frosty the Snowman'? That's not a Christmas carol," Sybil said.
We were in the school's choral room, supposedly rehearsing Christmas carols, but every time I suggested the perfect song, Sybil rejected it.
"I know. But it's a happy, wintry song," I said, turning my attention back to my list.
"So is Jingle Bells.' And we're not singing that."
"Actually, I was thinking of Jingle Bells' as well."
Without responding, Sybil turned to Dirk, who sat in a corner busying himself with a pile of mystery meat left over from lunch in the cafeteria. "Dirk, do you know 'Frosty the Snowman?" she asked.
Dirk looked up at her, briefly cocking his head to one side. "Mmmph," he moaned before sticking his face back into the pile of lunchmeat.
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"He doesn't know it." She turned to me and shrugged. "Sorry."
"Very funny, Syb."
"I'm not trying to be funny. His bass needs the perfect song to offset my soprano and your alto, right? I think it should be one of the carols you've been spending all your evenings teaching him."
"This is about us not hanging out lately, isn't it?"
"Don't be silly. You have a boyfriend now. No one expects you to hang out with your best friend since the eighth grade. It's just that since you've been spending so much time teaching Dirk to sing, I think we should concentrate on the songs you've already taught him. So, which ones are they?"
"Okay, Sybil. You've made your point. I've been a first-class jerk putting my relationship with a zombie ahead of my best friend..." is what I should have said.
