Never Slow Dance with a Zombie

by E. Van Lowe

  "I know."

  A murky silence shrouded the room. Not long ago I would have been thinking about Dirk, or cheerleading uniforms, or the winter queen's first dance. I was overcome by shame for ever having those thoughts.

  Sybil shifted to the end of the bed. "We need to go through Mrs. Mars' things. If she has the antidote we may find it tonight. If we wait, she may destroy it."

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  "She may have destroyed it already."

  "But maybe she left a clue. If she did we'll find it tonight. Tomorrow may be too late ... for me as well."

  I nodded, standing up. "I should go alone. You're in no shape--"

  "Margot, we're in this together," she said, stopping me mid-sentence. She got up off the bed.

  I smiled. "I just can't get rid of you."

  "Don't even try." We shared the best smile.

  Going up to the school meant we had one hurdle to cross before we could carry out our plan--my parents. It was almost nine o'clock. They'd never let me go traipsing up to school at this hour.

  "We'll tell them the truth; Sybil said.

  "What? That all the kids at our school are zombies except us, and that while I was hanging decorations for the Winter Dance Mrs. Mars led a zombie attack against us? Oh, and speaking of zombies, that ravenous stud sitting next to you on the sofa with his hand in the chicken bucket is a zombie, too. Do I have it right?"

  Sybil looked at me and sighed. "They'd send us off to the funny farm, wouldn't they?"

  "Only if we were lucky." It was clear what we had to do.

  We stopped off in the kitchen and retrieved the rotting fish I'd stuck in the back of the fridge. For weeks my parents had been asking about the smell. "Yeah, I smell it," I told them. "And I think it's high time you guys had a talk with Theo about the proper use of soap and water." Believe it or not, they had made him take a bath. Chalk one up for the good guys.

  We rubbed the stinking fish all over our hands and faces, refilled our vials with fresh fish oil, and snuck out the back door.

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  And now a brief note about sneaking out: I want to state right here I'm not the kind of girl who sneaks out of the house after dark for late-night rendezvous with her friends. That's potentially dangerous. And so I want to go on record that I do not endorse girls sneaking out--unless they've been attacked by flesh-eating zombies, and need proof that their gym teacher is behind it. If that's the case, I think it's perfectly all right for you to slip by your parents and zombie boyfriend while they watch Belly Dance Fitness Fusion or some other ridiculous program and head out into the night. Okay?

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  Chapter Twenty - nine

  I'd been up to the school at night before, but only on special occasions: parent-teachers' night, the freshman dance. On those occasions, light spilling from the classroom windows seemed to fill the night air with a warm, inviting cheer. Tonight there was no light spilling from the windows. No warmth. No cheer. The only available light came from the streetlamps casting long, ominous shadows across the school's entrance. Inside, the building was bathed in darkness.

  As we moved up the walkway, the large stone knights standing sentry seemed to be warning us to go home. We ignored their warning and walked right up to the door. That's when we realized the flaw in our plan. The door was locked and we didn't have a key.

  "What now?" said Sybil. She was holding a Thermos of the herbal tea.

  "I don't know. A window?"

  The ground-floor windows were at least six feet off the ground. There was no way Sybil or I could reach any of them.

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  As I looked around for something to climb onto to boost myself up to the window ledge, Sybil stayed put. She needed her energy.

  "Margot!" she suddenly called. Then she dove into the shrubbery by the front steps.

  The front door was swinging open.

  "Hide!"

  But I didn't have time to run and hide. I was a few feet from the door; in a moment I'd be exposed.

  Someone stepped out. Principal Taft. He set the cardboard box he was carrying on the ground.

  I gasped.

  His head swiveled toward me. Quickly, I stepped back into the shadows, pressed my body against the building, and held my breath. Taft looked right at me.

  Just then a rustling in the bushes by the steps yanked his attention away. Tart's head spun around.

  "Who's there?"

  "Meow."

