My Big Fat Zombie Goldfish (14 page)

 

“Is this something to do with the school play?” one of the lunch ladies asked. “Is it about zombies this year? Seems a bit inappropriate for an elementary school if you ask me.” The other lunch ladies nodded again.

“Are you Tom?” the orange-hairnet lunch lady asked. I nodded this time. “I'm Gladys,” she said. “Hope you don't mind my saying, but this sounds like trouble.”

“This might sound really weird, but I think there will be lots of hypnotized fish-starey zombies heading down here looking for us. We have to go.” I grabbed Sami's hand.

“I think you'll be all right down here. They never remember us lunch ladies. Probably forgot we even exist,” said Gladys, her smile fading a little bit.

“It'll be better if Sami and I leave,” I said.

I grabbed a serving tray and a spatula from the counter, as I figured we might have to protect ourselves against fish-starey zombies, and led Sami back into the hallway. We ran straight into Madame Bouvard, the French teacher. She was lurching toward us mumbling,
“Le swishy petit poisson, le swishy petit poisson…”

I pushed Sami behind me and held up the tray to block Madame Bouvard's swinging arm. She stopped. She stared at her reflection in the shiny metal surface and started to moan, like Mark had done in the boys' bathroom when Frankie hypnotized him. It seemed that, somehow, seeing their own zombie stare reflected back stunned the fish zombies. This could be a way to fight them off!

We ran back into the kitchen and pulled Gladys to one side. “I've got a plan, but we need all the lunch ladies to help.” Gladys looked confused now.

I tried to explain. “We need to use the shiny metal food trays to reflect the zombie goldfish stares back at the kids and teachers who've been zombified.”

“I always said those trays were clean enough to see yourself in,” Gladys said with pride, “but I'm not sure how the other lunch ladies will cope. It won't be good for Betty's blood pressure and Carol was just saying that she felt a migraine coming on.”

I looked at Sami and then at Gladys.
We can't do this on our own
, I thought. We need a secret weapon.

Just then the pipes above the sink started gurgling and then the tap turned. Frankie shot out in a swoosh of water, landing in the big stainless steel sink. The other lunch ladies screamed. Gladys shouted, “Quiet, ladies! Haven't you ever seen a fish in a kitchen before?”

Frankie jumped out of the sink and into a pitcher of orange Kool-Aid that was on the counter. I picked up the jug. “Frankie, you're OK!” I said, so relieved to see him. Frankie swished his tail against my hand to give me a fishy high five.

Then I heard footsteps on the ceiling above us. Lots of footsteps. The zombies must have heard the lunch ladies' screams. I ran over to the kitchen doors and shoved a broomstick between the handles to block the door. The lunch ladies stared at me.

“I saw them do it once on TV,” I said, and they nodded.

Sami squeezed my hand. Frankie's eyes were bright green now and he thrashed around wildly. Gladys peered into the jug.

“Don't look him in the eye,” I warned, “or else you'll get the zombie stare, like all the fish zombies upstairs. Only a little better, because if Frankie hypnotizes you, then
he
can control what you do, and not BBEDLAM.” She started to look confused again.

“So the goldfish can zombie people too, but in a good way?” she said.

Then a giant searchlight went off inside my head, pointing at the lightbulb with a single brilliant idea.

“Yes! That's what Frankie can do. And that's exactly what
we
should do!” I shouted. “You're a genius, Gladys!”

I carried Frankie over to the other lunch ladies and asked them to look into his eyes until they were all zombified. Now Frankie could control them (without increasing Betty's blood pressure or giving Carol a migraine, or freaking any of them out any more than they already were). I whispered the plan to Frankie, about bouncing back the zombie stare with the trays and then re-hypnotizing the zombies to bring them under his control. He made all the lunch ladies pick up shiny metal trays and get ready for battle.

The footsteps had reached the stairs and there was banging on the cafeteria doors. For all I knew, Pradeep could be a zombie by now. I lifted Frankie's jug up to Gladys so she could get zombified too.

“Don't be silly,” she said. “Someone has to keep their wits about them. Besides, I've seen more zombie films than you've had hot lunches. Never look them in the eye. Never surrender.” She winked at me and held up her silver tray like a shield.

Suddenly the fish zombies came bursting through the kitchen doors, all chanting, “Swishy little fishy.”

One by one, the lunch ladies used their trays to stun them. Then I ran over with Frankie so he could zombify them again. Slowly we were getting more of the kids and teachers on our side and they were picking up trays and joining the fight.

My walkie-talkie started to click:

LONG SHORT
,

LONG SHORT
,

SHORT SHORT LONG LONG
,

LONG SHORT
,

LONG SHORT
,

SHORT SHORT LONG LONG
.

It went on that long because I didn't have a hand free to answer it. I handed Frankie's jug to Sami.

Pradeep was clicking “Ring Around the Rosie,” which meant … he was in big trouble.

 

 

“We've got to help Pradeep!” I shouted to Gladys as she held up two trays and stunned both the school secretaries at once.

“Who?” she asked.

“Choc-Rice-Pops-on-toast boy!” I answered.

“Oh, I worry about his diet,” she sighed. “Go—and take little princess with you. We'll keep stunning these zombies till you get back with the goldfish.”

I looked around. There was no way we could get past the fish zombies and escape up the stairs. Mr. Walker, the PE teacher, was taking up the whole doorway, and none of the lunch ladies was tall enough to un-zombie him. I had to get to Pradeep. Then I spotted the tiny door behind the kitchen counter.

“What's that?” I asked Gladys.

“Oh, that's an old dumbwaiter from years back. When they used to have big events in the hall upstairs, they used that to send up trays and plates and things.”

I opened the little door. It was small but just big enough for Sami to fit in. At least I could get her out safely, and then I'd have to run the gauntlet of fish zombies and hope for the best. I helped Sami crawl into the little elevator. At first she clung to my hand, but she let go when I handed her the jug with Frankie inside.

“You take Frankie upstairs and I'll come and find you,” I said. I closed the door and pulled the ropes to hoist her up. I could hear a muffled “Wheeeee!” as she rose in the tiny elevator.

Now I just had to get past Mr. Walker. I had to out-PE the PE teacher. I ran toward him and ducked left, ducked right, and then dived between his legs and out the other side. Yes! I swerved out of the reach of Mrs. Fletcher, the librarian, and then leaped past the Mackenzie twins. This was just like playing
Zombie Hero Defender
on the computer, but with lots of “swishy fishy” chanting instead of cool laser-blasting sound effects.

I raced up the stairs and ran along the hallway to the assembly hall, where the dumbwaiter comes out. I opened the little hatch but it was empty. No Sami. No Frankie.

The giant whiteboard in the assembly hall booted up again. A voice came out of the speakers: “Hey! Moron!” It was Mark this time. “Guess who just dropped in to see us?”

An image flickered onto the whiteboard. It showed Sami wedged into the science lab trash can. That kid has a bad habit of getting stuck in trash cans. Then the camera panned up and across. There was Frankie in his plastic jug of orange Kool-Aid. Above him was a whole series of bubbling test tubes and glass pipes carrying glowing green liquid. The liquid was bubbling up in a beaker at the end and when it reached the top it would spill over—onto Frankie.