Alice in Zombieland wrc-1

by Gena Showalter

  “Me?” I managed to squeak out. “Why?”

  Stupid question. I knew why.

  He ignored me, thank God, saying to Kat, “Let go of Frosty’s leash. You’re choking the life out of him.”

  Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits, a sure sign of her aggression. “He deserves to choke. He didn’t keep Little Frost in his pants this summer.” The words snapped like a whip.

  “He did,” Cole snapped back with unwavering confidence.

  “Not.”

  “Did.”

  “Not!”

  “Did,” he said, calm now despite her growing fervor.

  My head would have zinged back and forth as if I were watching a tennis match, but Cole hadn’t taken his eyes off me and I didn’t have the strength to pull away.

  “Not, not, not!” she shouted with a stomp of her foot.

  Finally he looked at her, releasing me from the force field of that otherworldly gaze. “What are we, five?”

  “Six.” Kat anchored her hands on her hips. “So tell me this. Do you know Frosty remained faithful to me because you were with him every minute of every day?”

  Silence.

  “I didn’t think so. Ali?” she said, and I knew what she was asking. Did I want her to stay with me?

  “I’m fine,” I said, still squeaking. Come on and grow that pair of lady balls Kat thinks you already have. There’s still time to bring home the victory on this one. I’d lived through hell on earth. This should be nothing.

  Cole returned his attention to me, expectant.

  “I’m fine,” I repeated, for my benefit rather than Kat’s. At least I’d sounded halfway normal. I would get this meeting over with, get my questions answered, and boom, everything would go back to normal.

  “Just remember what I told you.” Off she skipped, leaving me alone with Cole.

  What had she told me? That he was dangerous—check. That he still hung out with his ex—check. That he liked to body slam and throat smash—double check.

  “You have Mrs. Heldermon next,” he said, a statement not a question.

  “Yes.” Surprise filled me, and not just because he hadn’t cussed, as I’d previously imagined. “How did you know?”

  He massaged the back of his neck, just like he’d done when he’d talked with Mackenzie. Please tell me that wasn’t a sign of irritation. “My class is in the same building. Yesterday I saw you go into the room.”

  And yet, I’d never seen him—and I’d looked. Oh, how I’d looked. Either my powers of observation were lacking, or his ability to camouflage himself was incredible.

  “Come on,” he said.

  We kicked into motion. Everyone who spotted us did a double take. Friends were nudged and heads were quickly turned in our direction. It was like we were on a screen playing the newest reality show—Survivor: Asher High—and they were our trusted viewers.

  When we were out of eavesdropping range, Cole said, “Whatever you’re doing to me each morning—” a hint of anger bloomed in his tone “—you need to stop.”

  My gaze whisked up to his face so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. “Whatever I’m doing to you? How about what you’re doing to me?”

  “What am I doing to you?”

  Like I was really going to mention my craziness without confirmation of his. “You tell me.” Because really, he could be talking about something totally different. Maybe he wanted me to stop eye-stalking him, as I’d first assumed. Maybe he wanted me to stop conversing with his friends, even when they cornered me like a rabid animal.

  We kept walking, neither of us saying anything else. I wanted to wait him out, but I lacked the willpower and ultimately cracked. “So…who did you fight?”

  There was only a beat of hesitation before he responded, “No one you’d know.”

  Annnd more silence.

  O-kay. He’d arranged this little meeting, had asked me two questions and now had nothing to say to me. That was a…relief. Yes, a relief and not a huge disappointment.

  All too soon—uh, I mean, a torturous eternity later—we reached my classroom and stopped. “Thanks for the escort, but let’s not do this again sometime,” I muttered. Forget answers. I could live without them.

  He stretched his arm in front of me, flattening his palm against the door frame, preventing my escape. “I’m sorry about Mackenzie,” he said, and some of his animosity had drained. “She won’t bother you again.”

  Well, that was something at least. “I wasn’t worried,” I replied honestly.

  His lips quirked at the corners, as if he were fighting a smile. “You should be worried. She can be a… Mean. Very mean.”

