Journal of the Undead (Book 1): Littleville Uprising (2 page)

Early September

Just above the crash of slamming locker doors and the shuffle of students rushing to class, Emma Wexley could hear the incessant, mindless chatter of her classmates. Or more specifically, the ‘uniforms’—Emma’s nickname for the cookie cutter, mindless sheep that all seemed to be wearing the exact same thing. When they weren’t in uniform, they all looked like they had just stepped out of a fashion magazine.
Cheerleaders, jocks, they’re all the same
.
Their parents just gave them different names
, she decided.

Oddly enough, they weren’t always given different names. Lincoln High had an over-abundance of girls named Jessica or Brittany and boys named Tyler.
Matt probably knows them all
, Emma thought sarcastically. It didn’t matter how many times their dad had to relocate for work, Matt always found it easy to fit in and make new friends. The Wexley family had moved a few weeks before the new school year started just so that Matt could try out for the football team. They were only in the second week of school and Emma had already alienated herself from most of the other students.

As she made her way to homeroom, the words to a long forgotten song, one of her mother’s favorites, played in her head. Emma sympathized with the sorrowful folk-singer who longed to be ‘homeward bound.’ Since the death of her mother, home was a distant memory. Jillian always made sure that each new house was bigger and more expensive than the last, but that didn’t make it home. Not that Emma would consider any place with her stepmother, Jillian, home. Hell maybe, but never home. Matt constantly reassured her that, if anything, it was only Purgatory, but Emma had her doubts. Since their father worked long hours, he rarely noticed the tension between his wife and children. Dr. Wexley spent every day noticing the most obscure details in his research, yet with his own family he seemed blissfully unaware. There were times that the twins wondered if his oblivion was deliberate, but they never voiced their suspicion.

Emma and Matt crossed paths in the hallway between classes. He was surrounded by a few of his teammates and, of course, a trail of cheerleaders. With an engaging personality and looks to match, most of the girls in the junior class were dreaming of ways to sink their claws into Lincoln High’s newest heartthrob. When Matt saw Emma coming, he pulled away from the group to talk to her. He’d noticed that she wasn’t fitting in with any of the other girls in their class. She looked at the gathering of ‘uniforms’ with contempt as one of the many girls named Jessica showed off a new pair of earrings to an overly impressed crowd.

“Oh look, something shiny,
”
Emma scoffed.

Matt smiled but his eyes couldn’t hide his frustration. “Play nice, Em. Just because they’re cheerleaders doesn’t automatically make them airheads.”

As they scurried off to their separate classes, Emma wondered how her twin could be so easily fooled.

Though most of the students had taken their seats, a cluster of uniforms swarmed around Emma’s desk. Her second-period history class was about to become an interrogation. They wanted information about Matt, and his twin sister was the best source. All at once, a barrage of questions had been unleashed on her.

“Does Matt have a girlfriend?”

“Who’s his favorite band?”

“Does he like blondes best?”

Those questions and more blurred together at a dizzying pace until they cycloned into one high pitched squeal. Emma stared at them, wishing she possessed mind-control powers to force them all into silence.

When Mr. Stringer entered the room and attempted to bring his class to order, Emma hoped the girls would leave her alone. Instead, one tossed a note onto her desk. The page had only one word on it:
Well???

Mr. Stringer droned on—significant dates, heroic men, fierce battles–but his words fell on deaf ears. With retirement looming, their teacher rarely bothered to notice if his students were paying attention. He had long ago abandoned any attempts at discipline in his classroom and most kids took full advantage of the freedom. The uniforms weren’t letting a prime opportunity slip through their fingers. Each of the girls breathlessly waited for Emma’s reply. In an effort to delay the inevitable, she scrawled
later
onto the page and chucked it back at them. She hated when snobby girls hounded her for information about Matt.

