Chapter 1 #2
“Sounds like I’m back in the bunker,” Rick said, not trying to hide his grin.
Martina punched him lightly in the arm. “You’re forgiven. Unless you make us late again. Then you’re zombie bait.”
“Fair enough.” And with that, Rick brought the Beast to life, letting it chug its way toward Meadowvale High.
After a little strategic fast-forwarding, where Martina mumbled about ancient technology and how “she shouldn’t even know what fast-forwarding is,” they both belted out the words to Dolly’s classic hit “9 to 5.”
They were halfway through the song “But You Know I Love You” when they pulled up to school.
The building had been there since sometime in the 1940s, and Rick thought it looked like it had been on a weeklong bender and had regrets.
The outside was brick, but the paint on the windowsills was chipped and faded.
A few portable classrooms listed drunkenly behind the school, trying to ease the overflow of students.
In short, it was more dumpster than school.
Rick eyed it with more than a little misgiving.
“Do you think today is the day we die scaling the front steps? Because I’m considering hiring a sherpa.
” Three flights of steep concrete steps led to the front doors, which meant going to school was not only a death-defying experience, but that the school itself was horribly inaccessible.
Rick had no idea how the students who used wheelchairs or other mobility aids got to class.
“Like you have sherpa money,” Martina said, shoving open her door.
“I honestly can’t tell if that was a burn or not, because while you’re not wrong, I also don’t know what ‘sherpa money’ actually means. So I’m just going to ignore it.” Rick joined her outside, slinging one arm around her neck. “One year left.”
“That’s too long,” Martina whined. “I’ll burn the school down by winter break.”
Rick sighed. “You’ve got to stop saying shit like that on campus.”
“My mom’s a lawyer,” Martina said, hitching her bag up on her shoulder.
“Yeah, but if she has to bail you out too many times, she’s going to start charging you,” Rick warned. “And I bet she’s expensive.”
“Of course she is,” Martina said, jutting her chin out with pride. “Because she’s worth it.”
“No argument here,” Rick said. “But I’d still rather not bail you out, and I’m not sure I can make it through school if you get expelled.”
Martina huffed. “And we did sort of promise there wouldn’t be quite so many phone calls home this year…”
Rick rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t want any phone calls home. They either came during his mom’s shift or sometimes while she was napping before her shift, and either way, the interruption would be bad.
Martina took one look at him and sighed, likely knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Fine. I’ll watch my mouth.” She wrinkled her nose at the school. “Let’s get this over with, I guess.”
—
Meadowvale High wasn’t one of those places that looked rough on the outside but contained hidden depths.
Once inside, it was difficult to ignore the linoleum that was missing in places or the fact that several of the toilet stalls were out of order.
Most of the hallways smelled like one of the very questionable meatballs the cafeteria used to serve for lunch—before meatball fights had caused them to be banned—had rolled into a corner and rotted to the point that it was now, biologically, no longer a meatball.
Rick did his level best to ignore or forget pretty much everything that happened on school grounds.
He was considering all of this a few hours later as he slid into a seat next to Martina in English class. It wasn’t that he didn’t want an education. It was just that the times where Rick felt he was learning anything and the times he was in high school barely overlapped.
After Martina dropped her bag next to her seat, she flopped down, putting her head on her desk like she was trying to telepathically will herself anywhere else.
“What’s up, Teeny?”
She groaned. “I heard there’s going to be a pop quiz.”
Rick winced as he tried to remember whether or not he’d managed last night’s homework.
He’d worked a short shift at his uncle’s garage, which had started as a summer and weekend job when he was fifteen but became a regular job a year later, after his dad left.
He’d worked a few hours, then made Dani dinner.
Had he even finished reading the assignment?
He’d taken the book out…and then fallen asleep on it.
He grimaced. “Maybe the rumor mill is wrong?”
Martina turned her head just enough to stare at him.
Rick slumped deeper into his seat. “Wait, you love English lit. Why are you complaining?”
She sent him a look of pure, unfiltered despair. “It’s going to be on The Catcher in the Rye.”
“Oh, yeah, you hated that.” He hadn’t read enough of it to hate it, but he trusted Martina’s judgment.
“So much,” Martina groaned. “And I think in protest, my brain refused to absorb any of the book. I will bomb.”
“I’m sure you’ll ace it,” he said soothingly.
