The Perfect Escape (The Perfect Escape #1) - Suzanne Park Page 0,3
admit, she took her zombie job very seriously. Kate was convincingly, purposefully gross.
I grinned confidently while shutting my locker door, even though my heart was pounding and my sweatiness all over my body intensified. “Sure, my after-hours job is zombie rescue. I retrieve zombies and put them back in their habitat.”
She pulled her peacoat from her locker and put it on over her raggedy dress. “Great! There’s a Dick’s Hamburgers on the way to my house. I need food. I’ll buy you dinner and a milkshake if you want.”
When we got outside, rain assaulted us from every direction. We’d already had ten days of straight rain, not unusual for October in Seattle. And the seven-day forecast? Even more rain.
Kate studied the flyers on the corkboard next to the entrance while I locked up. She stared hard at the neon-green Zombiegeddon advertisement, examining every word. Zombiegeddon was a new zombie-themed survival competition with a huge cash prize. It was on the same day as my big-time cross-country meet a month away, so I hadn’t bothered to look into it more.
When we finally got to my car, I swiped my accordion folder of college financial aid applications off the front passenger seat and tossed it in the back. I handed Kate a wad of clean tissues from my pocket to mop up her runny makeup and also used some to wipe my forehead’s fountain of sweat.
As I turned the key in the ignition, I wondered, If we are eating hamburgers and it is her treat, does this count as a date?
Kate took a selfie just before wiping off her cheeks. “I look scarier now than I did before. I might try this look tomorrow. Maybe I’ll stick my head under the shower or something.”
Her boot thumped hard against something on the floorboard. “Oops,” she said apologetically. “I hope I didn’t break anything.” She bent down to look. “Wow, is this where you keep guns and ammo?”
I laughed. “That’s my dad’s trusty six-drawer toolbox. It’s older than I am.” He always liked to consider himself handy around the house, but Mom and I called him Mr. Fixer-Downer. “He refuses to hire plumbers or handymen. He’s a do-it-yourselfer, to save money. Watches YouTube videos and thinks he’s a pro.”
“Oh, that’s cool!” Kate sighed and glanced at the toolbox again. “My dad’s not handy at all. He outsources everything.”
I wished we outsourced more. “Well, I didn’t say my dad was good at it. He once spent three hours building a three-cube bookshelf.”
“In his defense, IKEA furniture is a pain in the ass to put together. Don’t let those cute cartoon drawing instructions fool you,” she teased.
“Yeah! How do they manage to have like forty types of different screws with all sorts of head shapes in an impossible-to-open plastic baggie for just one stool? I should be nicer to my dad.”
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel at a stoplight and snuck a quick glance at her. “Too bad I don’t work tomorrow. Do you work any other days too?” Saturday nights were when I played State of Decay on Xbox Live with my buddies. There were three of us, and we’d all played together since middle school. I was z0mbie_killir_1. Spelling was never my forte.
Kate shook her head. “I’m only working Friday and Saturday nights. It’s okay, though. That works out with school and other stuff.”
“I usually work Monday-Wednesday-Friday.” It dawned on me that the next time I’d see her was the next Friday. “It’s cool we’ll be able to work together, at least for a few weeks.”
Kate shrugged. “I’m a temp zombie for now, but maybe if I do a good job, the guys in charge will keep me around for the whole year.”
“Yeah, think about all the holidays after Christmas! Valentine’s Day. Saint Patrick’s Day. Easter. And who doesn’t love an Easter zombie?” I waggled my eyebrows the best I could.
She smiled at me as she grabbed my phone from the center console and typed her address into the maps app. “I live twenty minutes away. Looks like there’s a little bit of traffic on the way there. Sorry. But we can do our Dick’s