Zombie!: The Musical, Chapter V
Title: Zombie!: The Musical
Author: itswhatido aka racistdragon
Type of Story: Novel for NaNoWriMo contest, 2009.
Synopsis: Two outcasts in a community of outcasts join together to change everyone's perception of what it means to belong.
Part: 5 of Many. [ 1][ 2][ 3][ 4]
Claire was slightly awkward at recess the following day. Mark looked at her for several minutes in confusion before he finally asked her, “What’s wrong?”
She went a strange shade of crimson before answering. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.”
He smiled. “Thinking makes you blush.”
She laughed softly, bumping her shoulder gently into his. “No. It’s just that I was thinking that I’ve never really had a friend before.”
“Oh.”
“That is what we are, isn’t it? Aren’t we friends?”
He nodded at her, as if to give her extra assurance. “Yeah! I mean, if you want to be my friend. Usually people don’t really ask. It just kind of… happens.”
She nodded in agreement and decided that no more needed to be said about that. “Do your parents ever ask you about what you’re doing in school?”
Mark pulled at some of the long grass that surrounded them as they sat, legs crossed, beside each other on the ground facing the trees far beyond the school grounds. This had become their special spot. No one could even touch them there. Or so they believed. He shook his head in response, obviously choosing his words carefully. “They don’t really ask me about anything. They’re too busy with their own lives.”
This was hard for Claire to understand. She had never known anyone who didn’t have a close relationship with their parents, and had never even imagined that someone could not even have any sort of relationship with them. “But they make you lunch and bring you to school and everything, don’t they?”
He shook his head again. “Mom makes my lunch the night before school every day, yeah. But I take a bus here.”
She knitted her brows. “But there’s no school bus. We all live in this neighborhood, except for you.”
“I didn’t mean school bus,” he said. “I meant city bus.”
She had often wondered about the world outside of the community. Her parents shared precious little of it with her, choosing to keep her pretty sheltered behind the walls and gates that kept the ‘them’ away from the ‘us’. It therefore surprised her to find out that the cities were so large that they required buses to get through them.
“People must look at you funny when you get off here, huh?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t really care. I haven’t even noticed.”
She looked at him, impressed. “People always look at me funny, and I always notice. How do you do it?”
He found a stick and started digging into the earth, making a hole amongst the assorted blades of grass. “I just focus on what I’m doing and what makes me happy… Like what I’m looking forward to and stuff. After a while, the people who might be staring get bored with you not caring and move on with their lives.”
Claire nodded. That made sense to her, even if she could not fathom a way of making it work for herself. She admired him for having the strength to avoid what had always seemed to her as largely distracting eyes. She wondered if he ever felt the same way she did. “I wish I could be more like you.”
Smiling, he stopped digging and threw the twig off toward the trees. “No you don’t. You wish you could be a better you. And you can be.”
She reached over and placed her pinky in the hole, widening it as though ready to plant a seed there. “How?”
He picked a blade of grass and folded it up until it resembled a small green package. He stuck it into the hole and covered it up with dirt. “Just keep living and I’m sure you’ll find out.”
Mark Jones seemed like an incredibly smart person. She wondered how someone his age could already sound so wise about subjects that had always left her utterly confused. She would have asked him this if she wasn’t so shy about possibly upsetting him.
“I can help you try to find out,” he suddenly added. “If you want.”
The very idea excited her. “I would like that, I think."
Back in the classroom, Miss Heath announced that the class was to start work writing book reports. The only books that were allowed were books about what she called ‘forbidden love’. “Many novels throughout history have had the same simple plot: boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, boy somehow loses girl, and boy tries to get her back. In many of these stories, the boy is unsuccessful at getting the girl back, so he kills himself. I want you to tell me why these types of story are so popular and how your chosen book fits into this mold. Reports will be due before Halloween break.”
Mark apparently had not thought about this possibility, and he suddenly exclaimed, “We get Halloween break?!”
Several of their classmates tittered at this. Miss Heath looked at the boy like she had forgotten that he existed. “Yes. The week before and the week after. Mr. Gomez must not have gone over the schedule with you and your parents.”
The titters increased as more of the students realized that it was safe. “Human Kid probably thought he’d get Christmas break!” heckled Goran Price.
Mark focused his eyes down at his notebook, embarrassed.
“That’s enough!” Miss Heath smacked a large metallic ruler against her podium. “Not everyone celebrates Halloween the same way, just like not everyone celebrates Christmas. You all must learn to accept the differences in the world if you ever expect to make a good name for yourselves. Mr. Jones, if you choose not to spend your Halloween break celebrating, I’m sure you’ll none-the-less enjoy the time off from class. Now, back to The Crucible.”
