Zombie!: The Musical, Chapter VI
Title: Zombie!: The Musical
Author: 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: 6 of Many. [ 1][ 2][ 3][ 4][ 5]
Claire sat in bed that night, reading from her collection of Edgar Allen Poe poems and short stories. She wished that she could write about him for her book report project, but she was finding that all of his stories were pretty much ‘boy gets girl, boy loses girl, death’. That wouldn’t work for her purposes. She had no idea which book she would want to read. The tried and true Romeo And Juliet was just that: tried and true. Too safe. She wanted to pick something surprising. But what?
She wished she could talk to Mark about it.
She wished she had his telephone number.
She wished he hadn’t looked like he’d been crying for all of recess, and wondered why he hadn’t felt comfortable enough with her to tell her what was going on.
She wished that she could stop wishing for things, but found it hard to just plain do things. She had never learned how to just take action. Maybe he could teach her that.
That was another thing. Why had he said “maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow”? Maybe? Why maybe? She worried that he wouldn’t talk to her every day anymore. Maybe her lack of action while they were laughing had killed their friendship.
But it couldn’t be that.
Could it?
She had a hard time sleeping that night.
The next day, Mark Jones wasn’t there during roll. Claire watched his desk in case he magically appeared because she was paying attention. When class carried on and Miss Heath began explaining Hoovervilles, she slumped down at her desk, depressed. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand this. Having an upset, despondent friend was almost as bad as having no friends. In fact, she was starting to think that it was worse. At least when she had no friends, she didn’t have to worry about her invisifriends’ feelings.
He finally showed up shortly after Miss Heath started her lesson on photosynthesis. Offering no apology, he slumped into his desk and kept his head down. Continuing to read from her biology text book, Miss Heath stepped down from her place at the podium and placed a pink tardy slip on his desk.
For a few seconds, there was complete silence as minds raced.
Then came the sound of everyone snickering and muttering things to each other at once. The sound was not unlike bees surrounding a hive. At first, Claire elected to sit silently. She was upset at him for being upset. But then she realized that not doing anything would only make the sudden coldness between them worse. Softly, she cleared her throat.
“As if none of you have ever been late!” she yelled out over the din.
The noise stopped. Everyone looked at her, including Miss Heath and Mark. It was as though she had never uttered a word in the classroom before - which, in fact, wasn’t too far from the truth.
After a few more seconds of bewildered silence, the din resumed until Miss Heath retook her place at the front of the class and banged her ruler against the wooden podium. “I suggest we go back to studying chlorophyll unless you all want to join Mr. Jones in detention.”
Everyone took a few moments to calm down. Claire played with the slightly loose metal around her pencil’s eraser. Outbursts like that really were not her strong suit, but she was tired of letting the others tease her friend. They didn’t even know him, and they had never made any attempts to learn anything about him. So how dare they even tease? She cast a curious glance in Mark’s direction.
He was smiling at her. It was a different kind of smile than usual. It seemed to say ‘thank you’.
She ripped off the bottom of the notebook page she had been taking notes on and quickly wrote him a note. “I’m sorry everyone is insensitive.”
As she stealthily passed the note under her desk to Josephine, her eyes met Miss Heath’s. She wasn’t sure if the teacher knew what she was doing or if she was upset at her for shouting in class, but the look frightened her.
After a few moments, Josephine handed her the paper, now wet with the familiar bleeding black ink. She unfolded it on her lap.
“So am I.”
For several moments, Claire sat transfixed by the words, not fully understanding them and liking that she didn’t. Was he sorry or was he insensitive? Or maybe both? She was so captivated by those three simple words that she didn’t notice the quietness that had taken over the room. She didn’t realize that the teacher was no longer reading from her massive instructional book. And it was because she didn’t notice that Miss Heath’s voice made her suddenly jump in her chair.
“You can join Mr. Jones in detention this afternoon, Miss LaMorgue.”
The sounds of beelike whispers resumed. But Claire didn’t care, about them or about going to detention. Because he was going to detention, and she couldn’t imagine spending another recess without him anyway. They would probably have more fun in Mr. Chordata’s tiny classroom than they ever had sitting outside. And what Mark didn’t even know yet was that, sometimes, Mr. Chordata had graham crackers. She didn’t like them, but they were from the human grocery store, so she figured that Mark probably did.
