by Nisa Ryan
I grew up on stories of monsters, both good and bad, and propaganda these days had done an okay job at making monsters less scary. But some humans would always distrust them, especially the undead variety. Places like the Undead Academies were trying their best to let humans see monsters in a better light. It was part of an ongoing study to detect monsters before their transition so that accidents like Casey’s didn’t happen and so that children didn’t disappear while playing in the woods. But then there was the occasional random change, like me, that they couldn’t explain.
The Principle smiled gently as she paced around the chair, “You’re dismissed, but next time Mr. Sanchez wants to take you off to hang out around the town...I hear the copse of trees just past the fountain are rather lovely and within school boundaries,” she said with the barest hint of a smirk.
I nodded, slid off the chair, and tried not to bolt across the office and out the door. When the heavy wood slammed shut behind me the other students were already preparing for their dinners, and free time before lights out was called after sunrise.
The biggest adjustment was getting used to the reversed schedule, while our human families were waking up and getting breakfast, we were eating dinner and getting ready to settle down for bed. Some of us would be up longer than others, and that was okay so long as we kept to quiet activities like reading, but sometimes we could watch movies with the volume down.
Probably one of the few things I’d already found was great about this school was that, other than the occasional adult monster looking out for us, we were pretty left to take care of ourselves. Mealtimes were served in masse via the kitchen staff, but we were allowed to snack and had a special cabinet that was stored with light but healthy snacks, and there was a fridge stocked with water bottles, blood, and soda. But the soda, unlike the water, was regulated. Only one soda per student per day was the rule. More than that, and you’d be in PE for an extra hour to burn off all the sugar. But I didn’t usually eat much; I found I didn’t crave snacks and food like I used to. A month ago, this would have been amazing, all the junk-food I could eat, but really, I just wanted a good chunk of brain.
Scientists had found a while back that zombies couldn’t live on anything but human brains, something about needing the synapses to maintain a facsimile of humanity. Zombie’s that lived on the brains of animals slowly become more like our close cousins the ghouls. Only unlike ghouls’ zombies were more capable of breaking into the homes of sleeping humans. Because of this, these same scientists tried to develop cloning technology of brains so that there would be a steady supply, but, for whatever reason, these just didn’t cut it. It left zombies hungrier than ever, so it was speculated that the experiences of being alive were what made the brains viable and tasty.
Because of this, a donor program was set up. Humans could donate their brains to the Zombie rehabilitation program in exchange for funds for their surviving families. It worked out amazingly well. As far as I could tell, the academies maintain a steady supply of fresh, or mostly fresh, brains from all across the country.
At first, I was grossed out about the idea that I’d be eating brains for the rest of my life but the chef here does a pretty good job of making various delicacies that look much tastier than just a brain on a plate would be or, you know, a brain straight out of a skull.
With an exhausted sigh, I paced down the walkway from the Principles office and towards the stairs that would take me down to the common areas.
The top floor was reserved for conducting classes while the downstairs held the cafeteria, library, and the lounge where we all just basically sat around between classes. Each of the dorm wings had their lounge as well that we were restricted to during lights out in daylight hours. Mainly to keep the boys and girls away from each other, as if rules like that ever stopped a bunch of teens thirsty for love.
I was making my way down the stairs when Zane passed by and gave me a small wave. Narrowing my eyes, I glared at him and watched as he shriveled beneath my gaze. I can’t believe he ditched me out there! I turned my head away and ignored him, looking back just as he entered Ms. Walker’s office. I didn’t want to see him staked, not that I believed she’d do that, but I hoped she gave him a good long lecture.
I didn’t know what happened to students that kept breaking the rules, but I didn’t want to find out either. His words kept rolling around in my head. He said Ms. Walker and the Professor were tampering with our food.
My stomach grumbled; I was hungry again. Of course. The small snack I’d been given in Ms. Walker’s office was hardly enough.
