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thing, I’d advise you to invest in a helmet because I will beat you within an inch of your darn life. And the only reason I’m saying “darn” is because I’m the principal and I’m supposed to be setting a good example, but you can bet your bottom that I’m thinking a dif fer ent word.
    Justin walked into Ms. Weager’s office, which seemed to have been designed with an optical illusion that the walls were closing in. Unless the walls really were closing in, perhaps to discourage loitering.
    Ms. Weager was all sharp angles. If you patted her on the shoulder, you would probably cut your hand. Justin had never seen a single strand of her hair move. Not only could it remain perfectly still in hurricane-force winds, but Justin suspected that you could bounce a roaring chainsaw off it and cause no damage.
    â€œPlease have a seat,” she said.
    Justin sat down in front of her black iron desk. Well, it wasn’t really a black iron desk, but the way she sat made it look like something made out of black iron adorned with spikes and skulls.
    The chair was not comfortable.
    â€œWhat can I do for you?”
    â€œMy friends and I are going to make a feature film,” said Justin. “And I wanted to get permission to film in the school.”
    â€œWon’t that be disruptive to the learning process?”
    â€œI meant at night. Not during school hours.”
    â€œWhat sort of movie?”
    Justin had expected this question, and he knew that offering the full truth wasn’t the way to go. But neither was it a good idea to lie to one’s principal. So he said, “It’s a social commentary.”
    â€œWhat sort of social commentary?”
    Zombie movies often had the subtext of everybody acting the same and refusing to think for themselves. Ms. Weager didn’t seem to be opposed to that concept. “It’s about rule breakers,” said Justin. “It deals with people who violate societal norms.”
    â€œIn what way?”
    By eating human flesh was not the correct answer here. “By violating taboos.”
    â€œIf you’re making a movie about taboos on school property, I need to know specifics.”
    â€œIt’s about people being given a second chance.”
    â€œName the taboo.”
    â€œPoor nutritional choices.”
    â€œIs this a zombie movie?”
    Suddenly Justin wondered if he’d misjudged Ms. Weager. Maybe she was a huge zombie movie fan. Maybe she came home after a long day of yelling at kids, plopped down on the couch, and put in her special edition Blu-ray of Evil Dead 2 . And maybe she was geeky enough to know that the zombies in that movie weren’t technically zombies but rather people who were possessed by the spirits of the dead.
    â€œYes,” he said.
    â€œWill there be blood?”
    â€œA drop or two here and there, when it’s relevant to the social commentary.”
    â€œI’m sorry. You won’t be making a zombie movie on school grounds.”
    â€œBut the zombies are a metaphor. Shouldn’t we be learning about metaphors?”
    Ms. Weager removed her glasses, which looked like they could double as a tool for gutting fish. “I appreciate your creativity,” she said, sounding insincere. “But this is not appropriate material, and your request is denied.”
    Justin wanted to protest, but at the same time he didn’t want her to push a button and open a trapdoor beneath him.
    â€œAre you sure?” Justin asked. “I could write up a list of themes and stuff.”
    â€œI’m sorry. Let me know when you make a movie that’s not about zombies.”
    Justin thanked her for her time and left the principal’s office. A couple of other kids were seated outside, awaiting their grim fate. One of them was Patrick, who probably had his own “Reserved for Patrick Sartin” seat in detention. Usually he ended up in detention for mouthing off to