Read Online Generation Dead by Daniel Waters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Daniel Waters
Tags: Fiction, Humorous stories, Death, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Zombies, Love & Romance, Monsters, Horror & Ghost Stories, Social Issues - Friendship, Prejudices, Social Issues - Dating & Sex
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telling me the other day at lunch?"
"I'm kidding !" He was fronting and it was obvious, but if he wanted some time before he told her what was bothering him, that was fine.
His shoulders twitched again like they did whenever he was nervous. "You know, the dead kid wasn't so bad." "Really?" she said, secretly thrilled.
"Really. He's strong as hell. I mean speedwise, he's slow. But he picks stuff up fast. By the end of practice he'd figured out a way to counter me throwing him. It was pretty cool, really."
"Wow, who would have thought?"
"Not me." And that was all he said about Tommy.
He rolled the car into the student parking lot moments later, and then they were out of the truck and making the long trek to school.
"Hey, I've got practice again tonight," he said. "You need to go to the library or anything?"
She smiled at him. "You want to do some midnight Frisbee?"
"Yeah," he said. "I might just need to do that."
Everything was normal on Monday. The living went quickly from class to class, chatting about weekend dates or the
72
hundred subtle liaisons that occurred in the time that elapsed between the morning bell and lunchtime, while the dead moved in straight lines and shared their thoughts with no one, not even each other. Phoebe roamed and looked for Tommy Williams, catching glimpses of him from a calculated distance. He might have the advantage in the Oxoboxo woods with his stealth and his moonlight eyes, but among the living, she held the upper hand. Here in the fluorescent halls she could watch him at all times without him being aware of it.
But that did not mean the dead were incapable of surprises, as Margi proved by dropping the biggest one of all in the hallway after final bell. She was packed and ready to go to the bus before Phoebe even made it to her locker---that's how big it was.
"Sorry, Margi," Phoebe said, "no bus today. I'm hitting the library again."
"You're kidding," Margi said. "I have got to talk to you." "What's up?"
"What's up with you ?" was her reply, with more than a hint of accusation in her voice.
"Is this twenty questions, Margi? I don't know what I'm supposed to say now, and I don't want to make you miss your bus."
Margi looked at Phoebe, a mixture of impatience and sympathy on her smooth, round-cheeked face.
"Pheebes," she said, "you're my best friend and I love you. You know that. But something is up."
"Right, we've established that. So what, pray tell, is up?"
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"Let me ask you: have you ever seen a living impaired kid draw on his notebook?"
Phoebe sighed. Leave it to Margi to bring the melodrama. "I don't think so, no."
"Do they ever contribute to the Oakvale Review ?"
"No."
"Or take art or music classes?" "No."
"Pick up digital photography or gardening on a kooky whim? Or basically do anything creative at all?"
"No, not to my vast knowledge."
"Not even decorate their lockers?"
"Margi! Get to the point!"
She did, and drove it home. "Tommy Williams has a poem hanging up in his locker," she said, "and it sure looks like it was written in your handwriting."
The precise moment that Phoebe's mouth opened in response to Margi's statement, the trunk to Pete Martinsburg's car popped up with a click from his key. The car was barely a month old, a birthday gift from dear old long-distance dad.
Pete wasn't stupid enough to think his dad's gift was anything other than an expression of spite for Pete's mom. It was all about getting vengeance on the ex-wife.
But hey, free car.
He led Adam and TC over to the car. It took some convincing to get Lame Man out of the locker room, and even now the big stiff was making a show of how boring this all was to him.
74
Pete knew how this was going to go, but he felt the need to give Adam one final test of faith before changing his strategy.
He went to the trunk and withdrew his football gear. Beneath the long black duffel bag was a trio of scuffed and scratched baseball bats. Pete took the aluminum one out of the trunk and,
"I'm kidding !" He was fronting and it was obvious, but if he wanted some time before he told her what was bothering him, that was fine.
His shoulders twitched again like they did whenever he was nervous. "You know, the dead kid wasn't so bad." "Really?" she said, secretly thrilled.
"Really. He's strong as hell. I mean speedwise, he's slow. But he picks stuff up fast. By the end of practice he'd figured out a way to counter me throwing him. It was pretty cool, really."
"Wow, who would have thought?"
"Not me." And that was all he said about Tommy.
He rolled the car into the student parking lot moments later, and then they were out of the truck and making the long trek to school.
"Hey, I've got practice again tonight," he said. "You need to go to the library or anything?"
She smiled at him. "You want to do some midnight Frisbee?"
"Yeah," he said. "I might just need to do that."
Everything was normal on Monday. The living went quickly from class to class, chatting about weekend dates or the
72
hundred subtle liaisons that occurred in the time that elapsed between the morning bell and lunchtime, while the dead moved in straight lines and shared their thoughts with no one, not even each other. Phoebe roamed and looked for Tommy Williams, catching glimpses of him from a calculated distance. He might have the advantage in the Oxoboxo woods with his stealth and his moonlight eyes, but among the living, she held the upper hand. Here in the fluorescent halls she could watch him at all times without him being aware of it.
But that did not mean the dead were incapable of surprises, as Margi proved by dropping the biggest one of all in the hallway after final bell. She was packed and ready to go to the bus before Phoebe even made it to her locker---that's how big it was.
"Sorry, Margi," Phoebe said, "no bus today. I'm hitting the library again."
"You're kidding," Margi said. "I have got to talk to you." "What's up?"
"What's up with you ?" was her reply, with more than a hint of accusation in her voice.
"Is this twenty questions, Margi? I don't know what I'm supposed to say now, and I don't want to make you miss your bus."
Margi looked at Phoebe, a mixture of impatience and sympathy on her smooth, round-cheeked face.
"Pheebes," she said, "you're my best friend and I love you. You know that. But something is up."
"Right, we've established that. So what, pray tell, is up?"
73
"Let me ask you: have you ever seen a living impaired kid draw on his notebook?"
Phoebe sighed. Leave it to Margi to bring the melodrama. "I don't think so, no."
"Do they ever contribute to the Oakvale Review ?"
"No."
"Or take art or music classes?" "No."
"Pick up digital photography or gardening on a kooky whim? Or basically do anything creative at all?"
"No, not to my vast knowledge."
"Not even decorate their lockers?"
"Margi! Get to the point!"
She did, and drove it home. "Tommy Williams has a poem hanging up in his locker," she said, "and it sure looks like it was written in your handwriting."
The precise moment that Phoebe's mouth opened in response to Margi's statement, the trunk to Pete Martinsburg's car popped up with a click from his key. The car was barely a month old, a birthday gift from dear old long-distance dad.
Pete wasn't stupid enough to think his dad's gift was anything other than an expression of spite for Pete's mom. It was all about getting vengeance on the ex-wife.
But hey, free car.
He led Adam and TC over to the car. It took some convincing to get Lame Man out of the locker room, and even now the big stiff was making a show of how boring this all was to him.
74
Pete knew how this was going to go, but he felt the need to give Adam one final test of faith before changing his strategy.
He went to the trunk and withdrew his football gear. Beneath the long black duffel bag was a trio of scuffed and scratched baseball bats. Pete took the aluminum one out of the trunk and,
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