Rolling my eyes, I made my way to the cafeteria, which was really just a large dining room. With so many students here, the meal times were broken into three groups of roughly thirty students each, so it wasn’t so crowded and nowhere near as noisy as it would be otherwise. It was late enough in the day that only a few stragglers were left to pick at their food. Unluckily for me, one of those stragglers was Alicia and her two lackeys, Taylor and Gemma.
Alicia was a hag. Literally she was a hag, albeit a beautiful one. Her long silky black hair was streaked with silver, and it seemed to flow around her body in perfect waves that hung down to her ankles, or at least it would if she had ankles. Instead of legs and feet, the hag sisters, as we called them, hovered around like any other ghost on clouds of fog. Alicia’s skin was pearly white with eyes that glowed purple. Her lips were tinged with lavender, and I couldn’t tell if she was wearing lipstick or if it was her natural or rather unnatural, hue. As I walked by, she snickered,
“You aren’t the first one he’s tricked,” she said casually, spinning in her seat to smile at me, fog drifted up around her in a whirl as she did so. Alicia’s teeth were sharp and pointed, and they looked more like a shark than a ghost to me. Her attitude did nothing for all the other sharks in the sea.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, squaring my shoulders as I continued past her. Her fellow hag, Taylor, piped up, “Zane picks up all the new girls. You know, he once asked me to go past the fence, but I said no. Guess I’ve just got more brains,” she giggled and looked like a near-exact replica of Alicia except were Alicia was purple, Taylor was green.
I shook my head and tried to ignore them, but just the mention of brains made my mouth water, and I swore drool was making its way down my chin. I slid the back of a hand over my chin for just in case.
Gemma stifled her laughter beneath hands, clasped tightly over her mouth. Out of the three of them, she was the quietest and, therefore, the least annoying. Her blue locks floated around her shoulders in choppy waves, like a storm passing over the ocean, and when I met her icy eyes her lips curled up in the barest hint of a smile. She didn’t seem like she was all that bad, more that she stuck around with Alicia and Taylor because they were the only other hags here.
Much like myself, they were probably all a little lonely, but Alicia was too busy acting like a stuck-up snob to realize it, or she did and was trying to cover it up.
I turned on my heel, “You know, with an attitude like that, I’m not surprised you came back as a hag,” I said, stressing the last word, and walked away, ignoring the feeling of Alicia’s eyes on my back. My gut twinges as I stepped into the kitchen, the smell of steamed brains led me straight to the nearest counter where one of the chefs smiled at me and nodded. He didn’t say anything; he couldn’t; apparently, his tongue had been cut out decades ago to keep him from spilling some nasty secrets after he was resurrected. Despite that, he always had a huge smile on his face, and his eyes were kind. With a flourish, he presented my meal to me. I gave him my thanks, loaded up on a glass of fresh blood, and carried my tray back into the cafeteria.
Sitting down, I dug into my food. The taste was amazing, and I couldn’t believe how tender it was. I remembered Casey’s as being tough and chewy but somehow still delicious, but the chef had a way of making things seem almost normal, which I was sure most everyone here appreciated.
I had just st
arted to sip at my blood when my roommate, Marybeth, paused at my side, “Hey there? Is this seat taken?” she asked in a voice that was way too loud. I glanced up at her; she was stunning. Like, in a way that made you stop and stare with hair that was fire-red and pale porcelain skin. Marybeth was a Salamander, a type of witch that specialized in fire magic. Many people thought of salamanders in regards to alchemical fire for brewing potions, but really, it was the surname of a family of witches well known among the dead, undead, and monster communities.
Settling down across from me, Marybeth started talking. She talked about the weather, about the girls in our class, about how the hag sisters were all burrowing holes in the back of my head with their eyes. I assumed she hadn’t heard what happened between Zane and me yet otherwise that’s what she’d really be talking about. I wasn’t listening; of course, instead I was busy daydreaming about Zane. Maybe I’d treated him too harshly. I wouldn’t hurt to just talk to him, right? He said he’d get into serious trouble if he was caught.
