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Authors: Carrie Harris

Bad Hair Day

BOOK: Bad Hair Day
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ALSO BY CARRIE HARRIS

BAD
TASTE
in
BOYS

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2012 by Carrie Harris
Jacket photograph copyright © 2012 by Ashley Lebedev/Trevillion Images All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

randomhouse.com/teens

Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at
RHTeachersLibrarians.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Harris, Carrie.
Bad hair day / Carrie Harris. —1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Future physician Kate Grable is thrilled to shadow the county medical examiner, but when he is arrested for murder and Kate is left to run the morgue, she discovers that something is killing students—something very hairy and strong.
eISBN: 978-0-307-97419-8
[1. Werewolves—Fiction. 2. Murder—Fiction. 3. Forensic sciences—Fiction. 4. High schools—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction. 6. Horror stories.] I. Title.
PZ7.H241228Bab 2012
[Fic]—dc23
2011037078

Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

v3.1_r1

TO CONNOR, LILY, AND RENEE.
YOU (AND YOUR HAIR) INSPIRE ME.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Most days, I can’t believe my luck. So when I sat down to write these acknowledgments, the first thing that came to mind was something along the lines of “THANK YOU TO EVERYBODY I’VE EVER MET! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Only in my head, it’s skywritten in sparkly bubble letters. Because everyone knows sparkles make everything better.

But there are some people in particular I really do need to thank. My family: Andy, Connor, Lily, and Renee. Very few people would put up with my requests to jump off trains with me, or chop watermelons with katanas, or put sugar on your lips and mug for the camera. I think it’s pretty awesome to be part of a family where “weird” is the highest compliment. You make me so deliriously happy. Thank you for making me excited to wake up every day, even if I’m grumpy at first!

My writing partners—Kiki Hamilton, Keri Mikulski, Ellen Oh, Laura Riken, Kiersten White, and Natalie Whipple—are made of the sauce of awesome. And I owe a special debt of gratitude to the members of Class of 2k11 for being my lifeboat in 2011.

Kate Schafer Testerman and Wendy Loggia, you two are rock stars! I feel so honored to know you, let alone work with you. And the rest of the crew at Delacorte Press? You are crazy geniuses, plain and simple.

A special shout-out goes to the shambling hordes online who send my silly videos, tweet with me about stuff that makes me wonder about our collective sanity, and zombify themselves to give me a laugh. Honestly? Hearing from you is one of the best parts of this whole author gig.

Contents

“B
raaaaains!”

After all the zombie attacks, even the word made me twitchy. Especially when repeatedly moaned by an annoying freshman in the school bus loop at eight a.m. As if I wasn’t annoyed enough already—I’d gotten to school early because the Future Doctors of America program started today. According to plan, we should have been bouncing across the railroad tracks on Washington Ave. right about now. But instead, I stood in the gray winter slush with my fellow FDA students, watching the underclassmen arrive for school and scanning the loop in vain for the bus. It was fourteen and a half minutes late. The program would be starting without me; watching people act like complete morons only added insult to injury.

The freshman elbowed his buddies before putting his backpack on his head and staggering around with his arms outstretched. They laughed so hard I thought they’d burst something. Some people thought the zombie virus was hilarious. Obviously, they hadn’t seen the victims; my boyfriend’s best friend was still in assisted living. Brain damage. So I didn’t think it was all that funny when zombie boy staggered over and accidentally grabbed my breasts, one in each hand. And when I say accidentally, I really mean on purpose.

I knocked his hands off my chest, grabbed him by one backpack strap, and yanked him close enough to talk right in his ear. Or right in his backpack, anyway.

“Listen up, dork,” I said in the most pleasant voice possible, which wasn’t very pleasant at all. “I don’t have the time or the masochistic tendencies necessary to deal with you. So how about you keep out of my way, and I’ll pay you the same courtesy?”

He dumped the backpack on the ground and pushed me off. For a moment, I thought maybe he’d back down, but then his so-called friends started in on him.

“Uh-oh, Damian. I think you pissed her off!” crowed one.

“Look out! She’s gonna stake you!” added another.

“That’s for vampires, you morons,” I muttered, turning away. Not my smartest move. Damian-the-freshman didn’t like being taunted, so he shoved me to save face. It didn’t hurt or anything; I’m tougher than I look. But my backpack spilled all over the ground, and that ticked me off.

