Never Slow Dance with a Zombie

by E. Van Lowe

  Despite nearly achieving all my dreams, there was a part of me that realized it was all a sham. This was the truth I'd been avoiding, the reason for the tears in my eyes. I put the manifesto away.

  "Margot! Some guys outside want to talk to you," Theo called down the hall.

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  I went to the front door and found Baron and Milton bundled up against the cold on my porch, smiles as big as the Grand Canyon on both their faces.

  "Guess what?" asked Milton.

  "Milton, I'm busy." I had no time for geek enthusiasm,

  "So were we." He pulled a small vial from his pocket and held it out to me. He could hardly contain himself. "Wanna know what's in it? Wanna know, wanna know?"

  "Okay, I'll bite. What's in it?"

  "The answer to our prayers," he chimed. Then he and Baron giggled like a couple of schoolgirls. "Go on. Take it," he said.

  I took the tiny vial. Inside, there was a luminescent, milky white liquid. "The antidote?" I asked.

  "Yes, yes, yes!" He spun around like a whirling dervish. "This time next semester me and my homie here will be the two most popular guys at Salesian. Told you!" The two boys slapped a lame high-five.

  "Where's Sybil?" I suddenly asked. "I'm surprised the three of you aren't out on the town celebrating this wonderful occasion." I hoped I didn't sound like a jealous child.

  "Sybil hasn't been doing too well since the pageant," Baron said. There was genuine concern on his face. "She's home rest-

  tog.'

  "Oh." A twinge of shame rode through me. "Well... congratulations," I said flatly. I handed back the vial.

  "No, no. You have to give it to Dirk. He's our guinea pig," said Milton.

  "I'm not giving this to Dirk. I don't even know what's in it."

  "But you have to!" squawked Milton.

  "Yeah. The antidote only works if it's ingested by a zombie," Baron added. "We figured you'd want to be first."

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  "Why would I want to be first?"

  "I knew it!" Milton thrust an accusing finger at me. "You don't want him to change back."

  "Chill, dude." Baron looked me in the eye and lowered his voice. "Can we talk?"

  I stepped out onto the porch, and Baron walked me a few feet away from an agitated Milton. "Margot, you gotta do this. Our classmates are all zombies. I know you know that isn't right."

  "Why me?"

  "You're the only one who can get close enough. Your... boyfriend... is a zombie." The word boy friend seemed to stick in his throat.

  "But what if it hurts him?"

  "Margot, he's a zombie. J don't think his life can get much worse." He leaned in. "But think of what it will mean if it does work. When Dirk realizes you're the one who changed him back, he'll be yours forever."

  Did I sense a note of sadness in his voice when he said that?

  I looked into his hazel eyes. When I'd helped with getting the DNA, I hadn't believed they could pull it off. The self-assured boy standing before me was a far cry from the geek he was back then. These past several weeks Baron had transformed into the cool suave image he'd always tried to project. Or was it me who had changed?

  "I can see why Sybil likes you so much," I said.

  His eyes widened for an instant. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "I don't know." I sighed. "I guess if this works we'll both get what we want, huh?" I'm not sure why I said it, but I was anxious to hear what his response would be.

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  "I guess," he replied.

  Not what I was looking for.

  I stared down at the vial in my hand. It was suddenly hot and heavy. "Okay, I'll do it," I said, quickly stuffing it into my pocket. I shot him a small smile. "Let's hope for the best."

  "Yeah," he said. "Let's hope for the best."

  There was a hint of sadness on his face as he and Milton turned and walked away.

  When I got back to my room, I discovered Dirk working himself into a frenzy, chasing and then trapping a spider. He caught the insect and wolfed it down as if it were a delicacy. Then it was like the shades had gone down in his eyes. Nobody home.

  Baron was right. Dirk's life couldn't get much worse. I had the power to put an end to this.