At recess, Mark was nowhere to be found. Claire sat in their usual spot, ready to enjoy another enlightening and amusing conversation, but minutes passed quickly and there was no sign of him anywhere. She noticed that several of the other kids watched her as she sat alone, looking dejected though still hopeful. Some pointed and whispered to their friends. She felt herself go hot with embarrassment as well as anger. He was supposed to be there with her so that everyone else would disappear. He was the screen she hid behind. She realized that now as she felt the brunt of their judgmental stares and their backwards glances. She didn’t like it, but she also didn’t like that she felt the need to hide behind someone else. He always inspired in her feelings of wanting to be her own person, but she was scared and she needed him to help her be herself.
It was a thought that sucked.
She waited all through recess, but he never came. He didn’t even send one of the younger students to tell her where he was or what was going on. She began to worry. Was he mad at her? Had she done something wrong? Should she have stood up for him when everyone laughed? She really wanted to, but she wasn’t the best at confronting prejudice. He should’ve known that.
She spent the entire time wondering if she had done something and if he was mad at her. She never once worried whether or not he was all right. She never even thought to think about that.
When class resumed, she was happy to see him sitting in his seat, two down from her. She got out a piece of paper and her pen, even though his head was down on his desk and he didn’t look talkative. “There you are! I missed you at recess,” she wrote.
At first, she wasn’t sure he got the note. His head stayed down and he didn’t seem to be making any effort to pass her anything. Then, finally, the paper was passed back to her. “Sorry,” it said. “I don’t feel like talking.”
Claire had never known Mark Jones to ‘not feel like talking’. She had no idea what that could mean. Instead of letting that be the end of it, she hastily wrote back, “Is it because everyone laughed at you?”
The handwriting on the returned note was drastically more sharp than usual, and the ink bled so much that the letters were hard to read at first. “Yes, that’s exactly why.”
She didn’t know how to apologize, or even why to apologize. After all, he had seen the other kids laugh at her before and she hadn’t stopped wanting to talk to him. He hadn’t apologized for seeing her go through ridicule. In fact, she recalled, he had laughed too.
“What’s your problem?” she angrily wrote back.
“Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow.” Mark raised his head from the desk. He had been crying.
Author: itswhatido aka racistdragon
Type of Story: Novel for NaNoWriMo contest, 2009.
Synopsis: Two outcasts in a community of outcasts join together to change everyone's perception of what it means to belong.
Part: 5 of Many. [ 1][ 2][ 3][ 4]
Claire was slightly awkward at recess the following day. Mark looked at her for several minutes in confusion before he finally asked her, “What’s wrong?”
She went a strange shade of crimson before answering. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.”
He smiled. “Thinking makes you blush.”
She laughed softly, bumping her shoulder gently into his. “No. It’s just that I was thinking that I’ve never really had a friend before.”
“Oh.”
“That is what we are, isn’t it? Aren’t we friends?”
He nodded at her, as if to give her extra assurance. “Yeah! I mean, if you want to be my friend. Usually people don’t really ask. It just kind of… happens.”
She nodded in agreement and decided that no more needed to be said about that. “Do your parents ever ask you about what you’re doing in school?”
Mark pulled at some of the long grass that surrounded them as they sat, legs crossed, beside each other on the ground facing the trees far beyond the school grounds. This had become their special spot. No one could even touch them there. Or so they believed. He shook his head in response, obviously choosing his words carefully. “They don’t really ask me about anything. They’re too busy with their own lives.”
This was hard for Claire to understand. She had never known anyone who didn’t have a close relationship with their parents, and had never even imagined that someone could not even have any sort of relationship with them. “But they make you lunch and bring you to school and everything, don’t they?”
He shook his head again. “Mom makes my lunch the night before school every day, yeah. But I take a bus here.”
She knitted her brows. “But there’s no school bus. We all live in this neighborhood, except for you.”
“I didn’t mean school bus,” he said. “I meant city bus.”
She had often wondered about the world outside of the community. Her parents shared precious little of it with her, choosing to keep her pretty sheltered behind the walls and gates that kept the ‘them’ away from the ‘us’. It therefore surprised her to find out that the cities were so large that they required buses to get through them.
“People must look at you funny when you get off here, huh?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t really care. I haven’t even noticed.”
She looked at him, impressed. “People always look at me funny, and I always notice. How do you do it?”