  What had he stopped himself from calling her? A ~bleep~? (Kat would have been so proud. I couldn’t even cuss in my mind.) “I’m still not worried.”

  His sorta smile stretched wider. “Have you ever been in a fight?” With his free hand, he pinched a lock of my hair and rubbed the strands together. “Because you look like something out of a fairy tale.”

  “The wicked witch?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “Please. The princess.”

  Uh, had he just given me a compliment? Couldn’t have. There’d been something sharp in his tone.

  I noticed two kids standing off to the side, wanting into the classroom but not wanting to squeeze between Cole and me to get there. I wrapped my fingers around Cole’s wrist and lowered his arm. The kids bypassed us, but I didn’t return to my place. I was flush against Cole, could feel his heart pounding and couldn’t bring myself to move.

  “Yes, I have been in a fight,” I said, recalling what he’d asked me. With my dad, during training.

  Cole’s head tilted to the side, that violet gaze intense. “A fistfight?” he asked.

  Uh-oh. I’d noticed his eyes. I was well and truly trapped now. So pretty. “Is there any other kind?”

  “Many kinds. So who’d you fight?”

  “No one you’d know,” I said, mimicking his answer. If I told him the truth, he’d think my dad had let me win or worse, that I was a major witch for fighting my own father. And I’d have no defense!

  The quirking at the corner of his mouth started up again. I amused him, I guess, and had no idea why. Well, he confused me. Why warn me about his ex’s cruel streak? Why try to comfort me? Why do nothing else?

  I studied his face, searching for answers, finding none.

  “Ali?”

  “Yes.” My attention lowered to his mouth. Up close like this, the split in his lower lip revealed a fresh bead of blood. I bet he could have taken my dad and still had the energy to turn the two visions I’d had into a reality.

  “I asked if your last name is Bell.”

  This newest topic switch threw me, but I quickly adapted without dying of embarrassment for losing myself to such silly thoughts. “Yes. Bell. Why?”

  “Your dad was Phillip Bell. Your mom was Miranda Bradley.”

  Was, he’d said. Not is. He knew. I swallowed my sudden urge to scream, gritting out, “You’re right, but how did you know that?” I’d never even mentioned their names to Kat.

  “My dad went to school with them.”

  Someone else had known them, might mourn their loss. How odd to discover that the people I’d lived with for most of my existence had had a life before me, without me. On some level, I’d realized that, of course I had, but hearing the truth was a different matter entirely. “Your dad went to school here?”

  A hard nod.

  I had about a thousand more questions now. Had our parents hung out together? Been friends? Enemies? Had his dad said anything about mine? How had his dad known about me—had Cole mentioned me to him? I didn’t ask a single one, though. Asking would have invited him to ask questions of his own, and I wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened over the summer.

  “My dad wants to know—”

  “Thanks for the heads-up about your girlfriend,” I interjected in a rush, making it clear our parents weren’t up for discussion. I wasn’t sure
of my reaction, and I wasn’t going to risk it. “We should probably say goodbye now.”

  A knowing pause before he gave another stiff nod. “Fine. But just so you know, Mackenzie isn’t my girlfriend.”

  He didn’t say anything else, and I had no idea how to reply, so I strode into the classroom. Gold star for me—I didn’t cast a final glance over my shoulder. I think he watched me, though, because I felt two white-hot pings in my back.

  * * *

  I made it all the way to last block without any problems and forced myself to listen to the final lecture of the day, this one about equations and how to properly decipher them with minimal brain spasms—without allowing thoughts of Cole Holland to invade. Go me. Finally, blessedly, the bell rang—and I was quite sad to realize I wasn’t any smarter.

  Kat, who’d saved me a seat and wiggled her eyebrows at me every time I’d glanced in her direction, grabbed me before I could escape and demanded to know every word that had been uttered between Cole and me.

  The self-imposed CH embargo was over, I guess, and I was kinda glad. I needed advice. I relayed the conversation verbatim and her excitement drained.

