Alice in Zombieland - Showalter Gena (читать книги полные TXT) 📗

Whatever. Popularity wasn’t a concern for me.

What? I mouthed at her, and it was a legitimate question. What had I done to her? Nothing, that’s what.

She ran her tongue over her teeth just before growling something that sounded like, “Let me teach her,” to Cole. “Just a little lesson. Please.”

I didn’t hear his reply.

Kat patted my hand. “Are you listening to me? Because these nuggets I’m throwing out are golden! Namely, if you want to be in power, you have to knock the current queen off her pedestal. Kicking works, as does punching.”

“I wasn’t listening, I’m sorry,” I responded, my cheeks heating as I faced her. “So who’s the current queen?”

“The ex of the guy you were just stripping in your mind,” Reeve said. “To think, I had a front-row seat to the day the war ignited between Mackenzie Love and Ali…something.”

“Bell,” I said as Kat said, “Ali will totally win, but she’ll want me to have the throne, I’m positive.”

I shuddered at the thought of anyone thinking I was a person to emulate. “I don’t want the throne.”

Kat’s chin lifted in delight. “See?”

“Cole must think you give good eye, because he was making out with you right back. Still is,” Wren said, glancing between us. “Mackenzie will probably try to kill you before the week ends, but honestly? He’s not worth the hassle. He’ll only drag you down, ruin your life.”

Poppy twirled a strand of that beautiful red hair around her finger. “The last girl to receive that kind of look from him spent a year in a full body cast.”

“What girl?” I found myself asking.

“There was no girl,” Kat said with a frown. “I would have remembered something like that.”

Wren sighed with sadness. “She’s right. There wasn’t a girl. We were just testing you to see your reaction. You failed.” She turned to Kat. “Have you told her about your association with Frosty? How he nearly got you kicked out of school?”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. My gaze shot up, and I came face-to-face with the dark-haired boy from Butthole’s class. The one who’d made everyone laugh, drawing attention away from me.

My table went quiet.

“Don’t let Mackenzie scare you,” he said, which let me know that everyone in the cafeteria had noticed her silent vow to ruin me. “She’s great with her fists, but only if she’s standing. Get her on the ground, and you’ve already won.” With that, he straightened and walked off.

Shocked, I faced the girls. All four were gaping at me. Kat, Poppy and Reeve with awe. Wren with a sharpness that confused me.

I spread my arms. “What?”

A grinning Kat said, “Cole is sooo not gonna like the fact that he’s got competition. That was Justin Silverstone, and he never talks to anyone except his sister. You’re definitely not his sister.”

Poppy nodded with enthusiasm. “I honestly thought he was gay.”

Wren slapped her arm. “He’s not gay!”

Reeve anchored her elbows on the tabletop and leaned forward. “So how’d you do it, Ali?”

“Do what?” I asked, truly baffled.

“Get his attention,” Wren said, her tone as sharp as her caramel gaze. “He’s a straight-A student, never misses a day of school and already has his future mapped out. He’s going places. Not that you couldn’t normally get a guy like him, but he’s so reclusive.”

I shifted in my seat, saying, “I didn’t get his attention. The only boy I’ve even talked to is Frosty, and that’s because he ambushed me.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Kat muttered, all doubt and amusement. “Well, let’s see if Cole noticed your unexpected visitor.”

My eyes widened as I reached for her arm. “Don’t—”

But it was too late. She’d already twisted to look. A second later, her mouth fell open.

I couldn’t help myself. I looked, too. What I saw shook me to my soul. I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten a death glare today. Cole was watching Justin as if he meant to flay the skin from his bones, throw it down and play “Dance Dance Revolution” on it.

“That has nothing to do with me,” I managed to croak. It couldn’t.

But part of me kind of hoped that it did.

4

What Bloody Bloody Nonsense!

That night, I sat at my windowsill, peering out at the darkness. To my astonishment, Cole and Mackenzie had never sought me out, never spoken another word to me. Neither had the rest of their friends, and that Justin kid had never come back, either. And if anyone had said anything to anyone else about me, I hadn’t heard about it.

So, either Mackenzie had changed her mind about “teaching” me whatever she thought I needed to learn, or someone had stopped her. Cole? But that would mean she had listened to him, had cared about what he’d said—and that he’d told her to stay away from me. That couldn’t be right, though. I couldn’t think of a single reason for him to defend me.

Sighing, I rubbed my temples to ward off an oncoming ache. If I didn’t stop thinking about this stuff, I was going to give myself a brain bleed. Besides, I had more important things to worry about. I’d finished the day with Kat, gotten on the bus—again keeping my head down—and shut myself in my room. Nana and Pops had eventually summoned me, wanting to know how I’d liked my new school and if I’d made any friends. I’d answered with a vague “fine” on the first and “one or two, I guess” on the second. Utter silence had then taken hold, and they’d peered at me as if expecting diary-type details. Uncomfortable for the bazillionth time that day, I’d then made the mistake of telling them about my first-hour tardy and Mr. B’s lecture. (Honestly, I’d already forgotten his real name and didn’t want to admit to my grandparents that I’d dubbed him Butthole.)

Of course they’d next wanted to know whether or not they should call my school counselor to tell him how rough things were for me, and that I needed my teachers to give me a break. Kind of them, but please mark that down as a big fat never, ever, ever, never. I think I surprised them with my vehemence, but at least they capitulated. No way did I want to be known as Pinot Grigio. (That’s what my parents had called me anytime I’d gotten my whine on. They’d called Em Pinot Noir.)

Now, with dinner eaten and the dishes cleaned and put away, my grandparents were asleep in their room, and I was once again alone in mine. A golden half-moon graced the black velvet sky, no clouds in sight, allowing a blanket of stars to twinkle in every direction. A slight breeze danced twigs and leaves together, adding a sense of eerie to the loveliness.

As I had every night since moving in, I watched and I waited, tense as a rubber band about to pop, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bridezilla. So far, no luck.

I’d been here, oh, no more than a few hours and already I was yawning, exhaustion heavy on my shoulders, but I was more determined than ever to stay awake. I planned to prove, beyond any doubt, whether or not the monsters existed.

A few things I’d noticed during these too-late interludes: Bridezilla did not appear every night. She showed up about once every seven to fourteen days. I’d been keeping notes, thinking she must come out only during a certain phase of the moon, but no. The moon had no bearing on her manifestations. Nothing seemed to, but even when I didn’t see her, I still felt as if she—or someone—was watching me.

Paranoia on my part, surely. I wasn’t even one hundred percent positive Bridezilla was truly out there. But oh, one night, maybe even this one, I would be. As long as I stuck to the plan, I would figure this out.

Every morning after a sighting, I’d checked the forest behind my grandparents’ backyard and found several sets of human footprints. Most were big and wide, as if they’d come from a man wearing boots. A few were smaller, thinner, as if made by a woman in tennis shoes.

Those prints should have already proven my sanity, yet part of me feared I was seeing only what I wanted to see, that even the prints were a mirage. Or…what if the prints had been caused by a group of kids who liked to play hide-and-seek? How stupid would I look blaming monsters?