A Zombie Ate My Homework

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A Zombie Ate My Homework Page 5

by Tommy Greenwald


  “Sorry, Mrs. Brantley,” Kiki said. “I wanted to walk home with our new friend, and Evan wanted to come along.”

  But Evan’s mom wasn’t paying attention to Kiki anymore—she was looking directly at me. “And who is this new friend?”

  Uh-oh, I thought. My first parent.

  The Kinders had warned me about parents.

  “They can be a lot more brutal than the kids,” they’d said.

  I tried to look Evan’s mother in the eye. “My name is Arnold,” I said.

  “Today was Arnold’s first day,” Evan explained. “Like Kiki said, that’s one reason I wanted to walk, so we could all be together and get to know each other more.”

  Evan’s mom looked me up and down, several times. “Well, hello, young man,” she said. “Are you from around here?”

  “I’m staying with my aunt and uncle, the Kinders,” I said, dodging the question. “Do you know them?”

  She nodded. “A little bit, yes.”

  There was a rustling noise from her car, and for the first time I noticed she had two dogs. One was very large, and the other was very small.

  “Oh!” I said.

  “Are you scared of dogs?” Evan asked. “They’re really friendly.”

  I shook my head. “No. I mean, yes. I mean, a little I guess.”

  Evan pointed at the big one. “That’s Lucy. She’s a total sweetheart. You can pet her, if you want. But stay away from the little one, Spike. He’s feisty.”

  I went to the car window and nervously scratched Lucy’s giant head. It was furry and soft. “Hi there,” I said. “Nice to meet you.” Lucy gave out a loud happy groan, which caused Spike to swing his snout around and yap noisily in my direction. I saw his large fangs and took a giant step backward.

  Evan’s mom laughed sharply. “Well, I think that’s a sign we should be on our way, don’t you? Arnold, it was lovely to meet you.” She turned to Evan and her smile faded. “In the car, please. That’s quite enough exercise for one day.”

  “But, Mom!” Evan moaned.

  “No ‘but, Mom,’ ” said Mrs. Brantley. “Let’s go.”

  Without another word, Evan got in the car.

  Mrs. Brantley nodded, and gave me one last long look. “Well, Arnold, welcome to our town. I hope you feel at home here.”

  Evan waved at us sadly as they drove away.

  “She’s really overprotective of Evan,” Kiki said, as we kept walking. “I think that might be one reason why he doesn’t have that many friends.”

  “I’ll be his friend,” I said.

  And I meant it.

  We walked and talked for about ten more minutes until Kiki dropped me off in front of my house.

  “Thanks for being so nice to me on my first day,” I told her.

  “I wasn’t being nice—I am nice,” she said.

  “Oh, right, sorry.”

  I stared at her, trying to figure out why a girl like her would want to be friends with a “boy” like me.

  She punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Anyway, it’s not every day we get someone new and interesting in our quiet little town,” she said, answering my unasked question. “See you tomorrow.”

  When I walked through the front door, I was greeted by something very unusual.

  Silence.

  I realized that it was the first time I’d been totally alone in the house since the Kinders found me wandering in the road. Either Bill or Jenny had been with me, or near me, every second of every day. But neither of them was home, and Lester must have gone to a friend’s house or something.

  So I was by myself.

  I wasn’t sure what to do, at first. There was a bag of jelly beans on the kitchen table, with a note.

  Help yourself. Home around six. Can’t wait to hear all about your day! Jenny.

  I ate a few, then turned the TV on. Some show was on where somebody was talking to somebody else, with a whole bunch of people sitting in chairs watching them. Then the person who was doing most of the talking started to cry, and then somebody else came out to talk with the other two people, and then two of the three people got really mad at each other and started yelling, and some of the people watching in the chairs started yelling, too, and that’s when I turned it off.

