Memoirs of a Neurotic Zombie (2 page)

It turns out that nothing gets townspeople mobilised faster than tweenage despair. Within minutes of Mr Erik Eriksen’s uninspiring rallying cry not to jump off the roof (‘It’s going to be okay,’ was the best he could do), the fire department, police department, parks and recreation department, and two television crews turned up to join the throngs of students below who split into two choral camps chanting either, ‘jump, jump’, or ‘don’t jump’.

I even spotted a guy selling hot dogs.

Our suspected suicide attempt was quickly becoming a carnival. I noticed my annoying sister Amanda stride towards the principal. She wrestled the megaphone from his oversized hands.

‘Adam Meltzer,’ she called. ‘This stunt will not get you your room back.’

Upon my death, in a period of mourning, Amanda had seen it fit to move into my newly vacated bedroom. The bedroom, I might add, with a bigger closet and two windows facing the front, from where she could spy on who was walking to and from school with whom. She still hadn’t given it back and I had to sleep in the basement.

‘Ms Meltzer, I think your brother needs your kindness and support right now,’ I heard the principal say, snatching the megaphone back.

‘He’s never had it before,’ Amanda said. ‘If I give it to him now, he’s bound to jump just out of sheer confusion. No, we need to treat these middle-schoolers like the infants they are.’

‘Hey!’ I called. ‘You’re not even in high school yet!’

Gawd
.

Amanda always had a superiority complex. But ever since the truck carrying the school’s test scores crashed into the mighty Ohio River, giving all the seniors an automatic B+, she marches around town like she owns the place because she is guaranteed to graduate.

But she was marching in a parade of her own self-delusion.

I’d seen enough high school TV shows to know that come September, Amanda will walk through the
security arch of Croxton High School and be a goldfish in a shark tank. And then who’d be laughing?

Probably the sharks.

If they could laugh – there is no evidence to suggest they could, but it’d be pretty cool to see a laughing shark.
*

Especially
after it ate my sister.

But for now, she was annoying me and embarrassing herself … on television. One of the TV crews shoved a camera in her face and the local newscaster, Gideon Gilgacrest, put his arm around her.

‘I’m here with the sister of the soon-to-be-deceased—’ he began.

‘Ha!’ she laughed (like a shark might). ‘He’s already dead.’

‘Amanda!’ I shouted. Shaking my head. I did not want to be outed as a zombie on Channel 7
News At Nine
.

If I was ever going to come clean about my state of undeadness, I’d want to be on a nationally televised talk show with at least a twenty rating.

Jeez
, what do you take me for!

The newscaster continued fabricating the news. ‘… who is clearly distraught about her brother’s final moments. Grief, dear, works in mysterious ways.’

‘Can you make me famous?’ I heard Amanda ask.

Beside me, Corina sat back down, clearly bored by the media circus.

I joined her, dangling my legs off the ledge. It was surprisingly freeing to have nothing but thirty feet of air under your feet. ‘I see why you like it up here.’

Nesto settled in on my left, surveying the scene below. ‘Yeah, we get a lot of attention. Think they could fling me a hot dog up here?’

‘That worm didn’t fill you up?’ I asked.

‘Unwanted attention.’ Corina sighed. ‘Look guys.’

She pointed to the school parking lot. A black hearse drove in, screeching its tyres in full violation of the school board’s ten-miles-per-hour campus speed limit.

‘Whoa,’ said Nesto. ‘They really can’t wait to bury us.’

‘In a matter of speaking,’ said Corina. ‘That … is my mother.’

Mrs Parker drove the hearse up on the curb, nearly hitting the gaggle of students and pushing the hot dog vendor out of the way as she flung open the door. Pink wieners spilled all over the tarmac and Nesto called out, ‘Ten-second rule!’
†

Corina’s mother, dressed all in black and wearing a veil that obscured  most of her face, snapped open a black parasol. She glided towards the principal and held out her black-gloved hand. For a man descended from Viking stock, Mr Eriksen surrendered surprisingly quickly. He handed over the megaphone and skulked off to the side to lift a hot dog from the ground, still with about three seconds to go before Nesto’s ten-second rule expired.

‘Fly down here at once!’ she screeched.

‘Ah, no, no!’ called Mr Limpman, our guidance counsellor, who was rushing across the parking lot, heaving his heft as fast as he could.

