Never Slow Dance with a Zombie

by E. Van Lowe

  "No." Sybil snatched up the Thermos of tea and again jumped in front of me. "Amanda Culpepper, if you don't stop this charade I'm going to throw this Red Zinger and ruin your new dress."

  "Grwl." Amanda continued toward us, but her growl had lost some of its sting.

  Sybil unscrewed the cap and spilled a little of the red liquid out onto the floor for all to see. 'That's silk," she called, brandishing the Thermos. "You'll never get the stain out."

  "Grr," Amanda growled weakly.

  Sybil hauled back, ready to throw That was when, for the first time in seven weeks, Amanda Culpepper spoke:

  "Don't... you ... dare!"

  Just then, all the lights in the building came on.

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  Chapter Thirty - one

  "You're ... not a zombie!" I stammered in disbelief. "Wow. And it only took you seven weeks to figure it out. I can see who got the genius genes in your family."

  Amanda stood before us in a cream-colored Chanel ball gown, a self-righteous smirk playing on her lips. From up close it was obvious that her deep green pallor had been achieved with Halloween makeup, and her eyes were made dark by contact lenses. Amanda Culpepper was not a zombie. She was very much alive.

  "Why?" Sybil asked, "Why would you pretend to be a zombie?"

  "Why not?" Amanda replied matter-of-factly. "I mean, look at them." She gestured over her shoulder at the three undead heads behind her. "The poor things need direction. And I'm the only one who can give it to them."

  I looked at the three zombies standing behind Amanda. They growled and snarled at us, but did not advance. "Why don't they attack? It's obvious we're human."

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  Amanda leaned in and whispered, "Those three would do anything to be members of the in-crowd. And without me there is no in-crowd, is there? So, they do what I say, even as zombies."

  The PA system crackled to life. "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me," by Culture Club, began to play, I recognized it as one of the eighties tunes I'd programmed into Taft's computer for the dance.

  "Well, I guess we should be getting to the dance," Amanda suddenly said. "I'm looking forward to being crowned winter queen."

  Astonishment flashed across my face.

  "Don't look at me like that." Laughter danced in her eyes. "That honor goes to the most popular girl at school. And let's face it... that's me."

  "The Winter Dance is on Friday," I said, still trying to make sense of what was happening.

  "Didn't you get the text? Oh, of course you didn't. The dance was moved to tonight. I guess that information was on a need-to-know basis, and you didn't need to know." Amanda was no less smug and self-righteous than she had been seven weeks ago.

  A chill prickled along my spine. "Who sent the text?"

  "I guess someone with some real authority around here. Dun!"

  She turned and walked away. The Zombiettes shuffled after her.

  I turned to Sybil. She was no longer standing. She was now lying on the floor, curled up into a fetal ball. I moved to her, stooping by her side.

  "Amanda Culpepper's not a zombie. Wow," she rasped, looking up at me. The eyes no longer belonged to Sybil. They

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  were monstrous pits that I didn't recognize. Her breath was coming short and quick, as if she were having an asthma attack.

  "Whoever sent that text to Amanda is the zombie master. It seems the answer to all our questions is in the gym," I said.

  "I know. Go, " she said. I'll be okay." I wasn't so sure about that.

  "Drink some tea." I held the Thermos to her lips, and she drank.

  "This is embarrassing," she said, drawing back and forcing a smile. She gripped the Thermos and gently pulled it from my hand. "I got this," she called. "Just go. Get to the gym, and find the antidote."

  I didn't want to leave her, not like this But I had to. I

  gazed down the hall toward the gym. "I'll be back," I whispered.

  "That's Baron's line." She was trying hard to get me to smile. I did.

  I left Sybil sipping the tea and headed for the gym. I had the sickly feeling the next time I saw my friend she would be among the living dead. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for the things I'd said and done, not just over the past seven weeks, but over the years. We always take the ones we love for granted, never taking the time to tell them how much we appreciate them--until it's too late-- Or maybe that's just me. I told myself the best way to show Sybil how much I cared was to bring back the antidote.

