pushes the door all the way open--splash! Loads of humiliating fun.
This version was slightly different. An old aluminum wash-tub was suspended from the light fixture above Mrs. Mars. I could see the nearly invisible fishing line that extended from the washtub to the chair. If the chair moved the washtub would dump its contents onto her.
Acid? I wondered. Boiling oil?
"I see it," I cried. There was a simple solution--free her without moving the chair. "Keep still," I said. "I can do this."
Her eyes widened.
224
"Don't worry. I'm rescuing you. The key is not moving the chair."
"Mmrnrnmaaaah!"
My fingers froze on the knots as I heard the familiar zombie moan coming from Mrs. Mars SPLOOSH!
The washtub spilled a saucy brown concoction all over me.
Suddenly Mrs. Mars' chest heaved. A moment later she was struggling wildly against the rope to free herself. She eyed me hungrily, growling, hissing, and snapping. I was too late. She had crossed over. If I freed her now she would attack.
I took a step back. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Mars," I whispered. "I'm too late." My words were filled with genuine remorse.
"Sorry I had to fool you like that." The voice of Principal Taft behind us. 'In case you're wondering, that's canned beef chili. The chunky kind." His words were cheerful. The man was totally bonkers.
I faced him. "You know, in most books the villain makes one final appearance. I do believe this is your second," I said, my voice reeking with sarcasm.
"I'm not a villain," he said calmly. "In fact, I'm the good guy; I'm a concerned administrator."
"You turned Mrs. Mars into a zombie."
"I didn't want to. But at the last faculty meeting she threatened to expose me. She was the only opposition to my plan."
"All the other teachers were zombies."
He stroked his chin. "True. Mrs. Mars threatened to go to one of her big-shot former students. She said she'd given my way a chance, but she felt it lacked vision."
"I can't believe she became a zombie so quickly."
"She's old," he said. "She doesn't have Sybil's youthful immune system. I guess the older they are, the faster they change." He was smiling again.
225
For some reason at that moment the photos on Mrs. Mars' wall flashed through my mind. I suddenly understood that the mementos were photos of Mrs. Mars with former students, students she was proud of. The woman in the photo I had recognized was Senator Watson. Senator Watson had gone to Salesian.
"What does she know about vision?" Taft said, scowling at her. "She's a gym teacher." He looked at me as if he was waiting for me to tell him he was right.
Considering all the successful women who graced Mrs. Mars' walls, it seemed to me she had quite a bit more vision than he did.
"You're a horrible man," I said.
He smiled. "Some people don't understand progress. But if it makes you feel any better, I didn't do this to her. That honor goes to your friend, Sybil."
"No." The word was dead on my lips.
Yes." He nodded somberly.
If Sybil had done this to Mrs. Mars, that meant she hadn't made it, either. My earlier despair was child's play compared to how I was feeling in that moment. I wanted to cry out "Nooo!" But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Besides, getting emotional wouldn't fix anything, and I had a lot of fixing to do.
Principal Taft couldn't have been more pleased with himself. "Now, I'm thinking Mrs. Mars is a zombie, Sybil is a zombie, and you're still here. What is wrong with this picture?"
"If it's the last thing I do, I am going to stop you."
He ignored the threat. "Remember when I told you zombies love meat, hate fish? Well, you are covered with tender chunks of sirloin. That's what the can said: 'beef chili made with tender chunks of sirloin.' I bet you're irresistible to zombies now."
226
A self-satisfied smile appeared on his lips. "I don't think you need to worry about a boyfriend anymore. I do believe you're about to have all the boyfriends you can handle."
In the distance, I could hear the sound of many footsteps moving in our direction. The footsteps weren't shuffling. Whoever was coming was running up the corridor. People, I thought. Living, breathing human beings were on their way.
As the footsteps got closer, echoing as they slapped against the tile floor, the triumphant expression on Taft's face slowly began to fade.
"You hear that?" I said, a hint of hope creeping into my voice. "Someone's coming to rescue me. Sybil must