Zombiekins 2(9)

Stanley waited for him to say more, but Mr. Baldengrumpy just went back to writing F’s on the students’ art assignments.

So Stanley went and sat down at his desk.

“Mrmmrngmrmarnnnnn . . . ” Felicity mumbled to herself in front of him. Stanley couldn’t make out what she was saying and didn’t bother to ask. He had way too much running through his mind.





Somebody should check to make sure Knuckles was all right, Stanley thought. For a moment he considered telling his teacher what had happened . . . .

“Mrmmrngmrmarnnnnn . . . ”

No, obviously he wasn’t thinking clearly. Mr. Baldengrumpy would never believe him. And even if he did, he’d only find some way to blame it all on Stanley.

“Mrmmrngmrmarnnnnn . . . ”

Anyway, Zombiekins was just a toy. Surely it wouldn’t actually hurt Knuckles.

But there was definitely something weird going on here. Stanley decided to talk to Miranda about it at recess. She always knew what to do.

As soon as he had made up his mind, Stanley felt a lot calmer and he was able to focus on pretending to do his work again.

“Mrmmrngmrmarnnnnn . . . ”

Except now Stanley noticed for the first time that Felicity had been moaning to herself ever since he sat down. Stanley jabbed her in the shoulder with his pencil stub.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Keep it down.”

Felicity started turning around to face him. But her movements were weirdly stiff and slow, and her shoulders didn’t turn at all. Her head just swiveled around, inch by inch, with a noise like an old gate creaking....

She was so changed Stanley hardly recognized her: Her eyes were clouded over like gray marbles. Her skin was the color of clam chowder. Her hairstyle was askew.

“Are you all right?” Stanley asked in shock.





He could tell there was something seriously wrong with her. Felicity would never let her hair get like that.

But she didn’t answer him. She just moaned again and slowly, as if it took enormous effort, reached one hand up—

—and grabbed Stanley by the throat!

“Hey—” Stanley gasped, choking out the words. “—are you—crazy?!”

But Felicity just stared right through him with blank, clouded-over eyes.

“All right class,” Mr. Baldengrumpy announced in a bored tone from his desk at the back, “put away your books and get ready for recess.”

Kids sprang out of their seats, leaped into the aisles, danced, pranced, romped and gamboled to get their things and line up. Felicity lifted Stanley up out of his chair by the neck and shook him.





Sophia frolicked out to the hall to get her coat. Lydia skipped into line at the door. Jack twirled into the hall on his tippy-toes. Big Tony bounded to the front of the class to get a skipping rope from the box of recess toys. Fiona and Kathleen pushed and shoved to grab the hardest bouncy ball to use for murderball. Felicity bashed Stanley’s head against his desk like she was trying to crack open a coconut.





“Stanley Nudelman,” Mr. Baldengrumpy barked impatiently from the back. “Stop fooling around and get ready for recess.”

Stanley tried to call to him for help, but all that came out was “Gack!” and “Hlp!”

“And don’t mumble,” Mr. Baldengrumpy scolded. “You really must learn to speak up.”

Stanley couldn’t breathe . . . . He felt himself starting to black out . . . .

But then the bell rang. As soon as it did, Felicity dropped Stanley to the floor and started lurching obediently out to recess.

Stanley lay on the floor, gasping and rubbing his throat.

“Hurry up, Stanley,” Mr. Baldengrumpy said gruffly. “You’ll never amount to anything in this world until you learn to walk quietly in a straight line with everybody else.”





14



“I’M TELLING YOU, SHE’S A ZOMBIE.”

“Stanley,” said Miranda, “you’ve always had a pretty wild imagination, but this time you’ve finally gone nuts. Zombies only exist in the movies.”

“Oh, yeah?” Stanley said. “Look at her. That’s all she’s been doing all recess.”





Normally Felicity liked to spend her recesses holding the duty teacher’s hand and tattling on kids who were breaking nitpicky safety rules like no climbing fences, no running up the slide, and no using the teeter-totter as a human catapult.

“She’s just being stuck up,” Miranda said.

“Okay, so what about Knuckles?” Stanley asked. “You should’ve heard him screaming.”

Stanley shuddered just remembering it.

“That only proves what I’ve been telling you all along—that he’s really just a big chicken baby,” Miranda said. “Look, Stanley, Zombiekins is just a toy. There’s no way it could actually hurt kids.”