just never bothered to cover up the logo,” Micah says.
He pushes the door open. The high-pitched shrieks of five-year-olds flood my ears. Abby and Jade bounce with that kind of energy only little kids have, and Micah hasn’t even given them candy yet. They spot the sack in his hand and rush over to him, trying to out-squeal the other.
Zoey hollers from the couch, but whatever order she barked at her daughters falls deaf to their shrieks. Micah hands them each a stick of pink crystallized sugar, and they rush away from him as quickly as they’d attacked him.
“Kyle, this is Ridge. Ridge, Kyle,” Micah introduces us.
Kyle leans off the couch and holds his arm out for the obligatory handshake. He looks nothing like I’d imagined one of Zoey’s boyfriends to look. He’s pale with sandy brown hair, and he really needs to shave. He’s too skinny. I always pictured Zoey with a physical trainer or pro athlete. Not that I could pass for her boyfriend either but I could do better than Kyle.
Micah exchanges a few words with his sister and then motions me along with him. I give a half-wave to Zoey’s pack and follow Micah into his bedroom.
“He seems kind of weird,” I say, keeping my voice low.
Micah points at the wall and lips ‘Kyle?’ at me. I nod.
“He’s one of those quirky computer guys,” Micah tells me. “He works at a computer store in town, and he rips off a bunch of high school kids on the side. He films all the eighteen-plus concerts and sells the footage to kids who want to fit in and pretend they were there. It’s rumored he bootlegs movies and stuff too.”
“Kyle the Ripper,” I say under my breath.
Micah hears me despite my attempt to keep the comment to myself.
“Oh my God, that’d be the best logo to replace Kandy Korn with,” he says. “Kyle the Ripper – ripping you off one concert at a time.” He motions his hands through the air, like he’s already envisioning a newly painted van.
“So what’s the van for?” I ask, lying back on Micah’s bed.
“Sound equipment, recording equipment, video stuff. It’s basically his workshop. And he can travel around in it, so it’s great for business, or so he says. He has a laptop in the back so people can sample his stuff before buying,” Micah says.
He tosses me an Xbox controller. “You up for another level or two?”
Until Micah, I never thought I’d play Xbox again, but I’m honing my zombie skills a little more each day.
CHAPTER NINE
The Zombie Sanctuary 3 logo is frozen on Micah’s TV screen. Even the logo is different on the zombie side. Instead of a slimy zombie running from a group of men in lab coats, it’s one lab tech cornered in his own laboratory with four zombies gliding toward him.
“Morning, Jump Shot,” Micah says as he towel-dries his hair.
I reach over and grab my cell phone off of the nightstand. It’s already noon. “Damn. Why’d you let me sleep so late?”
I fall back onto my pillow, and Micah sits next to me on the bed.
“Because we stayed up all night slaying humans,” he says. “You looked like you needed the extra sleep. And you know, I wanted to shower first. You take too long. And you use up the hot water.”
He gets up, pulls a T-shirt over his head, and leaves the room. As much as I could let myself sleep through the Fourth of July, I force myself out of Micah’s bed and toward the shower.
“It’s always been my favorite,” Micah says.
He twirls the candy in his mouth, nothing but the stick protruding from his lips. I watch him in the mirror as I dry my hair.
I don’t see the appeal in artificially-colored, sugary rocks. Aside from the blue ones, they don’t even have a taste, just a lingering of salty bitterness that you can taste by letting a few tears roll down your face and into your mouth.
“My Nanna was the one who got me into these things,” he says, his words half-mumbled as he pulls the rocky stick out of his mouth. “One time, she brought home two
He pushes the door open. The high-pitched shrieks of five-year-olds flood my ears. Abby and Jade bounce with that kind of energy only little kids have, and Micah hasn’t even given them candy yet. They spot the sack in his hand and rush over to him, trying to out-squeal the other.
Zoey hollers from the couch, but whatever order she barked at her daughters falls deaf to their shrieks. Micah hands them each a stick of pink crystallized sugar, and they rush away from him as quickly as they’d attacked him.
“Kyle, this is Ridge. Ridge, Kyle,” Micah introduces us.
Kyle leans off the couch and holds his arm out for the obligatory handshake. He looks nothing like I’d imagined one of Zoey’s boyfriends to look. He’s pale with sandy brown hair, and he really needs to shave. He’s too skinny. I always pictured Zoey with a physical trainer or pro athlete. Not that I could pass for her boyfriend either but I could do better than Kyle.
Micah exchanges a few words with his sister and then motions me along with him. I give a half-wave to Zoey’s pack and follow Micah into his bedroom.
“He seems kind of weird,” I say, keeping my voice low.
Micah points at the wall and lips ‘Kyle?’ at me. I nod.
“He’s one of those quirky computer guys,” Micah tells me. “He works at a computer store in town, and he rips off a bunch of high school kids on the side. He films all the eighteen-plus concerts and sells the footage to kids who want to fit in and pretend they were there. It’s rumored he bootlegs movies and stuff too.”
“Kyle the Ripper,” I say under my breath.
Micah hears me despite my attempt to keep the comment to myself.
“Oh my God, that’d be the best logo to replace Kandy Korn with,” he says. “Kyle the Ripper – ripping you off one concert at a time.” He motions his hands through the air, like he’s already envisioning a newly painted van.
“So what’s the van for?” I ask, lying back on Micah’s bed.
“Sound equipment, recording equipment, video stuff. It’s basically his workshop. And he can travel around in it, so it’s great for business, or so he says. He has a laptop in the back so people can sample his stuff before buying,” Micah says.
He tosses me an Xbox controller. “You up for another level or two?”
Until Micah, I never thought I’d play Xbox again, but I’m honing my zombie skills a little more each day.
CHAPTER NINE
The Zombie Sanctuary 3 logo is frozen on Micah’s TV screen. Even the logo is different on the zombie side. Instead of a slimy zombie running from a group of men in lab coats, it’s one lab tech cornered in his own laboratory with four zombies gliding toward him.
“Morning, Jump Shot,” Micah says as he towel-dries his hair.
I reach over and grab my cell phone off of the nightstand. It’s already noon. “Damn. Why’d you let me sleep so late?”
I fall back onto my pillow, and Micah sits next to me on the bed.
“Because we stayed up all night slaying humans,” he says. “You looked like you needed the extra sleep. And you know, I wanted to shower first. You take too long. And you use up the hot water.”
He gets up, pulls a T-shirt over his head, and leaves the room. As much as I could let myself sleep through the Fourth of July, I force myself out of Micah’s bed and toward the shower.
“It’s always been my favorite,” Micah says.
He twirls the candy in his mouth, nothing but the stick protruding from his lips. I watch him in the mirror as I dry my hair.
I don’t see the appeal in artificially-colored, sugary rocks. Aside from the blue ones, they don’t even have a taste, just a lingering of salty bitterness that you can taste by letting a few tears roll down your face and into your mouth.
“My Nanna was the one who got me into these things,” he says, his words half-mumbled as he pulls the rocky stick out of his mouth. “One time, she brought home two
Similar Books