  With Boy George's voice piping through the PA system, I headed for the gym. Blue and white streamers hung from the ceiling. Signs proclaimed: vote for margot jean johnson for

  WINTER QUEEN. YOU'LL GO FAR-GO WITH MARGOT.

  I recalled the excitement of the previous year, when students

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  huddled around the bulletin boards debating the prom queen candidates. I remember secretly wishing my name was among them.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  I walked into the gym. Dancing light bouncing off the foil snowflakes and musical notes hanging from the ceiling gave the room a sense of foreboding charm. Cocktail tables and chairs were set up all around, as if someone was expecting a crowd. The tables encircled a dance floor in the center of the gym. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble. But who?

  Amanda and her crew were over by the punch bowls. Two of the Zombiettes had changed into matching purple ball gowns, obviously chosen to highlight Amanda's cream-colored gown. The third girl was still wearing the same grungy outfit she'd worn since the night of the carnival.

  As I moved across the floor, "Everybody Wants to Rule the World," by Tears for Fears, started to play. As the guitars kicked, the lyrics ominously welcomed us to our lives, and warned there was no turning back.

  How fitting.

  I picked up a program from a side table and approached Amanda. She was gawking into her compact, applying red lip gloss that seemed just the right shade for her ghastly green complexion.

  "Amanda, who's behind all this?"

  "What difference does it make, urn, what's your name again?" she said without looking up.

  "You know my name."

  "Dodgeball girl?"

  "Ha-ha."

  "Oh. Right. Margot."

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  "Amanda, I believe something bad is about to happen here."

  "Relax, will you? There's nothing you can do about it now. It's over. You lost."

  My breath caught in my throat as it suddenly dawned on me that Amanda was involved in the conspiracy.

  She eyed me with mild interest. "I like the way you've been handling yourself these past weeks. You've got spunk. I could see us teaming up next semester." She went back to looking in the tiny mirror. "We might be in a new school next semester. I can see us now, walking in together on the first day, dressed in killer outfits. Even the teachers will be jealous."

  "I need the antidote, Amanda, and I need it now." My voice was low, yet filled with rage.

  She looked at me as if she had no idea what I was talking about. "Sometimes, Margot, you sound like you come from another planet."

  Okay... maybe I was wrong about Amanda. She was too stupid and self-centered to be a part of the conspiracy. I changed the subject. "How come that one's not in a formal?" I pointed at the zombie girl still wearing her grungy clothes.

  "Oh, Heather? It's sad really." She snapped shut the compact and walked me out of earshot. "I gave her that hideous top for her birthday last year. It was a cheap rag I got off a sale rack at some discount house." She infused the word discount with distaste. "And because I gave it to her, it held special meaning." She glanced over at Heather to make sure she hadn't moved. She hadn't. Heather and the others stood where she'd left them, awaiting her next command. Amanda continued.

  "If she only knew how many laughs we got from her wearing that ugly thing, she'd throw it right in the trash. Anyway, something in her bones is telling her the top is special--it's not."

  '1 though
t you guys were friends."

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  She shot me an incredulous look. "We are. Best friends. But she has eyes; she can see. She's wearing that monstrosity because she wants to. That's what's so funny about it." She laughed out loud.

  I looked back over at Heather and the others. They were still waiting for Amanda to show them some attention.

  Suddenly the music stopped, and Principal Taft entered. He was wearing a tuxedo with the bow tie hanging open around his neck. Quite dapper.

  "Oh, wow. Principal Taft is the zombie master."

  "Shh... Quiet. This is where I get my crown."

  Principal Taft was holding a mic in his hand. He moved to the center of the room.

  "Ladies and uhh... ladies. Welcome to Salesian High School's Winter Dance. This auspicious event was the brain-child of one of Salesian's finest students, Junior Margot Jean Johnson." He clapped. No one joined him. There were only two of us available to clap. I didn't clap for myself, and Amanda stood there looking bored.

