There was more, but that was the point where I started whooping in joy.
About two seconds later, my bedroom door burst openand Phil stood there, wild-eyed, looking for signs of danger.
I sprang up and nearly tackled him in a hug. He looked at me, a complete lack of understanding all over his face. Suddenly I couldn’t stop myself. No matter what, there was no way to keep my lips off that face for another moment.
I kissed him, a huge, wet, openmouthed kiss, and after a second, he joined me.
I don’t know how long we kissed, but we only stopped when Phil’s aunt cleared her throat behind us.
“Is everything all right, Courtney?” she asked.
“I’m going to Columbia,” I said. They both looked surprised and I laughed. I felt so buoyed, so high. I let go of Phil and grabbed my laptop off the bed. I read the e-mail aloud to them (minus the opening paragraphs about obtaining the sample of Vitamin Z) and by the time I was done, Diane was hopping up and down, clapping her hands. All thoughts of me violating her nephew were long gone. She took the two of us in a group hug.
“This is amazing news, Courtney,” she said. “And I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you. Oh, I need to call Gene. We’ll have to celebrate tonight!”
She went off to make plans and left Phil standing in my room somewhat awkwardly.
“Sorry about the kiss,” I said. “I was caught up in the moment, you know?”
“Yeah,” he said. “You deserve to be. It’s great news. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I said. “And I know you’re going to get into the comics school. We’ll both head out there together.”
“I hope so,” he said. “If it happens like that, it might lead to more kissing . . .”
I smiled so big I thought my cheeks were in danger of splitting.
“Oh, I don’t think we have to wait for that.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“No,” he said, “but we do have to wait until my aunt isn’t in the next room.”
Killjoy.
“Fine,” I said, and gave him one quick peck as an act of defiance. “I’ll behave. Now I need to finish reading this,” I said. I sat back on the bed and put the computer in my lap.
Phil watched me for a second before going back to his room and his homework.
The rest of Dr. Keller’s e-mail detailed how to go about applying, if I was still interested. Yes, sir! I wrote him a quick response, telling him that I was most definitely still interested, and to thank him.
My only regret right then was that my dad wasn’t around for me to talk to. I’m pretty sure he’d have been happy for me.
So, thinking about Dad, I got to work on the application materials.
Working on the application kept me occupied for a while. I had to track down my transcripts and have them forwarded to the university’s admissions department. I needed to get people to write letters of recommendation (besides the one Dr. Keller was writing)—I asked my Organic Chem instructor, Professor Kassovitz, and the high school’s counselor, Ms. Bjorn. I figured she knew me better than most of the staff at school, and I thought she’d be sympathetic. I also needed to write a couple of essays. Normally writing an essay was something I’d be able to do in my sleep, but these were supposed to be about me and why I wanted into Columbia. I agonized over every word. For the first time since I was a freshman, I went to the school’s writing center and got several people to critique what I’d written.
Finally, after about a hundred drafts—I’m not kidding—I gathered everything together in one e-mail and shipped it off to Dr. Keller for him to look over and forward to admissions.
I collapsed on my bed and thought I’d sleep for a million years.
Phil came in and sat on the edge of my bed.
“Go away,” I said. “I’m not here.”
He rubbed my leg.
“You can stay if you keep doing that,” I said.
“Did you send it off?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you’re ready to blow off a little steam?” he asked.
“What sort of steam-blowing were you thinking about?” I asked. If it had anything to do with the leg rubbing, I was in. I tried to remember if Gene and Diane were in the house.
“It’s Saturday,” Phil said, like that was an explanation.
“I’m not following you,” I said.
“Chacho’s party is today,” he said. “Did you forget?”
“Of course not,” I said. But I totally had. “Do I have time for a nap?”
“No,” he said.
I wanted to mount a brilliant verbal defense that would make him leave me alone to sleep. What came out of my mouth was, “Blargh.”
“Exactly,” Phil said. He stood up. “Let’s go. We have to stop at the store on the way. Can’t arrive empty-handed.”
It took more effort to get out of that bed than it had ever taken for me to do anything, but I got up, put on clothes that a human person might wear, and followed Phil out to the car.
In the end, of course, I was really glad I went.
Chacho had texted me the address, and he lived not too far from Phil’s place. His house was tiny and immaculate. So was the yard. It looked like something out of a magazine photo essay. Like, Martha Stewart would have been proud to claim it as her own. The only thing spoiling the effect was the fence that surrounded the yard. It was to other chain-link fences what a Sherman tank is to a VW Bug. Easily six feet tall with heavy metal support beams, it looked more secure than the fence at our school. I bet the supports were nice and deep. It’d probably repel a whole army of zombies. Well, I knew where I was heading during the next undead uprising.
The gate stood open, which seemed bad from a security standpoint, but there were a lot of people, mostly kids, hanging out in the front yard, so they’d have been able to close it in case of shufflers, I guess. The kids all openly stared at us as we walked past. I waved, feeling self-conscious. Phil seemed not to notice.
“He must be in the back,” he said. “You can smell the barbecue.”