  Then I went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was a lot of human food in there. I took out an egg and stared at it. It looked like a giant white jelly bean. I tried to figure out how to open it, but I couldn’t. I rolled it across the counter, which was kind of fun, for a minute. Then I rolled it a little bit too hard, and it fell onto the kitchen floor and cracked. Oozy, gooey, sticky liquid seeped out of the sides.

  So that was how you opened it.

  Then I walked into the bathroom. I turned the shower on and off, because I was still amazed that you could turn a knob and make water come out. The water was cold. And then I flushed the toilet, which was also amazing, because the water disappeared and then came back to the same exact place. After I flushed the toilet, I touched the shower water, and it was really hot. It was like magic! And then a few seconds later the shower water got cold again, so I flushed the toilet again to see if the water would get hot again, and it did. I couldn’t figure out why that happened, even after I did it five more times. Then I looked down on the floor and noticed there was water all over the place, so I got a bunch of towels and soaked all the water up and then put them in the washing machine because I’d seen Bill and Jenny do that, even though I didn’t understand that either, because why would you need to wash towels with water when they were already wet?

  There was a lot about human life that just didn’t make any sense.

  Eventually, I went outside and waited for someone to get home, because I realized that being home alone wasn’t very much fun, even in a nice warm house like the Kinders’.

  That night at dinner, Bill and Jenny sat at the kitchen table, eating something they called chili, even though it was very hot. Lester was eating dinner in the TV room, which they let him do sometimes, especially if they wanted to talk to me without Lester interrupting an average of every thirty-eight seconds (I counted one night).

  I was having jelly beans for dinner, in case you were wondering.

  “Tell us about your first day,” Jenny said.

  “My first day ever?”

  “Your first day at school,” she clarified.

  “Oh. Well, the bus ride was hard at first,” I told them. “But then I met two really nice people, Kiki and Evan, who became my friends. Kiki said she wanted to be friends with me because I was new and interesting.”

  Bill and Jenny glanced at each other but didn’t say anything.

  “And my teacher, Mrs. Huggle, is nice, too. I raised my hand a lot at the beginning of the day, but then I realized people don’t like other people who know all the answers. It’s like when Lester told me to stop using words with four syllables or more.”

  Bill frowned. “He told you that?”

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. “He said young humans don’t talk like that.”

  “He’s right,” said Jenny.

  “And there were a couple of people who were a little mean to me, but I think that’s also because I’m new and interesting,” I went on. “Some people like it if you’re new and interesting, but a lot of other people don’t like it at all. At lunch people tried to ask me who I was and where I was from, but I didn’t tell them. But then some people decided that the reason I was being secretive was because my parents were spies on a dangerous mission. And at first I was going to tell everyone how implausible that was, but then I decided not to.”

  “Implausible?” I heard Lester yell from the other room. “What did we say about that kind of language?”

  Bill and Jenny looked shocked. I don’t think they’d ever heard me say that many words in a row, in all the days I’d been there.

  “Also, I saw Lester after school, and he offered to beat up the kids who were mean to me.”

  “You know it!” ho
llered Lester.

  “Thank you for that report, Arnold,” said Jenny. “Your first day sounds very … eventful.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So what you’re saying,” said Bill, “is that the kids at school think your parents are international spies?”

  “Not all. But most.”

  I waited for them to be mad because I had kind of sort of lied, but instead, both of them burst into laughter.

  “Never underestimate the imaginations of fifth graders,” said Jenny.

  The next day was my first gym class.

  I have to say, Bill and Jenny didn’t adequately prepare me for what that meant.

  It turned out that Ross, the backward hat kid, and Brett, the long-haired kid, were the best athletes in the class. I discovered that when the gym teacher, Coach Hank, said, “Ross! Brett! Choose up sides, you superstuds!”

  “What does superstud mean?” I whispered to Evan.

  “It means stay out of their way,” he whispered back.

