Why I Quit Zombie School

by R. L. Stine

  Everyone in the gym seemed to know this dance. Everyone but me.

  I struggled to catch on quickly.

  Stomp stomp stompstompstomp slide.

  Stomp stomp stompstompstomp slide.

  “Ohhh,” I cried out as I fell into the girl next to me. We both nearly hit the floor.

  Another girl pulled me back up. I tried again. Everyone was doing it. Everyone was dancing and stomping and having a great time.

  Stomp stomp stompstompstomp slide.

  “Owww.” I slid onto my own shoe and tripped. I hit the floor. Banged my knees hard.

  The music stopped. I was still on my knees.

  A heavy silence fell over the gym. I turned to see everyone staring at me.

  Slowly, I climbed to my feet. “I’m such a total klutz,” I said. “I … uh … I’m usually great at the Stomp. It’s my favorite.”

  Four grim-faced boys came marching toward me. They squinted at me menacingly.

  I turned to run. But some kids moved to block the gym doors.

  The four boys lurched up to me, hands on their waists. They didn’t blink. They stared hard, as if studying me.

  A chill ran down my back. “What’s the problem?” I asked in a tiny voice.

  22

  I’d seen these guys in the halls. They always walked together, kind of strutting. They waved and called out to everyone they passed.

  They were popular. They seemed to know everyone.

  All four of them were dressed in dark khaki cargo pants and black shirts that came down nearly to their knees. Like they were in a club or something.

  They were pretty okay looking for zombies. Tall and athletic. Three blond dudes and one with red hair. The red-haired guy had a black patch over one eye.

  Their skin was very pale and tight on their faces. Otherwise, they could pass for normal living kids.

  They formed a semicircle around me. They grinned at me, but their eyes were cold.

  “I’m Ernie,” one of them said. “How you doing?”

  “F-fine,” I stuttered. “Good party.”

  “You like it here?” he asked. He seemed to be the spokesman. The other three had their grins frozen on their faces, like they were wearing masks.

  “Yeah. Good school,” I said.

  Ernie looked me up and down. “You sure you like it here?”

  “Yeah. Sure,” I said. My legs were shaking like they were made of Jell-O.

  “Hard being the new kid, huh?” Ernie said. The other three boys snickered.

  I swallowed. “Yeah. But everyone’s been totally nice,” I said. My voice cracked on the word nice.

  Ernie’s grin turned into a sneer. “You’re not too good at the Stomp,” he said. He swung around to his friends. “Not too good, is he?”

  “Not too good,” the red-haired dude chimed in.

  “Maybe he needs to practice,” another guy said. “You know. With us.”

  “Yeah. Maybe he needs to practice,” Ernie agreed. “What do you think, Matt? Think you need to practice?”

  “Well … uh …”

  Before I could answer, Franny appeared. She pushed her way into the center of the group. “What’s up, guys?” she asked.

  “We were just making friends,” Ernie replied. “Trying to help out the new kid.”

  “Yeah. Making friends,” the red-haired guy repeated. His expression didn’t look too friendly.

  “Come on, Ernie. This is a party,” Franny said. She pulled me away. “Give Matt a break. Why do you want to get up in his face?”

  Ernie threw his hands up. “Just making friends,” he said. The other three laughed.

  Franny dragged me away. “Those guys are dangerous,” she whispered.

  The music started up again. Everyone started talking at once, as if someone had pushed an ON button.

  Franny pulled me behind the bleachers. A food fight had broken out above us in the seats. Kids were heaving blobs of meat and rotten fruit at one another. The bleachers shook from all the commotion.

  “Those guys are really popular,” Franny said. “They rule the school.”

  “They weren’t being friendly,” I said. “They lied about that.”

  “They suspect you,” Franny said. “They think you’re alive.”

  “I am alive,” I said. “We’re both alive, right? How come they don’t pick on you?”

  “Because I’m a better actor than you,” she said.

  Loud cheers rang out above us. The bleachers shook. A fat blob of meat came sailing down and squished at my feet.

