Attack of the Zombie King Read online

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Cast of Characters

  Prologue

  Part I: Arnold

  The French Fry Game

  The Power of Cupcakes

  A Surprising Development

  It Was Fun Until It Wasn’t

  A Visitor

  Evan’s News

  Stop Being So Nice

  A Surprise Announcement

  Part II: Evan

  Azalea’s New Home

  An Un-Blast from the Past

  Azalea, Meet Alice

  Mall Time

  Scary Movie

  Staying Alive

  We’re Hair for You

  Part III: Azalea

  Feeling Blue

  Down the Rabbit Hole

  Special Delivery

  A Report from Inside

  The First Sweat

  Word Gets Out

  Part IV: Arnold

  A Noble Experiment

  Food Fight

  Good As New

  Mr. Citizenship

  A Better Party Than the Last One

  Part V: Azalea

  Home, Part I

  Part VI: Arnold

  Home, Part II

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Sneak Peek

  Copyright

  Arnold: a zombie who now lives among humans; formerly known as Norbus Clacknozzle

  Jenny: Arnold’s adopted mom; the nicest person you’ll ever meet

  Bill: Arnold’s adopted dad; also the nicest person you’ll ever meet

  Lester: Arnold’s adopted brother, who took some getting used to (he would say the same about Arnold)

  Evan, Kiki, and Sarah Anne: Arnold’s pals

  Ross and Brett: Arnold’s not-exactly-pals

  Commander Jensen: the commander of the United States Martial Services; friendly

  Dr. Grasmere: the head of Project Z; unfriendly

  Azalea, Berstus, and Frumpus Clacknozzle: Arnold’s former podmates at Project Z

  Mrs. Huggle: Arnold’s teacher; very sensitive

  Nurse Raposo: the school nurse; very supportive

  Coach Hank: the gym teacher; very loud

  I’ve been through a lot in my short non-life.

  I was built by the U.S. government in a secret laboratory, for an undercover operation called Project Z. The program’s goal was to create zombies in a secret laboratory, then have them attack American citizens so that those citizens would come together to fight a common enemy—us.

  That didn’t sound like a lot of fun, so I escaped from the lab. I was eventually rescued by a nice family, who immediately—and for my own protection—made me pretend to be a human boy in elementary school.

  Yes, that was as difficult as it sounds.

  People thought I was weird—can you blame them? When I made a best friend, it turned out to be a kid whose dad was in charge of the people who were trying to capture me. The dad ended up being really nice, but the authorities finally tracked me down, anyway. They tricked me into going back to the lab by saying I was going to help humans and zombies get along, but all they really wanted to do was turn us into soldiers to fight in wars. Which also didn’t sound like a lot of fun, so I tried to escape again and ended up back with my nice family, but I left behind the other zombies who were still stuck in the lab, which made me sad.

  So needless to say, it’s been complicated, and it’s been stressful, and it’s been really hard sometimes.

  But nothing—and I mean nothing—has been as complicated, stressful, and hard as watching my human friend Kiki hold hands with the most obnoxious boy in the entire school, Ross Klepsaw.

  Technically, it’s true that zombies can’t feel pain.

  But that one HURT.

  Lunch was the worst.

  The rest of the day wasn’t so bad, but lunch—that time of day when every kid is basically saying to the world, “These are my people, and they’re who I will be spending my precious hard-earned downtime with during a brutal day of learning and reading and writing”—was really hard.

  Because I had to sit there, watching Kiki and Ross giggle and gawk and make googly eyes at each other, and pretend that I didn’t care.

  Actually, I should say we had to sit there, because my friend Evan was right next to me.

  Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s not like I liked Kiki—and by like, I mean like. No, that wasn’t it at all. I’m pretty sure us zombies don’t think in terms of that kind of “like.” But I was still trying to accept the fact that one of the first and best human friends I’d ever made was now in what could theoretically be called a “romantic” relationship with the one boy who tormented me more than any other human during my early days at Bernard J. Frumpstein Elementary School.

  (Sorry. I tend to use big words when I’m upset. I promise never to use the word theoretically again. Or romantic, for that matter. Instead, I’ll use something more age-appropriate. Like squishy.)

  So yes, I suppose I was a little unhappy about the whole Kiki-Ross situation. But it’s not like I lost sleep over it—and not just because I don’t sleep. I cared, but not that much.

  But Evan, on the other hand … Evan was a different story.

  He was taking it much harder than I was. I think maybe because he did, in fact, feel some of those squishy feelings about Kiki. Not that he would ever admit it, of course.

  We were sitting at lunch one day, and it was the same old story. Everyone was enjoying their sandwiches (some kids) or pizza slices (most kids) or fish sticks (a few kids) or tofu salad (Evan) or jelly beans (me) or whatever it was they were eating, and chatting and laughing and occasionally throwing stuff and generally acting like sixth graders.

  Except for me and Evan. We were acting like grouchy old men.

  Ross, Kiki, and a few other kids were playing a game they called “How many French fries can you balance on your nose?” Ross was the reigning champion. This particular day, he was up to seven, which, when you think about it, is pretty impressive. No one else had managed to pile on more than four.