It was a good guess. We went around the side of the house and as soon as we turned the corner, we saw Chacho. He was dressed even more casually than the last time I saw him. I knew he wasn’t going to be wearing his security outfit to grill for family and friends, but I just wasn’t ready for him to be shirtless and wearing cut-off jeans.
“Hey, you made it!” he hollered from behind a very complicated-looking piece of machinery, which I assumed was a grill of some sort.
We walked over, Phil handing over the gallon of store-bought fruit salad we’d brought.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Chacho said, “but thanks.” He set the salad on a table already groaning under the weight of all the food it held.
“Hey, love,” he called in the general direction of a group of women who stood a ways off talking and laughing. “Come over here. Someone I want you to meet.”
A pretty, tall blond woman detached herself and walked over. I don’t know why, but I’d expected Chacho’s wife to be Mexican, too. Mexican or Latina or I wasn’t sure of the politically correct term. I’d just not mention ethnicity.
“This is my wife, Karla,” Chacho said, and she shook our hands and said hello. “Karla, this is Phil and Courtney.”
At the mention of my name, she stopped for a second and really looked at me. I felt like I wanted to shrink. What the hell had he said about me?
“Hi, Courtney,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Michael.”
“Michael?” I asked. “That’s your name?”
Chacho frowned and looked at his wife, hurt. “Karla.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Were you trying to keep up the tough-guy act? It doesn’t work so well when you’re dressed like that.”
“It gets hot behind the grill,” Chacho said.
I knew that I was going to like Karla just as much as I liked her husband.
; “My boys are running around over there somewhere,” Chacho pointed to a big group of kids who were tearing it up back along the fence. “At this point, I couldn’t tell you which ones are mine.”
“Maybe if they sit still long enough to eat, we can introduce you,” Karla said.
“Courtney, you should ask my wife about her job,” Chacho said. “Karla’s a nurse. Courtney wants to be a doctor or something, right?” he asked me.
She and I walked off and talked while Phil stayed behind and pretended to help Chacho with the grill. Turns out Karla was a registered nurse who now worked almost exclusively as a nurse/midwife. She had to work with doctors all the time, which was why Chacho thought we needed to talk.
I explained that I really wanted to be an epidemiologist and not the kind of doctor that saw patients and stuff. Despite that, she had some interesting things to say about the schooling and what you needed to do to get through it.
She asked where I planned to go to school and I told her about the deal with Columbia and Dr. Keller. She stopped and appraised me again.
“Michael said you were a sharp one,” she said. She seemed to approve.
“Okay, everyone,” Chacho called. “The tri-tip is ready. Paul, go get the folks from the front yard. Make sure the gate gets closed, okay?” A teenage boy said okay and ran around the house.
A long line of people with paper plates formed up on either side of the table. I hadn’t thought I was that hungry, but as soon as I saw—and, more importantly, smelled—all that food, I was starving. I took just a little of everything, which still meant my plate was overflowing. Phil and I sat on the grass underneath a big shade tree with Chacho and his family. They managed to wrangle their boys over. Anthony I’d met at the store, and he recognized me enough to sit right down next to me and peer into my face until I smiled at him. Chacho’s older boy, Tomas, barely looked at me before he ate a few bites and then ran off again. Anthony followed him because I guess that’s what little brothers did.
“I’m sure they’ll be hungry later,” Karla said as she watched them run off.
“Yeah,” Chacho said, “right before bedtime.”
They grinned at each other and it made me feel warm inside to see the two of them happy. It was sort of a weird feeling since I barely knew either of them.
“You two make beautiful babies,” I said. They both smiled at me. “No, seriously, you two could breed, like, an army of super handsome children.”
“We’ll take that under advisement, Courtney,” Karla said. She turned to Chacho. “Did she tell you her news, Michael?”
“What news is that?” he asked around a mouthful of food.
I repeated the story about Columbia and Dr. Keller. Chacho looked impressed.
“No shit,” he said, and when Karla gave him a disapproving look, he didn’t miss a beat and said, “No kidding. Well, that’s great, Courtney. I’ll be sorry to see you go, but I knew there was no way you’d be stuck in this town forever.”
“It’s not a for-sure thing yet,” I said. I felt I needed to hedge my emotional bet just in case I didn’t get in.
“It’ll happen,” Chacho said.
“And what’s wrong with this town?” Karla asked.
“It’s fine for us old fogeys,” Chacho said, “but not for kids who want to go out and save the world.”
Karla harrumphed and turned to Phil. “And what about you, Phil? What do you plan to do next year?”
He told them how he’d applied to the cartooning school. That really got Chacho excited.
“You’re gonna draw comics?” he asked. “That’s great. I’ll tell the kids, they’ll love that. Maybe you could draw them some pictures.”
“Sure,” Phil said, “that’d be fun . . .” He looked at me uncertainly. I just shrugged. There was no way he’d say no after the meal we’d just had, and how nice Chacho and Karla had been.
“Only if you want to,” Karla said. She smiled at him to let him know he could say no.