  “I’m going to help you,” Franny said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. First, you’re going to dance with me. Dance like a zombie. Everyone will be watching you.”

  “Nice. No pressure,” I said.

  “Don’t make jokes. Your life depends on this,” Franny said, frowning. “After our dance, go over to the food table. Convince everyone there that you’re one of them.”

  I gulped. “You mean —?”

  A new song started. Another stomping beat. Franny pulled me out onto the floor.

  A lot of kids were dancing now. Strange, stiff-legged dancing, as if their knees didn’t bend.

  “You can do it. Just copy them,” Franny said.

  We started to dance. I kept my knees stiff. I bumped into Franny a few times.

  “Good!” she said. “Keep it up.”

  We danced a bit harder. I stumbled around in a circle.

  “Good!” Franny urged me on. “Now stagger right into the wall.”

  I followed her instruction. I staggered into the wall. Then I shuffled back to her.

  “Franny,” I said. I had my eyes on the bleachers. “Ernie and his friends — they’re still watching me.”

  “Of course they are,” she replied. “Listen, Matt, I’ll help you as much as I can. But you have to do every thing you can to make them think you are undead.”

  “Everything?” I asked.

  Franny gave me a shove. “To the food table. Now. Put on a good show, Matt. After a while, they’ll stop watching you.”

  I had no choice. I staggered over to the food table. I saw a swarm of flies buzzing over the decayed fruit and plates of raw meat. Some of the meat had turned green.

  I held my breath to keep the putrid smell from my nose. I gazed down the table, searching for something I could possibly eat.

  No way.

  A tall, black-haired girl in a short purple skirt and purple sweater tapped me on the shoulder.

  Startled, I spun around. “Oh. Hi.”

  “I’m Evie,” she said. “Here. Have you tried this? It’s just ripe enough.”

  She picked up a blob of green, rotting meat and dangled it in front of my eyes.

  I tried not to make a face, but I couldn’t help it.

  She laughed. “Go ahead. Try it.”

  “I … don’t think so,” I said. I saw Franny watching me from the dance floor. I knew I had to do as Franny said. I had to convince Evie I was a zombie like her.

  But no way could I eat that putrid raw meat.

  I grabbed a rotted pear from the bowl. “I … I like fruit,” I told her. “Have you tried the pears?”

  “I’ve had six of them,” she said. “They’re awesome.”

  Evie waited for me to eat the pear. I gazed at it, and I nearly heaved.

  The skin had rotted off, and the fruit inside was spotty brown with green stuff growing on it. It was covered in deep wormholes.

  “Yummmm,” I said.

  I can’t do this, I thought. I’m going to heave. I really am.

  Evie didn’t move. Her eyes were on the pear. I turned and glimpsed Ernie and his three friends at the other end of the food table. They were watching me, too.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath. And held it.

  Then slowly … slowly, I raised the rotted, wormy pear to my mouth.

  Every muscle in my body tightened as I opened my mouth — and shoved the pear inside.

  It felt dry and lumpy aga
inst my tongue. Like a dead frog. That’s what I suddenly pictured — a dead frog.

  I couldn’t chew it. My stomach was heaving … heaving.

  I … swallowed it whole!

  My whole body shook. I swallowed again … again. I knew I’d never get that bitter, rancid taste from my mouth. Never.

  Evie smiled at me. “Good, huh? Try another one.”

  “Uh … no,” I said. My mind was spinning.

  How could I get away from this horrifying food table?

  “Want to dance?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  She took my hand. She started to lead me to the other dancers.

  Her hand was ice-cold. The cold made my whole arm tingle.

  Suddenly, she stopped. Her smile faded. She let go of my hand. Her eyes went wide.

  “Oh, Matt, nooooo,” she moaned.

  Then she turned to the other kids and started to scream at the top of her lungs:

  “Hey! He’s still warm! Hey, everyone — he’s still WARM!”

  23

  I uttered a cry. I wanted to run.

  But Evie grabbed my hand with both of hers and held on. “It’s warm! It’s WARM!” she screamed.