She was too busy watching them clamor for the note to realize she was being watched herself. A pair of warm brown eyes, flecked with gold, discreetly glanced in her direction. Evan Stone did a convincing job of pretending to take notes. As a new transfer, it was only his second day at Lincoln High. He wasn’t yet aware that his history teacher didn’t expect anyone to listen, let alone take notes. Evan had noticed Emma on his first day, right after he met Matt. He remembered Matt’s warning that his sister had ‘a sharp mind but an even sharper tongue.’

Since there didn’t seem to be any risk of getting caught, Evan took a few minutes for an appraisal. The long, dark ringlets of Emma’s hair fell in waves, cascading to the middle of her back. She had deep, penetrating eyes that were so dark they appeared black. Her porcelain skin was even prettier now that she was blushing and, to Evan’s approval, she didn’t appear to wear makeup. Unlike the wannabe fashion models hounding her for information, Emma wore a simple T-shirt and comfortable jeans. Because she always seemed to have the right answers, teachers frequently called on her, giving Evan the chance to hear her speak. Her voice had a lyrical quality that made his heart leap.

When the bell finally rang, the uniforms descended again on Emma. Anxious to have their questions answered, the girls shouted out their queries, rapid-fire, each one louder than the one prior. The prettiest of the group stepped forward and, in a sickeningly-sweet voice, reprimanded the others for ganging up on ‘poor Emma.’

Oh great, it’s the queen bee
, Emma thought.

The same sugary voice continued, insincerely complimenting Emma. She wanted to scream,
Please, spare me the fake flattery; it insults my intelligence,
but she refrained. Instead, she smiled sweetly, just as fake as the compliments.

“And what was your name again?”

To the uniforms, not being known or revered was practically torture and Emma enjoyed making them miserable. With a hint of annoyance, Whitney reminded her of everyone’s names.

“Yeah, I’ll try to remember that.”

Emma’s biting sarcasm went unnoticed as Whitney rambled on, suggesting ways Emma could put in a good word for her with Matt. Emma’s eyes lit up and she interrupted.

“Wait, I know! I’ll tell Matt that ‘Whitney, the one with the insipid eyes’ was asking about him. How’s that?”

The other girls looked deflated and jealously wished they had been the one to talk to Emma.

“Do you really think they are?” Whitney giggled, fluttering her eyelashes. “Will Matt?”

“He should. I know I do.”

A disgusted snort came from the doorway as Evan left the room. Giggling, Whitney and her followers drifted into the hallway. Emma rolled her eyes.
Yeah right, Matt, definitely not airhead
s. A wicked smirk crept across her face as the others gushed about Whitney’s eyes, calling her the luckiest girl in school.

By lunch, most of the junior class was buzzing about Whitney’s ‘insipid eyes.’ Emma was amazed that no one knew the word’s definition and considered it an indictment on the public education system. Engrossed in her disgust of lesser minds, she didn’t notice her brother storming across the cafeteria. Matt grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her out of line.

“
Insipid,
Emma? Insipid. What am I supposed to say now? I mean, they think it’s a freaking compliment,” Matt hissed. “You said you would try this time. You promised!”

Matt’s subtly laid groundwork with Whitney was at risk by Emma’s snide remark. Regaining his composure, Matt tried again.

“Look, I know it’s hard for you, but sometimes you
make
it harder. Dad said this is our last move until after we graduate. Don’t roll your eyes at me! By the time you realize we aren’t going anywhere, it will be too late. You’ll have alienated the entire school.”

Emma gave him an apologetic smile. “At least I’ll always have my
favorite
brother.”

“I’m your
only
brother,” he grumbled.

Matt waited for his friends while Emma got back in line. She took her tray to an empty table, in the corner of the cafeteria, and sat. While she ate, she tried to read her favorite book but Matt’s reproach bothered her more than she cared to admit. Her heart wasn’t captivated by the plights of Scout and Atticus, at least not at that moment. With a sigh, Emma returned her well-worn copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
to her bag and that’s when she noticed him.