  Smiling with relief, he peered into the bushes. "Shoo," he said.

  "Meow."

  "Go on! Git outta here!" He stomped his foot, and I heard a sound as if an animal had scampered away.

  Satisfied the cat was gone, Principal Taft took a quick glance around, his eyes passing right by me. He didn't see me. He ducked back into the building.

  Then, without thinking, just as the door was about to bang shut, I reached out and grabbed it.

  I held the door open.

  Tome on," I called.

  Sybil scrambled out of the bushes. Her hair was a disaster.

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  There were tiny scratches on her arms and face, caused by the thorny brush. She was beginning to look like a zombie.

  "You're a mess."

  "Shouldn't you be thanking me for saving you from getting caught?"

  "Oh. Yeah. Right. Thanks."

  We held our breaths and entered.

  I eased the door shut, thrusting us into near darkness. The soft light from the exit signs cast an eerie pall over the empty corridors. Principal Taft's footsteps moving away toward his office echoed in the darkness.

  "Let's hide in the stairwell until he leaves," I said softly. "Then we can get on with our search."

  The stairwell was darker than the corridor. We had crouched there for about five minutes when Sybil spoke.

  "When I first moved here I was so worried about making friends."

  "Lucky you. You caught me on the rebound."

  Soft laughter rang out in the darkness.

  "Remember how we first met?" she asked.

  "How can I forget. You'd wrapped your arms around an old tree that was supposed to be bulldozed for the new shopping center. You gathered quite a crowd."

  "You were the only girl in the crowd who joined me."

  "Yeah," I said darkly. "Amanda and my ex-friends were laughing at you. 1 wanted to show them up."

  "I'm glad you did."

  More silence.

  "You've changed," she said quietly. "Ever since you've become the it-girl and got a boyfriend, you're different. We used to have fun together."

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  "Yeah. We did." I would have said more, but I didn't want her to hear my voice trembling.

  I had changed over the past seven weeks. I'd gone from insecure, to prideful, to... I don't know, something horrible. But now that the darkness within had been brought into the light, I recognized it wasn't a powerful force within me. It was nothing but fear, and jealousy, and pride--the fear of not being cool, or fashionable, or popular, or not having a boyfriend; the fear of being laughed at by Amanda Culpepper. I was jealous of my best friend, and too full of pride to admit it. Useless emotions.

  "You really did do a good job as lunchroom monitor," I said. It was an apology of sorts.

  "Thanks."

  "I see why you chose it now. It seemed silly at first, but now I get it. You wanted to change the school's social structure, didn't you?"

  She snorted out a laugh. "Yeah," she said. "What a silly idea."

  "Why are you always trying to fix the world?"

  "I don't know. Somebody has to. Why not us?"

  I couldn't argue with that. I'd been chasing the status quo, and look where it had landed me.

  Tart's approaching footsteps ended the discussion. He came into view carrying another cardboard box, which he set down as he eased open the door. The box clanked of empty cans. Then he picked up the box and exited the building, the door banging shut behind him. He was gone.

  "What do you think Taft is doin
g here at night?" Sybil asked.

  "He's the principal. Principals can't get enough of school. That's why they take the job in the first place."

  "I suppose. But what if he and Mrs. Mars are in it together?"

  Food for thought.

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  We made our way through the darkness to Mrs. Mars' office. We entered and turned on the light. While I had never been in the office before, it was clear someone had thrown a tantrum there. Many of her trophies and memorabilia were on the floor, some of them broken.

  "She must have been pretty upset that the zombies didn't get us," Sybil said. Her voice was weak and scratchy.

  I turned to her. Under the fluorescent lights I could see she had taken a turn for the worse. Her pale skin had acquired a green tint. The whites of her eyes were red again--her pupils dark stones set in deep sockets.

  "Why don't you rest, Syb? I got this."

  "I am a little tired."

  She sat on the loveseat across from the desk, opened the Thermos, and sipped the tea. I began my search.

