Right up until her father told her she had no reason to panic, Chloe hadn’t seriously contemplated panicking.
The power outage was definitely annoying, and more than a little creepy. But truly scary, let alone life-altering? No way.
It just wasn’t possible. She had too much going on.
Then Dad’s transparent bullshitting, coupled with his head-spinning switch from let’s-run-to-the-hills paranoia to don’t-worry-your-pretty-little-head-about-it reassurance, set off major alarm bells. In a matter of minutes, the focus of her attention shifted from her carefully planned ACT-prep-then-Josh-then-tennis schedule to the much more chaotic, open-ended, and frankly petrifying question of how to survive a zombie apocalypse.
Or whatever the hell this was.
The first casualty was her appetite. It took an act of will to force down three hard-boiled eggs, which she only ate out of recognition that she might need the protein for tennis.
Like there’s still going to be tennis in a zombie apocalypse.
Focus, Frenchie!
Remember what Coach K said. Act as if. Nobody’s canceled anything yet.
She was finishing the last of her eggs when Dad limped past her on his way to the garage. “You okay?” he asked her in a tender voice.
“Fine.”
Not fine! Freaking out here!
“Great! Love you! Beat the shit out of Rumson!”
“Okay!”
Good luck fighting the zombie apocalypse!
Then she went upstairs to her bedroom and quickly discovered that taking a practice math ACT test was next to impossible in her current state of mind.
“Antonio mowed 7 lawns and was paid $15 for each one. With the money he earned, he bought three graphic novels for $12 each—”
WHY DID I SPEND SEVENTEEN BUCKS ON THAT STUPID MOVIE SATURDAY NIGHT?
AND WHY DID I BUY EIGHT-DOLLAR POPCORN?
If I’d stayed home, I’d have a lot more than four dollars in my wallet right now.
I should tell Dad about the four dollars. We might need it.
Ohmygod. This is ridiculous.
FOCUS!
“Kanisha left her house at 8:00 a.m. on a Wednesday and traveled 527 miles—”
—to a place where the cars and phones still worked and she wasn’t about to be eaten by zombies.
SHIT! FOCUS!
Then Mom walked in, looking like she’d spent the night in a ditch, and made everything a hundred times worse.
“Chloe? Can I—”
“I’m taking a practice test!”
“Can you just pause for a second and—”
“It’s a timed test! Get out of here!”
Mom looked around for evidence of a functioning clock and saw none. “How are you timing it?”
“In my head! Leave me alone!”
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“Okay! You said it! Get out!”
Chloe glared at her mom, but she wouldn’t leave. She just stood there, looking like she might cry.
“I know you’re upset. And you have a right to be—”
“I don’t have time for this! Please leave!”
Mom’s jaw tightened. For a moment, it seemed like she was gearing up to fight back. But then she hung her head and turned away.
“I’m sorry.” She walked out.
“Close the door!”
Her mom closed the door behind her.
Chloe went back to the practice test.
“In the standard (x,y) coordinate plane, a point at (−3, 4) is translated—”
What if there IS no ACT?
Ever?
What if this is like The Walking Dead?
Nobody takes ACT tests on The Walking Dead. They’re too busy trying not to die.
Three questions later, she gave up, put down her pencil, and let her mind spin out the various scenarios.
One thing became instantly clear.
If this is the zombie apocalypse, there’s no fucking way I’m spending it with my mother.
Is it too early to go to Josh’s?
If it is, I’ll go to Emma’s.
Either way, I’ve got to get out of here.
She stood up and headed for the bathroom to make herself presentable.
Halfway down the hall, she got her first whiff of the stink. When she entered the room, the smell was so pungent she had to cover her face with her hand.
The apocalypse had already arrived. It was sitting in the toilet bowl.