Though she didn’t know his name, Evan Stone had taken a seat across the cafeteria and he was reading.
Not a textbook in a last-ditch effort to cram,
she thought,
and it doesn’t even look like part of the ‘required reading’ list for English class
. Emma’s heart fluttered as she wondered about his book. Her thoughts were interrupted when Matt and his friends sat at her table and she was surrounded by the dreaded ‘uniforms.’ Evan looked up, noticed the crowd around Emma, and turned away in disgust. He assumed that meant she was one of them after all, and her ‘insipid’ crack was an attempt to overthrow Whitney; or worse, she didn’t know its definition. Either way, Evan’s interest waned. That type of girl could hold no charms for him. Glumly, he went back to his book. Emma, however, found herself taking a closer look. Christy, the girl seated next to Emma, leaned over and whispered, “His name is Evan Stone and he’s yummy, huh?”

Startled, Emma realized that while she was watching Evan, the girls were watching her. She stared incredulously at Christy. ‘Yummy’ was not a term she, herself, would ever use to describe anything. She had been so shocked to find someone else reading, of his own free will no less, that she hadn’t considered his physique. Prompted by Christy’s description, Emma took a closer look. Evan’s short, tousled hair was a soft brown that reflected warm honey highlights. His build was leaner than the bulky football players flanking Emma’s table but the snug shirt he was wearing clung to his well-defined, muscular torso. Ashamed that she had ogled him, she looked away, embarrassed, and went to dispose of her half-eaten lunch.

Matt had never seen his sister act so girly. He had to choke back a snicker as he watched her scoping out Evan. Pondering the match, Matt saw potential. Like Emma, Evan was enrolled in honors courses and they both had broad vocabularies. Smiling, he hatched a plan. Since football practice had been cancelled, he decided to invite Evan to hang out after school. He hoped Emma would lighten up if she had a friend or, better still, a boyfriend. Knowing they’d have class together after lunch, Matt congratulated himself on his timing.

Getting to class lacked a sense of urgency as the day wore on. With only two classes left, students loitered in the hallway, talking. As usual, Emma found Matt surrounded by his friends. This time, Evan was with them. Her first instinct was to keep going but she chided herself for thinking like a shy little girl.
He’s my brother and I can talk to him anytime I want
.

The word ‘insipid’ seemed to echo through the hallways, grating on Matt’s nerves. He was sick of hearing everyone talk about Whitney’s eyes and he still hadn’t found a way to correct them. The new buzz term had gone viral and he lacked the vocabulary to replace it. Whitney’s gloating only increased the likelihood of her fury when she learned the truth. Obligated by Emma’s arrival, Matt introduced his sister to Evan. Emma was confused by the harshness in Matt’s tone and the knowing look on the new kid’s face. Evan stepped forward and gave her a grandiose bow.

“All hail our insipid leader.” His words dripped with sarcasm.

“Hmm, I think you mean intrepid, not insipid.”

“Oh no, I’m quite sure I meant insipid.” Looking her up and down, he continued, “You see, I wouldn’t classify you as dauntless, which is what intrepid means. Bland or uninspired, on the other hand, seems like a far more accurate description.”

Emma’s look of shock only encouraged Evan to continue.

“I mean, really, how difficult could it be to dethrone queen sycophant?” he questioned, motioning toward Whitney.

Aghast, Emma sputtered, “I beg your pardon?”

“Honey, you can beg all you want.”

Emma was outraged and, for the first time, her extensive vocabulary simply eluded her. She glared at Evan with a look that could peel paint but no words would come. Flushed with anger, she managed to hiss ‘Asshole!’ before storming away.

“Aw, come on,” Evan called after her. “You can do better than that.”

Matt waited until Emma had disappeared before allowing his laughter to escape.

“I’ve never seen anyone shut her up like that. Heck, I know I’ve never been able to.”

“I’m sorry about that, Matt. But I swear, if I hear one more idiotic girl babbling about using makeup to create Whitney’s insipid eyes I’m going to puke!”