You Are So Undead to Me by Stacey Jay

isn’t the time for a lesson. Stay in the car.”
     
    “No, I want to help, I—”
     
    “Stay in the freaking car, Megan! That’s an order!” he yelled before jumping out of the driver’s side. The zombie snarled and leapt at Ethan, no longer interested in getting inside the vehicle now that his prey was on the outside.
     
    He was after Ethan, not me. But why? And why had someone stolen my homecoming dress from the cleaners and dressed a corpse in it before . . .
     
    The truth hit me just as Ethan lifted his hands and cast. “ Exuro!” The zombie burned brighter and brighter, and then suddenly the fire went out and the charred remains of the RC fluttered to the ground. Ethan did a quick scan of the area, then whipped his phone out of his pocket. He was probably calling Settlers’ Affairs, a phone call I didn’t want to miss a second of overhearing.
     
    I grabbed my bag and rocketed out of the car, running around to Ethan even as he gestured wildly for me to get in the house. As if. He might be my tutor and bodyguard and fake boyfriend, but he was not my father. The sooner he got that through his head the better, especially considering I had vital information he would want to tell the people at SA right away.
     
    “Yes, I can hold, but it’s urgent,” he said to someone on the other line before turning back to me. “Get inside, Megan.”
     
    “No.”
     
    “Yes. Now. Or I’ll hang up this phone and go lock you in your room before—”
     
    “You do and I’ll call the police and report you. This is the twenty-first century: You can’t get away with kidnapping women and locking them—”
     
    “You’re not a woman, you’re a kid, and—”
     
    “Wait! I know why someone’s after me. I can help,” I said, holding up my hands and backing away as Ethan took a menacing step toward me. So much for the women’s lib argument. What a chauvinist jerk.
     
    “Talk. Fast,” he said while I did my best not to break into a victory dance. Those two words had just confirmed the fact that someone was after me. Some Settler cop he was, getting outsmarted by a fifteen-year-old.
     
    “Someone doesn’t want me to go to homecoming. They’re trying to make sure I don’t go to the dance,” I said, waiting for Ethan to work through the same logic that had brought me to this conclusion and congratulate me on my brilliance.
     
    Instead, he started to laugh. “Right. Okay, I’ll be sure to share your theory. Now get—”
     
    “It’s not a theory, it’s the truth,” I said, getting angry. “That zombie was wearing my homecoming dress. Why would someone go to all the trouble to steal the dress from the cleaners and put it on a corpse unless they were trying to send me a message about homecoming?”
     
    “Megan, please—”
     
    “ And that thing was after you, not me. It stopped trying to get into the car when you got out.”
     
    “So?”
     
    “So,” I said, my tone making it clear he was the one with very little brain, “you said you were taking me to homecoming. Whoever doesn’t want me at the dance must have found out and decided to eliminate my date and my dress at the same time.”
     
    “But I just said I was taking you like an hour ago,” he said, still looking incredulous but at least not flat-out denying my argument.
     
    “Right in front of Monica and London, the biggest gossips in school. I’m sure they were on their cells sharing the news with half the senior class before we even got to Sonic.” I bit my lip and turned to pace around the lawn, not quite ready to share my sneaking suspicion that Monica might have something to do with the RCs. I’d need concrete proof before I went there with Ethan since he and the Monicster had been friends forever. “Speaking of, anyone who saw us together at Sonic could be a suspect, assuming they can make a totem doll fairly quickly. Or if they had a picture of you or a possession of yours to use. Probably the doll since you don’t know