  I tried to pull myself free. But she had surprising strength. I realized there was nowhere to run anyway.

  The music stopped. A crowd of kids gathered around Evie and me. Ernie and his friends pushed them out of the way to get to me. Evie let go of my hand and backed away.

  My mind spun. How was I going to get out of this one? I searched the crowd for Franny. But the faces were a blur. I couldn’t find her.

  Ernie stepped up inches from my face. He gazed hard into my eyes. “Matt, when did you die?” he demanded.

  Think fast, Matt. Think fast.

  “Uh … last Sunday,” I said.

  Ernie narrowed his eyes at me. “That can’t be right,” he said. “I remember you arrived here at school two Sundays ago.”

  Panic gripped my throat. I could barely choke out a sound.

  “Uh … let’s see,” I rasped. “I guess … I died two weeks ago. No. Three. I remember it was a Tuesday.”

  This was not going well.

  The huge gym grew silent. The air suddenly felt steamy and hot. I had sweat pouring down my face.

  Again, I searched for Franny. No sight of her. Besides, what could she do to help me? She had to keep her secret safe.

  Ernie leaned over me. I could smell the rotted meat on his breath. “This is a special school,” he said. “I think you know what I mean by special.”

  “Yeah. Of course,” I choked out.

  “And we don’t want outsiders to find out about our school,” he said. “They might decide to cause trouble.”

  “No. N-no trouble,” I stammered.

  I gazed over his big shoulders to the gym doors. No way I’d ever make it. I was trapped.

  “Test him!” a boy cried from the crowd. “Give him the test.”

  I turned and saw that it was Angelo. Some friend!

  “Test him! Test him! Test him!” Some kids took up the chant.

  Ernie grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. He pushed me toward the gym doors.

  “Where are you taking me?” I cried.

  Panic made my legs quiver like rubber bands. I nearly collapsed to the floor. But Ernie held on to me.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “This way,” Ernie ordered. He pushed open the doors and shoved me out into the hall.

  “Test him! Test him! Test him!” The chanting zombie kids came following close behind us.

  “Uh … could I take a makeup test?” I said. “Maybe next week?”

  My words were drowned out by the loud chant of the excited kids. Their cries rang off the tile walls as we marched down the halls.

  The long halls twisted and turned. The school was built in circles. As we followed the halls around, I totally lost my direction. In my panic, it all became a frightening blur of empty rooms and gray lockers and dimly lit hallways.

  Until we stepped into the Center Court.

  Then every thing snapped back into focus. The wide, round, open space in the center of the school. The domed ceiling. The balcony circling the court, high above.

  Yes, I knew where I was now.

  I felt Ernie’s hands on my shoulders as he guided me from behind. Guided me up the long, steep stairway that led to the balcony.

  “Nooooo. Please —”

  Was that me pleading in that high, trembling voice?

  Yes, it was.

  I didn’t want to climb up to the balcony. I didn’t want to be up there. Because I could guess what was about to happen.

  The noisy, excited crowd of kids stayed down below. And now a new chant rose up: “Bungee jump! Bungee jump! Bungee jump!”

  The words rang in my ears until my head felt about to explode. I knew. I knew what my test would be. The test that would definitely show if I was alive or undead.

  Ernie pushed me to the balcony railing. I gazed down. The kids filled the court, all eyes raised to me. Chanting … chanting.

  The floor was a mile down. And solid marble.

  I knew I couldn’t survive a jump. When I hit, I’d break every bone in my body.

  “What are you waiting for?” Ernie demanded, giving me another push.

  “Well … I have a problem with heights,” I said.

  “Get up on the railing,” he ordered. “Go ahead. It’s easy. Once you pass the test, I’ll get out of your face. Promise.”

  Pass the test?

  How could I pass the test?

  I glanced down again. Big mistake. The sight of the hard marble floor so far below me made my whole body shudder.

  I shut my eyes. I pictured an egg falling from high up. Craaaack. Splaaaaat.

  I tried to back away from the balcony edge. But Ernie stood right behind me. I couldn’t move an inch.

