Alice in Zombieland, стр. 20

A hard nod.

I had about a thousand more questions now. Had our parents hung out together? Been friends? Enemies? Had his dad said anything about mine? How had his dad known about me—had Cole mentioned me to him? I didn’t ask a single one, though. Asking would have invited him to ask questions of his own, and I wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened over the summer.

“My dad wants to know—”

“Thanks for the heads-up about your girlfriend,” I interjected in a rush, making it clear our parents weren’t up for discussion. I wasn’t sure of my reaction, and I wasn’t going to risk it. “We should probably say goodbye now.”

A knowing pause before he gave another stiff nod. “Fine. But just so you know, Mackenzie isn’t my girlfriend.”

He didn’t say anything else, and I had no idea how to reply, so I strode into the classroom. Gold star for me—I didn’t cast a final glance over my shoulder. I think he watched me, though, because I felt two white-hot pings in my back.

I made it all the way to last block without any problems and forced myself to listen to the final lecture of the day, this one about equations and how to properly decipher them with minimal brain spasms—without allowing thoughts of Cole Holland to invade. Go me. Finally, blessedly, the bell rang—and I was quite sad to realize I wasn’t any smarter.

Kat, who’d saved me a seat and wiggled her eyebrows at me every time I’d glanced in her direction, grabbed me before I could escape and demanded to know every word that had been uttered between Cole and me.

The self-imposed CH embargo was over, I guess, and I was kinda glad. I needed advice. I relayed the conversation verbatim and her excitement drained.

“Okay, I don’t know how they judge cool versus lame at Carver Suck It Academy—oh, and did I mention that we kicked your butt last year in both football and basketball?—but here at Asher we consider that seriously lame.”

I wasn’t offended. I liked her honesty. “What should I have said?”

She batted her lashes at me and lowered her voice to a smoky rasp. “Cole, you big strong manimal. I know the boogeyman thinks you’ll jump out of his closet, but I think you’re— Hey, are you listening to our private conversation, Marcus?” she ended in a shout. “Yeah, that’s right. Run.”

I could only blink at her. Never, and I mean never, could I call Cole a manimal.

“Where was I?” Kat asked me. “Never mind. Judging by your expression, you’re not ready for flirting lessons. I’ll just stick with giving you a pick-me-up. Come on. Let’s go to Cafe Bella and drink so many lattes we’re peeing coffee for a week.”

Suddenly I heard angels singing. “I would seriously love that.”

She smiled. “I always have the best ideas, don’t I?”

Outside, a gray film covered the sky. Thick dark clouds looked ready to burst at any moment…except for one. It was white and fluffy, perfect in every way—and shaped like a rabbit in midhop.

Ice chips crystallized in my veins, and I skidded to a stop. The last time I’d seen a cloud like that, I’d lost everyone and everything I loved.

Logically I knew a cloud did not determine my future, or even predict it, but…

The world was suddenly spinning, spinning, round and round. Car after car zoomed beside me, the parking lot writhing and seething with blurry motions and hazy sounds. Someone honked. Someone grumbled. I couldn’t force myself to move. Could only stare in horror.

“Ali?”

Kat’s voice sounded far away, as if she stood at the end of a long, narrow tunnel. Would I cause Kat to wreck her car today? Would she die in front of me? Would I walk away without a scratch?

Finally, motion on my part. I backed away from her.

“Ali?” she said again.

I jerked my gaze in her direction. Her frown of concern nearly leveled me. “I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.” Fog filled my head, making me dizzy. I spun and ran, just ran, arrowing toward the building.

I heard her calling for me, knew she was chasing after me. A back door blew open and closed in the wind. I shot through on its next opening and sprinted down the hall. I didn’t see Dr. Wright but I heard her shout for me. I ignored her, too, and found a bathroom (for boys) where I shut myself inside one of the stalls. Panting, I sat on the lid of the toilet, drew my knees up to my chest and fought the sting of tears in the back of my eyes.

Minutes, maybe hours, passed but neither Kat nor Dr. Wright ever found me.

What should I do? What should I freaking do? I’d already missed my bus, and I refused to call Nana to ask her to pick me up. I just…I couldn’t get in a car today. With anyone. If someone died because of me, I would never be able to shake the guilt.

You realize you’re being irrational, right?

Yeah, I did. But did that help me? No.

My house was only a few miles away. I could walk, I decided. Yeah, that was the perfect solution. No cars would be involved, and I’d get some much-needed exercise. Finally I calmed.

The storm would break at any moment, and I’d probably be soaked to the bone by the time I got home, but everyone would be safe. That was all that mattered.

6

Advice from a Dying Caterpillar

Dinner that evening proved to be a horribly tense affair. Nana had come home early and I hadn’t been there. She had worried. She’d called my cell a dozen times but I hadn’t answered. I had known she would insist on coming to get me, and my protests would have fallen on deaf ears. So I’d sent her straight to voice mail, listened to her messages and texted her back each time, telling her I was on my way and fine.

“What’s the point of having a cell phone if you’re not going to use it,” she muttered now.

“I did use it,” I said, my voice nasally. My nose was cold, wet and stuffed, and if I sneezed one more time, I’d hopefully blow the thing off my face. “I texted you.” Multiple times.

Her lined face scrunched in distaste, making her appear older than she really was. “And I had no idea how to respond! I’ve never typed anything but a number into my phone.”

“I’ll teach you the basics,” I said, the thought alone enough to make me nervous. I could already tell: there’d be lots of adjusting her reading glasses, repeating my instructions as if I’d spoken in Greek, until she finally asked me to write everything down in a language she could understand. But there wasn’t a language she would understand, so we’d never get anywhere.

“You’ll teach me?” Nana asked.

See? Repeating me already. “Yes.”

“You, a girl who doesn’t even have enough sense to stay out of the rain until I can come and get you?”

As if to emphasize my own stupidity, I sneezed. “Yes.”

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the doctor.” She tossed her napkin on the table. “You’ve probably given yourself pneumonia!”

“I’m not sick, Nana. Honest.” Wasn’t like I’d gone to a medical lab, asked for a dish of their tastiest virus and feasted.

She drew in a deep breath…released…then picked up her napkin. “All right. If you’re without a fever tomorrow, I’ll allow you to teach me how to text.”

Gee. Thanks. “So what did you do when Mom was late?” I pushed my peas around my plate with the prongs of my fork. “She never had a cell.”

Pops frowned at me. “Is that what today was about? Scaring us so that we’ll never take away your phone? Really, Ali. That was unnecessary. We wouldn’t do something like that to you.”

“That wasn’t what happened at all,” I said. “I just felt like walking.” And that was one hundred percent the truth. “With the thunder and the wind and the rain, I knew you wouldn’t be able to understand me if we spoke. Also, I was afraid I’d be struck by lightning and, if the phone was at my ear, electrocuted. Texting was the best option.” Again, truth—only stretched thin with the more pertinent details omitted.