Diary of a Gay Teenage Zombie

by Justin MacCormack

  27 March 2014

  I met Archer at the park at seven tonight. There was a rather anaemic queue that wove its way around the outside of the fence towards a set of metal gates. It's the fair's first night, and only about two hundred or so people had bothered to turn up because the circus doesn't open until tomorrow night. I had saved enough to pay for my own ticket, but Archer insisted that he pay for the two of us instead. As we walked through the stalls, I noticed that most of the games cost extra to play anyway. Music blared through hidden speakers, each note slightly discordant and twisted. Near the entrance, a stall sold some half-melted ice cream and plastic beakers of watery beer. We walked past a ring-toss stall which boasted large teddy bears stuffed with leaking packing foam for prizes. Most of the young children looked around with very unimpressed looks on their faces.

  We both progressed through the stalls, each of which were manned by older teenagers who looked either entirely bored or were playing on their mobile phones. We looked at the big wheel, looked at the sullen man who was managing it between swigs from a conspicuous hip flask, and decided to try the ghost train instead.

  I slipped into the ghost train carriage with Archer. The outside of the ride boasted some lovely and disturbingly gruesome artwork, showing a variety of movie monsters. The carriage shuddered to life and grinded into the ride, which boasted almost no artwork. It did, however, boast a few plastic skeletons, some string spider webs, and a single flickering strobe light. The carriage's track rose a few feet higher, and started to speed up, before tumbling sharply down an incline with so little smoothness that I was certain that the carriage was about to break loose from the track and crash into the hot dog vendor. My leg slammed into the front of the carriage as it hammered to a stop.

  We both limped from the ride and, to help get the blood flowing back to my bruised leg, we began to walk through the stalls once again. I offered to buy Archer some dinner from one of the dodgy burger vans, but the cheapest one had a very creepy looking clown hanging around near it. Instead, we went to the hot dog stall near the ghost train. I paid for the hot dogs, which were £4.50 apiece. When I bit into it, it made a soft popping sound as the air inside it escaped. Archer decided to try to win a prize for me at one of the stalls, so he set out to find a game that wasn't entirely crooked. I suggested he try the archery one, because surely he had to have some kind of skill in that. He took a look at the bow and told me that it had no sights and that the place you set your arrow was tilted to one side. We tried two other games. A ring-toss game using rings that were too small to fit over the pole that we had to throw them at, and a game in which we tried to knock over a pyramid of cups that had been glued in place. Eventually, we gave up and paid £2 to play the 'catch a rubber duck with a fishing rod' game, and we won a plastic bracelet that I'd seen in the corner shop for 40p last month.

  We were about to hop onto the waltzers, when we were told by the chap who was running them that they had been shut for repairs after a child had vomited into their gears. With little else to do, we wandered around the area until the last of the sunlight had gone and we found ourselves by the back fence. We slipped between a small space between the fence and the bumper cars and spent about fifteen minutes kissing, until the place got too crowded and we moved on.

  As we left, Archer turned to me and said "Well, this fair was a bit of a wreck. I'm sorry."

  I shook my head and said "Are you kidding? I had an awesome time." I wasn't joking, either. I genuinely thought I was going to die on that ghost train. How many times in your life can someone honestly say that?

  28 March 2014

  This evening, mom walked over to me and gave me a huge hug. She said "Jay, you really are a star. That was one of the most thoughtful and kind-hearted birthday presents a mother could possibly receive!"

  I blinked and hugged her back. Over her shoulder, dad gave me a reassuring wink. I think I might have forgotten my mother's birthday. I've no idea what dad got her for me, but still, good catch, dad.

  29 March 2014

  It happened today. I knew that it was bound to happen eventually, and I'd hoped that it wouldn't happen so soon, but it did. And now that it's happened, there's nothing I can do to change it.

  I was on my way home when I caught sight of the cat. It was old, and limping. It looked rough and tattered, which lead me to think that perhaps it had been in a fight, or had been hit by a car. It was limping very badly. I think that's how I knew that it couldn't get away. That's why I was able to catch it without any difficulty. I carried it into a small alleyway between two of the houses. And I ate.

  Feeling the meat so hot between my teeth, it seemed as if the world felt clear. As if everything was sharp, fine, flawless. For just a moment, I forgot about everything else. My body didn't feel cold, in fact I could almost describe it was a feeling of warmth that seemed to start in my chest and swell outwards. My head and all my senses were buzzing, eager, ready.

  And no sooner had it come, it was gone. The warmth faded and cooled, the world hazed and became blunt. And I was laying there in an alleyway, with the cat's blood on my lips, wondering just what kind of addict I had become.

  30 March 2014

  I had a nightmare last night. A genuinely uncomfortable one. I was hiding in the backstage area of school. I had crawled under a pile of old sets and props, on my hands and knees, and I had been begging and praying that nobody would find me. It had been because I'd killed someone. Another kid at school. So people were looking for me, because they knew that I had done it, and I was trying to hide. People were searching for me, but Archer wasn't among them. Neither was CC, or even that jerk Scott. They weren't part of the group, because I had already murdered them. And eaten them.

