Zombie Elementary by Howard Whitehouse Read Free Book Online Page A

out on the carpet.
    Francine did a little victory dance, which I guess wasn’t right, being in church and all.
    My mom fainted. Pastor Linda fainted. About half the people there fainted.
    I’m not sure what happened next.

19
    The car ride home was real quiet , I can tell you that. Mom turned the radio to a station that plays Top Forty stuff, the kind she never listens to. Turned it up real loud. Some girl from a Disney show was complaining about her boyfriend. Dad gripped the wheel like it was gonna come off in his hands.
    Honor smiled at me and squeezed my hand.
    When we drove past the Midas Muffler, the homeless guy wasn’t eating out of the donut store dumpster. He was biting the man from Midas. I think that was what his overalls said, but there was too much blood on them to tell. Serious biting. Guess the homeless guy was a zombie all along. My bad first time round.
    I was surprised too. I didn’t think Midas Muffler was open on a Sunday.
    I didn’t mention it to Mom and Dad. I figured if they didn’t see it, they didn’t need me to tell them about it. I know when to shut up.
    Sometimes I do, anyway.
    We pulled into our driveway. Dad said something about pulling up weeds this afternoon. Mom said he should because it was supposed to rain later.
    Nobody said anything about Mr. Phalen going all “ BRAIIIINNNNSSSS! !!!!” in church, or Francine using the piano stool like she was chopping firewood.
    “You did good,” whispered Honor. “He was a zombie, right?”

KYLE:
So, that was it from your folks? Nothing else?
LARRY:
Nuh-uh. Like it never happened.
KYLE:
That’s weird.
LARRY:
Adults. Go figure.

    I called Jermaine from the phone in the hallway—Mom and Dad weren’t around—and told him what had happened. His family stays in bed late on Sundays and goes out for something they call brunch, whatever that means. It sounds way better than church to me. There are pancakes.
    “Dang!” said Jermaine. “Double dang!”
    “Have you seen any zombies?” I asked.
    “Nuh-uh. Although the waitress at Denny’s was pretty slow.”
    See, that’s the thing with Jermaine. I wish he’d take things more seriously sometimes.
    “Hold on, Larry. I’ve got another call. Later, okay?”
    I hung up and the phone rang again about two minutes later. I answered it.
    “Hey, is this Larry? I need to talk to Larry!”
    “Who is this?” I said. All the calls we get are for Mom or Honor. Not for me. Okay, Jermaine calls me. Nobody else calls me. And this wasn’t Jermaine.
    “Duh, it’s Francine! I need you to come outside and help me. Bring your bat!”
    “Uh, okay. Where are you?”
    “Outside, like I said!”
    I looked out the window.
    Francine was looking back at me over the neighbor’s fence. I guessed she was hiding, ’cause she was hunched down between an old shed and a tree. She had a cell phone and a lacrosse stick.
    “Quit staring and come out!” she said again. “And bring that gosh-darn bat!”
    ZOMBIE TIP
    The bossiest people are often the best zombie hunters. They don’t care if they hurt someone’s feelings, and smashing someone over the head with a lacrosse stick is just the kind of thoughtless thing a bossy person might do without worrying about it.

20
    Francine explained it to me while we cut through old Mrs. Jackson’s yard and out to a side street.
    “I snuck out while my mom and dad were arguing about what to do with me. I mean, after what happened in church.”
    “Huh,” I replied. “My folks are acting like nothing happened in church.”
    “Yeah, well mine were fighting over whether I just brained a longtime church member or saved us from some sort of horrible death!”
    Well, at least the Brabanskys talked about what had happened. My parents acted like everything was just normal.
    “Come on!” said Francine. “We gotta get over to Oak Street. Jermaine’s meeting us there with his BB gun.”
    “Jermaine Holden? You know Jermaine?”
    “Not really—I mean, he goes to our school and