“Hey, anybody alive in there?” Marybeth broke into my thoughts, waving a hand in front of my face and snapping me out of my daydream. The witch smiled as she pushed a napkin in my direction. I took it, feeling embarrassed. I must have had some brain goo on my chin, or I was drooling again. That was starting to happen more often.
I began to dab my face with it when I realized something was written there. The ink had soaked through both sides of the tissue. Marybeth grinned at me, her eyes flashing as brightly as her hair.
“Oh,” I said, lamely staring at the phone number printed neatly on the square. I had no idea how to respond. I’d never been flirted with by a girl before. I mean, she was cute don’t get me wrong, but I’d never found myself attracted to another lady before. And I didn’t expect it from Marybeth, and she was in a league of her own.
I pressed my lips into a thin line and cocked my head to one side before folding the paper and putting it in my pocket as she watched me from the corners of her eyes, she looked confused.
We sat in silence for a few awkward minutes, just enjoying our meals and listening to the hag sisters snickering somewhere behind me. I heard more than a few nasty words thrown about that made my skin itch. Marybeth waggled her eyebrows at me, “Aren’t you going to look at that number?” she finally asked. I wriggled in my seat before standing with my tray. I hadn’t eaten nearly as much as I should have, and I knew I’d be hungry again later, but my appetite had sunk. I had no idea what to say to Marybeth.
Marybeth looked at me again, her face scrunching in confusion before smoothing it out and bursting in laughter, “Oh my goddess... did you think... really?” She looked at me with her brilliant eyes flashing before picking up her tray and jerking her chin towards the door,
“The number is from that guy,” she said and pointed at Zane. He was leaning against the cafeteria door, waiting for us to exit with a sheepish grin on his face.
My shoulders sunk. Of course. How stupid of me, I should have known. I rolled my eyes and turned away as Marybeth continued to chuckle to herself. Dumping my tray, I walked straight past Zane and ignored him as he called my name.
“Britta, come on. I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to ditch you like that, but I couldn’t let them catch me out there,” Zane pleaded as he trailed me through the hallway and towards my next class. I stopped, turned on my heel, and glowered at him.
“You left me out there, Zane! I don’t care how much trouble you would have gotten into; you could have... ugh, I don’t know,” I shook my head sadly. Zane smiled at me. It was that disarming, heartwarming smile I loved. My stomach growled. But I stood my ground, “Zane, no. After you left me out there to face Ms. Walker alone? No, I’m sorry.” I said, turning away from him I felt tears trying to force their way out of my dry sockets. Or maybe it was pus; I could never be too sure.
Chapter 3
As I walked back towards the girls’ dormitory, I was just checking my phone for how many likes I’d received on my last post when I ran right into the Professor. I was so glued to my screen that I hadn’t even noticed him standing there.
The Professor was a strange man. He wasn’t ugly or anything like that; he was just weird. Actually, he was pretty good looking with choppy blonde hair, green eyes, and a great smile. He was always smiling, and it made every girl swoon the moment he entered a room. Well, almost every girl. Some of us just thought was a little too out there. When he wasn’t working in his lab beneath the school, he was teaching chemistry and herbalism. Sometimes he’d randomly twitch a little and static would make his hair stand on end before he’d smooth it back and adjust his lab coat, he always wore one, always, and then carry on with the lesson like nothing had happened. And sometimes, at night, you could hear his cackling echo up the stairwells while a green light pulsed between, he loose boards. We were told it was nothing, just the power-generator fluctuating
“Ah, Ms. Peters, I was just looking for you. I just wanted to check in with our newest zombie,” he said with a stomach-churning grin. I looked up at him, he was tall but a bit on the scrawny side, “May I?” he asked, reaching out a hand towards one of my wrists. I nodded.