  And then all of a sudden, Kiki got hot. Somehow, she managed to stack up the fries so high, you couldn’t even see her eyes. And not one French fry fell! None of us had ever seen anything like it. Even I managed to emerge from my general glumness to marvel at her accomplishment.

  “Evan, look,” I said, nudging his elbow. “Kiki’s on a roll!”

  “I don’t care,” he said, refusing to take his eyes from his food. “Piling French fries on your nose is so dumb. I mean, like, what is this, kindergarten?”

  It didn’t seem like the right time to remind Evan that we had all played a very similar pile-food-on-your-face game at his birthday last year.

  But hold on.

  It did seem like the right time to remind Evan that his birthday was coming up again pretty soon!

  “Hey, Evan, isn’t your birthday coming up again pretty soon?”

  “I guess,” he mumbled. “But I’m not having a party this year.”

  “Seriously? Why not?”

  “Because I don’t feel like it.” Then, without another word, he got up, put his tray away, and left the cafeteria.

  Oh boy. This was worse than I’d thought.

  I started to follow him but then walked back to watch the end of the competition. It turned out that Kiki’s stack had reached a grand total of fourteen French fries, a record that was sure to stand until the end of time. Or was it? Because Ross, who disliked losing almost as much as he disliked zombies—at least until he got to know them—wasn’t about to give up.

  “Last round!” crowed Kiki, reveling in her sure victory.

  Ross did some body stretches, as if
it were an athletic contest. “Oh, I got this,” he said. “There’s not a doubt in my mind you’re going down.” He grabbed the plate of fries, tipped his head back, and motioned to his friend Brett to start placing the French fries on his nose. The gathering crowd, which now included most of the sixth grade, started chanting along with each fry. Even the teachers and lunch workers craned their necks to see what was going on.

  “Four! Five! Six! Seven!”

  I glanced over toward the cafeteria exit and happened to see Evan, who hadn’t quite left after all. He’d poked his head back in, wanting to see how it ended, just like the rest of us.

  “Nine! Ten! Eleven!”

  And then—in the blink of an eye, exactly the way most momentous world events happen—the French fries all came tumbling down off Ross’s nose and back onto the tray with a soggy plop (they were pretty damp and gross by then).

  The contest was over. Kiki had dethroned the reigning champ.

  She thrust her arms in the air as the crowd’s chant turned to “Kiki! Kiki! Kiki! Kiki!”

  Ross bowed before the new champion. “Congratulations,” he said. “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.”

  And then, from one second to the next, Ross kissed Kiki right on the cheek. And Kiki kissed him back! Right there in front of everyone!

  Well, technically, not in front of everyone.

  Evan had disappeared.

  Again.

  After a hearty round of congratulations and a victory lap around the cafeteria by Kiki, it was time for everyone to actually finish eating their lunches. And it was also time to mention the topic I’d been waiting patiently to bring up.

  I sat down next to Kiki before anyone else could. “Hey, you guys? I have an idea.”

  Ross slapped me on the back like we were old pals, even though we were new pals—if you can call “hanging around with someone because your best friend has a really annoying crush on them” being a pal.

  “Zombie ideas are the best ideas, right, Arnie?”

  Yup, he called me Arnie. I’m no more a fan of it than you are. At least it was better than “Ombee the Zombie,” which was his other nickname for me.

  “Uh, sure, if you say so.”

  “What’s up?” Kiki asked me. She gave me the same half smile she’d given me on my very first bus ride to school, when I had nowhere to sit until she slid over to make room for me. I will always be grateful to her for that. So grateful, in fact, that I was able to forgive her for what she did next at the lunch table, which was giggle at something Ross whispered to her.

  I waited until she stopped giggling, then said, “Evan’s birthday is coming up. He just told me he doesn’t really want to celebrate this year, but I thought it might be fun if we throw him a surprise party. You know, to kind of cheer him up. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he hasn’t exactly been in the greatest mood lately.”

  Kiki’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I’ve noticed.” Her head swiveled around. “Where is Evan, anyway?”

  “He left.” I shrugged. “Guess he wasn’t as fascinated with the French fry contest as everyone else.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiki knew we didn’t approve of her liking Ross. At first she thought it was funny, but as time went on, she found it more and more annoying. “Pardon me for having fun at lunch,” she added.

  I decided to plow ahead. “So what do you think? About the surprise party, I mean.”

  “I think it’s a great idea!” Ross chimed in. “I really like that little guy, and he’s definitely had a raw deal with that fake leg and all.”

  “It’s not fake,” I corrected him. “It’s prosthetic, and it works just fine.” Evan had cancer as a little boy, and one of his legs had to be amputated. But he moves so easily with his prosthetic leg that it’s almost unnoticeable, except when people like Ross bring it up for no reason.

  “Okay, sure, whatever,” Ross said. “Either way, let’s definitely throw him a party. I’m all into that.” Ross talked like he thought he was in high school. Which he most definitely was not.

  “Great,” I said. “Kiki, will you help me plan it?”

  “Of course! Do you want to have it at my house?”

