“Is she a zombie?” asked Sophie.
“Only most of the time,” said Stink.
“Zee you there,” said Webster.
Sophie and Webster came over. Stink was sitting on the floor with Toady in his lap. He fed his toad two freeze-dried mealworms.
“I brought face paint,” said Sophie. “So we can practice zombie makeup.”
“I brought bloodshot eyeballs,” said Webster. “They’re really for bike spokes but we can glue them onto stuff.”
“And I have tofu, erasers, and Silly Putty,” Stink told them. “Stuff that looks like brains. And glow-in-the-dark gummy worms for maggots crawling all over us.”
Sophie shivered.
Webster decided to dress like a zombie soccer player. Sophie was going to be a zombie Girl Scout. Stink could not decide on a costume.
“It has to be scary. And creepy.” He opened his lunch box. He took a bite of leftover baloney sandwich and ketchup. Toady croaked.
Stink’s elbow knocked over the puppet that was sitting on his desk chair. The puppet had great big glarey eyes, creepy red lips, and scary eyebrows. And it was wearing a tuxedo.
Sophie picked up the puppet. “You could dress up like this doll. He’s creepy.”
“Charlie’s not a doll. He’s a dummy. A ventriloquist dummy.”
“A whosie whatsit dummy?” asked Webster.
“Ven-tril-o-quist. You know, like a guy with a puppet who can throw his voice. See, I make Charlie talk without moving my lips.”
“Let’s see!” said Webster.
Stink sat Charlie on his knee.
“I may be a dummy,” said Charlie, “but I’m not dumb.” His head snapped back and forth. His mouth clacked open and shut. “And I’m not afraid of zombies.”
Sophie cracked up.
“I saw your lips move,” Webster said, pointing at Stink.
“Hey, let’s zombify Charlie!” said Stink. Stink dropped his baloney sandwich. Plop! Out fell the baloney. Toady hopped out of his lap.
Stink took out scissors and cut Charlie’s tux to shreds. Sophie painted Charlie’s face green, with black circles under his eyes and drips of red blood. Webster stuck a big gob of chewed-up ABC gum on Charlie’s head for brains.
Stink held up Charlie. “Me. Zombie.”
“He’s a little scary,” said Sophie. “Toady’s scared, too. Look at him go!” Toady hopped across the rug, heading straight for the baloney.
“Spooky!” said Webster, shaking off a chill. “Charlie’s like the dummy in that freaky old movie. The one where he hides in the kid’s closet?”
“Yipes. I think I have auto-ma-ton-o-phobia,” said Stink.
“What’s that?” asked Sophie and Webster.
“Fear of dummies. No lie.”
All of a sudden, Stink heard a creepy sound. The heater hissed. A clock ticked. The pipes moaned. The light buzzed. Pop! Stink saw a flash, and the light on his desk lamp burned out. The room went dark.
“Aagh!” Stink tossed Charlie up in the air and jumped up to flick on the overhead light.
“Look! Charlie! Zombie!” said Webster in a shaky voice, huddling in the corner. Sophie gasped.
Charlie was sitting on Stink’s race-car bed, head backward, one black and bloody eye open.
Webster leaned in closer. “Did he just say something?”
“Did who just say something?” Stink asked.
“Charlie.”
“You mean did I just say something to make Charlie say something?”
“Huh? Yes. I mean, no. I don’t know.”
“What did you hear him say?”
“I heard him say baloney.”
“I didn’t make him say baloney.”
“Who said baloney?” Sophie asked.
“What did you make him say?” Webster asked Stink.
“I didn’t make him say anything,” said Stink.
“Ha, ha. Very funny, Stink,” said Webster.
“Seriously,” said Stink. “I thought one of you guys said baloney.”
“I didn’t say baloney,” said Sophie.
“I didn’t say baloney,” said Webster.
“Judy,” said Stink. He looked out in the hall. No sign of his sister.
“Well, if I didn’t say baloney and you didn’t say baloney, and Sophie didn’t say baloney, and Judy didn’t . . . then . . .” Stink felt zombie goose bumps up and down his back. “AaaHHH!” he screamed, and pointed to something pink hopping across the floor.