  “Bungee jump! Bungee jump!” The cry rose up from the kids down below.

  I wrapped both hands on the balcony railing and pulled myself up.

  Were these my final seconds of being alive?

  What could I possibly do to save myself?

  Nothing.

  I shut my eyes. I thought: Good-bye, Mom and Dad. Good-bye, Jamie.

  Good-bye, everyone.

  24

  Then I remembered the fake rubber hand.

  I had tucked it into a pocket of my cargo jeans. Could that rubber hand save my life? I suddenly had an idea.

  I twisted my body so that Ernie couldn’t see what I was doing. Then I pulled the hand out from my pocket.

  Gripping it tightly in my right hand, I pulled the rubber hand into my shirtsleeve.

  I leaned over the balcony.

  The chanting stopped. The kids grew silent. Everyone froze.

  I leaned a little farther over the edge. I could see the eyes all raised to me. See the eager looks on all the faces.

  I leaned even farther. Stretched my hands over the side. And dropped the rubber hand from my shirtsleeve.

  Kids gasped as it fell. It hit the floor hard and bounced two or three times. It rolled into a corner beneath the balcony and stopped.

  “My hand!” I screamed. “My hand! That’s the third time! I can’t keep it on!”

  Silence down below. An eerie hush as kids thought about what had just happened.

  And then a few kids cheered. Others laughed.

  Ernie patted me hard on the back. “Guess you passed the test, Matt,” he said.

  We bumped fists. I was careful to use my left hand. I kept my right hand hidden in the shirtsleeve.

  “Back to the party!” someone shouted.

  “Back to the party!”

  I breathed a long sigh of relief.

  Ernie started down the stairs. Then he turned back to me. “Go get your hand,” he said. “I’ll take you to the Reviver Room.”

  I nearly choked. “The Reviver Room?”

  I remembered how the Reviver Room worked. The
high voltage. A shock so powerful it brings the dead back to life.

  “A few minutes in the Reviver Room will glue that hand on to stay,” Ernie said. “Come on. I’ll wait for you.”

  He turned and clomped down the stairs.

  My victory hadn’t lasted very long.

  I hadn’t counted on the Reviver Room. Now, instead of being a smashed egg, I was about to be a fried egg.

  I made my way slowly down the stairs. I knew I didn’t have any more tricks hidden in my pockets.

  I tried to come up with a new plan, a new way to fool Ernie. A way to keep him from leading me into that terrifying room.

  But my brain froze. I was too frightened to think straight.

  I found the rubber hand on the floor against the wall. I quickly tucked it back into the pocket before Ernie could see it clearly.

  He motioned to me from an entrance to the court. “Move it, Matt. A few minutes in the Reviver Room. Then you’ll be ready to party again.”

  I … don’t … think … so.

  I had no choice. I had to follow him.

  The music had started up again in the gym. But my heart was pounding faster than the dance music.

  From the party, I heard loud voices and kids laughing.

  I wasn’t laughing.

  Ernie led me to the door to the Reviver Room. I struggled to think … think of a way to escape. But my brain was letting me down.

  Ernie opened the door a crack. I peered inside. Red light filled the room. I saw lots of wires and a wall of electric equipment. I glimpsed a metal chair in front of the equipment.

  “I’m kind of hungry,” I said. “Maybe we should get something to eat first. Couldn’t you go for a few pounds of meat?”

  “Fix your hand first,” Ernie said, staring at my shirtsleeve. “The longer the hand is off your arm, the longer you’ll have to stay in the Reviver Room.”

  The red light seeped out of the room and washed over me.

  Ernie opened the door wide. “The Reviver isn’t here,” he said. “But we don’t need him.”

  “The Reviver?” I asked. “Maybe we should wait for him to get back.”

  “He won’t be here till morning,” Ernie said. “This is an emergency. No worries. Go in.”

  He motioned me into the room. “Go ahead, Matt,” he said. “Take a seat in the Reviver Chair. It’s all hooked up. You’ll get a good blast.”