‘Mother,’ said Corina. ‘Do not make a scene.’

Mrs Parker scanned the hundreds of students, teachers, and emergency service professionals assembled,
and sarcastically bit back, ‘A little too late for that
dar
-ling.’

‘Fine,’ said Corina.

She flew to her feet and stood with her steel-toed boots lurching over the edge.

The crowd gasped.

‘Corina,’ I said. ‘I think we ought to go back inside.’

‘But I’m having fun,’ chirped Ernesto.

‘C’mon guys,’ I urged. ‘Let’s go before anyone does anything stupid.’

‘Like call my mother?’ said Corina.

‘It could be worse,’ I offered, knowing that for Corina Parker it probably was already worse. ‘Let’s just meet up tonight. My backyard?’

‘Yeah, suppose,’ Corina said with a huff, stepping back from the ledge. ‘But don’t expect me to keep supplying you boys with Pop Rocks. You gotta bring your own stash if you want to keep having three-a.m. rendezvous.’
‡

‘Noted,’ I said with a nod.

I really did want to keep having three-a.m. meet-ups with Corina Parker, so I made a mental note to find a reliable bulk supplier of fizzy candy.

We shuffled back towards the door in the roof and back inside the air-conditioned comfort of publicly funded education.

When we descended the ladder into the hallway, Mr Limpman greeted us with open arms.

He had giant sweat circles under the armpits of his short-sleeved collared shirt.

I’m not going anywhere near those
, I thought.

‘You made the right choice, kids,’ he said. ‘And just know that I’m always here for you to tackle any problems you may be facing.’

Just then the school bell rang.

The last school bell of seventh grade.

‘But not until after Labor Day,’ he added. ‘My holidays start now. Have a great summer and remember to choose life.’

We walked outside into the crowd and Corina’s mother grabbed her arm and snatched her away.

‘You pull a stunt like that,’ she snapped, ‘and just before the big convention. I’d hoped you’d be mature enough to attend this year, but after that—’

‘Adam,’ interrupted my sister, ‘I’m glad you didn’t die.’

And she leaned in, whispering to my ear, ‘
Again
.’

I was touched by Amanda’s sentiment, but mostly curious about what Mrs Parker was talking about.

‘Thanks, sis,’ I said. ‘But you’re still in my room.’

‘I’m in high school now,’ she said with a smile. ‘Just four years until college … then it’s all yours.’

‘Your mother and I have some wonderful news,’ announced my dad. He looked at mom with a knowing smile. The kitchen table was covered in a white tablecloth and I noticed that instead of IKEA plates, my oddly giddy parents had opted for the good china. Ordinarily, I’d welcome the formal stuff, but tonight I couldn’t shake the feeling that something strange was going on.

I glanced at Amanda, whose jaw hung open with a half-eaten stick of red liquorice drooling from her mouth. She rocked ever so slowly back and forth on her chair, gripped in shock. I raised my eyebrows (feeling my grey forehead skin crack – note to self: double up on face moisturiser) to catch her attention. Amanda placed her hand over her tummy and mimed a baby bump.

Now it was my turn to do some jaw dropping. I knew she’d been hoping to fit into high school, but I figured she’d go for cheerleading, not teenage pregnancy.

‘Not me, you idiot,’ she scoffed. Amanda pointed her half-eaten, habit-forming liquorice at our mother.

I looked at Mom dishing out the veggie lasagne. She was positively glowing. Dad was even looking at her affectionately as he poured golden, bubbling liquid into tall, thin glasses that looked too fancy for anything but … oh, no …

… it was champagne.

As Corina would say:
Oh. My. Count
. They were having a baby!

My afterlife flashed before my eyes – a terrifying future filled with vomit and poo and indentured
*
babysitting. Amanda actually started to convulse, ever so slightly, but Mom and Dad were too absorbed in pre-baby bliss to notice.

They had already stopped paying attention to us. My entire world was crumbling around me. I had to take charge of this apocalypse.
†

‘You can’t have a baby!’ I declared. ‘I’m your baby!’

Dad dropped his champagne. The glass shattered on the china plate and I watched in slow motion as the bubbly liquid doused the tablecloth.

Mom stared at me. It reminded me of the first time she’d seen me in zombie form. There was fear, but there was also love.