Mr. Chordata was one of the oldest teachers at the school, and he also was a bit of a rotund vampire. It was often unclear to the other vampires how he had gotten so chubby. What they didn’t know was that he was fond of dressing like a mortal and sneaking out of the community in search of graham crackers, potato chips and Twinkies. Claire knew this because, in her time at Bram Stoker Academy, she had accumulated about three years’ worth of hours in detention alone, and Mr. Chordata had taken a liking to her because she was one of few students who actually took an interest in what he had to say.
She marched alongside Mark to detention, passing everyone else on their way out the doors to recess. She held her head up, proudly. Mark’s eyes continued to turn toward her, and he gave her a disbelieving smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were honored to be going to detention.”
“What if I am?” she asked. She would have chirped if her vocal chords had known how.
He just laughed and shook his head.
When they entered detention hall, Mr. Chordata looked up from his newspaper and smiled at Claire. “Again?” he asked her, more amused than surprised.
She nodded. “I was writing notes to Mark.” She gestured toward him.
“Ah,” said the elder teacher, extending his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. You must be one of the good ones. I’m Mr. Chordata.”
Mark smiled and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mark Jones. I’m not sure if I’m really one of the good ones. Just one of the quiet ones.”
The teacher smiled and went back to his newspaper, making it fairly clear that he wouldn’t be trying very hard to make them pay for disturbing their class.
Claire led him over to the desks and sat down. “If you spend enough time with me, you might end up spending a lot of recess periods here. Mr. Gomez especially loves sending me to detention.”
“Maybe he just knows that you have more fun in here.” Mr. Chordata winked.
She giggled. “That also could be it.”
Mark looked around the room, amused. “I have to say, this place doesn’t look as scary as the word ‘detention’ makes it seem.”
Claire was surprised. “You’ve never been to detention?”
He laughed. “I guess I was too quiet to cause much trouble at my old school.”
“Well, you also went to a human school,” she stated. “You probably didn’t have to deal with people who were as different from you as you do here.”
Mark closed his mouth and clenched his jaw a bit. Claire didn’t know what caused that sudden change, but she thought she might have said something wrong. He had briefly mentioned to her once that he got teased in school, but he seemed such a happy person that she couldn’t understand what had caused him to be so sensitive about it way after the fact.
She thought quickly, trying to think of a way to change the subject without seeming to desperately grasp at straws. “Who cares if you’re more excited about Christmas than Halloween? Goran’s probably just jealous because you get to have presents and lights and reindeer. I think it sounds like a nice holiday. You shouldn’t be embarrassed.”
This didn’t have the effect she desired. He continued to clench his jaw.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sounding more annoyed than she wanted to betray to him. She felt bad that he felt bad, but it was starting to aggravate her that he wouldn’t be as open with her as she was with him.
He gave her a sideways glance and answered, in a low voice, “I don’t celebrate Christmas. I’m Jewish.”
“Oh!” she replied, her smile returning. “Well, that makes sense. That’s no big deal, is it?”
He picked at the skin around his left thumbnail. “I never thought it was before.”
Claire reached across the aisle and placed her hand on top of his, stopping him from pulling at his thumb. “Goran likes to say a lot of things that aren’t true. He thinks it’s his purpose to make everyone feel bad. You can’t let him get to you.”
Suddenly, he smiled. “You really should take your own advice.”
“Huh?”
“You’re good at cheering me up when people are mean, but when the tables turn and you’re the upset one, you can’t take your own advice and ignore bullies like Goran.”
She looked at him, perplexed. “Wait, this is about me now?”
He chuckled. “Not entirely. I really was upset at being called out like that, but yes, I want you to be able to see people’s reactions toward you the same way you see them toward me.”
He was hurting her head now.
“So you’re not upset with me?”
He shook his head for a second before shrugging slightly. “Well, I was at first, because you didn’t stand up for me when you know that I would stand up for you. But then I realized that the best way to get you to learn how to ignore people like Goran Price was to get you to stand up for me. So I stopped talking to you.” He smiled. “If that hadn’t worked, I would’ve had to think of another plan. But it did work.”
She blinked at him, feeling a little annoyed that he had tricked her into rising to his defense, but also feeling grateful to him because he was trying to help her.
“Now you know why I got teased at my old school, too,” he said. “I was the only Jewish kid in a school of Christians. You probably think that the rest of the world is completely desegregated and tolerant, but it isn’t. In fact, a big reason why I like this school is because it’s drastically more tolerant here than anywhere else I’ve been.” Mark nodded. “No one here has even tried to beat me up yet.”
Claire was amazed. “You used to get beat up?”
