by David Lubar
Abigail had been at a window on the left side of the house. I raced up the stairs. I couldn’t see a thing. I wanted to escape. Ever since I was little, I had avoided any kind of smoke. I was sure I was going to pass out. I fought my panic and kept going.
I felt along the hallway until I reached a door. I moved straight across the room from the door until I hit the wall. Then I crawled along the baseboard until I found Abigail. She was crumpled against the wall by the window.
It would take too long to drag her out of the house. I lifted her in my arms and raced back to the stairs. It’s a miracle I found my way. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t really feel, except for the slightest sense of pressure. But I had no choice except to get out—so that’s what I did.
Fire covered the walls downstairs, but I knew I could get through quickly enough so Abigail would be okay. I just hoped she hadn’t inhaled too much smoke already. She looked like she was asleep.
“Sleep isn’t death,” I whispered.
The instant I reached the lawn, someone grabbed Abigail from my arms and started giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
I staggered back. A living person would be exhausted, coughing, choking, and trembling. I was just scared. My arms and legs felt dead. I wiggled my toes in my shoes. They were dead. Like the rest of me.
All of me. I was a complete zombie. Forever.
Mookie came over and joined me. Before he could say anything, I heard a cough. Abigail opened her eyes.
I knelt down next to her. “You okay?”
She nodded. “You didn’t—?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I did.”
“But . . .”
“A very smart person once told me, a solution isn’t like a piece of clothing. You can’t always find one that fits the way you want.”
“I guess, sometimes, you just have to take the wedgie,” Mookie said.
Abigail smiled at me and whispered. “Hi, zombie.”
I returned the smile. “Hi, smartie.”
Someone slapped me on the back. “You’re a hero, boy!”
“It was nothing.”
I stayed with Abigail until the ambulance came. They took her to the hospital to check her out. But I knew she’d be okay.
“You’re a zombie,” Mookie said. “Forever.”
He was right. There was nothing I could do about it. No way I could change what I’d done. There was really only one thing to say. I spread my arms, shrugged, and said, “I’ll live.”
Later
Abigail was fine. Her house burned to the ground. But it was insured. So Abigail and her mom will get to live in a new house—without all the magazines, boxes, jars, and dangerous appliances. That should make her happy.
According to Abigail, her uncle Zardo somehow made his way to Bezimo Island, where he’s working as a tour guide. I guess he’s taking a break from science.
Rodney tried to pick a fight with me at lunch on Monday, but our whole table, which now included the Doomed, chased him out of the cafeteria. Shawna doesn’t seem to have any idea who I am. That’s fine with me.
The fire department insisted on throwing a party for me. They told me I could have anything I wanted. All I asked for was a chocolate fountain. Abigail was thrilled. But I had to keep grabbing Mookie to stop him from bobbing for berries.
My fame faded pretty quickly, especially since I made sure not to do anything too amazing during gym. But Mr. Lomux lets me be a captain once in a while. I always pick Mookie first. Nobody except for him is very happy about that. I don’t care. Life isn’t a popularity contest.
Speaking of life—the dead life is turning out to be a lot more lively than I’d expected. I’ve got some cool abilities, and I keep stumbling across new ones. Abigail is doing some research about it and helping me figure out ways to deal with some of the bigger problems. And Mookie has thought up plenty of totally gross stuff for me to do. You wouldn’t believe some of the schemes he’s come up with for us to make money.
Other than that, things are pretty much normal for the only zombie in Belgosi Upper Elementary. Or, at least, they were normal until the secret agent from BUM showed up. But that’s another story.
SEE BELOW FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT
Nathan Abercrombie, Accidental Zombie
BOOK 2
1
Leaf Me Alone
It’s pretty creepy when some stranger follows you, spies on you, and tries to discover the deep, dark, disturbing secret that only your two closest friends in the world know about. It’s even creepier when it happens three times in one day.
It started Monday morning when Mookie and I were walking to school. He’d stayed over because his parents were out of town all weekend. They’d won a free trip to somewhere in Vermont. Well, I guess it was sort of free. They had to pay for the bus and the hotel, but I think they got dinner or something.
“I hope they bring me maple syrup,” Mookie said as we headed out the door. “It’s not just for pancakes, you know. It’s good on everything. Even chicken wings.”
“I think I’d pick hot sauce,” I said. “Not that I’ll probably ever eat wings again.” Food didn’t play a big part in my life—or death—these days.
COPY RIGHT © 2009 BY DAVID LUBAR
“Hey, there’s no law that says you have to stick with one sauce. You can combine them. Chocolate syrup and mustard are awesome, so I’d bet maple syrup and hot sauce would be pretty good, too.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“My folks told me they’ll be on the bus for eight hours. That would drive me crazy. I know! We should build a rocket ship.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If we had a rocket, we could get places real fast. Like in the movie we watched yesterday. That was awesome.”
“It wasn’t awesome. It was crazy.” We’d stayed up late Saturday watching Super Danger Guys. I’d wanted to rent something with fake dinosaurs, but Mookie was dying to see that one. “In real life, the kid would have just gotten hurt.”