  The walls of the office were adorned with framed photographs. Mrs. Mars was in each one, smiling and shaking hands with different women. In each photo there was a look of pride in her eyes. She wasn't scowling or leering. This was a side of Mrs. Mars I'd never seen. I thought I recognized one of the women, but I didn't know from where.

  Eventually my search led to the closet. When I opened the door, a fragrance wafted out.

  "Eww! What is that?" called Sybil.

  My mind made an instant connection.

  "I remember that smell," I said. "Stinky tennis shoes covered with cheese and then left out in the rain The vacant

  lot." My voice rose as the pieces fell into place.

  "Yes! And in the corridor earlier, when someone was listening."

  I dove into the closet. Two long, pleated skirts hung on old

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  wooden hangers. A pair of black high-top industrial-strength gym shoes were in the comer--her daily uniform. I was beginning to go through her things when I remembered something else.

  A low whistle escaped my lips. "Oh, man."

  "What?"

  "That swatch of fabric I found clinging to the nail. I just remembered where I'd seen it before. Mrs. Mars' scarf."

  Mrs. Mars wore the same exact hideous blue scarf around her neck every single day. I was certain the fabric I had found clinging to the nail earlier was from her scarf.

  I dug deeper into the closet. There was a simple cotton top on a hanger behind the pleated skirts. Neatly tied around the neck of the top was a torn blue silk scarf. I didn't have to put it up to my nose. The stench from the vacant lot was all over it.

  I looked over at Sybil, my shoulders slumping. "She was so good at hounding me about the state endurance exam I didn't realize she was the zombie master. No wonder they were afraid of her."

  "Did you find the antidote?"

  I shook my head, and watched as the last vestiges of hope drained from her eyes. With each passing moment she was becoming more zombie-like. Her skin was paler, greener, crumblier.

  "But I have a feeling the answer's right under our noses." Another lie. But I couldn't allow her to lose faith. I moved to the desk and began riffling through papers. Atop a neat pile was a letter addressed to my mother. A chill shot through me. I picked it up, holding it as if it were a time bomb that might go off at any moment.

  "What is it?"

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  "A letter from Mrs. Mars to my mother." My hands were shaking. "Read it."

  Dear Mrs. Johnson,

  Thank you so much for staying in such close touch with me throughout the semester. How I do enjoy hearing from you. I am writing today to clear up a little misunderstanding. Some students believe the state endurance exam is about running, jumping, and climbing. And while those things are what a girl must do to pass, the exam itself represents something more important. It represents character. I have given up the notion of turning the modern teenage girl into an athlete. But I haven't given up trying to build character in these girls, and I believe enduring the rigors of the exam does just that Please pass this information on to your amazing daughter. I look forward to having her in my class again next semester, where we will have another go at the state endurance exam--same bat time, same bat channel

  Very truly yours,

  Eleanor Mars

  Sybil was staring at me, waiting for me to say something.

  "I don't get it," I said, rereading the letter. "Just something about me being in her class next semester and taking the state endurance exam. I thought she was going to pass me. She's crazy."

  "Did she mention Baron or Milton, or the antidote?" Sybil asked. Her voice had gone raspy like sandpaper.

  "No."

  A bit more of the light of life disappeared from her eyes. She stood up. "Something's ... happening to me."

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  "Hang on, Syb. Well search the entire school if we have to."

  She took a halting step toward me and went spilling to the floor. "Reecahh." She mumbled something I couldn't make out.

  I moved to her side, stooped, and cradled her in my arms. "You're going to be all right, Syb," I said soothingly, as tears sprang into my eyes.

  She looked up at me. Her dark eyes were filled with ravenous desire. Her parched lips parted, and she rasped a single word. "Run!"

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  Chapter Thirty

  "Sybil, I'm not leaving you."

  "Isssokay." Her words slurred together. "I know you wouldn't I'll leave me. Butisss cool, really. You'll rrrrescue me later, after you find the annnidote."