“Did you see what I saw?” Stink asked.
“The baloney! It . . . moved!” said Sophie.
“It’s undead!” said Webster.
“Curse of the zombie baloney!” Stink yelled, flailing his arms.
The three friends got up, zoomed out of the room, and slammed the door behind them.
“Phew. That was a close one,” said Webster. “Let’s never go back in there.”
“But we left Toady in there . . . with Evil-Eye Charlie!” said Sophie.
“I have to save him,” said Stink. “I’m going in.” He cracked the door open. He looked around. No sign of Toady.
“The zombie ate him!” said Webster. “Toad soup!”
“Toad brains,” said Sophie.
Stink stared at the undead baloney. It was no longer moving. It was still as a stone. But it had a big lump under it.
Stink crawled over to the baloney. He reached out a hand. Quick as a wink, he lifted up the baloney. “Toady!”
“Toady was attacked by the zombie baloney!” Webster shouted.
“That does it,” said Stink. He put Toady back into his tank. “This room is now a zombie-free zone.” He grabbed one-eyed Charlie and tore out of his room.
He dashed across the hall into Judy’s room. He yanked open her closet and hid Charlie at the way-bottom of the clothes hamper, under heaps of dirty laundry.
Phew! Safe from talking dummies and walking baloney with a curse on it.
For now.
On Wednesday and Thursday, Virginia Dare School read books. Funny books. Mystery books. Adventure books.
Kids read at lunch. They read at recess. They read at after-school care. Even between soccer games and piano lessons.
Stink read to Toady. Stink read to Astro. Stink read for one hundred eighty-seven minutes in just two days!
At last it was Friday: Read to a Zombie Day! Stink ran downstairs. He popped a waffle into the toaster. “Where’s my lunch?” he asked Mom, looking for his lunch box. “I’ll have anything but baloney, please.”
“I, uh, thought you and Judy could get hot lunch today,” said Mom. “I left some money on the table.”
“Aw, Mom. You know I hate hot lunch. The lunch lady always makes me take mountains of spinach and piles of wrinkly old carrots.”
“It won’t hurt you to eat school lunch just this once. Who knows? Maybe today will be your lucky day and they’ll serve something really interesting.”
“You mean like mini cupcakes with no sneaky carrots in them? And no raisins?”
“Remember how we talked about eating more fruit, Stink?”
“Bus. Bye!” said Stink. He grabbed the money, gave Mom a kiss, and ran out the door.
* * *
Stink read Dr. Decay and the Zombies of Doom all the way to the bus stop. He read it on the bus. He read it in the hall on the way to Room 2D.
“Hey, Zink!” somebody called.
“Talk. Bad. Read. Good!” said Stink.
Morning announcements. “Attention zecond- and zird-graders,” said the principal. “Are you ready to read to a zombie? Only six thousand four hundred ninety-three minutes to go! Please make your way down to the K-1 classrooms. Let’s get reading!”
“I read two hundred forty-seven minutes so far this week,” Sophie told Stink.
“Way to go!” said Stink. “Now there’s only six thousand four hundred ninety-nine minus two hundred and forty-seven minutes to go!”
When Class 2D got to the kindergarten classroom, twenty-two l
ittle green-faced zombies sat cross-legged on carpet squares. There were zombie princesses and ballerinas, pirates and astronauts.
Stink sat down next to a boy named Zack in a train outfit. “I’m Thomas the Tank Zombie,” said the boy.
“I like your costume,” said Stink. “I never saw a zombie train before.”
Zack nodded. Stink started to read. He read The Very Hungry Zombie Caterpillar. It was just like The Very Hungry Caterpillar, only he threw in the word zombie a lot. And at the end, the caterpillar ate a brain instead of a green leaf.
Riley Rottenberger went to get more books from the library. When she came back, she whispered to Heather Strong. Heather whispered to Webster. Webster whispered to Sophie. And Sophie whispered to Stink.
“A zombie ate the lunch lady?” Stink blurted out loud.
The room fell dead silent.
“Shh!” said Sophie. “You’ll scare the little kids.”
“A fourth-grader told Riley when she was in the library,” said Webster. “Fourth-graders don’t lie.”