He looked down sadly. “All the time.”
Author: 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: 6 of Many. [ 1][ 2][ 3][ 4][ 5]
Claire sat in bed that night, reading from her collection of Edgar Allen Poe poems and short stories. She wished that she could write about him for her book report project, but she was finding that all of his stories were pretty much ‘boy gets girl, boy loses girl, death’. That wouldn’t work for her purposes. She had no idea which book she would want to read. The tried and true Romeo And Juliet was just that: tried and true. Too safe. She wanted to pick something surprising. But what?
She wished she could talk to Mark about it.
She wished she had his telephone number.
She wished he hadn’t looked like he’d been crying for all of recess, and wondered why he hadn’t felt comfortable enough with her to tell her what was going on.
She wished that she could stop wishing for things, but found it hard to just plain do things. She had never learned how to just take action. Maybe he could teach her that.
That was another thing. Why had he said “maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow”? Maybe? Why maybe? She worried that he wouldn’t talk to her every day anymore. Maybe her lack of action while they were laughing had killed their friendship.
But it couldn’t be that.
Could it?
She had a hard time sleeping that night.
The next day, Mark Jones wasn’t there during roll. Claire watched his desk in case he magically appeared because she was paying attention. When class carried on and Miss Heath began explaining Hoovervilles, she slumped down at her desk, depressed. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand this. Having an upset, despondent friend was almost as bad as having no friends. In fact, she was starting to think that it was worse. At least when she had no friends, she didn’t have to worry about her invisifriends’ feelings.
He finally showed up shortly after Miss Heath started her lesson on photosynthesis. Offering no apology, he slumped into his desk and kept his head down. Continuing to read from her biology text book, Miss Heath stepped down from her place at the podium and placed a pink tardy slip on his desk.
For a few seconds, there was complete silence as minds raced.
Then came the sound of everyone snickering and muttering things to each other at once. The sound was not unlike bees surrounding a hive. At first, Claire elected to sit silently. She was upset at him for being upset. But then she realized that not doing anything would only make the sudden coldness between them worse. Softly, she cleared her throat.
“As if none of you have ever been late!” she yelled out over the din.
The noise stopped. Everyone looked at her, including Miss Heath and Mark. It was as though she had never uttered a word in the classroom before - which, in fact, wasn’t too far from the truth.
After a few more seconds of bewildered silence, the din resumed until Miss Heath retook her place at the front of the class and banged her ruler against the wooden podium. “I suggest we go back to studying chlorophyll unless you all want to join Mr. Jones in detention.”
Everyone took a few moments to calm down. Claire played with the slightly loose metal around her pencil’s eraser. Outbursts like that really were not her strong suit, but she was tired of letting the others tease her friend. They didn’t even know him, and they had never made any attempts to learn anything about him. So how dare they even tease? She cast a curious glance in Mark’s direction.
He was smiling at her. It was a different kind of smile than usual. It seemed to say ‘thank you’.
She ripped off the bottom of the notebook page she had been taking notes on and quickly wrote him a note. “I’m sorry everyone is insensitive.”
As she stealthily passed the note under her desk to Josephine, her eyes met Miss Heath’s. She wasn’t sure if the teacher knew what she was doing or if she was upset at her for shouting in class, but the look frightened her.
After a few moments, Josephine handed her the paper, now wet with the familiar bleeding black ink. She unfolded it on her lap.
“So am I.”
For several moments, Claire sat transfixed by the words, not fully understanding them and liking that she didn’t. Was he sorry or was he insensitive? Or maybe both? She was so captivated by those three simple words that she didn’t notice the quietness that had taken over the room. She didn’t realize that the teacher was no longer reading from her massive instructional book. And it was because she didn’t notice that Miss Heath’s voice made her suddenly jump in her chair.
“You can join Mr. Jones in detention this afternoon, Miss LaMorgue.”
The sounds of beelike whispers resumed. But Claire didn’t care, about them or about going to detention. Because he was going to detention, and she couldn’t imagine spending another recess without him anyway. They would probably have more fun in Mr. Chordata’s tiny classroom than they ever had sitting outside. And what Mark didn’t even know yet was that, sometimes, Mr. Chordata had graham crackers. She didn’t like them, but they were from the human grocery store, so she figured that Mark probably did.