  “Okay, I don’t know how they judge cool versus lame at Carver Suck It Academy—oh, and did I mention that we kicked your butt last year in both football and basketball?—but here at Asher we consider that seriously lame.”

  I wasn’t offended. I liked her honesty. “What should I have said?”

  She batted her lashes at me and lowered her voice to a smoky rasp. “Cole, you big strong manimal. I know the boogeyman thinks you’ll jump out of his closet, but I think you’re— Hey, are you listening to our private conversation, Marcus?” she ended in a shout. “Yeah, that’s right. Run.”

  I could only blink at her. Never, and I mean never, could I call Cole a manimal.

  “Where was I?” Kat asked me. “Never mind. Judging by your expression, you’re not ready for flirting lessons. I’ll just stick with giving you a pick-me-up. Come on. Let’s go to Café Bella and drink so many lattes we’re peeing coffee for a week.”

  Suddenly I heard angels singing. “I would seriously love that.”

  She smiled. “I always have the best ideas, don’t I?”

  Outside, a gray film covered the sky. Thick dark clouds looked ready to burst at any moment…except for one. It was white and fluffy, perfect in every way—and shaped like a rabbit in midhop.

  Ice chips crystallized in my veins, and I skidded to a stop. The last time I’d seen a cloud like that, I’d lost everyone and everything I loved.

  Logically I knew a cloud did not determine my future, or even predict it, but…

  The world was suddenly spinning, spinning, round and round. Car after car zoomed beside me, the parking lot writhing and seething with blurry motions and hazy sounds. Someone honked. Someone grumbled. I couldn’t force myself to move. Could only stare in horror.

  “Ali?”

  Kat’s voice sounded far away, as if she stood at the end of a long, narrow tunnel. Would I cause Kat to wreck her car today? Would she die in front of me? Would I walk away without a scratch?

  Finally, motion on my part. I backed away from her.

  “Ali?” she said again.

  I jerked my gaze in her direction. Her frown of concern nearly leveled me. “I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.” Fog filled my head, making me dizzy. I spun and ran, just ran, arrowing toward the building.

  I heard her calling for me, knew she was chasing after me. A back door blew open and closed in the wind. I shot through on its next opening and sprinted down the hall. I didn’t see Dr. Wright but I heard her shout for me. I ignored her, too, and found a bathroom (for boys) where I shut myself inside one of the stalls. Panting, I sat on the lid of the toilet, drew my knees up to my chest and fought the sting of tears in the back of my eyes.

  Minutes, maybe hours, passed but neither Kat nor Dr. Wright ever found me.

  What should I do? What should I freaking do? I’d already missed my bus, and I refused to call Nana to ask her to pick me up. I just…I couldn’t get in a car today. With anyone. If someone died because of me, I would never be able to shake the guilt.

  You realize you’re being irrational, right?

  Yeah, I did. But did that help me? No.

  My house was only a few miles away. I could walk, I decided. Yeah, that was the perfect solution. No cars would be involved, and I’d get some much-needed exercise. Finally I calmed.

  The storm would break at any moment, and I’d probably be soaked to the bone by the time I got home, but everyone would be safe. That was all that mattered.

  6

  Advice from a Dying Caterpillar

  Dinner that evening proved to be a horribly tense affair. Nana had come home early and I hadn’t been there. She had worried. She’d called my cell a dozen times but I hadn’t answered. I had known she would insist on coming to get me, and my protests would have fallen on deaf ears. So I’d sent her straight to voice mail, listened to her messages and texted her back each time, telling her I was on my way and fine.

  “What’s the point of having a cell phone if you’re not going to use it,” she muttered now.

  “I did use it,” I said, my voice nasally. My nose was cold, wet and stuffed, and if I sneezed one more time, I’d hopefully blow the thing off my face. “I texted you.” Multiple times.

  Her lined face scrunched in distaste, making her appear older than she really was. “And I had no idea how to respond! I’ve never typed anything but a number into my phone.”