“Not me,” Mookie said. “I’d go flying.” He spun around and made whooshing sounds. The whoosh turned into a “Gaaaahhh!” when he tripped on his laces.
I guess he was right about going flying. But it was a short trip. The scream was followed by a crash as he tumbled into a couple garbage cans that were lined up at the end of a driveway. He knocked over one of the cans, spilling out a mess of leftover food, crumpled paper, and these large gray lumps that might once have been cat litter.
I went to help put the garbage back. That stuff doesn’t bother me at all. I can look at the grossest pile of rotten half-eaten food without even feeling a quiver in my gut. Mookie had a pretty strong stomach, too. Once, he ate a pickle he’d coated with strawberry jelly and dipped in a crumbled fish stick, just to gross out a couple girls at another lunch table. But this stuff was making him gag. So I took care of most of the actual picking up while he stood next to me and made comments about the weirder and sloppier pieces.
“Whoa, that looks like a pig intestines.”
“Ick—who’d throw away that much oatmeal?”
“Oh man, I think that’s a diaper.”
As Mookie was putting the lid back on the can, and I was wiping my hands in the grass, he said, “That’s weird. I don’t remember that bush.”
“What bush?”
He pointed back the way we’d come. “By the blue house on the corner. That wasn’t there before.”
I looked where he pointed. There was a large bush right behind the last tree before the corner.
“So what. Maybe it’s new,” I said. “People are always planting things around here.”
“I guess. But I hate when things change. It’s hard to get used to new stuff.”
We started walking again. But Mookie kept looking over his shoulder. “Ever feel like you’re being followed?” he asked, a moment later.
“Only when you’re behind me.” Wherever we went, Mookie got distracted pretty easily. Walking with him usuall
y meant I needed to do a lot of waiting up. Or backing up. And a bit of picking up, since this wasn’t the first time in his life he’d collided with stuff. I figure he wipes out about five garbage cans on an average week.
“No. I mean secretly followed, like by someone who doesn’t want you to know he’s there.” He turned around again. “Whoa!”
“What?” I really didn’t want to get distracted. We were going to be late for school if he kept this up.
He grabbed my shoulder. “The bush moved.”
“Knock it off.”
“Really,” Mookie said. “Seriously. I think it’s following us.”
“Bushes don’t move.”
“Right. And dead kids don’t walk.”
Okay, he had a point there. You could sort of call me dead. I didn’t have a pulse or heartbeat. I didn’t feel pain. I didn’t need to breathe. But I could walk, talk, and think. Mookie liked to call me a zombie. I didn’t totally agree with that, but I definitely couldn’t explain how I was able to pass for a living kid. If I could walk, I guess a bush could move. I turned and looked.
“Whoa!”
The bush was still behind a tree, but it was behind a tree a block away from where it had been before. I stared at it, waiting to see if it would move again. But it just sat there, quivering slightly in the light breeze.
I didn’t like mysteries. I walked toward the corner.
“What are you doing?” Mookie asked.
“Finding out what’s going on,” I said.
“Be careful, it might attack you. I’ve read all these books where people get killed in the African bush.”
“I don’t think it’s the bushes that kill them. I think it’s lions or something.” I wasn’t worried. It was a floppy-looking bush, with branches that drooped to the ground, and tiny green leaves. As I got closer, the bush started to inch backward, like it was trying to move without looking like it was moving. I dashed forward.
“Yipes!”
A man tumbled from behind the bush, landing on his butt on the sidewalk. The bush fell over and some dirt spilled out. It was in a large pot. I guess the man was trying to drag the bush and lost his grip.
That’s really strange, I thought as I got a good look at him. He was wearing a green flannel shirt, green pants, green gloves, green shoes, and a green wool cap pulled low over his forehead—exactly what someone would wear if he was trying to blend in with a bush. He looked pretty tall, though it was hard to tell for sure since he was sprawled out on the ground. He had red hair, big ears, and a small birthmark on his right cheek shaped a little like California.
“Why are you following me?” I asked.
He stood up and dusted his pants off. “What an absurd question. I am not following you. Should I be following you?” He had an English accent, like the people in those infomercials who are trying to sound classy while they sell mops, vacuum cleaners, and grilled-cheese makers. “Is there anything that makes you followable? Are you expecting to be followed? Hmmmm?”
“No . . .”
“Well, there you go. I certainly wouldn’t be following you, then. Would I?”
“Why are you dressed in green?”
“I’m Irish.”
“You sound British.”
“And you sound childish.” He leaned over, reached through the branches, and grabbed the pot. “If you must pry, I am taking my new plant home.”
I knew most of the people who lived along this street. Even if I didn’t know all of their names, I knew what they looked like. I didn’t recognize this guy. But I wasn’t going to waste any more time thinking about it. There was no reason not to believe him. He could have just moved in. I’d actually be a lot happier believing he wasn’t following me. The last thing I wanted was attention.
“Okay. Sorry I made you fall.”
“I didn’t fall. I have excellent reflexes. I was merely resting.”