  Earlier, I’d introduced myself to Coach Hank by giving him my doctor’s note. He looked at me. “A skin condition and a leaky heart valve? Jeepers, kid, I’m sure not going to argue with this.” He looked me over. “You look like death on a bad day, no offense. Nice to meet you, and sorry you’re such a mess. My name’s Hank, but you can call me Coach Hank!” I guess he thought that was hilarious, because he practically doubled over with laughter. Then he stuck out his hand. I shook it, which was a big mistake. I think he broke all eight bones in my wrist.

  “Ow,” I said, which was a fib, because I don’t feel pain.

  I was starting to get the hang of this fibbing thing.

  Coach Hank blew his whistle, which nearly split my eardrums in half. As the kids came running, he smacked me on the back. “You like dodgeball? We’re gonna play a little dodgeball! No real running, so you should be fine. Besides, we have Field Day coming up this Sunday, so you have to practice!”

  “What’s Field Day?” I asked.

  “Only the most fun day of the WHOLE YEAR!” roared Coach Hank. “Relay races, burgers, and dogs … It’s a BLAST!”

  I glanced over at Evan, who rolled his eyes and shrugged. But I decided Coach Hank wasn’t a guy you said no to.

  “There’s really no running in dodgeball?” I asked.

  Coach Hank shook his head like his life depended on it. “Nope. No running. Just dodging.”

  I thought for a second. I’d already had enough trouble fitting in with the other students, now I was going to skip gym class, too?

  You might as well have put a sign on my back that said TOTAL LOSER.

  “Okay, I’ll play I guess.”

  “Excellent!” Hank roared. “Ross! Brett! Choose up sides!”

  Ross and Brett came jogging over, incredibly slowly.

  “They don’t look all that athletic to me,” I whispered to Evan.

  “That’s how you run when you want to show everyone how cool you are,” he explained.

  “Ah, got it.” I peered down at the other end of the gym, where girls’ gym was going on. They were chatting, laughing, and throwing balls back and forth to one another.

  To tell you the truth, that looked like a lot more fun.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” Ross said. “I got Eric.”

  Eric, a kid who looked like he was about to burst out of his shirt, had a big smile on his face as he loped over to stand behind Ross. It was apparently a big honor to be picked first.

  “Sammy, you’re with me,” Brett said, and a boy no bigger than me ambled over to Brett’s side.

  “He’s short, but he’s got a great arm,” explained Evan.

  Sammy and Brett held out their fists and knocked them into each other, which must have been some weird form of human handshake.

  They started calling out names much faster.

  “Simon.”

  “George.”

  “James.”

  “Kevin.”

  “Todd.”

  “Kyle.”

  And on it went, until there were only two boys left standing.

  One was Evan.

  I don’t want to give away who the other one was, but his fake last name rhymes with Schrombee.

  “I’ll take Evan, I guess,” Brett said, with a look on his face like he’d just smelled rotten milk.

  And then there was one.

  Yup. There I stood, in my long-sleeved shirt and baggy pants, with all the other boys in the grade staring back at me like I was some sort of alien.

  Oh, wait. I was some sort of alien.

  “Coach Hank?” called Ross. “Do we, uh, do we have to pick the new kid?”

  “Yeah,” agreed Brett. “The teams are even right now. We don’t want it to be unfair or anything.”

  I stood there while the other boys snickered. As embarrassing as it was not to be picked, I would have been perfectly happy to sit this one out.

  Alas, it was not to be.

  “Forget it!” Coach Hank roared. “Arnold loves dodgeball! Get him in there!”

  Ross rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he mumbled. “Ombee, over here.”

  I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I walked over to stand with my teammates.

  “Dude, where are your gym shorts?” asked one kid.

  “He can’t wear them because he’s, like, got leukemia or something,” another kid answered.

  “What does leukemia have to do with wearing gym shorts?” a third kid asked.

  I ignored them. Or pretended to.

  “Game on!” Coach Hank bellowed. All the kids on my team ran to one wall, while Brett’s team ran to the opposite wall. Coach Hank rolled out five balls per team, and kids started whipping them at one another as hard as they could.