He found a stick and started digging into the earth, making a hole amongst the assorted blades of grass. “I just focus on what I’m doing and what makes me happy… Like what I’m looking forward to and stuff. After a while, the people who might be staring get bored with you not caring and move on with their lives.”
Claire nodded. That made sense to her, even if she could not fathom a way of making it work for herself. She admired him for having the strength to avoid what had always seemed to her as largely distracting eyes. She wondered if he ever felt the same way she did. “I wish I could be more like you.”
Smiling, he stopped digging and threw the twig off toward the trees. “No you don’t. You wish you could be a better you. And you can be.”
She reached over and placed her pinky in the hole, widening it as though ready to plant a seed there. “How?”
He picked a blade of grass and folded it up until it resembled a small green package. He stuck it into the hole and covered it up with dirt. “Just keep living and I’m sure you’ll find out.”
Mark Jones seemed like an incredibly smart person. She wondered how someone his age could already sound so wise about subjects that had always left her utterly confused. She would have asked him this if she wasn’t so shy about possibly upsetting him.
“I can help you try to find out,” he suddenly added. “If you want.”
The very idea excited her. “I would like that, I think."
Back in the classroom, Miss Heath announced that the class was to start work writing book reports. The only books that were allowed were books about what she called ‘forbidden love’. “Many novels throughout history have had the same simple plot: boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, boy somehow loses girl, and boy tries to get her back. In many of these stories, the boy is unsuccessful at getting the girl back, so he kills himself. I want you to tell me why these types of story are so popular and how your chosen book fits into this mold. Reports will be due before Halloween break.”
Mark apparently had not thought about this possibility, and he suddenly exclaimed, “We get Halloween break?!”
Several of their classmates tittered at this. Miss Heath looked at the boy like she had forgotten that he existed. “Yes. The week before and the week after. Mr. Gomez must not have gone over the schedule with you and your parents.”
The titters increased as more of the students realized that it was safe. “Human Kid probably thought he’d get Christmas break!” heckled Goran Price.
Mark focused his eyes down at his notebook, embarrassed.
“That’s enough!” Miss Heath smacked a large metallic ruler against her podium. “Not everyone celebrates Halloween the same way, just like not everyone celebrates Christmas. You all must learn to accept the differences in the world if you ever expect to make a good name for yourselves. Mr. Jones, if you choose not to spend your Halloween break celebrating, I’m sure you’ll none-the-less enjoy the time off from class. Now, back to The Crucible.”
At recess, Mark was nowhere to be found. Claire sat in their usual spot, ready to enjoy another enlightening and amusing conversation, but minutes passed quickly and there was no sign of him anywhere. She noticed that several of the other kids watched her as she sat alone, looking dejected though still hopeful. Some pointed and whispered to their friends. She felt herself go hot with embarrassment as well as anger. He was supposed to be there with her so that everyone else would disappear. He was the screen she hid behind. She realized that now as she felt the brunt of their judgmental stares and their backwards glances. She didn’t like it, but she also didn’t like that she felt the need to hide behind someone else. He always inspired in her feelings of wanting to be her own person, but she was scared and she needed him to help her be herself.
It was a thought that sucked.
She waited all through recess, but he never came. He didn’t even send one of the younger students to tell her where he was or what was going on. She began to worry. Was he mad at her? Had she done something wrong? Should she have stood up for him when everyone laughed? She really wanted to, but she wasn’t the best at confronting prejudice. He should’ve known that.
She spent the entire time wondering if she had done something and if he was mad at her. She never once worried whether or not he was all right. She never even thought to think about that.
When class resumed, she was happy to see him sitting in his seat, two down from her. She got out a piece of paper and her pen, even though his head was down on his desk and he didn’t look talkative. “There you are! I missed you at recess,” she wrote.
At first, she wasn’t sure he got the note. His head stayed down and he didn’t seem to be making any effort to pass her anything. Then, finally, the paper was passed back to her. “Sorry,” it said. “I don’t feel like talking.”
Claire had never known Mark Jones to ‘not feel like talking’. She had no idea what that could mean. Instead of letting that be the end of it, she hastily wrote back, “Is it because everyone laughed at you?”
The handwriting on the returned note was drastically more sharp than usual, and the ink bled so much that the letters were hard to read at first. “Yes, that’s exactly why.”
She didn’t know how to apologize, or even why to apologize. After all, he had seen the other kids laugh at her before and she hadn’t stopped wanting to talk to him. He hadn’t apologized for seeing her go through ridicule. In fact, she recalled, he had laughed too.
“What’s your problem?” she angrily wrote back.
“Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow.” Mark raised his head from the desk. He had been crying.