Never Slow Dance with a Zombie - By E. Van Lowe Page 0,26

another walkie in a different locker: "Hey, zombie, I'm over here now!" Priceless.

We gossiped about other students: "Did you happen to notice Amanda Culpepper's mole lately? I do believe it's growing an Afro."

"Did you get a whiff of her new cologne? Eau de Funky Armpits."

In the past, we wouldn't dare gossip about Amanda for fear it might get back to her. But now that she was a zombie, she was the target of daily ridicule. It felt so good to have the shoe on the other foot.

Sybil and I took turns giving the morning announcement each day from Principal Taft's office. Here's an example of one of mine:

"Cheerleading practice will begin promptly at two forty-five in the gymnasium. No zombies allowed. The new cheer- leader

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uniforms, designed by me, Margot Johnson, will be un veiled in two weeks. The best thing about these uniforms is that they are not made for rail-thin, anorexic-looking girls like you see in the fashion magazines. These amazing uniforms are designed for real girls, who know they look good without starving themselves to death. The cheerleading squad looks forward to seeing you all at the unveiling And remember, no zombies will be allowed."

The "no zombie" rule was aimed squarely at Amanda.

Here's one of Sybil's:

"As you all know, lunch is the most important meal of the day. For this reason it is imperative that everyone move through the cafeteria in an orderly manner. Students will be seated by me. Any student, zombies included, not obeying the rules set forth by the head lunchroom monitor will be expelled from school for the rest of the semester. Thank you and have a nutritious day."

Despite the lack of student participation, high school was shaping up to be everything I'd hoped for.

My confidence was soaring. I was suddenly walking with my head held high. And with no one around to judge me I started wearing things I had once thought too risky to try under Amanda's watchful gaze: a black mini, a lime-green hoodie, brown suede boots with a spiked heel.

I thought back to the dark days when I constantly obsessed over my thighs, my arms, my stomach. What a waste of energy to go through life constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if Amanda approved of how you looked that day, or if she was laughing at you. But the tables had turned, and I no longer cared what Amanda thought. She was a zero, a cipher in the universe of opinions that mattered.

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I was now Salesian's it-girl, the queen bee. Take that, Amanda Culpepper.

A few days before Thanksgiving, Sybil and I were traveling in a pack of wannabe zombies when I noticed a pack of jock zombies heading toward us from the opposite direction. Amid the pack was Dirk Conrad.

"Ooh, there's Dirk," said Sybil.

We stared at him as the jock zombies slogged by. It was a sad sight. The left sleeve of his varsity jacket had been ripped off, obviously in some zombie skirmish, and the large embossed Knight's helmet that had proudly graced the right side of his chest hung on by a thread. His complexion was a hideous shade of green, and those once glacier-blue eyes were now crimson in color.

Tan you believe we actually wanted to go out with him?'' Sybil shook her head sadly.

"Yeah," I said. "Heh-heh. Imagine that."

I'd been so caught up in my studies and committee work I hadn't thought about Dirk in weeks. But now that he was right here, less than twenty-five feet away, my feelings for him came rushing back. I stopped and eyed him as he continued down the hall. Then I did the strangest thing. I stepped from the pack.

"What are you doing?" Sybil whispered nervously.

A few slacker zombies hanging by the trophy case emerged from their catatonic stupor and zoned in on me.

"I have to do this, Sybil," I said. "I'll see you later."

"Do what?"

My response was a glance in the direction of Dirk and the retreating zombies.

"No," she said. "Come back."

But I couldn't. I waved good-bye and watched as Sybil and

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her pack continued down the hall. "Follow the pack," she called. "Margot, for heaven's sake follow the rules!"

I looked on silently as they moved away. In a few moments they were out of sight, leaving me standing alone. Exposed.

The zombies from the trophy case began staggering in my direction. But the danger they presented didn't matter. My high school manifesto flashed through my mind: / will have a boyfriend

I stared up the corridor in the direction