  “Um, no, I think we should do it at my house. There’s a little more room in the yard.” I didn’t want to say the real reason, which was that I wasn’t sure I could get Evan to go over to Kiki’s house for any reason.

  She gave me her brightest let’s-all-be-best-friends smile. “Sounds good.”

  At the end of lunch, I went and found Sarah Anne. She was sitting with Mrs. Frawley, the aide who helps her during the school day.

  “We’re going to plan a surprise birthday party for Evan,” I told her. “Can you help?”

  Sarah Anne pointed at letters on her letter board, which was how she communicated with people.

  OF COURSE.

  “Thanks,” I told her. “Maybe we can meet after school tomorrow or the next day?”

  YUP. Sarah Anne pointed at the table where Kiki, Ross, and a bunch of other people were still sitting and laughing, then went back to her letter board. WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT ALL THAT?

  I shrugged. “We’re going to invite them, of course, and hope for the best.”

  UH-OH.

  Mrs. Frawley, who was observing this whole conversation, leaned over. “Can I give you kids one word of advice?” she asked.

  We both nodded.

  “Cupcakes,” said Mrs. Frawley, very seriously.

  WHEN YOU SAID ONE WORD, YOU MEANT ONE WORD, Sarah Anne said.

  Mrs. Frawley chuckled. “Well, here’s a second word for you: chocolate cupcakes.”

  “What about them?” I asked.

  “Nothing cuts through tension like baked goods,” she said, extremely seriously. “If things get tense and it looks like the party’s going to go south, break out the chocolate cupcakes. Works every time.”

  I made a mental note to have plenty of chocolate cupcakes on hand for the occasion.

  I’d probably have some vanilla and strawberry ones, too, just to be safe.

  I wish I could say things changed over the next few weeks, but they really didn’t. Kiki and Ross didn’t get sick of each other, which had been my hope. In fact, the opposite happened; the more they hung around together, the more they seemed to like each other. One day while waiting for class to begin, Ross’s best friend, Brett, yanked on my arm.

  “So what’s the story?” he asked.

  “About what?”

  “You know.” Brett looked around, then leaned in, like he was about to say something secret. “The lovebirds.”

  I leaned in, too, even though what we were talking about wasn’t the slightest bit secret. “Lovebirds? You mean Ross and Kiki? Yeah, I guess they really seem to like each other. Pretty cool, huh?”

  “No, not cool at all,” Brett said, scowling. “Ross has changed. He’s gotten all … I don’t know … what’s the word for it … ?”

  “Nice?” I suggested.

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Well,” I said, “I admit it took a little getting used to. I would never have predicted those two would get together, that’s for sure.”

  Brett leaned in again, even closer this time. “Hey, I got an idea. Maybe we should try to break them up. That way, you get your friend back, and I get mine.”

  “Hey, I got an answer to your idea,” I said. “Absolutely not.”

  Then we both zipped our mouths, because the happy couple was approaching.

  “How’s it going?” Kiki said.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Ross asked.

  Brett shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing much, just waiting for class to start. We definitely weren’t talking about the two of you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not even close.”

  Seriously, dude?

  I shot Brett an annoyed look. “Actually,” I said, “we were just talking about Evan’s birthday party. Don’t forget it’s this Saturday night. He thinks he’s coming o
ver to my house to watch a movie. Everyone needs to get there by six thirty, because we’ll be home by seven.”

  “Check,” said Ross.

  “Double check,” said Kiki. For some reason, they both thought that was the funniest thing in the world, and they doubled over with laughter. They were still giggling as they walked away.

  Brett and I stared at them for a few seconds, and then Brett said, “So like I was saying? Maybe we should figure out a way to make the happy couple not so happy?”

  “Let me think about it,” I said.

  By the night of the party, we had the plan all worked out. My mom, my brother Lester, and I were going to go out to eat with Evan and his family around five thirty. We were going to tell Evan we had to get to the restaurant early to beat the Saturday night crowds. By six forty-five we would head back to our house, where Evan thought we were going to watch The Jungle Book—the original one, from 1967, which was one of his favorite movies ever—but instead, a bunch of kids would be waiting to yell SURPRISE! at the top of their lungs.

  Unfortunately, things started to go wrong pretty quickly.

  The first problem was that Darlene, who was Lester’s girlfriend, came to dinner. Under normal circumstances that would have been great, but these weren’t normal circumstances. Especially since Lester had forgotten to tell her about the party.

  So of course, Darlene rolled in her usual thirty minutes late, despite Lester texting her about sixty-two times.

  “Hey, you guys, I’m, like, so sorry,” Darlene said, not sounding all that sorry. “My mom said she was going to drive me, but my brother used the car last night, and he couldn’t find the keys, and so then my mom and him got in, like, this big fight, and by the time he found the keys she was so mad that she wouldn’t drive me, and of course he didn’t want to drive me either, so I ended up having to call an Uber and pay for it myself, which is totally unfair if you ask me, right?”

  We all just stared at her for a few seconds until my mom, who is tied with my dad for the nicest person ever, said, “Well, we’re very sorry to hear that, Darlene. I certainly hope our little dinner for Evan didn’t cause you any trouble at home. Go ahead and hurry up and order, dear.”