  A wave of relief washed over me, like a soothing lotion. For the first time in a long time, I had a chance to feel good about myself. I had the power to put an end to all my classmates' misery. Maybe Baron and Milton were right. Maybe I'd be a hero for helping save the day.

  I went to my closet, pulled out my hip-hugger jeans and another of the sexy tops my father hated. Then I went to the bathroom and changed. This is how I wanted Dirk to see me when he got back to being himself.

  I came back into my room, picked up the vial, removed the stopper, and poured the luminescent liquid over several hunks of raw meat I always kept handy for Dirk's visits. I picked up a sliver of the coated meat. Dirk eyed me attentively, waiting for me to throw the meat as I'd done in the past.

  "Well, boyfriend, in a few minutes you just might be your old self again," I said brightly.

  I conjured up images of the old Dirk Conrad, his smile, his

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  glacier blues that gave every girl at school a loin-ache. At that moment the image of Dirk and Amanda's photo button from the carnival ignited in my thoughts.

  See how happy he is with me? Hell never be that happy with you.

  It was then I remembered another Dirk Conrad, the one who hadn't wanted to go to the carnival with me, the one who was dating Amanda Culpepper. I gazed at the new Dirk, who was waiting patiently for a piece of raw meat. The new Dirk didn't care that I wasn't skinny as a rail. The new Dirk came to my house every night, and sat on my bed while I did my homework, and then watched reruns of law & Order with my parents.

  The new Dirk was perfect.

  I wouldn't--I couldn't--give him back to Amanda Culpepper.

  "You don't mind remaining a zombie, do you?" My voice cracked with self-hatred. "No sense getting your hopes up, anyway. This stuff probably doesn't even work. Face it, the geeks made it." I snatched up a piece of meat that hadn't been dipped in the antidote and threw it to him. As he gobbled it down, I ran into the bathroom, then flushed the treated meat.

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  Chapter Twenty - six

  I carried the weight of my cowardly deed (or undeed, since I hadn't actually done anything) into the final week of school before winter break. I went to class among the zombies each day, my head filled with justifications.

  It's just till after the Winter Dance; then I'II see to it that Dirk gets the antidote.

  I dodged Baron and Milton at school, and told Theo to tell them I wasn't home if they stopped by.

  After school, I went to the gym, where I continued hanging decorations for the Winter Dance. I had chosen an eighties theme around the song "Let the Music Play." The idea being we would all throw our cares in the air and dance the night away. Big whoop. It was a cheesy idea, but it was the best I could come up with alone. And with no one around to challenge it, the idea stood.

  When I'd begun the decorating process a few weeks ago, Sybil had been by my side, working joyously. But no more. Now, whenever 1 saw Sybil in class she shot me the same

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  accusing stare she'd treated me to after the Holiday Pageant in the pit room.

  My guilt was mounting. It had worked its way under my skin. Like a tick it burrowed into my flesh, creating an itch I couldn't scratch. I missed Sybil. I wanted to tell her how badly I was feeling about what I'd done. But my pride wouldn't let me. So I avoided her at all costs.

  Tuesday was the state endurance exam. When I walked into the gym f Mrs. Mars was waiting for me by the door.

  "Margot Jean Johnson, good morning. Well, today's the big day."

  "I know. And I'd love to take the exam with the rest of the class, but I've been experiencing trouble keeping my balance lately." I weaved from side to side as I handed her my note:

  Dear Mrs. Mars,

 
Please excuse our intrepid daughter, Margot, from participating in the state endurance exam today. Last night she sat too close to the TV and I'm afraid it affected her equilibrium. We fear she may fall doing all that running and climbing, and seriously injure herself Feel free to give her a written version of the exam.

  Sincerely,

  Mrs. Trudi Johnson

  "Written version of the exam? Interesting."

  That would solve everything," I said.

  "Margot, I know you think you're getting over. But did you ever think that maybe the only person you're getting over on is you?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about, Mrs. Mars, but I really need to get into the bleachers. I'm about to fall down here."