“He was just so whiny.” She looked at Rick for sympathy, which he of course gave.
“And yet, your mother will ground you until the inevitable zombie apocalypse if you come home with a bad grade. You need to pass. We both know I won’t survive in the bunker without you.”
Martina sat up, dropping her head back so she could scowl at the water-stained ceiling panels. “Maybe she won’t see it.”
Rick barked a laugh. “She’ll take one look at you, and you’ll fold, Teeny.”
“It’s true,” Martina sighed, resettling her bag. “It is very hard to keep things from my mother. It’s like she has a superpower.”
“I’m sure you remember more than you think anyway,” Rick said, still trying to reassure her. “In fact, maybe it would help you to give me a summary before class starts.”
Martina shot him an amused look. “You didn’t read it, did you?”
“He was really whiny,” Rick moaned, slumping his shoulders.
“Okay, fine. I’ll do my best.”
She was halfway through giving Rick her SparkNotes version of the book when he straightened up, freezing like a rabbit with its head out of a burrow.
Only for a second before quickly relaxing, but there was no hiding the glitch from Martina.
Her eyes flicked to where he’d been looking and then it was her turn to smile at him in evil glee.
“Well, well, well,” she crooned.
“Shut up,” Rick said, crossing his arms. At the front of the room, her nose still buried in a book while she threw away a granola bar wrapper, stood Nika Page.
Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, except for the bangs in the front, which framed her face.
Her big, velvety brown eyes were focused on the book in her hand as she tried to read and walk to her seat at the same time.
She was short, barely over five feet, pale skinned with a spray of freckles over her nose, and Rick was fairly certain he knew exactly where each one was placed.
“She got bangs,” he breathed. It was out of his mouth before he even realized he was speaking, and he winced.
Martina whispered, “You’re so sad. ‘She got bangs.’ Seriously?” She gave him a skeptical side-eye. “Aren’t you supposed to be all about boobs at this age?”
Rick dipped his head, cheeks flushed, his own voice pitched low as they whisper-bickered across the gap between their desks. “I can be about both. I’m a complex individual.”
Martina put her chin in her hand, her elbow resting on the desktop. “Okay, complex individual, you actually going to talk to her today?”
“No,” Rick said, his breath coming out in a rush. “Probably not.”
They both watched as Nika paused at the front, frowning down at the page she was reading. Martina tilted her head to the side. “I get it. I mean, she’s bookish hot, you know? Not my type exactly, but I can see the draw. Like I said, knowledge is sexy.”
It was. It was also intimidating. “Yeah.”
“So talk to her,” Martina said, trying as always to encourage him. “You’re gas station hot. She’s valedictorian hot. Girls like that love gas station hot.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Rick admitted. “But I think you just insulted me.”
Martina shook her head. “I did not. If I were straight, I’d be all over gas station hot.” She paused, tilting her head. “I shouldn’t have gendered that. Anyone can be gas station hot if they truly believe.”
Rick couldn’t really see that he had any appeal, gas station or otherwise. “Okay, but you’re my friend. You have to say nice things about me.”
Martina looked at him skeptically. “Have you met me? Last week I told you that your new jacket made you look like the fourth unknown Jonas brother.”
“The one they keep hidden because they don’t want to ruin their brand. I remember,” Rick said. “You’re right. I forgot you were mean.”
“Just talk to her,” Martina sighed.
Rick folded his arms. “Can’t. As the reject Jonas brother, I’m not allowed to speak in public.”
Martina flipped him off before raising her hand to get Nika’s attention, waving her to the empty desk next to Rick.
She grinned her evil shark grin as Nika took the seat, dropping her bag onto the floor by her feet.
Then Nika glanced up from her book, and those velvet brown eyes locked on his.
Rick froze, every cell in his body deciding that right then was the exact moment when they should maybe go on vacation.
Nika offered him a smile. “Hi.”
He tried to get his mouth to work, but apparently it was uploading an update, and it was frozen at that little screen with the spinning rainbow wheel.
He desperately wanted to respond to Nika.
Anything. Hello. Howdy, even. He didn’t care if he looked ridiculous as long as he responded.
What finally came out was something that sounded a lot like “Hellody.”
Martina’s forehead hit her desk.
Nika, luckily, was focused back on her book, not seeming to notice any of it.
Martina turned her head and mouthed, “What was that?”