chapter Fourteenth
With the end of the semester coming in six short weeks Sybil and I decided to forgo the homecoming event and instead hold a Winter Dance at the end of the semester.
It would be a prom-like affair where we'd get dressed up and party the night away. And the girl who was crowned winter queen would be more than any ordinary prom queen. Her name would be etched in the annals of Salesian High School history forever, since there'd probably never be another one. And the best part--there were only two candidates. With Sybil still feeling guilty over the Dirk thing, I knew I was a shoo-in for the title.
Take that, Amanda Culpepper.
For the first time since seventh grade school was fun and exciting. I couldn't wait to get there each morning, and actually was sad when we went home at the end of the day. Classes were a breeze. The few teachers who remained were zombies. They growled and moaned and scrawled illegibly on the board while we students sat quietly until the bell rang. After a
few days, however, this got boring, so Sybil and I began staying after school poring over our teachers' lesson plans with a thirst for knowledge that surprised us. We even gave ourselves homework. We didn't mind. As the new it-girls we deemed our education important. Never before had we studied so hard. Never before had our education seemed so precious. With learning no longer being rammed down our throats, Sybil and I took it upon ourselves to ram it down our own throats.
One of our biggest kicks came from teasing the zombies. They were so gullible. One time we put a walkie-talkie in a student locker. Then we stood in a corner shouting taunts into another walkie: "Hey, you stupid zombie. Come on over here and bite me. I dare you." The zombies growled and groaned and angrily tore at the locker as we continued to taunt them. When they finally ripped it open we switched channels to another walkie in a different locker: "Hey, zombie, I'm over here now!" Priceless.
We gossiped about other students: "Did you happen to notice Amanda Culpepper's mole lately? I do believe it's growing an Afro."
"Did you get a whiff of her new cologne? Eau de Funky Armpits."
In the past, we wouldn't dare gossip about Amanda for fear it might get back to her. But now that she was a zombie, she was the target of daily ridicule. It felt so good to have the shoe on the other foot.
Sybil and I took turns giving the morning announcement each day from Principal Taft's office. Here's an example of one of mine:
"Cheerleading practice will begin promptly at two forty-five in the gymnasium. No zombies allowed. The new cheer- leader
uniforms, designed by me, Margot Johnson, will be un veiled in two weeks. The best thing about these uniforms is that they are not made for rail-thin, anorexic-looking girls like you see in the fashion magazines. These amazing uniforms are designed for real girls, who know they look good without starving themselves to death. The cheerleading squad looks forward to seeing you all at the unveiling And remember, no zombies will be allowed."
The "no zombie" rule was aimed squarely at Amanda.
Here's one of Sybil's:
"As you all know, lunch is the most important meal of the day. For this reason it is imperative that everyone move through the cafeteria in an orderly manner. Students will be seated by me. Any student, zombies included, not obeying the rules set forth by the head lunchroom monitor will be expelled from school for the rest of the semester. Thank you and have a nutritious day."
Despite the lack of student participation, high school was shaping up to be everything I'd hoped for.
My confidence was soaring. I was suddenly walking with my head held high. And with no one around to judge me I started wearing things I had once thought too risky to try under Amanda's watchful gaze: a black mini, a lime-green hoodie, brown suede boots with a spiked heel.
I thought back to the dark days when I constantly obsessed over my thighs, my arms, my stomach. What a waste of energy to go through life constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if Amanda approved of how you looked that day, or if she was laughing at you. But the tables had turned, and I no longer cared what Amanda thought. She was a zero, a cipher in the universe of opinions that mattered.
I was now Salesian's it-girl, the queen bee. Take that, Amanda Culpepper.
A few days before Thanksgiving, Sybil and I were traveling in a pack of wannabe zombies when I noticed a pack of jock zombies heading toward us from the opposite direction. Amid the pack was Dirk Conrad.
"Ooh, there's Dirk," said Sybil.
We stared at him as the jock zombies slogged by. It was a sad sight. The left sleeve of his varsity jacket had been ripped off, obviously in some zombie skirmish, and the large embossed Knight's helmet that had proudly graced the right side of his chest hung on by a thread. His complexion was a hideous shade of green, and those once glacier-blue eyes were now crimson in color.
Tan you believe we actually wanted to go out with him?'' Sybil shook her head sadly.
"Yeah," I said. "Heh-heh. Imagine that."
I'd been so caught up in my studies and committee work I hadn't thought about Dirk in weeks. But now that he was right here, less than twenty-five feet away, my feelings for him came rushing back. I stopped and eyed him as he continued down the hall. Then I did the strangest thing. I stepped from the pack.
"What are you doing?" Sybil whispered nervously.
A few slacker zombies hanging by the trophy case emerged from their catatonic stupor and zoned in on me.
"I have to do this, Sybil," I said. "I'll see you later."
"Do what?"
My response was a glance in the direction of Dirk and the retreating zombies.
"No," she said. "Come back."
But I couldn't. I waved good-bye and watched as Sybil and
her pack continued down the hall. "Follow the pack," she called. "Margot, for heaven's sake follow the rules!"
I looked on silently as they moved away. In a few moments they were out of sight, leaving me standing alone. Exposed.
The zombies from the trophy case began staggering in my direction. But the danger they presented didn't matter. My high school manifesto flashed through my mind: / will have a boyfriend
I stared up the corridor in the direction of the jock zombies moving away. I zeroed in on Dirk. The ripped varsity jacket now seemed a cool, hip fashion statement. His complexion wasn't hideous at all, but a deep, swarthy, sexy green. And his eyes weren't crimson, they were a gorgeous shade of ruby red.
I will have a boyfriend.
I took off after Dirk at a dead run, leaving the slow-moving zombies from the trophy case flailing at me as I zipped by. My plan? I didn't have one. My newfound status at school had gone to my head. I felt invincible. I was running toward a pack of zombies, headed into danger, and I didn't care. I had almost everything I'd ever wanted, and now my final desire was in my sight.
I will have a boyfriend.
I sped up the corridor toward Dirk and the zombies infused with the determination to have it all: popularity, parties, winter queen, and yes ... a boyfriend.