  Which is when I realized the object of the game was to tear somebody’s face off with the ball.

  “Do NOT throw at the head!” screamed Coach Hank. And then louder: “NOT AT THE HEAD!” But nobody was paying any attention to him.

  It seemed like once instinct took over, there was no stopping a human on the hunt.

  “Yo, Ghostie! Yo!” Evan yelled. He was crouching down near the opposite wall. “Do what I do! Go to the back and hide behind someone else! That way, they can’t hit you!”

  Less than a second later, a big red rubber ball crunched into his right shoulder.

  “OWWW!” screeched Evan. He went to stand on the sideline, next to the other boys who’d already been bonked.

  Balls kept flying back and forth, but amazingly enough, I was able to avoid each and every one. Remember I told you my arms and legs were really elastic? Well, combine that with the fact that I’m so pale and skinny that I’m practically see-through, and what you’ve got is a pretty good dodgeball player.

  Well, good at dodging, anyway.

  Not so good at throwing, as it turned out.

  After a few more minutes, there were only a few players left on each team.

  Then a ball rolled in my direction, and I picked it up.

  “What are you waiting for, dork?” screamed Ross, my supportive captain. “Throw it, already! Nail someone!”

  But I didn’t want to nail someone. I wanted to go lie down and eat jelly beans. I don’t have a violent bone in my body, I really don’t, no matter what anyone says.

  “THROW IT!” Ross screamed again.

  Still, I hesitated. I should probably add here that I can’t throw. It’s hard to throw when your muscle mass is basically zero. So I gave the ball a little push, and it started rolling very, very slowly. Everyone stared at it, as if it had just sprouted legs and was walking its way across the gym floor.

  “Are you kidding me right now?” Ross hollered. “That is, like, the most pathetic throw I’ve ever seen!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and I was about to make some excuse about how I’d just gotten my flu shot, so my arm was sore, when I saw Brett wind up and fire. I tried to yell, “Look out!” to Ross, but I can’t yell very loud, and nobody heard me.

&
nbsp; Sure enough, Ross got nailed right in the … well, it’s above the legs and below the stomach, if you know what I mean.

  Ross doubled over and made a noise that sounded like a combination of a horse sneezing and a pig giving birth. Then Ross’s face turned a shade of purple I’d never seen before, and he keeled over onto the ground.

  “Time out!” hollered Coach Hank. “TIME OUT!”

  An eerie quiet fell over the gym as Coach Hank hurried to check on Ross. The poor kid couldn’t talk, but he did manage to point at me with an accusatory finger.

  “I think he’s saying that it’s Arnold’s fault,” Brett pointed out unhelpfully. “If he hadn’t rolled the ball like a total doofus and gotten everyone so distracted, Ross would have seen my throw coming a mile away.” Brett leaned over to where Ross was re-teaching himself how to breathe. “Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to hit you, you know, down there.”

  Ross coughed and sputtered, then lifted himself to one knee. It took him about twenty seconds, but he finally managed to stare right at me and say a single sentence.

  “I’ll see you after school,” he said.

  “So then what happened?” asked Kiki.

  I held the door open for her as we walked into our classroom. “Well, then Coach Hank said the rest of the dodgeball game was cancelled, and no one would be declared the winner. Of course, everyone blamed me for that, too, and so now I’m not just the weird new kid, I’m the weird new kid who ruined gym.”

  “Ouch,” said Kiki, but she was humming to herself as she said it.

  “Do you always have to be in such a good mood?” I asked her.

  “Oh! Sorry, I’ll stop.” Five seconds later she was singing again.

  We sat down at our desks. I noticed everyone looking at me, but they weren’t curious if I was a spy anymore. They were mad. They were mad that I wasn’t athletic, and they were mad that I looked strange, and they were mad that I’d somehow caused the best athlete in the grade to be in a lot of pain.

  But mostly, they were mad because I was different.

 

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