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  A somber look came over her. It was a look I hadn't seen before. "Ah right, but before I fail you and you have to repeat next semester, why don't you stop by my office later in the day and have a little chat?"

  "Umm. Okay."

  It was sounding like she might pass me just for talking with her later in the day. I wouldn't even have to take a written test. With the world falling down around me, I was finally getting some good news. Mrs. Mars knew running, jumping, and climbing added no value to our lives. She was finally getting real.

  When I left the gym, my day took a turn for the worse.

  "Where have you been?" Baron and Milton were standing outside my French classroom door.

  "Around. Now, if you'll excuse me ..." I attempted to brush by them. They blocked my path.

  "We've been calling you. We even stopped by your house," said Baron. He was trying to act cool, but they were both upset.

  "Oh?"

  "You didn't give it to him, did you?" accused Milton. "I knew it!"

  "For your information, I did give it to him."

  "And?" Their faces filled with little-boy expectation.

  "And it didn't work."

  "Liar!" screamed Milton, pounding his fists against his thighs.

  A few zombies in the corridor emerged from their daze, focusing their attention on us.

  "We need to reconvene," Baron said softly. "Zombie walk to the boys' bathroom."

  Together we shuffled away from the zombies and into the--yech!--boys' bathroom.

  What a mess.

  Sheets of wet toilet paper were strewn across the floor as if

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  a madman had decided to carpet the place with it. There were large puddles in front of each urinal. I don't even want to imagine how they got there. Chicken-scratch graffiti covered the walls. I will not waste my time repeating the childish comments written there.

  "It smells in here," I said, pinching shut my nose.

  "It's a bathroom."

  "The girls' bathroom doesn't smell like this."

  "What does it smell like?"

  "Not this!"

  "Liar!" Milton screeched again. He stamped his feet like a petulant child.

  "What did you call me?" I clenched my fists, enraged.

  "Why don't you just tell us the truth, Margot? You didn't give it to him," he accused.

  "For your information, I did give it to him." The lie flew from my lips too quickly. Even I was unconvinced.

  "I don't believe her," Milton squawked at Baron. "I don't believe you," he squawked at me. "Show me the empty vial." His doubting eyes challenged me.

  I calmed myself and reached into my bag, where I produced the now-empty vial. Just the residue of the remaining antidote coated the bottom.

  Baron took the vial from my hand and looked me in the eye. "You really gave it to him?"

  I nodded.

  His face filled with despair. "I... don't... believe it," he stammered. "We were so sure it would work."

  I couldn't get over how easily they trusted me. But Milton took his lead from Baron, and Baron didn't want to believe I was a liar. Both boys slumped against the wall, their heads sagging as their hopes for high school popularity faded.

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  I'm sorry," I said, grateful the interrogation was over.

  "How did you give it to him?" asked Milton. The antagonism had gone out of him.

  "I dipped some slivers of raw steak in it. I watched him eat them. You didn't tell me how long it was supposed to take, but after a day I realized it hadn't worked."

  "That's impossible," Milton said to no one. He mumbled the formula to himself over and over.

  "Wow. Tough blow." Baron looked thoughtful. "Well, I guess we need to rethink the formula. Thanks for trying it out for us." He smiled bravely. I had to admire his resilience.

  "We'll be back," he said. It was supposed to sound like Arnold Schwarzenegger. It didn't.

  I watched them exit the bathroom, their heads hanging low, two little boys lost in the woods. I promised myself I would tell them the truth right after the Winter Dance.

  A short time later I was back in the gym, high up on a ladder, hanging giant foil snowflakes along with large black musical notes for the Winter Dance. The disappointment in Baron's eyes when I had lied to him about the antidote kept running through my mind. They were gorgeous eyes. I didn't like seeing pain in them - especially pain caused by me.

  I tried again to justify to myself why it was perfectly all right not to use the antidote. But my house of cards was falling down. Even the voice inside me was running out of plausible lies. I was like an addict who knew she should stop using yet continued to use every day. Like an addict, I knew my lies were destroying my entire universe. A part of me thought maybe I deserved it.