‘First of all,’ she said. ‘I’ll get some paper towels.’ She rose from the table carefully and backed herself up to the kitchen counter. ‘Second, you are not a baby. And third, most importantly, I’m not having a baby. I am too busy for a baby.’

But Amanda kept rocking herself back and forth muttering something about life being over.

‘You’re worrying me, Amanda,’ said Dad.

‘We’re the ones who should be worried,’ she said.

‘She has a point,’ I said, hating to agree with her.
‘Look at the evidence: tablecloth, Grandma’s fine china, champagne, you two making googly eyes at each other. The signs are clear.’

My parents just laughed.

They laughed and laughed … and laughed.

Mom poured herself a glass of the bubbles and downed it in one gulp.

‘No, Adam,’ she said with a smile, ‘we’re celebrating because this summer there’s a big convention of dentists coming to town.’

‘And they need rooms to stay in,’ added my dad. ‘So we’ve rented out your bedrooms.’

‘Huh?’ grunted Amanda.

‘And with the money we’ll get,’ said Mom with a grin, ‘we’re sending you kids away to camp.’

‘So, no road trip?’ I asked.

Dad shook his head. ‘We know you kids don’t really like the Meltzer family road trip. But camp, wow, you’re going to love it!’

This was almost too much to process. In the breath of about one minute, I went from being an uncle, to an older brother, to a refugee from my own home.

‘Amanda, dear,’ said Mom, mopping up Dad’s bubbles with a puff of paper towel. ‘Chew your liquorice.’

Dad picked little bits of glass off the table and placed them in what was left of his champagne flute.

‘Ouchy,’ he yelped, pulling his finger away. ‘Cut myself.’

He held up his index finger and blood trickled down his digit.

Knockity-knock-knock
.

I looked over at the window and spotted Corina floating outside. Her eyes were wide, fixated on Dad’s bloody finger. She licked her lip gloss. I shook my head frantically. I did not want her vamping out on my dad. She landed on her two feet and stood there, waiting. I tried to shoo her away but she didn’t move.

‘Adam, what are you—?’ asked my mom. ‘Oh, it’s your little friend, Corina.’

‘Adam’s-got-a-girlfriend,’ teased Amanda.

‘She’s not my girl—’

Then Mom waved her in. ‘Come on in, dear, if you don’t mind the chaos.’

‘Whoa,’ I protested. ‘You can’t
invite
her in.’
‡

‘Lovers’ quarrel?’ my sister pestered.

‘Don’t be rude, Adam,’ said my Dad, trying to stem the bleeding by pressing his finger against his lips.

‘Are you hungry, dear?’ Mom asked, before turning to me. ‘She looks too thin to me – do you think she eats enough, Adam?’

I had no idea how to respond to that one.

Corina stepped in through the screen door on the downstairs landing and bounded up with a stricken look on her pale face.

‘Don’t mind the Meltzers,’ said Dad, now sucking his bleeding finger. ‘Just a bit of family insanity here.’

Corina stared at Dad’s cut. Her mouth gaped opened and I swear her incisors grew.

‘Corina was just going home,’ I said, rising to escort her out the front door and as far away from my bleeding father as I could.

‘I don’t have a home any more,’ she said.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘My parents gave away my room and even my cof—my cosy bed to my relatives coming to the convention.’

‘Lots of dentists in your family then?’ asked my dad.

‘It’s in the blood,’ Corina explained.

‘We were just telling the kids the good news,’
explained my mom. ‘We’ve rented out their rooms to dentists and with the extortionate
§
rent we’re able to charge, we’re sending them away to camp.’

Camp
. The very word filled me with fear. A place filled with mosquitos but void of basic plumbing. Like the Dark Ages.

‘And they leave tomorrow!’ my dad said with a smile.

He raised his new glass of bubbles and clinked glasses with mom, sealing my fate.

‘Wait,’ I said to Corina, pulling her into the front hallway. ‘Did she just  say “dentists”?’

‘That’s what I was coming over to tell you,’ Corina whispered, before reinstating normal volume to avoid suspicion. ‘About all of the “dentists” coming to town.’

‘And by dentists,’ I said softly, ‘what you really mean is …’

With her back to my family, she shot me a smile. Her incisors had grown into bloodsucking fangs. Then she closed her mouth to cover up her secret.

‘… vampires.’