  I really hope it's true what they say about dreams not being prophetic.

  31 March 2014

  Archer spoke to me at lunchtime today. He told me that he had noticed that I had seemed a bit distant and stand-offish for the last few days, and asked me what was wrong. I muttered something about just not feeling too good. He smiled and said "It's okay to be scared. Things are getting more serious between us, aren't they?"

  I nodded, and he hugged me. I think that, with luck, things will be just fine.

  I hope.

  April

  1 April 2014

  My mother shared a Britain First picture on her Facebook today. At first I thought it was an April Fool’s Day joke, but when I spoke to her, it turned out that she was serious!

  The particular image in question was of an RAF officer's funeral, and was one of their 'support our troops' run. I told my mom that the group Britain First don't actually care about their troops, they are just using the pictures to get people to like and share them so that the group can get bigger and make more money by selling knock-off poppies. She said that she didn't care, that she liked the picture because it was a good picture.

  I tried reminding her that the picture was just a honey-pot and that the group were a right-wing extremist group who beat up black people and Muslims, that Uncle Frank is a member and attends their rallies, and that their chairman has been previously convicted for hate crimes. Mom simply pursed her lips and said that I was just being disrespectful to the armed forces. Personally, I think that using photos of a soldier's funeral as a means to help spread word for a far-right extremist group is more disrespectful, but what do I know?

  2 April 2014

  Mom took down the offending image from her Facebook page. But has not, to date, admitted that she was incorrect. I don't expect her to. She's so proud that, if she had to admit to being wrong, I'm sure that she would swell up and explode with indignity faster than an astronaut in outer space.

  3 April 2014

  The school play is tomorrow. Archer suggested that he drop over to mine after classes to go over the work one last time. Given that my usual Tuesday evenings consist of watching American Horror Story until I fall asleep, I figured that this would be an improvement. For my parents, this was their first t
ime meeting Archer. I really didn't want to have a 'meet my boyfriend' moment with them, so I didn't mention anything about that bit to them. It still didn't stop them interrupting us every ten minutes to continually offer us tea. I am now convinced that this is how people spy on others - running into the room every ten minutes to overhear any conversation that you can, whilst shouting "Are you sure you don't want a cup?"

  4 April 2014

  Our production of 'Rent' began at 7pm this evening. I was waiting backstage with the rest of the cast, who were finishing off their lines and doing their last-minute checks. Given that my only requirement was to stand around in crowds, and to be a window cleaner, my only task was to make sure that my wash rag was suitably dusty.

  It was very, very dusty.

  Glancing around the main curtain, I could see that the hall was mostly empty. It seemed that the only people who wanted to come and see the show were the families of everyone involved. My parents were sitting at the back.

  Then it hit show time, and the lights went up. The main cast launched into "Seasons of Love" while I waited in the wings with the other extras. Archer looked amazing, his hair dyed brown in a bedraggled messy 90s grunge style. I bit my lip as I watched him. The audience gave a polite applause. The next song was Archer's solo, "One Song Glory", which he performed very nicely, even when one of the stage lights caught fire and exploded and I had to help the other extras to douse it out with a bucket of sand.

  Everything was a lot calmer during the next two songs, and I next appeared back onstage during the "You'll See" song. I think I performed admirably. During the next song ("Tango: Maureen") though, our Maureen tripped over a loose part of the curtain and broke her ankle in two places. About a third of the audience politely shuffled out of the doors during the intermission, which was lucky for them because in the second part the sound system decided to spew high-pitched static for about two full minutes midway through our performance of "La Vie Bohème"

  By the end of the night, I was so worn out that I could barely stagger backstage. Both Archer and myself agreed that it was a disaster. "It could have been worse" he said, "the entire school could have burned down."

  He kissed me. I felt the tension easing from my body, I felt myself relaxing against him. I let my eyes close and, somewhere deep inside, I could feel the hunger growing inside me. I pulled back, breaking the kiss.

  And out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a figure. I blinked, letting the shadow sharpen into shape. It was Robert Lock, the short third year kid, standing in the entrance. Watching. His eyes fixed on the two of us. Slowly, I melted away from Archer's arms. He let his hands fall to his side, and took a step back. With quick, hurried steps, Robert moved into the room - keeping his eyes fixed on us, and walked over to grab his coat from a nearby chair, pulling it onto himself as he rushed to the door.

  So, I guess it's time to be outed to the entire school, huh?

  5 April 2014

  After this weekend, I am going to find out just how much damage has been done to my social life. It's Saturday, I have two days before Robert spreads the fact that I'm a terrible, rampaging homosexual all across the schoolyard. I met up with CC today and went into town to check out the local comic book shop. Midway through one of the aisles, she told me "Jay, hun, you don't have a social life to lose."

  I threw up my hands and told her "I'm going to be a pariah."

  She just laughed. "You're dressed like an emo puppy dog. You're carrying a load of Batman comics. Without joining the furry community, you're already as much of a social pariah as humanly possible."

  Got to admit, she has a point.