  Just then, someone tapped on the ladder. I stiffened, and looked down into the chastising eyes of Sybil Mulcahy.

  "Can I have a word with you, please?" she called up. Her voice was very official.

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  "Can it wait till after school, or will you be hanging out with your boyfriend?"

  She stomped her foot. "Margot, get down here, now!"

  "What are you getting so huffy about?"

  "Margot Jean Johnson, you know good and well what I'm getting huffy about, and if we ever meant anything to each other, we need to talk about it."

  She called me by my full name. Not the way Mrs. Mars did, but the way her mother did when she was angry with her. "Sybil Joyce Mulcahy!" her mother would yell. That always got Sybil. Now she was doing it to me.

  "Oh, all right," I said. I started down the ladder. "I'd be finished with these decorations already if you hadn't bailed on me." I reached the bottom and smoothed my clothing, trying to act nonchalant. In truth, my heart was racing a mile a minute. I'd been dreading this moment for days.

  "Margot, this Winter Dance is a joke."

  "It's not a joke!" My defenses went up like the force field around the starship Enterprise. "It's the culmination of a most excellent semester."

  "Excellent semester?" Her voice rose with agitation. "You have a boyfriend who wants to kill you, classmates who want to kill you, and because of you, they almost killed me!"

  "I didn't say it was perfect."

  "Margot, I know you weren't thinking straight when you nailed shut the trapdoor, but--"

  "Are you accusing me of nailing shut the trapdoor?" Her hurtful words slammed into my heart. I'd done a lot of things to Sybil these past six weeks, but I'd never tried to kill her.

  She stared at me long and hard, the accusation scrawled across her face. "Yes. I am."

  Just then the lights went out.

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  The entire gym was suddenly dark as pitch. I could no longer see Sybil. I couldn't see my own hand.

  "I guess we blew a fuse," I said, trying to make light of the moment.

  Clunk. The outside door swung open, and light from the corridor spilled in. A shadowy person backlit by the fluorescent lights in the corridor heaved something toward the center of the gym, and then slammed the door shut. The weighty thing landed with a thud, echoing throughout the gym.

  "You smell roast beef?" Sybil asked.

  A low moaning sprang up in the darkness from over by the locker r
oom door. "Mmmmm."

  Swish-swish. The deliberate shuffle of slow feet. The footsteps were moving toward us. Swish-swish, swish-swish. More moaning, more feet.

  "What's that?" whispered Sybil, fear creeping into her voice.

  "I don't know," I said. But we both knew exactly what it was. Zombies had smelled the meat, and were pouring in from the locker room.

  "We need to get out of here." Her words were panic-stricken. She'd already been through a horrible ordeal, and here it was happening all over again. "We need to get out of here!" she repeated, as she attempted to exert some control over the situation.

  "No," I said. I reached through the darkness and found her arm. "We need to stay put,"

  Swish-swish.

  If we'd gone for the door, I was certain we would have found it locked. Just as I was certain the person who threw the slab of roast beef was the same person who had let the zombies

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  in. This was no blackout, no high school prank, no mistake. Somebody wanted us dead,.. or undead.

  Swish-swish.

  "Who's out there?" Sybil cried out with fake bravado. But the fear that colored her words told me she was going to pieces.

  Swish-swish. Closer now.

  "Sybil?" 1 said, hoping she hadn't totally checked out.

  "Huh?" Her voice was small and weak. It was the voice of defeat.

  "Listen to me. I need your lucky flashlight."

  "What?"

  "The flashlight I gave you for your birthday. You always have it with you. I need you to get it out. And hurry!"

  "Mmmmm. Grrowl!" Through the darkness we could hear that the zombies had reached the roast beef, and were fighting over it. The only thing keeping us from being torn to shreds was the cloak of darkness--and our silence.

  "Please!" I cried.

  The zombies stopped fighting.