Never Slow Dance with a Zombie - By E. Van Lowe Page 0,35

who figured out how to read her daughter's mind. When she finally got inside, the poor woman's head exploded--literally. Her brain couldn't handle the weight of all

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those mixed-up teenage thoughts. True story. So adults, please, stay out of our heads. It's for your own good.

Anyway, after a few moments staring into our blank faces, Principal Taft gave up. Finally he said, "I can't wait to see what you've done for the Holiday Pageant."

"That makes two of us," said Sybil with a sarcastic smile.

I wanted to smack her.

The fall semester was drawing to a close. Mrs. Mars stepped up her campaign to get us in shape for the state endurance exam. We ran, jumped, and did push-ups all period long. The woman was fixated on us all passing the silly exam.

One day when I got to the gym, the ropes had been made ready for us to climb. Four thick, braided ropes hung from the ceiling to the floor. I gaped at them in horror.

While the zombies had all made a feeble attempt at running around the track, not one of them had the ability to climb the rope. One by one they each stepped up to the rope, and failed miserably at any attempt to climb.

Finally it was my turn. I stepped up to the rope.

Mrs. Mars looked up from her clipboard. "Climb all the way to the top, touch the bar, and shimmy back down," she barked.

"Why do I have to climb? None of them did."

"I judge each student on her individual ability, Miss Johnson. Now, climb."

I looked up. The ceiling had to be forty, fifty feet off the floor. "I don't have the ability to climb, either," I snapped.

"Margot Jean Johnson, get on that rope, and get on that rope now!" Mrs. Mars said, her face turning red.

The zombies around me inched back.

I gripped the rope and began to climb. Pain seared through

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my fingers and up my arms. My puny muscles were like kindling that had just been set on fire.

"Higher!" Mrs. Mars called.

I looked down, I was only a foot and a half off the floor when I realized I could go no farther.

"I can't!" I cried.

"Higher!" she insisted.

I tried pulling myself up, but my arms gave out. I dropped back to the floor.

Mrs. Mars eyed me with contempt. "Is that the best you can do, Miss Johnson? That's pathetic."

"I tried, Mrs. Mars, I really did."

"Same bat time, same bat channel," she rasped. Then she turned her attention back to her clipboard. "Next!"

The next time I had gym I didn't change into my uniform. Instead, I went right to the bleachers.

"Margot Jean Johnson, aren't you lonely up there in the bleachers all by yourself?" Mrs. Mars called.

"I am lonely up here," I called back. "But what can I do? Read my note."

Dear Mrs. Mars,

Please excuse our generous daughter, Margot, from participating in gym class today. Yesterday after school she was doing volunteer work at the hospital, where we fear she may have picked up a touch of the Ebola virus. We have been advised to keep her off strenuous activity so that she doesn't bleed out and die. Your help in this will be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Trudi Johnson

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"You need to stop with these notes, Margot You need all the work you can get," she said, and then she turned her attention to the class.

To my surprise, Sybil was really getting into the strenuous activity. She said it was because she didn't want an F in Phys Ed on her record.

That permanent record stuff some teachers try to pull on us is a hoot. Like there's really a record following us around from grade school throughout our lives--please! Well Miss Wonderful you've fed the world's homeless, ended all war, and cured cancer... Wait! What's this? You shot a spitball at Tommy Salami in the third grade. Tut-tut I'm afraid we cannot give you the Nobel Peace Prize. Yeah, right.

Yet Sybil claimed she was worried about failing gym. I didn't believe it. Sybil was reacting to the fact I had a boyfriend and was achieving my dreams. This was just another display of her jealousy. As much as I didn't want to admit it to myself, our friendship was slowly coming to an end

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Chapter Nineteenth

The next day, Sybil, Dirk, and I were cruising through the halls on our way to English.

"Did you see that?" Sybil asked. "That zombie just winked at you."

I swiveled my head slowly, so as not to call attention to myself. "That's not a zombie, Sybil.