Class 2D was buzzing with the rumor:
“Zombies have taken over the cafeteria.”
“Zombie Island!”
“All the food is gross and putrid.”
“Great,” said Stink. “Of all the days my mom makes me get hot lunch.”
“Mine too,” said Webster.
“Mine three,” said Sophie. “She made a big deal about it.”
“Same here,” said Stink. “Now we’re gonna have to eat brains.”
Mrs. D. held up two fingers. “Boys and girls, I’m proud of all the great reading here today. Thanks to your help, we’ve just added over four thousand more minutes to our reading challenge!”
“YAY!”
“Lunchtime, second-graders,” said Mrs. D.
Nobody moved. Nobody stood to line up.
At last, one brave soul stood up: Riley Rottenberger. “You guys! Do you really think there’s a zombie in the cafeteria? Right here at Virginia Dare School?”
“No,” Stink said out loud. But inside there was a tiny little yes.
Stink and the rest of the second-graders walked down the hall. Stink could not help imagining a giant alien zombie taking a bite out of Mrs. Swanson, the lunch lady.
When he got to the cafeteria, everything seemed to be normal. Except for the banner that read VOMITERIA in pukey green letters.
Then he stepped inside.
Gadzooks! The windows were swamp-green. The tables were puke-green. And gross green stuff hung from the ceiling. “The cafeteria got slimed!” said Stink.
“And it smells like a swamp,” said Webster.
The Vomiteria buzzed with excitement. Everybody was talking at once.
Stink grabbed a tray. He started through the lunch line. He read the board that said:
“Eeuw. Everything looks like insides,” said Webster.
“That s-s-soup is s-s-staring at me,” said Sophie.
“I think I feel the pukes coming on,” said Stink.
“Welcome to the vomiteria,” said a voice. A zombie voice.
“Aah!” Stink, Sophie, and Webster jumped. They stared wide-eyed at the Zombie Lunch Lady behind the counter.
Her face looked three-years dead. She was wearing an apron that read GOT BRAINS? It was covered in bloody handprints. Plus it had human ears, a nose, and a hand stuck to it. Not to mention that she had a meat cleaver coming out of her head!
“Scrambled brains with a side of guts, anyone?” asked the Zombie Lunch Lady. She held up a slotted spoon. It was drip-drip-dripping with . . . blood?
“Vomitocious!” Stink pulled his tray back. “Is there anything that doesn’t smell like a corpse flower?”
“Excuse me, um, Mrs. Zombie?” Sophie asked. “Do you have any milk?”
“Zorry. No milk. We do have eyeball juice. Fresh-squeezed.”
That voice. “Mo-omm?” Stink asked.
“Mrs. Moody?” said Webster and Sophie.
Mom grinned. “Hi, kids. What do you zink?” She twirled in a circle, showing off her zombie costume.
“You’re the zombie that ate the lunch lady?” Stink asked.
“Truth? I didn’t eat anybody. But I did tell some fourth-graders that a zombie ate the real lunch lady and took over the cafeteria. All foods today are on the zombie food pyramid.”
“You’re like the coolest mom ever,” said Sophie.
“So this is why you made me get hot lunch today?” asked Stink.
Mom couldn’t help smiling. “It was my turn to serve hot lunch, so a couple of other parents and I thought it might be fun to dress up for Read to a Zombie Day. Moms and dads will do just about anything to encourage reading. How’d it go this morning, by the way?”
“We read over four thousand minutes!” said Stink.
“Great job!” said Mom. “You kids have really been working hard on your reading.”
“Thanks,” said Sophie.
“Are those real insides?” Webster asked.
“Taste and see,” said Mom. “What’ll it be? Spaghetti? I mean, brains? Or Sloppy Toes?” She whispered to Sophie, “Sloppy Joes?”
All three kids held out their trays.
“Scrambled brains,” said Webster.
“Sloppy toes,” said Sophie.
“Eyeball soup, please,” said Stink.
On Friday night, Midnight Zombie Walk Eve, Stink and Webster had a sleepover. A zombie sleepover!
