Never Slow Dance with a Zombie

chapter Twelve

Zombies are incredibly predictable.

Our first day at school among the living dead started out uneventfully. The zombies came to school and went to the same classes they'd gone to when they were among the living. They lumbered through the halls with a lazy gait, moving on instinct and muscle memory rather than free will or desire. At first, it was frightening moving amongst them with their pasty complexions and mouths twisted into grotesque smiles. But eventually, Sybil and I shook our fears. We moved easily from pack to pack, navigating the corridors of Salesian High.

Don't get me wrong--we could never totally relax around them. They were zombies. A sudden move, a joyous laugh, even a raised eyebrow, any expression of individuality, and we could be dead meat--literally. But as long as we remained expressionless and our movements mirrored the pack, we were safe.

Soon going to school amongst the zombies, walking stiffly and staring off dreamily became second nature to us both.

One day while Sybil and I were on the third floor, traveling in a pack of grunge zombies, headed to history class, something out of the ordinary happened. As we passed the science lab some mice escaped, darting from the room and across the corridor. This sudden burst of frenetic energy got the zombies' attention. They seemed to awaken from their dreamlike state. Slowly, they got down on all fours in an attempt to catch and eat the mice.

It was a ridiculous exercise. The herky-jerky movements of the mice dumbfounded the sluggish zombies, who ineptly grasped at the tiny rodents, but wound up with handfuls of air. I glanced over at Sybil. We were the only two in the corridor still standing. She shot me a warning glance, then got down on her hands and knees. I didn't move. The zombies were too preoccupied with the mice to notice me. Sybil's eyes were on me, signaling me to get down.

I shot her a look of exasperation. Do I hove to do everything they do? I wondered. Suppose I did join them. Heaven forbid I actually caught a mouse in my bare hands. Yechf If I didn't scream, I'd faint, and that would be the end of me. So I figured it was better to stand passively, observing the silly exercise, than to get on my hands and knees, which might lead to my demise.

Just then a pack of zombies turned the corner, led by Amanda Culpepper. She looked horrible. Her pasty complexion was accented by a sickly green pallor. Her once cute yellow Bebe sundress was smudged with dirt and frayed around the hem, draping her tiny frame like a rag. I stood silently, hoping she and her friends would move on. No such luck. Their dead, black eyes all moved to me.

Sheesh! The things a girl has to do to be prom queen.

Slowly I got down on the floor, pretending to reach in the direction of the darting mice-- ick, ick, ick!

Amanda and the it-girl zombies got down on the floor as well, joining the fray. How embarrassing, I thought. The former queen of Salesian High crawling around on her hands and knees, trying to make a meal out of mice. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

I thought back to when Amanda ruled the school with her designer wardrobe and movie-star good looks. I remembered the cutting laughter that could send me and others home sobbing, our psyches in shreds. I promised myself as the new queen of Salesian High, I would be different. I would lead with dignity and grace, and never look through a classmate as if she didn't exist just because she didn't look or act like me. I would be a shining example for it-girls across America--once I got up off the floor.

At that moment a mouse darted between two pursuing zombies. The scrambling mouse leaped into the air, and landed in my lap.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

They say time stops in moments of crisis. I've heard stories of people in horrific car accidents who've said the whole thing played out moment by moment in front of them in slow motion. I never believed any of those stories. I always thought the people who told them were being overly dramatic. I couldn't fathom that something occurring in a split second could play out like a DVD stuck in slo-mo--until it happened to me.

The next several things I am about to tell you happened in a matter of seconds.

Slow Motion

My ear-piercing scream alerted the zombies. Their heads jerkily whipped from side to side as they tried to determine the origin of the sound. Then one by one their eyes all fell on me. Dark eyes.

Ravenous eyes. Their mouths opened, revealing fangs dripping with saliva.

The zombies began crawling in my direction.

I glanced over at Sybil. Terror was frozen onto her face. It seemed at any moment she'd faint dead away.

Thinking more quickly than I ever thought possible, I grabbed at Sybil's hand. "Grrr," I said.

I pulled her hand open, pretending to snatch something from it. Then I cupped my hands to my mouth and began making noisy, gobbling sounds. I pretended to chew, swallow, then glanced around at the leering zombies. I screamed again.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" But I filled this second scream with the primal delight of a cavewoman who had just discovered fire.

Normal Time

I put my head down and went back to sluggishly swatting at the remaining mice, keeping a watchful eye on the zombies around me, hoping, praying they'd fall for my little charade. Slowly they too went back to the task at hand. A fleeing mouse somehow landed in the hand of one of Amanda's bunch.

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr," she croaked, mimicking my scream. Then she picked the squirming rodent up by the tail, lowered it into her mouth and... well, you get the picture. Ick!

I glanced back at Sybil. The color was slowly draining back into her face. She looked at me. "Grr," she growled gratefully.

"Grrwelcome," I replied.