Part 15 (1/2)

”Were you in detention with Maxwell yesterday?” he asks Dallas.

”Yes sir. I was in detention yesterday.”

”Everyone will remain in their seats as we wait for the nurse,” Mr. Ames announces. ”Except Maxwell, Dallas and Tyler, who had their shots yesterday and are free to go.”

The cla.s.s groans. ”It isn't fair that we lose part of our lunch hour when the recalls who got detention don't lose anything,” Montgomery whines.

I can't let that lie, even if he is about to be zombified. ”Who are you callinga”?”

”You have to do what Mr. Ames says, Montgomery!” Dallas interrupts. He shoots me a warning glance.

Mr. Ames looks back and forth between us. It's my first morning as a zombie and I'm already arousing suspicion.

Tyler stumbles on his way out and puts a hand to his heart. ”I don't feel well.”

”That's to be expected,” Mr. Ames says. ”We'll see how you're feeling after lunch.”

”Stop smiling at the cameras,” Dallas whispers once we're in the hallway. ”Where are you going?”

”Skate park?”

He shakes his head. ”We're not allowed off school grounds till the final bell.”

”Yeah, but we're not seriously going to stick around, are we?”

”We have to go to the cafeteria, Max.” There's no expression on his face, but his voice squeaks in exasperation. ”We have to follow all the rules.”

The cafeteria is half full. Ninth grade zombies eat their soup in silence. Tyler Wilkins eats a sandwich at a table by himself, rubbing his temples. ”This is damaged,” I mutter.

Mr. Graham stands behind us in the lineup, chatting to the cook. ”What a nice Halloween dance we're going to have next week. Have you seen the decorations?”

Beads of sweat cling to the lunch lady's whiskers. She doesn't acknowledge the princ.i.p.al's small talk. She's like a tall version of my airport molester. She slaps my lasagna onto a white plate. Red lumps of meat slide out from under the noodles and onto my garlic bread. I groan.

Dallas stiffens beside me while Mr. Graham watches closely.

I'd hate to fail so early in my acting career, so I find a reason for the groan. ”This lunch doesn't meet the daily food guide requirements,” I tell the lunch lady.

”Pardon me?”

”It's every student's right to have a meal that meets the national guidelines for good health,” I say.

Dallas turns to me with a sparkle behind the eyes in his blank face. ”You're right. This dish does not contain one-and-a-half cups of fruits or vegetables.”

”It's mostly pasta, which is a grain,” I explain.

”We should get a free salad,” Dallas says. ”I want potato salad.”

”I want fruit salad,” I say.

Dallas turns to me with his eyebrows raised. ”Did you know that one cup of fruit salad contains two fruit servings?”

”I did not know that! That's excellent nutritional value.”

”Indeed.”

We don't smile, but inside we're laughing. Our shoulders relax and our breath comes easy. We've found a way to hide ourselves in what they want us to be.

”I guess we'd better pull up our socks,” Mr. Graham says.

The lunch lady wipes her lip.

I pause outside Xavier's door on my way in from school. His mother answers. She wears bright blue pants with a khaki sweater. I can't tell if Celeste has made her up to look old or if that's just her face. ”Yes?” she asks. ”Oh. Max. h.e.l.lo.”

”h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Lavigne. I noticed that Xavier wasn't in school today and I wanted to make sure he's all right.”

She looks over her shoulder into the living room. ”He's fine. He has a migraine, so we kept him home.”

”Will he be coming to school tomorrow?”

She squints like she doesn't trust me. ”It depends on his health,” she says and shuts the door.

The hallway smells like carpet cleaner. I imagine people sitting behind the walls surveying me, waiting for me to slip up.

I collapse onto our sofa and call Pepper.

”h.e.l.lo, Max. How are you?” she says. Ponytail, monotone. No lip gloss, no smile. She's not right.

”I noticed you weren't in school today,” I say.

She doesn't respond.

”I'm calling to make sure you're fine,” I add. I pop my eyeb.a.l.l.s at the screen, trying to convey a secret.

”Yes. I'm fine.” She doesn't even blink.

”Why weren't you at school?”

”I sprained my ankle, and the doctor said the walk to school might be damaging.”

”That bleeds.”

She stares at me like I'm a stranger. ”Is there anything else?”

”You missed the vaccinations.”

”They had vaccinations at the clinic.”