Page 33 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

Zoey blushed. Were she and Nick a we? She wasn’t sure yet, although she didn’t mind the idea.

‘Celeste isn’t part of the we,’ clarified Zoey. Although she probably didn’t need to. ‘She was at First Thursday last night – she has a place in the Pearl now.’

‘The Pearl? La-di-dah,’ said Ainsley, making a frolicking motion. ‘I wonder how she did that on Wall of Knobs income. They’re not that …’

‘Good?’ offered Zoey.

Ainsley guffawed. ‘I was going to say appreciated by the mainstream, but sure.’

‘She was really stoked that you’ll be doing the art for InkWell.’

Ainsley pulled at her lower lip, which was painted a sparkly purple. Well, had been before the cookie and the protein bar. ‘No, no way. We’re broken up. I drew a line.’

She scored a line in the air to prove her point.

‘I mean, to be fair, you guys – gals – have broken up like half a dozen times before.’

‘And each time was more permanent than the last,’ said Ainsley. ‘Musicians are just too … flighty. And they write songs about you! That has to be the worst bit.’

‘But Wall of Knobs barely has lyrics,’ pointed out Zoey. ‘Their biggest hit just repeats sunshine over and over with different voice-changer effects. They make Kraftwerk look like Bob Dylan.’

‘Point taken,’ said Ainsley, thoughtfully. ‘Assuming your point is that I should absolutely date hot musicians so long as their lyrics are terrible.’

‘Sure, let’s go with that,’ said Zoey, trying not to laugh.

Ainsley paused outside the scooter house, counting the scooters in the stack. ‘Sorry, babe, no free Lardo for you today. But look, someone’s set up a Barbie Playhouse with Calico Critters inside … no wait, those are taxidermied mice. Let’s keep moving and pretend we didn’t see that.’

Zoey didn’t need to be told twice.

Up the front steps they went, and over the sharehouse’s wide front porch, which was drowning under Ainsley’s art materials and Peta’s half-completed Little Free Library shaped like a storm cloud. The vision was that you’d push aside a beaded curtain of rain to grab your books.

‘I guess it’s better than the fridge.’ Zoey stepped over said beaded curtain, which was draped over the welcome mat. A Little Free Library was at least good for community literacy, and gave Zoey a handy means of disposing of her guilty-pleasure reads.

Ainsley shrugged. ‘Apparently there’s been a major LEGO minifig situation going down, so that’s been the priority. Peta had to make an emergency run out to Gresham today for a Batman or something.’

Selling LEGO minifigures was one of the many ways that Peta made money. And there was also something to do with storage units that Zoey hadn’t quite wrapped her head around. As long as she paid her share of the rent (and the cops didn’t show up), Zoey wasn’t going to complain.

The house was quiet. Joaquin was at the tattoo shop, and from the glow beneath his bedroom door, it looked like Winslow was gaming. Zombie-like moans and groans could be heard at intervals: he must have been playing The Walking Dead again.

‘Snacks, snacks …’ Ainsley immediately ran to the fridge, as she always did when they got home. ‘Oh my God, Zo. Ew.’

‘What?’ Zoey peeked her head out from the bathroom, where she was touching up her makeup in the tarnished mirror. She looked practically dead after the long shift – there was next to no colour in her cheeks, which were ordinarily her best feature. And her lips were chapped. How was she supposed to kiss Nick with skin that rivalled Rameses II for moisture?

Still, at least she’d dealt with the carrot guts and chlorophyll grime.

As Zoey came over, Ainsley pointed squeamishly with a pair of tongs. ‘There’s offal in here.’

Zoey shrugged. ‘So? Offal’s standard fare in most cuisines. It’s nutritious, affordable …’

Ainsley took a step back. ‘Yes, but there’s also the mad-cow-disease factor.’

Hang on, the what?

‘What exactly are we talking about here?’ Zoey came over to see precisely what had grossed Ainsley out so much. As the cling-wrapped items in the fridge came into focus, Zoey dropped her lipstick. The tube clattered to the ground, then rolled away, leaving a line of red all over the kitchen tiles.

Brains.

In the fridge was container after container of plastic-wrapped brains.