pain through him every now and then — a brisk reminder that the wound was still there.
Teagan greeted him with her usual silent treatment at breakfast. She asked their mom to take her to school again. After some discussion, their mom finally agreed, but not without commenting on how it would make her late. No wonder Teagan felt like a burden.
“Your brother still goes to school, doesn’t he?” quipped their mom.
“Unfortunately,” said Teagan.
“Is there something going on between you two?”
Good question,
I thought, wondering how Dan would field this one, but the zombie simply froze, spoon poised halfway to his mouth.
Teagan looked at him, then glanced away. “No.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“It’s just so hard to follow in my big brother’s footsteps,” continued Teagan with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“Oh, well,” said their mom. She gave Teagan a thin smile. “You’ll have to make your own footsteps, then. Right?”
Teagan rolled her eyes and headed to the car.
After downing the rest of his breakfast, Dan returned to his room. He looked at the calendar, with its lame advice on courage. Then he lifted up the bottom half, as he’d done the other day. I almost didn’t read the words etched in the wall since I already knew what they’d tell me. SAVE HER. But what if I couldn’t save her? What if I’d missed my opportunity?
At first, I didn’t believe his eyes. Dan dragged his fingers over the words, feeling the coarse scratches in the drywall that formed them. This wasn’t possible. There hadn’t been anything else etched into the wall before — no crossed-out words or spackle filling in previous messages. The calendar was in the exact same place where it had been, or would be. So how on earth could the message have changed? It was carved into the wall, for God’s sake.
He released the calendar and made sure it covered the words. That was the other strange thing — Dan didn’t act the least bit surprised that the message had changed. Then again, in his world, maybe it hadn’t changed at all.
School that morning passed in an uneasy blur. I kept thinking about the new message, and what it could mean.
The only thing I knew for sure was that things were different. Something I’d done had caused the zombie’s past to shift, if only slightly. How else could words carved into a wall transform? So maybe the messages were clues about what I should do. It would have been nice, though, if the clues could have been more specific. For all I knew, “Fear will cause what you fear” meant that my aversion to mucus would cause the zombie to pick his nose.
Things didn’t get interesting at school until after lunch, when Dan went to biology class. He sat in a different seat from the one he’d sat in the other day and stole glances at the door while pretending to draw in his notebook. At last, Cat walked in, wearing a green skirt, striped tights, and a purple long-sleeved T-shirt with black cats on it. I loved her style. While everyone else dressed like dull imitations of store mannequins, Cat wasn’t afraid to be wholly original.
She sat near the front of the room, which was also different. Once class started, Mr. Huber read names off a list and pointed to tables where students were supposed to go for their lab groups. I already knew where everyone would end up.
After students settled into their “new” seats, Mr. Huber lectured about proper dissection techniques and how lucky they were to get to work with
real
frogs tomorrow. He threatened a pop quiz on the five main systems of the body if people didn’t pay attention, but I knew he was bluffing. He’d dedicate the whole period tomorrow to slicing open frog bellies and scolding students for chucking livers and eyeballs at one another.
Dan surreptitiously watched Cat during class, but her attention stayed fixed on Finn. He sat at the table in front of her now, whispering to Kendra — the blond girl in his lab group.
The muscle on the
Teagan greeted him with her usual silent treatment at breakfast. She asked their mom to take her to school again. After some discussion, their mom finally agreed, but not without commenting on how it would make her late. No wonder Teagan felt like a burden.
“Your brother still goes to school, doesn’t he?” quipped their mom.
“Unfortunately,” said Teagan.
“Is there something going on between you two?”
Good question,
I thought, wondering how Dan would field this one, but the zombie simply froze, spoon poised halfway to his mouth.
Teagan looked at him, then glanced away. “No.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“It’s just so hard to follow in my big brother’s footsteps,” continued Teagan with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“Oh, well,” said their mom. She gave Teagan a thin smile. “You’ll have to make your own footsteps, then. Right?”
Teagan rolled her eyes and headed to the car.
After downing the rest of his breakfast, Dan returned to his room. He looked at the calendar, with its lame advice on courage. Then he lifted up the bottom half, as he’d done the other day. I almost didn’t read the words etched in the wall since I already knew what they’d tell me. SAVE HER. But what if I couldn’t save her? What if I’d missed my opportunity?
At first, I didn’t believe his eyes. Dan dragged his fingers over the words, feeling the coarse scratches in the drywall that formed them. This wasn’t possible. There hadn’t been anything else etched into the wall before — no crossed-out words or spackle filling in previous messages. The calendar was in the exact same place where it had been, or would be. So how on earth could the message have changed? It was carved into the wall, for God’s sake.
He released the calendar and made sure it covered the words. That was the other strange thing — Dan didn’t act the least bit surprised that the message had changed. Then again, in his world, maybe it hadn’t changed at all.
School that morning passed in an uneasy blur. I kept thinking about the new message, and what it could mean.
The only thing I knew for sure was that things were different. Something I’d done had caused the zombie’s past to shift, if only slightly. How else could words carved into a wall transform? So maybe the messages were clues about what I should do. It would have been nice, though, if the clues could have been more specific. For all I knew, “Fear will cause what you fear” meant that my aversion to mucus would cause the zombie to pick his nose.
Things didn’t get interesting at school until after lunch, when Dan went to biology class. He sat in a different seat from the one he’d sat in the other day and stole glances at the door while pretending to draw in his notebook. At last, Cat walked in, wearing a green skirt, striped tights, and a purple long-sleeved T-shirt with black cats on it. I loved her style. While everyone else dressed like dull imitations of store mannequins, Cat wasn’t afraid to be wholly original.
She sat near the front of the room, which was also different. Once class started, Mr. Huber read names off a list and pointed to tables where students were supposed to go for their lab groups. I already knew where everyone would end up.
After students settled into their “new” seats, Mr. Huber lectured about proper dissection techniques and how lucky they were to get to work with
real
frogs tomorrow. He threatened a pop quiz on the five main systems of the body if people didn’t pay attention, but I knew he was bluffing. He’d dedicate the whole period tomorrow to slicing open frog bellies and scolding students for chucking livers and eyeballs at one another.
Dan surreptitiously watched Cat during class, but her attention stayed fixed on Finn. He sat at the table in front of her now, whispering to Kendra — the blond girl in his lab group.
The muscle on the
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