  “I’ll teach you the basics,” I said, the thought alone enough to make me nervous. I could already tell: there’d be lots of adjusting her reading glasses, repeating my instructions as if I’d spoken in Greek, until she finally asked me to write everything down in a language she could understand. But there wasn’t a language she would understand, so we’d never get anywhere.

  “You’ll teach me?” Nana asked.

  See? Repeating me already. “Yes.”

  “You, a girl who doesn’t even have enough sense to stay out of the rain until I can come and get you?”

  As if to emphasize my own stupidity, I sneezed. “Yes.”

  “That’s it. I’m taking you to the doctor.” She tossed her napkin on the table. “You’ve probably given yourself pneumonia!”

  “I’m not sick, Nana. Honest.” Wasn’t like I’d gone to a medical lab, asked for a dish of their tastiest virus and feasted.

  She drew in a deep breath…released…then picked up her napkin. “All right. If you’re without a fever tomorrow, I’ll allow you to teach me how to text.”

  Gee. Thanks. “So what did you do when Mom was late?” I pushed my peas around my plate with the prongs of my fork. “She never had a cell.”

  Pops frowned at me. “Is that what today was about? Scaring us so that we’ll never take away your phone? Really, Ali. That was unnecessary. We wouldn’t do something like that to you.”

  “That wasn’t what happened at all,” I said. “I just felt like walking.” And that was one hundred percent the truth. “With the thunder and the wind and the rain, I knew you wouldn’t be able to understand me if we spoke. Also, I was afraid I’d be struck by lightning and, if the phone was at my ear, electrocuted. Texting was the best option.” Again, truth—only stretched thin with the more pertinent details omitted.

  “Well, don’t walk home again,” Pops said in that scolding voice. Scolding, and worried. Over the past few days, his comb-over had lost a few valiant soldier-strands desperately holding on to his scalp. Because of me? “I’m not trying to— What do teenagers say nowadays?” he asked my grandmother.

  “Get all up in her biznez,” Nana said. Without cracking a smile.

  “That’s right,” he replied. “We’re not trying to get all up in your biznez, Ali.”

  Oh, wow. Okay. They were trying to relate to me right now. Had probably watched a news program about how to communicate with a teenager or someth
ing, and I’d bet they’d later spent hours in front of a computer screen, studying urban slang, muttering together as they deciphered words and discussed the best way to use them.

  How…sweet.

  Dang it! Their sweetness made me feel all kinds of guilty.

  “Those woods are dangerous,” Pops continued. “Predators of the four-legged variety roam freely, and animal carcasses are found all the time.”

  I recalled the Bride and Groom of Gore I’d seen. Or might not have seen. Whatever. They were predators of the two-legged variety, definitely, and I never wanted an up-close-and-personal meet and greet with them without my baseball bat firmly in hand.

  “I’m sorry,” I said after another sneeze. “I really am.”

  Nana muttered something else about pneumonia.

  “I missed my bus,” I added, “and I didn’t want to bother you.” Another stretched truth. “It won’t happen again. I promise.” And that was the God’s honest truth, with no evasion. I’d never put them through a worry-wringer again.

  “You aren’t a bother.” Nana reached over and patted my hand. “We love you and just want—” By then her chin was quivering too much for her to continue. Tears filled her eyes, but she swiftly wiped them away with the back of her hand. She cleared her throat. “Now, then.” Sniff, sniff. “You asked about your mother. Once she started dating your father, she stayed in most nights. And if they went out, he always had her home before dark. We were always so impressed by that and failed to realize… Well, never mind.”

  Did they know why? Had Mom? Or had Dad waited to tell her until after he’d bagged and tagged her?

  Oh, gross. Thinking of my parents that way…ick, just ick.

  “Did Mom ever mention a friend whose last name was Holland?” I asked, recalling what Cole had said to me. Or had tried to say to me.

  Nana’s lips pursed as she pondered my question. “Holland…Holland…no, that name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Your mom was terribly shy. Didn’t make friends easily, truth be told. Didn’t date much, either,” Pops said, after swallowing a bite of roast. “In fact, your dad was the first boyfriend she ever had.”