Page 32 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

Ah, here it came. Here was the bit that was going to involve a ridiculous favour.

‘We’re going to need Nick’s truck.’

Zoey shook her head. ‘No way. I’ve already asked for a truck favour. I’m all out.’

Ainsley helped herself to one of the carob cookies by the counter, grimacing with every bite. (She still managed to eat the whole thing.)

‘He’s not a genie, Zoey. It’s not like you get three lifetime favours and that’s it.’

Zoey certainly hoped not. Because these would not be the favours she’d be calling in. Hers would be more of the … Oh gosh, brain, behave.

‘Besides.’ Ainsley wiped crumbs from her mouth. ‘Hauling stuff for friends and loved ones is part of the truck-owner’s creed. It’s the way of the road.’

Zoey’s cheeks had gone full tomato. They were redder than the Bloody Murder smoothie they’d offered over Halloween. ‘Friends and loved ones might be overstating it.’

Terriffany glanced up from her iPad. ‘Overstating things is the key to success. You just have to believe it.’

Of course this was the position Terriffany would take. ‘Are you sure your school isn’t secretly called “The Academy of Psychopaths”?’

‘Successful CEOs have many overlapping traits with psychopaths,’ said Terriffany blithely.

‘Anyway, I’ve already called him,’ said Ainsley, who was now munching on a raw vegan protein bar.

Zoey groaned. ‘You have not.’

And how, exactly? Zoey had kept her phone on her person all day. There was no way Ainsley could have reprised her ‘could I see your phone?’ trick from the other evening.

Ainsley grinned wickedly around a giant bite of protein bar. ‘You left his business card out on the kitchen counter. If it’s not under lock and key, it’s fair game. And even then … I know a locksmith. In the biblical sense. And she owes me. Anyway, Nick will be here in about half an hour. That should give you enough time to get cleaned up.’

Cleaned up?

A quick glance at the mirror revealed a sweaty forehead, cheeks dusted with chlorophyll grime and hair matted with errant carrot guts.

Zoey had never moved so fast in her life.

‘Terriffany, can you finish the closing tasks? And don’t let that influencer back in, no matter how many celebrity names she drops.’

Terriffany glanced up from the Forbes article she was reading. ‘I think we probably have different ideas about what constitutes a celebrity.’

‘Yeah, well, being on the Forbes 30 Under 30 list is correlated with being in prison for fraud,’ called Zoey as she hurried out the back door of the smoothie shop, Ainsley at her heels. In perfect shin-kicking proximity. But she’d resist the urge. ‘I can’t believe you called Nick.’

Ainsley shrugged in a way that conveyed not a whit of apology. ‘Whatever it takes to get you to admit that this one’s the one.’

Zoey sighed as she followed Ainsley out through the back patio and up the street, averting her eyes as she caught a glimpse of the dumpsters where she’d spotted Nestor the other night. Today only a crow met her gaze.

She rushed to catch up with Ainsley, who was stooping to pet a barrage of fluffy dogs – the hypoallergenic type whose breeds all ended in -oodle – being walked by a small woman in an Eighties leotard on a loud video call.

As they turned the corner onto their own street, Zoey could’ve sworn she heard a clatter, followed by a cavoodle yip. She turned, the back of her neck prickling.

‘Did someone just yell “brains”?’ she asked.

‘Probably just the name of one of those dogs.’ Ainsley picked a sprig of lavender and inhaled its aroma. ‘Ah, smells like Grandma’s. Speaking of brains, you know that Wall of Knobs was almost called Frontal Lobe, right?’

Zoey wasn’t sure whether this counted as a near miss or a missed opportunity.

‘Oh, I meant to tell you,’ she said, running a hand over a pom-pom-shaped hedge, ‘we saw Celeste last night.’

Ainsley, who’d been taking a photo of a Home Depot giant skeleton in a bright yellow sun lounger, fumbled her phone. ‘We? You’re a we? And also … Celeste?’