Why I Quit Zombie School Read Online Free PDF Page A

the food counter. I saw piles of red, raw meat. Raw chicken legs. A pot of lumpy gray soup.
    What could I have?
    I ended up with a bunch of grapes and a bag of tortilla chips. I couldn’t find anything to drink. The drink machine offered some kind of thick red juice that looked like clotted blood.
    I found Angelo at a table near the back and sat down across from him. His tray was empty. He had finished his lunch.
    “Can I talk to you?” I asked, scooting my chair in.
    A kid at the end of the table let out a burp that shook the table. No one laughed or raised his head or acted as if it was strange.
    “What’s up?” Angelo asked. He had red stains on his chin.
    “Well …” I didn’t know how to ask about every thing. I didn’t want to sound stupid. But I felt so confused.
    “Angelo, why is this place so weird?” I blurted out.
    He gazed at me for a long time. Then he said, “You’re new. You’ll get used to it.”
    “But —” I started to ask for a better answer.
    But before I could speak, a tall, dark-haired boy at the next table jumped to his feet. His eyes bulged. His mouth opened wide. And he squeezed his throat with one hand.
    “UNNNNNNNNNHH!”
    A horrifying groan burst from his open mouth.
    He wheezed. Then he let out another groan.
    It took me a while to realize he was choking.
    He twisted his body and grabbed at his throat.
    “UNNNNNNNH.”
    No one moved. The kids at his table sat watching him gag and choke.
    And then, the kid heaved his head back. A gigantic hunk of meat flew out of his mouth.
    He made a gurgling sound. It seemed to come from deep in his stomach.
    And then he began to spew.
    Disgusting brown muck splashed from his open mouth onto the table. Gallons of it. Gallons of thick brown vomit spewed up like an erupting volcano.
    “Do something!” I cried. “Somebody —
do
something!”

12
    Finally, the kids at the boy’s table jumped up. They stepped away from the table. But they didn’t scream or call for help. Their faces were blank. As if this happened all the time.
    “UNNNNNNNNH.”
    Another geyser of brown muck spewed over the boy’s table, over everyone’s food. It splashed onto the floor.
    I jumped to my feet. I held my stomach. I felt like I was about to spew, too.
    Still groaning and choking and vomiting, the boy staggered away from the table. He left a trail of brown muck as he stumbled out of the Dining Hall.
    I turned to Angelo. He had a toothpick in his mouth and was bobbing it up and down between his lips.
    “Wh-what happened?” I cried. “That boy —”
    “No worries,” Angelo said.
    “Huh? No worries?” I shouted. “I never saw anything like that. It was
horrible
! That poor kid —”
    “He’ll be okay,” Angelo said calmly. “He’s going to the Reviver Room. You’ll see. He’ll be okay.”
    I shook my head. “Angelo, something is very wrong here. That kid definitely didn’t look okay.”
    Later, I met Franny in the Study Room on the third floor. The room was set up like a library with bookshelves on three walls. Stretching along the fourth wall were tall windows looking down on the playing fields.
    Outside the windows, a red ball of a sun was lowering itself in the evening sky. Soaring crows made a wide circle in front of the sun.
    There were couches and comfortable armchairs to relax on and read and study. And low tables to write on or to hold a laptop.
    The room was crowded. It was a popular place to go after dinner.
    A sign above the door read: QUIET, PLEASE. PEOPLE STUDYING.
    But I pulled Franny to a couch at the back of the room so we could talk.
    She lowered her backpack to the floor and slid back on the leather couch. I dropped onto the couch beside her, eager to tell her about the kid in the Dining Hall.
    “Matt, why are you so wired tonight?” she asked.
    “Me? Wired?” I said. “How did you know?”
    She rolled her eyes. “You started drumming your fingers on the couch arm as soon as we sat down. Your whole face looks like it’s