  "Get to the good part," she called.

  "Oh, yes. And now the moment I've been waiting for for quite some time." He looked at us. "Margot, Amanda, before I announce the crowning of the winter queen, your fellow classmates have prepared a special honor for the both of you."

  At that precise moment, all the gymnasium doors flew open. Standing in the doorways for as far as the eye could see were our zombie classmates, all in prom attire.

  "We/come to the zombie dance!" Taft bellowed. Zombies began filing in, hundreds of them, filling up the gym, heading in our direction.

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  Chapter Thirty - two

  "What about my tiara?" Amanda called to a fleeing Taft.

  Taft ran across the gym and let himself out through a side door. Of course, that option was no longer available to us. Our only escape route was through the sea of zombies.

  "This sucks!" Amanda groused after he was gone.

  "Yeah," I agreed. "Big-time."

  Zombies continued filing in.

  The music started up again: "She Blinded Me with Science," by Thomas Dolby.

  Amanda rushed over to join Heather and the other girl ghouls. She started barking out orders. But the Zombiettes weren't paying her any attention. Heather bared her teeth and grabbed Amanda by the arm.

  "Stop it!" Amanda shrieked. She tried to pull away, but Heather's grip was too strong.

  "Hhhhhhh." Heather's lips parted.

  Without thinking, I raced across the room and rapped her sharply on the nose with my rolled-up program.

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  "Yeeee!" She released Amanda, letting out a high-pitched whine.

  "Sorry about that By the way, cute top," I called as I

  pulled Amanda away.

  "Where are we going?" she squawked.

  "I don't know."

  The gym was quickly filling up with angry zombies. We had three, four minutes tops before we'd be attacked. I began looking around for another escape route, or a weapon, anything that could prolong our ordeal.

  That's when I noticed the ropes.

  I yanked Amanda over to the wall and pulled on the cord releasing the ropes from the ceiling. Four thick, braided ropes dropped down.

  Amanda eyed the ropes, her nose in the air. "What?"

  "It's our only way out, Amanda. We'll climb them, and stay up until Sybil can rescue us."

  "Sybil isn't going to rescue us."

  She was probably right about that.

  "She might. We have to try."

  "This is a thousand-dollar Chanel ball gown!" Amanda whined. "It has no business on the ropes."

  Somehow, I had to get Amanda to climb the rope. "Look," I said, pointing at the swarm of zombies nearing us. "Goths. You're about to become a Goth for all eternity."

  She eyed the Goths with disdain. "Ugh! That monochromatic color scheme. How boring."

  "I know."

  "And I believe they apply their makeup with a trowel."

  "I know."

  "And talk about bad hair days. I've never seen one with a good hair day."

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  "1 know!" I exclaimed as the Goths got closer. "And you'll have to listen to Goth pop ... Evanescence."

  She brightened a bit. "I could handle Evanescence. That Amy Lee's got--"

  "Okay, forget about the Goth pop. Just keep thinking black. Nothing but black. Everyday black. All black, all the time ... Black."

  "Oh, my goodness!" Amanda shrieked, shooting the nearing Goths one last withering glance.

  She began to climb.

  I scrambled up the adjacent rope as the zombies closed in. The thick hemp ripped into my hands and knees. My palms burned with the pain of a thousand paper cuts, yet this time I continued upward.

  Just then the song changed. "You Keep Me Hangin' On" filled the air.

  Amanda struggled up the rope in the voluminous ball gown. The zombies below swatted at her heels. One snatched at her shoe, and she kicked it off as she shimmied up and out of reach. "My arms are killing me!" she called.

  My arms hurt as well. I was grateful for the little practice Mrs. Mars had insisted I get in gym class. But I still wasn't in any kind of shape, and my feeble muscles screamed in protest.