I’d never hit anybody before, but this was really the last straw. He was lucky someone interceded before I could swing.

“Hey, calm down.”

Trey Black stepped in front of me. He was a recent transfer from Southern California. Why anyone would want to trade that kind of weather for Ohio winters was beyond me. But here he was, and apparently he’d designated himself the sworn protector of freshman idiocy. I needed to get him together with my brother, Jonah. Jonah was the poster child for freshman idiocy.

I let out a long breath in a vain attempt to calm myself as I bent down to pick up my stuff. Trey had this knack for making me uncomfortable. He had tousled blond hair and surfer-boy good looks, and I wasn’t totally immune to that. But I had a boyfriend, and they were friends, so it felt really wrong when he acted flirty. Or looked at me. Or stood within fifteen feet of me. The fact that he flirted with anything in a skirt didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“You okay?” He bent down beside me to pluck my calculus book from a mound of dirt-speckled snow. “You look pretty upset.”

“Yeah.” I glared at Damian, who flipped me off before heading to class with his friends. “Just a little stressed.”

“What’s wrong?”

He handed me the book with one of his patented charming smiles, his fingers grazing mine. A girl getting off the bus across from us took one look at him and nearly fainted. I tried to act
like the “accidental” caress was no big deal, but I could feel the embarrassed heat in my cheeks. I started stuffing the books into my backpack. The worst part about it all was that he had never crossed the line, so I couldn’t be sure if I was overreacting.

“Just crazy busy this week,” I babbled. “I was up until almost midnight working on my slave-trade paper for American history, and I’ve got a huge pile of FDA makeup work, and I’m still not done with all the Rockathon prep, and my mom’s coming back from Germany this week. After it’s all over, I think I might go into hibernation.”

“Well, if you need any help …” He sidled closer to me. There was no way for me to stand up without getting within kissing distance. My legs started shaking from being crouched over too long, but the only choices were standing and giving Trey the wrong impression or plopping butt-first into half-melted bus slop.

I would have been stuck there forever if Aaron hadn’t walked over. But the minute he did, Trey backed off. Aaron Kingsman—my boyfriend—was smart, sweet, and salivatingly gorgeous, not that I was biased or anything. He was also the quarterback of our football team. I tried not to hold that against him. In return, he tried to pretend I wasn’t a semi-reformed nerd. I couldn’t decide which one of us had the more difficult task.

Trey’s face broke out into a huge grin. Seriously, he adored my boyfriend more than I did. I kept expecting him to tattoo
Aaron
in a big heart on his arm, but it hadn’t happened yet. Maybe he had put it on his butt instead.

“Hey, bro.” He punched Aaron on the shoulder. “Haven’t seen you in the weight room lately. Where’ve you been?”

“Sorry, just busy,” Aaron replied. He didn’t brush Trey off, exactly, but he pulled me to my feet and wrapped me in a hug. “Everything okay, Kate?”

I couldn’t complain, not with everything Aaron was going through. He went to visit his friend Mike every week, but the brain damage was so bad that Mike couldn’t remember who Aaron was. And part of that was my fault because I’d unknowingly helped my crazy teacher develop the zombie virus. But I’d cured it too; that had to count for something. So I pushed away my problems and said, “Yeah. Trey helped rescue me from a wannabe zombie.”

Aaron snorted. “You don’t need anyone to rescue you from anything, Kate.”

“Exactly.” Trey looked me up and down behind Aaron’s back.

Luckily, I didn’t have to reply. The bus pulled into the loop and screeched to a stop. When the door hissed open, Mrs. Gilbert, the FDA program liaison, stuck her head out with a slightly panicked smile. I would have been worried except that slight panic was her default setting. I could relate to that.

“All right, everyone!” she said. “We’re running a bit late here, so I’d appreciate it if you’d move move move!”

She clapped to punctuate each
move
. Either she was on drugs or she spent way too much time watching television shows meant for preschoolers. Or both.

All I wanted to do was get on the bus, but I only made it two
steps before Aaron grabbed me by the shoulders. I expected a kiss, but he spun me around instead. Then he opened my backpack. I was just about to ask him what the heck he was doing when he handed me an antibac wipe. My savior.

BOOK: Bad Hair Day
11.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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