  "No! I'm not leaving you until we find the antidote. I'm not letting you become a zombie." I was trembling as I said the words. "Now, drink some tea."Yes, Mmmommy," she replied. The corners of her lips turned up slightly. A smile of sorts, that drained the tension from me.

  "Maybe you were right about Taft. We'll search his office next," I said.

  I willed away the tears and helped her to her feet. I scooped up the Thermos and her purse, and together we exited the office. When we stepped into the corridor, I sensed movement down at the far end. Squinting into the darkness, I could see something was coming toward us.

  "Amanda," Sybil wheezed.

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  Amanda Culpepper and her gang of ghouls were moving through the shadows, coming at us.

  "Ignore them,"I said, recalling the last time I'd run into Amanda and her bunch. I knew they'd never bite me. I started walking toward the zombies.

  "What are you doing?" Sybil cried, her tiny voice fearful.

  "I'm going to Taft's office."

  "But... what about them?"

  "They won't bother us," I replied. My lips were tight. Sybil grabbed my shoulder and tried to pull me back. "Stop it!" I called, pushing her hand away. Realizing what I'd done, I turned to her, my voice softening. "Sybil, we may not have much time."

  "But..." She pointed. Amanda was closing in on us. "What's she doing here, anyway?" she said in astonishment.

  "Who cares?"

  Amanda and the Zombiettes were now just twenty feet away.

  "They're going to bite you," Sybil said,

  Amanda's eyes were dead black stones fixed on me. The Zombiettes moaned as their lips parted, revealing teeth dripping saliva.

  It's true, I thought. They do want to bite me

  All of a sudden, the pieces fell into place. Amanda's presence made perfect sense. Of course they want to bite me now. They see themselves in me. I had become as repulsive as they had been when they were alive. I was now the kind of girl I had promised myself I would never be. Like them, I had become a monster. The thought of it made me sick to my stomach.

  I knew what I had to do. I stepped forward.

  "They're going to bite you," Sybil repeated, fear coloring her words.

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  "I guess they are." Hungry eyes zeroed in on me as the Zombiettes closed. "Let them," I said.

  Isn't this what I'd been
wanting all semester? Amanda's bite would welcome me at long last into the sorority of popular girls forever. I'd roam the halls with Amanda and her girl ghouls--an it-girl for all eternity. I deserved no better. I'd shunned my best friend, betrayed Baron and Milton--the three people who had been trying to make things right.

  I took another step forward. "Get out of here, Sybil."

  "Margot, don't, I'm almost a zombie anyway. Save yourself," Sybil called, dramatically flinging herself at Amanda and the Zombiettes.

  "Get out of the way, Syb. I wont them to bite me." I jumped in front of her.

  "What good would that do?" she said, her voice cracking.

  "I deserve it. Now, run!"

  "No, I deserve it. I should never have been jealous of you and Dirk." Sybil grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

  I couldn't let the zombies bite my best friend. I had to do the right thing for once in my life. I shoved her out of the way, and she went spilling to the floor.

  I faced Amanda. "Come on," I said. "Do it."

  I thought about how life would be as a zombie, not caring about what I wore, or how fat I was, or what others thought of me. Not wondering if I should eat that extra snickerdoodle, or if a boy was ever going to ask me on a date. I knew I'd be giving up my individuality. But hadn't I given it up already by trying to be so much like Amanda?

  "Wait a minute," Sybil said, getting up. "Margot, the girl in front of you is not a zombie."

  "Grrrowl," Amanda snarled.

  "Good. Great. Then you won't mind if she bites me."

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  "Zombies don't change their clothes." Sybil's accusing eyes moved to Amanda. "All semester long Amanda's been wearing a yellow sundress. Every single day the same yellow sundress. Tonight she's wearing a ball gown."

  Sybil was right. I hadn't seen Amanda in the dress before.

  "So?" I said dismissively. "Somebody changed her clothes. Maybe Mrs. Mars did it."