  "Hang in there," I called back. I looked down at the horde of zombies gathering below and was surprised to see they were no longer divided into cliques. Prep zombies stood shoulder-to-shoulder with nerds, stoner nerds with emos--all working together to get at us.

  At that moment thoughts of Sybil flared through my mind. She'd called her desire to change the school's social structure a silly idea. But it wasn't. She had actually gotten various groups to roam with one another. It's not like they were hanging out

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  or anything--they were zombies. But she got them to coexist peacefully, not snarking at one another, or gossiping behind one another's backs, or getting jealous when one of their friends liked a cute boy. The zombies had just one thing in common-- they were zombies. But we kids have a whole lot in common. Shouldn't it be easier for us to hang together?

  A wave of shame flooded through me. While I had been busy living out the lie of being the most popular girl at school, Sybil had realized that being popular wasn't the be-all and end-all of high school existence. To her, we were all the same.

  Some of the zombies started jumping to get at us. They pushed and shoved one another to be first in line to dig their teeth into us. This sent the ropes swinging back and forth. The swinging motion made it harder to hang on. They were inadvertently shaking the ropes the way one might shake a tree to make an apple fall.

  "Stop that!" Amanda yelled down at the zombies. She looked at me. "I can't hold on much longer." She looked down again. "Look, there's Kim Travers. She's a mathlete. Maybe she'll bite me. I've always wanted to be good at math." I could tell from the look on her face she was giving in to the idea of becoming a zombie. Her grip loosened.

  "I don't think it works like that, Amanda," I said quickly. "All you'll be is a math geek zombie."

  "Oh?" she said as she considered this. Her grip on the rope tightened.

  The gym had fifteen-foot windows that looked out onto the campus. Through them I could see the walkways that wound through campus, lined with light posts that gave off soft yellow light. The world outside was quiet, green, safe. It seemed warm and inviting.

  Since middle school I'd been an outsider wanting in. Now,

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  as I hung high above the gym floor teeming with zombies, I wanted out.

  "Hey, Amanda, remember Baron Chomsky and Milton Sharp?"

  "Who?"

  "Two geek boys, one imitates James Bond all the time and the other wears T-shirts with goofy cartoon characters on them."

  "Hello? I have other things on my mind right now." She gestured toward the moaning horde below.

  "I know, but it looks like we're going to be up here for a while. Do you know who I'm talking about?"

  She thought about it for like a nanosecond. "Yes, I know who
you mean." She was clearly annoyed with the conversation.

  "I was just wondering if you'd seen them around?"

  "I can't remember. I don't keep tabs on geeks."

  "Of course you don't. But I mean, since everyone else is a zombie, they would have been easy to spot."

  The floor below had become a virtual sea of zombies, all aching to get at us.

  She sighed. "If you must know, I've seen them quite a bit. They were always giving the jock zombies wedgies, or hanging kick me signs on their backs, or placing morsels of food on their heads. So childish."

  "Yeah," I said, smiling as I pictured Baron toying with the zombies. I recalled the look of pride on his face the day he'd shown me and Sybil the wedgie he'd given the jock zombie. "Did you know they disappeared a few days ago?"

  "I couldn't care less. I'm going to disappear in a few minutes if you don't figure out a way to get us out of here."

  I ignored her snarky tone. "Did you know they invented an antidote that could change everyone back?"

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  Her eyes widened, and I could tell she was hearing this for the first time. "What? And they didn't use it? Idiots! I guess they thought they'd be better off keeping everything as it is so they could be big shots."

  No, that was me.

  'If I'd had a cure, I would have changed things back a long time ago. You have no idea how hard it is being popular when there's no one to flaunt it in front of."

  Actually, I did know.

  'That's probably why Principal Tart locked them in the boiler room."

  My body stiffened as my eyes widened.

  "At the time I thought it was some kind of detention for teasing the zombies. But he probably wanted them and their antidote out of the way."

  It was good knowing what had happened to my friends. I wondered if they were still among the living. Before I could deal with that, however, there was something I needed to get off my chest.