do with this stupid NZN crap. When I have a problem with you, I will take it to you directly. As I have just demonstrated. I don’t need some secret group. Me, I think they’re cowards. I despise cowards more than, say, zombies. But they’re cowards with good ideas. I like what they’re doing. Just not how they’re going about it.”
He pushed his way outside as the bell rang. And now I was late to English.
The run-in with Robbie was still fresh on my mind when I got in line for lunch. Sure, the way Dominic just turned and walked away was an unseen benefit of the “Zombies are dangerous” campaign, but I wasn’t like Robbie. I didn’t want people to fear me because of the bad things I could do. I wanted them to understand me, to know the truth, and to make decisions based on that.
“What’ll you have?” the cafeteria lady asked, snapping me back to the present.
I looked at the steaming bins and saw only colors rarely associated with food. “What is, uh, everything? Is this International Day?”
“Nah, we haven’t had that since the court injunction. This is … ” She turned to the other lunch lady behind her, who was busy stuffing something into—no, I looked away, not wanting to know. “Hey, Emma Jay, what did we spin today on the Wheel of Meat?”
“Pork.”
The cafeteria lady turned back to me. “Pork,” she said, as if my hearing was limited to a few feet.
“Maybe I’ll just have a roll.”
“You want pork with that?” she asked, plunging her ladle into a bluish-purple sludge.
“No, just the roll.”
She handed me two rolls. No butter. “Health inspector said he would let us know when we can serve dairy again.”
Apparently this was not the Lunch Line the Health Inspector Forgot. Good to know.
I walked into the seating area, scanning for Anna. She was usually with the goths, who had taken a liking to me ever since Anna started hanging with me.
Goths were usually between the smokers and the overachievers, providing a necessary buffer. I spotted the overachievers, their membership made up largely from the geeks from Tech Club. Everyone was looking at Ray Knowles, king of the geeks, as he waved his arms, probably filling them in on the next big Tech Club project. I still felt bad for punching Ray last semester, even though he was asking for it by getting in my face. But Ray was OK.
Looking down the overachieving table toward the goths, my eyes caught on something I wasn’t expecting.
Luke. He stared at Ray, just like the others.
Luke and I had always been part of the clique-less (which in its own way was a clique, as middle-school forced everyone to fit in somehow). He tried to sit with the jocks in his short-lived athletic phase, but they wouldn’t have him.
But I never saw him with the overachievers.
“Jed, hey, over here!”
I was so tuned in to Anna’s voice, it easily pierced the din. She waved from the end of the goth table, beside an inviting empty space.
I walked quickly since it was pretty easy to balance a tray with two rolls. I plopped down, the day’s first smile on my face.
“I really hope you are having a better day than I am,” I said.
“Rolls? That’s it? What about the spaghetti? You love spaghetti.”
She knew me so well.
“I didn’t see it. Guess they were out.”
“Uh oh. Were they down to whatever they spun on the Wheel of Meat?”
“Yeah.”
“Rolls. Good choice. Oh, not to bring you down or anything, but I wanted you to see this.” She reached into her purse, but I already knew what she was going to produce.
She unfolded the latest publication from the NZN Network. The ten shocking zombie facts. One zombie fact that is not shocking? I saw this coming.
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “You found that in the girls’ room.”
“How did you know? I hope it’s not because you went in.”
“Ha ha, funny stuff.”
“You just blew up an angel.”
“Good. I live for killing angels.”
I told Anna about finding the same leaflet in
He pushed his way outside as the bell rang. And now I was late to English.
The run-in with Robbie was still fresh on my mind when I got in line for lunch. Sure, the way Dominic just turned and walked away was an unseen benefit of the “Zombies are dangerous” campaign, but I wasn’t like Robbie. I didn’t want people to fear me because of the bad things I could do. I wanted them to understand me, to know the truth, and to make decisions based on that.
“What’ll you have?” the cafeteria lady asked, snapping me back to the present.
I looked at the steaming bins and saw only colors rarely associated with food. “What is, uh, everything? Is this International Day?”
“Nah, we haven’t had that since the court injunction. This is … ” She turned to the other lunch lady behind her, who was busy stuffing something into—no, I looked away, not wanting to know. “Hey, Emma Jay, what did we spin today on the Wheel of Meat?”
“Pork.”
The cafeteria lady turned back to me. “Pork,” she said, as if my hearing was limited to a few feet.
“Maybe I’ll just have a roll.”
“You want pork with that?” she asked, plunging her ladle into a bluish-purple sludge.
“No, just the roll.”
She handed me two rolls. No butter. “Health inspector said he would let us know when we can serve dairy again.”
Apparently this was not the Lunch Line the Health Inspector Forgot. Good to know.
I walked into the seating area, scanning for Anna. She was usually with the goths, who had taken a liking to me ever since Anna started hanging with me.
Goths were usually between the smokers and the overachievers, providing a necessary buffer. I spotted the overachievers, their membership made up largely from the geeks from Tech Club. Everyone was looking at Ray Knowles, king of the geeks, as he waved his arms, probably filling them in on the next big Tech Club project. I still felt bad for punching Ray last semester, even though he was asking for it by getting in my face. But Ray was OK.
Looking down the overachieving table toward the goths, my eyes caught on something I wasn’t expecting.
Luke. He stared at Ray, just like the others.
Luke and I had always been part of the clique-less (which in its own way was a clique, as middle-school forced everyone to fit in somehow). He tried to sit with the jocks in his short-lived athletic phase, but they wouldn’t have him.
But I never saw him with the overachievers.
“Jed, hey, over here!”
I was so tuned in to Anna’s voice, it easily pierced the din. She waved from the end of the goth table, beside an inviting empty space.
I walked quickly since it was pretty easy to balance a tray with two rolls. I plopped down, the day’s first smile on my face.
“I really hope you are having a better day than I am,” I said.
“Rolls? That’s it? What about the spaghetti? You love spaghetti.”
She knew me so well.
“I didn’t see it. Guess they were out.”
“Uh oh. Were they down to whatever they spun on the Wheel of Meat?”
“Yeah.”
“Rolls. Good choice. Oh, not to bring you down or anything, but I wanted you to see this.” She reached into her purse, but I already knew what she was going to produce.
She unfolded the latest publication from the NZN Network. The ten shocking zombie facts. One zombie fact that is not shocking? I saw this coming.
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “You found that in the girls’ room.”
“How did you know? I hope it’s not because you went in.”
“Ha ha, funny stuff.”
“You just blew up an angel.”
“Good. I live for killing angels.”
I told Anna about finding the same leaflet in
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