  6 April 2014

  Today wasn't as bad as I had feared it would be. In fact, I almost thought that the day would pass without incident, until lunch break. As I was chewing on my sandwich, Ray Clifton from history class walked behind me and, loud enough so that I could hear it, murmured 'queer' into a cough. Yeah, my life is going to be so much fun now.

  7 April 2014

  Ray's cough seems to be spreading. Three other people seem to be suffering from it today, two of them had a particularly bad bout of it during biology.

  Archer told me that he has learned to ignore this type of thing. But I don't think he genuinely ignores it. I don't think anyone can just turn it off.

  8 April 2014

  Sitting at the back of history class today, while listening to one of the more air-headed schoolgirls describing her misadventures this weekend in having her eyebrows tattooed in place, I came to the resolute decision that I simply do not fit in. As I watch the rest of the kids talking enthusiastically about Celebrity Big Brother and laughing at drunk people on YouTube, I just can't help but think about how little I have in common with any of them. Why do I care what they think of me?

  Because they're the standard to which I'll be measured. Dead or not, gay or not, I'll always be measured against people who think photographs of Kim Kardashian's backside are the most important news event of the century.

  I don’t think I ever will fit in. I’m not sure I even want to. But I do want people, someone, anyone, just to accept me.

  9 April 2014

  Barry Tennerman tripped me up I was walking down the stairs today. I fell, knocking over two other people, and my ankle has been in agony ever since. After he had did it, he leaned down and whispered to me "I thought fairies could fly."

  I managed to limp through the rest of the day and, when I got home, checked out the damage. The bone's broken, but it's not the first time it's happened since I 'turned'. I can handle that. It doesn't hurt much.

  Nobody even offered me a hand up. That bit did hurt.

  10 April 2014

  I pulled a sick day from school by claiming that I'd sprained by ankle. Even though my ankle wasn't physically capable of swelling up, the fact that I was unable to stand on it pretty much convinced my parents that it was a genuine injury. I tied a thick bandage around my ankle and just tried to enjoy a whole day without people rasping 'faggot' under their breath at me.

  11 April 2014

  Today, my mother announced that in order to become more ecologically friendly, she would be selling her car. I asked her if she had checked up on what times the local busses and trains kept. She said that she hadn't, but if she ever needed to use the train, she would just ask the person at the station. I wanted to tell her that she should probably at least put the time in to know how regularly the trains to London leave, but I knew she'd just argue the point. Tomorrow, she will be driving to Bridley to sell the car and catching the train back. I did ask if she was sure she could manage it, and she told me not to be stupid.

  12 April 2014

  My mother is stuck in Bridley tonight because she missed her train. Seems that the people at the station don't work Sundays, so she had no way of knowing how to get home with Sunday's train service. She'll be staying at a hotel overnight and get the train back tomorrow. I told her "I told you so", and she slammed the phone down on me.

  13 April 2014

  My mother got back safe and sound. Archer dropped in to visit after school, he said that as soon as my ankle is better, he's going to take me out to one of the local clubs. I kissed him. It's a sweet idea, but the truth is that my ankle has healed up fine now. I'm still taking the time off school, though. Last week was enough. I know what they say, 'it does get better'. But when?

  14 April 2014

  I got a message on Facebook today. It said "Hi. Were you at the pier in Florida last summer?" The person who sent it didn't use a name, just a string of random characters. Could someone have found my profile and recognised me? Or maybe it's... him...

  I'm not sure what scares me more. The idea that someone might have seen me being bitten and know what I am, or the thought that the guy who bit me might not be finished ruining my life just yet.

  15 April 2014

  I still haven't replied to the Facebook message. I genuinely don't know what I would say.

  16 April 2014


  I went back to school today. I figured that I'd had enough time lounging around the house, and I was starting to miss CC and Archer. I wanted to get my worries about the Facebook message out of my head, shake it all clear.

  The thing is, today wasn't as bad. Nobody said anything, not even when me and Archer grabbed the same table together at lunch. I suppose that's what I had been avoiding for the last week, the threat of being turned into a victim again. But bugger it, the truth is that it can't be a relentless siege. I know that it will come in waves - some days will be slow, some will be harder. But the days when it's better are going to be days that matter, because those are days that I can get the most out of life. I can make the most of the people who matter to me. If I can really, really enjoy the good times, then the bad times won't feel so bad.

  17 April 2014

  By the time me and Archer had finished dancing tonight, my feet were arching. We caught a taxi back to his place, and we both collapsed on his parent's sofas.

  "Where are your folks?" I asked. I swear that my head was spinning from the drinks. It had been utterly the most dive-like club I could possibly have imagined, and even though the drinks had tasted like water, they sure packed a punch.

  "Asleep" he said, and turned the television on.

  He flicked through a few of the channels, and shot right past an image of a half-decaying corpse ripping its teeth into the throat of a screaming woman. "Wait!" I said, sitting bolt upright, "That's Dawn of the Dead. Go back."

  Archer turned the station back, and sighed at me. "I don't think I'll ever get into your love of zombie movies, Jay" he told me.