Mr. Chordata was one of the oldest teachers at the school, and he also was a bit of a rotund vampire. It was often unclear to the other vampires how he had gotten so chubby. What they didn’t know was that he was fond of dressing like a mortal and sneaking out of the community in search of graham crackers, potato chips and Twinkies. Claire knew this because, in her time at Bram Stoker Academy, she had accumulated about three years’ worth of hours in detention alone, and Mr. Chordata had taken a liking to her because she was one of few students who actually took an interest in what he had to say.
She marched alongside Mark to detention, passing everyone else on their way out the doors to recess. She held her head up, proudly. Mark’s eyes continued to turn toward her, and he gave her a disbelieving smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were honored to be going to detention.”
“What if I am?” she asked. She would have chirped if her vocal chords had known how.
He just laughed and shook his head.
When they entered detention hall, Mr. Chordata looked up from his newspaper and smiled at Claire. “Again?” he asked her, more amused than surprised.
She nodded. “I was writing notes to Mark.” She gestured toward him.
“Ah,” said the elder teacher, extending his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. You must be one of the good ones. I’m Mr. Chordata.”
Mark smiled and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mark Jones. I’m not sure if I’m really one of the good ones. Just one of the quiet ones.”
The teacher smiled and went back to his newspaper, making it fairly clear that he wouldn’t be trying very hard to make them pay for disturbing their class.
Claire led him over to the desks and sat down. “If you spend enough time with me, you might end up spending a lot of recess periods here. Mr. Gomez especially loves sending me to detention.”
“Maybe he just knows that you have more fun in here.” Mr. Chordata winked.
She giggled. “That also could be it.”
Mark looked around the room, amused. “I have to say, this place doesn’t look as scary as the word ‘detention’ makes it seem.”
Claire was surprised. “You’ve never been to detention?”
He laughed. “I guess I was too quiet to cause much trouble at my old school.”
“Well, you also went to a human school,” she stated. “You probably didn’t have to deal with people who were as different from you as you do here.”
Mark closed his mouth and clenched his jaw a bit. Claire didn’t know what caused that sudden change, but she thought she might have said something wrong. He had briefly mentioned to her once that he got teased in school, but he seemed such a happy person that she couldn’t understand what had caused him to be so sensitive about it way after the fact.
She thought quickly, trying to think of a way to change the subject without seeming to desperately grasp at straws. “Who cares if you’re more excited about Christmas than Halloween? Goran’s probably just jealous because you get to have presents and lights and reindeer. I think it sounds like a nice holiday. You shouldn’t be embarrassed.”
This didn’t have the effect she desired. He continued to clench his jaw.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sounding more annoyed than she wanted to betray to him. She felt bad that he felt bad, but it was starting to aggravate her that he wouldn’t be as open with her as she was with him.
He gave her a sideways glance and answered, in a low voice, “I don’t celebrate Christmas. I’m Jewish.”
“Oh!” she replied, her smile returning. “Well, that makes sense. That’s no big deal, is it?”
He picked at the skin around his left thumbnail. “I never thought it was before.”
Claire reached across the aisle and placed her hand on top of his, stopping him from pulling at his thumb. “Goran likes to say a lot of things that aren’t true. He thinks it’s his purpose to make everyone feel bad. You can’t let him get to you.”
Suddenly, he smiled. “You really should take your own advice.”
“Huh?”
“You’re good at cheering me up when people are mean, but when the tables turn and you’re the upset one, you can’t take your own advice and ignore bullies like Goran.”
She looked at him, perplexed. “Wait, this is about me now?”
He chuckled. “Not entirely. I really was upset at being called out like that, but yes, I want you to be able to see people’s reactions toward you the same way you see them toward me.”
He was hurting her head now.
“So you’re not upset with me?”
He shook his head for a second before shrugging slightly. “Well, I was at first, because you didn’t stand up for me when you know that I would stand up for you. But then I realized that the best way to get you to learn how to ignore people like Goran Price was to get you to stand up for me. So I stopped talking to you.” He smiled. “If that hadn’t worked, I would’ve had to think of another plan. But it did work.”
She blinked at him, feeling a little annoyed that he had tricked her into rising to his defense, but also feeling grateful to him because he was trying to help her.
“Now you know why I got teased at my old school, too,” he said. “I was the only Jewish kid in a school of Christians. You probably think that the rest of the world is completely desegregated and tolerant, but it isn’t. In fact, a big reason why I like this school is because it’s drastically more tolerant here than anywhere else I’ve been.” Mark nodded. “No one here has even tried to beat me up yet.”
Claire was amazed. “You used to get beat up?”
He looked down sadly. “All the time.”