They put on their zombie pajamas (striped pj’s with ketchup stains). They played Zombie Attack with Fred and Voodoo. They watched Night of the Living Bedspread and ate finger foods dipped in blood (mini hot dogs dipped in ketchup). They told zombie jokes.
“Why did the zombie cross the road?” asked Webster.
“To eat the people on the other side.”
“How did the zombie get an a on his test?” Stink asked.
“It was a no-brainer!”
Stink and Webster crawled into sleeping bags and reread Nightmare on Zombie Street books by flashlight.
Judy poked her head into the room. “Hey. Tofu-for-Brains,” she said to Stink. “Mom and Dad said lights-out. Time for bed.”
“But we’re not tired,” said Stink. “Tell us a story.”
“A zombie story,” said Webster.
“A scary zombie story,” said Stink.
“But not too scary,” said Webster.
“‘Nightmare on Croaker Street,’” said Stink.
“One story.” Judy agreed. “If you promise to leave me alone and get some z’s.”
“Z’s for zombies,” said Stink.
Judy made her voice all spooky. “One night, two boys were having a sleepover. A zombie sleepover.”
“Did they live on Croaker Street?” Stink asked.
“Can their names be Webman and Stinkray?” Webster asked.
“Shh!” said Judy. “One night, Webman and Stinkray were having a sleepover.”
“Nice,” said Stink.
“You guys can’t keep interrupting me, or the story won’t work.”
Webster shut his mouth. Stink zipped his lips.
Judy went on. “All of a sudden, there came a scritch-scratch-scritch on the window.”
“Was it a zombie?” asked Webster.
“Yes. It was a zombie. She had looong black hair and a pale, pale face and red, red lips and looong green fingernails. Her voice was like dead bones rattling. ‘Do you know what I do with my red, red lips and my looong green fingernails?’ she said.”
Judy flicked the flashlight on and off. “‘NO!’ said Webman and Stinkray, and they slammed the window shut.”
Stink and Webster sat up in their sleeping bags. They inched closer to Judy.
“The next night,” Judy continued, “the zombie came back and she said, ‘Do you know what I do with my red, red lips and my looong green fingernails?’
“Again Webman and Stinkray said ‘NO!’ and they slammed the window shut.
“On the third night, the zombie aske
d the same thing: ‘Do you know what I do with my red, red lips and my looong green fingernails?’ But before Webman and Stinkray could answer, she said, ‘I’ll SHOW you what I do with my red, red lips and my looong green fingernails.’ Webman and Stinkray closed their eyes and held their breath. Finally, the zombie held her finger to her lips and went: ‘Blubblubblubblubblubblubblub.’”
“That was funny,” said Stink.
“And scary,” said Webster.
Judy turned off the flashlight. “’Night, you guys. Sweet dreams.” She clomped downstairs.
Wind whistled at the window. The moon made spooky shadows on the wall.
“Did you hear a scratching at the window?” asked Webster.
“Maybe it’s just a tree branch,” said Stink.
“Are you scared?” asked Webster. He hugged Hoodoo and Voodoo.
“A little,” said Stink. He pulled Gilgamesh and Fred in closer.
“I can’t sleep,” said Webster.
“I have an idea. Let’s scare Judy like she scared us!”
“How?” asked Webster.
“It’s a no-brainer,” said Stink. “Charlie Zombie! He’s in her closet, remember? So we sneak into her room and get Charlie, and then we hide somewhere in her room. When she comes up to bed, we make Charlie Zombie talk and freak her out.”
“I like it,” said Webster.
Stink and Webster tiptoed across the hall and into Judy’s room. Stink fished Charlie Zombie out from the bottom of Judy’s hamper in her closet. Charlie looked as creepy as ever.
Webster hid behind Judy’s beanbag chair. Stink and Charlie hid under the bottom bunk.
“’Night, Mom,” they heard Judy say out in the hall. She came into her room and climbed into her bottom bunk. She pulled up the covers and turned to face the wall.
They waited for five long minutes. Slowly, Stink raised the dummy out from under the bed. Slowly, slowly, Charlie rose up in the blue moonlight. His face glowed green in the dark like a ghost. He stared at Judy with one eye open and waited.
Judy stirred. She rolled over.