I didn’t think he was human, but he didn’t come off as a monster either. I wasn’t sure what he was, honestly. It was like that here though, sometimes you could tell, and sometimes they looked just like regular kids, but usually, if you knew what signs to look for, you’d catch a little detail that gave away what they were. I tried to remember if any of the kids in my old school had those little signs revealing they were secretly monsters who’d managed not to cause a total freak out and could live relatively normal lives. Not all of us went to academies like this one, just the ones that were dangerous to humans. Ones that couldn’t be trusted alone with a normal kid. Monsters like myself. I quickly learned that if you attended an academy, it was because you’d done messed up. Bad.
The Professor tapped my wrists, looking for a pulse and feeling none he smiled and nodded, “So, Ms. Peters, walk with me,” the Professor said, resting a hand on my shoulder as we paced down the dormitory hall and into the common lounge, it wasn’t time for lights out just yet so the boys were allowed to hang out with the girls but once the bell rang everyone had to return to their respective dorms based on whatever gender they identified as.
I waved at a few kids I knew as the Professor, and I walked. None of us knew his name; he was just the Professor.
“Ms. Peters, Britta, if that’s alright?” I nodded, of course, you could call me Britta, his slight English accent made it sound not so lame.
The Professor continued, “How are you adjusting to Undead Academy? You’ve settled into your room? Classes? Any issues I should know about?” he asked, “Is Ms. Salamander treating you well? Her last roommate demanded a transfer after only one week,” he grinned, knowingly.
“I’m doing great, actually. I think we could be friends,” I said enthusiastically, “And the classes are... well, they’re classes,” I pouted. No matter how interesting the classes sounded, they were still mostly a bunch of studying and test after a boring test. Even the ones that should be cool, like my class in the history of black magic, were lame.
With a smile, the Professor nodded, adjusted his glasses, which made him look extra cute and sciency, and said, “That’s good. But what about how you feel. Are the hunger pangs starting to go away? Anything unusual?”
I pouted and shook my head, reaching up to twist a loose lock of hair behind an ear, “Not really. But I feel even more hungry than normal,” I confessed.
The professor placed a hand on his chin and tapped his forefinger against his lips, “Huh. I’ll ask the chef to double your brain rations for the rest of the week. Maybe your body is just taking a little longer to adapt. It happens sometimes. No worries,” he paused and then narrowed his eyes, looking at me from down his nose. “Is that why you snuck out with Mr. Sanchez? Where you hungry?”
I winced, dammit, I knew he’d bring that up. I shook my head slowly,
twisting my hands together nervously. I shook my head slowly, looking down at my feet and wriggling my toes in my shoes nervously. The school uniforms were the typical kind you’d see on any British or Japanese school kid. Boys wore slacks with button-ups and cardigans while girls wore the same style but with skirts instead. The shoes were a cute oxford style. I liked it.
“I wasn’t hungry, Professor,” I lied. I mean, I was hungry, but that’s not what I followed Zane out there. Or was it? Pursing my lips, I looked around the room and tried not to meet his eyes; I didn’t want the Professor to see my doubts.
Adjusting his glasses, the Professor broke into a smile, “Relax kid. I wasn’t always a stodgy nerd. I know why kids sneak out,” he said quietly and tapped his forehead, “And I’m sure Ms. Walker gave you an earful enough, but I do want to stress how dangerous it is to leave the school grounds until you’ve passed your control testing,” he said.
The control tests were just that, tests on whether you could control yourself around normal humans. It was different based on what kind of undead or monster you were. For zombies, it was easy; they would place you in a room full of human volunteers and watch how you reacted, looking for signs that you were about to lose control and start crushing skulls. If that happened the Professor would be right there with a tranquilizer and drag you out to safety. There were three levels to the test, and each was made to be more tempting than the previous. I hadn’t taken any of the control tests; even I knew I was nowhere near ready.