“Whatever.” I trotted back to Mookie. “He’s taking his new plant home. And he has excellent reflexes.”
“This town is getting weirder and weirder,” Mookie said.
READER’S GUIDE
My Rotten Life: Nathan Alercombie, Accidental Zombie
By David Lubar
ABOUT THIS GUIDE: The information, activities, and discussion questions that follow are intended to enhance your reading of My Rotten Life. Please feel free to adapt these materials to suit your needs and interests.
WRITING AND RESEARCH ACTIVITIES
I. Hurt-Be-Gone
1. Nathan hopes that the Hurt-Be-Gone potion will keep him from feeling blue. Imagine you could develop an amazing formula. What problem would the formula fix? What ingredients might you put in the formula? Find a large, clean, empty bottle or jar to use as a container for your formula. Make a front label with the formula’s name and the problem(s) it should cure. Make a back label listing the ingredients, instructions for taking the formula, side effects, and other details you would like to include.
2. Make two “top ten” style lists: Great Reasons to Be a Zombie and Challenges of Being a Zombie. Copy one or both lists onto a large sheet of paper and decorate the margins with drawings, magazine clippings, or other art materials.
3. Instead of feeling no emotional pain, the Hurt-Be-Gone kills Nathan’s ability to feel physical pain. Write a short essay describing what life would be like if you could feel no physical pain. What activities would become more dangerous? What risks might you take that you would not have taken before? Would you miss being able to feel pain? Conclude your essay with a recommendation to readers as to whether they should consider living a life without pain and why.
II. School and Home
1. In the character of Nathan, write an e-mail to your mom, dad, Mr. Lomux, or Mr. Dorian confiding what happened to you in Uncle Zardo’s lab and your current “almost dead” status. Write a second, reply e-mail in the character to whom Nathan has written, sharing your reaction and advising Nathan on how he should handle the situation. If desired, write a third e-mail (or role-play a conversation) in which Nathan tells his friends about confiding in an adult.
2. Details like Nathan’s mom’s dead plants and Abigail’s cluttered family car reveal the interesting home lives of characters in My Rotten Life. Informed by details from the novel and your imagination, draw a picture of one of the story’s home-related settings using colored pencils, chalk, or pastels.
3. Nathan does not have a hand-held game device, such as a DS, nor does he have his own computer. Create a class survey about family technology and related rules. Include questions about how many computers are in the house, what gadgets kids own (cell phones, game consoles like X-Box or Wii, etc.), and what sort of rules about the Internet and e-mail are enforced in their homes. Compile the results of your survey in a chart or table to present to classmates or friends during a short summary presentation. Include your thoughts on whether Nathan’s technology situation is similar to or different from that of most kids you surveyed.
4. How does Nathan reattach his snapped-off thumb? Use this information to write step-by-step instructions for young zombies on how to reattach broken body parts using household products. Individually, or in small groups, prepare instructions for what zombie kids should do if they have to eat food, how to remove forks or other utensils from one’s head, or other critical young zombie tasks. Compile your instruction sheets into a handbook of advice for young zombies.
III. Creepy Classics
1. The author peppers his story with references to classic horror stories and films. Go to the library or online to learn more about one of the following names from the story: Belgosi (Béla Lugosi, actor), Dorian (The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde), Otranto (The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole), Romero (George A. Romero, scary movie director), Moreau (The Island of Dr. Moreau by H. G. Wells). Learn about the lives of the authors or directors, the stories in which these words are featured, and any movies, additional books, or other creative uses to which these names have been put. Compile yo
ur research on an informative, illustrated poster to present to friends or classmates. Discuss whether what you have learned about the names David Lubar uses in his book deepens your understanding or appreciation of the story and, if so, how.
2. Make a list of your favorite scary story titles, characters, authors, and movies. Then, select some of these names and words to use in an outline for your own three-to-six-page scary story. Your selected terms can be used to name people, animals, schools, streets, buildings, food brands, or any other story components you choose. Share your completed story with friends or classmates.
3. Uncle Zardo is a mysterious figure in the novel. Write your own “Biography of Uncle Zardo.” Or, in the character of a television news reporter, prepare a short news report entitled “Uncle Zardo Sighted Again.”
4. Create a new book jacket design for My Rotten Life or another favorite scary story. Include a front cover illustration with the book title and author’s name and a design for the back cover, with a short, tantalizing description of the story below the heading “A Creepy New Classic.”
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
1. How does Nathan describe the social seating in his school cafeteria? How do his descriptions help you to understand Nathan’s personality? How do his descriptions compare to the way you might describe your own school cafeteria?
2. As My Rotten Life begins, Nathan uses physical terms, such as a ripped-out-heart and a screwdriver-stabbed tongue, to explore emotional injuries. Have you ever had your feelings hurt so badly it felt like a wound? What language would you use to describe such an experience?
3. Why doesn’t Nathan have a PSP, DS, or other portable game toy? Why is this important? Is ownership of technical gadgets, such as game devices and cell phones, important at your school? Does being good at computer games matter? Why or why not?