“No,” Phil said. “I’d love to. It’ll be fun.”
So after everyone had eaten and everything had been put away, and quite a few folks had left, Phil sat down with the kids who were left and started drawing. At first he drew whatever came to mind, but pretty soon the kids called out requests and he did his best to satisfy them. “Vampire T-Rex” was the most interesting.
Chacho and I sat at the table, which had been cleared of food. We watched Phil for a while.
“He’s a good one,” Chacho said.
“He is,” I agreed.
“Not like your last one.”
The last one definitely turned out to be no good, that was for sure.
“Let me run something crazy by you,” I said.
He sat forward and squinted at me. “Is this about zombies?”
“It is,” I said.
“Okay,” he said. “I had a feeling this was coming.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you’re more absorbed with zombies than anyone I know.”
I think he meant obsessed, but I let it go. Instead, I told him everything that had happened in the last few months. Everything, which meant letting him in on my less-than-legal activities when I worked at the Bully Burger.
“How long did you do that and no one caught on?” he asked.
“A long time,” I said. “Like, a year.”
He shook his head, but let me go on. I reminded him how last year I’d felt that zombies were getting smarter, that I’d been ambushed a couple of times. Then there was the zombie attack out at Brandon’s cabin. That definitely felt coordinated. This year there was the assault on Buddha’s place and then the group that killed my dad.
“I didn’t know about that,” Chacho said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” I said, “but what do you think of my theory?”
He scratched his chin and thought for a while before answering. I sipped on my lime-flavored Jarritos. The sky was starting to turn the color of an old bruise and soon it was going to be too dark for Phil to keep drawing.
“I think two things,” Chacho finally said. “One is that I don’t know if I believe you. Just stop.” He held up his hand to keep me from arguing with him. “Let me finish. I don’t know if I believe you because I haven’t seen any change myself in the zombies. The ones I see at the Bully Burger seem the same to me.
“But, okay, saying that, I don’t know if I need to believe you.” He rubbed his bald head and took a drink of the beer that sat in front of him. “I know you believe it, and that’s enough.”
My heart beat faster. I could live with him not believing if it meant he didn’t outright dismiss me believing it.
“So, an enemy that uses coordinated attacks, right?” he asked, and I nodded. “When I was in Iraq, the Taliban, they would target areas of concentration.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“Markets,” Chacho said, “mosques, army barracks, police stations. Anywhere the numbers of people concentrated. That’s where they sent in suicide bombers.
“Once I got home, it took me years to feel comfortable in a crowd of more than three or four people.”
“Then where does that mean they might attack?” I said. “Because it feels like something’s coming down the road.”
“I don’t know, Courtney,” he said. “You’re gonna have to figure that out on your own.”
“Thanks for not thinking I’m crazy,” I said.
Chacho grinned. “I never said that.”
Karla came out and sat in Chacho’s lap. She sipped off his beer while we all watched Phil with the kids for a while.
“We really need to get those boys off to bed,” she finally said.
“Yeah,” Chacho agreed. “It’s getting late.”
“It was very nice to meet you, Courtney,” Karla told me and she gave me a hug. “I hope you’ll come by again before you leave for New York.”
I told her I’d like that and she went over to gather her kids, and to say good n
ight to the last few partygoers.
“You should come back for sure,” Chacho said. “Bring Phil. He’s good with kids.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’d like that.”
I heard the boys both proclaim, “Aw!” when Karla told them it was time for bed. Phil gathered up the drawings and held them out to Tomas.
“You have to keep those safe, okay?” he said. Tomas took them and looked so solemn, I almost laughed.
“Yeah,” Chacho said. “He’s much better than the last one.”
On the way home, I turned to Phil and said, “You have the Chacho stamp of approval.”
“Really,” he said. “I don’t know why, but that makes me feel oddly happy.”
“It probably ought to,” I said. “Minus the ‘oddly’ part.”
“What else did you two talk about?”
“Lots of stuff,” I said. “You know?”
Phil nodded and I watched the city roll by past the window. The last bit of light was about to disappear over the West Hills.
“I figured something out, though,” I said.
“Oh, yeah?” Phil asked. “What’s that?”
“I know where Brandon and his zombies are going to attack.”
I turned back to the window and the light was completely gone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A Lot of Spiritual Questions
I felt like there was a lot to do, but I needed to talk to Crystal Beals first, and the next day was Sunday.
“What time do people get out of church?” I asked Phil. We sat in my room, me on the bed, Phil at my desk. The door was open, which was the house policy if we were in one another’s rooms, so we whispered.
“I’m not sure about Crystal,” he said. “But I can usually get a hold of Cody around one on Sundays.”
“I forgot,” I said. “His family goes to church. Seems kind of weird to me.”
“Not sure why that is,” Phil said. “Seems like a lot of people are religious nowadays. I mean, c’mon, the dead rose up and walk the earth. Don’t you think that’s going to lead people to have a lot of spiritual questions?”
“I’m not going to keep talking to you,” I said, “if you’re going to insist on being logical.”
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