I woke early, light from the rising sun barely peeking through my window shade. William Shakespaw’s light snoring from my laundry pile was strangely soothing. I didn’t want to get up yet and wake Willa. But then I heard a noise in the house. William Shakespaw stirred and let out a low growl.

Willa shot up in bed. “What? Where? Who?”

“It’s okay,” I said, pushing myself up on my elbows.

“No, it’s not,” she insisted, her hair plastered to the side of her face. “I heard something.”

I heard it, too. But I recognized it right away. I’d been listening to that sound my whole life. It was the loud, sometimes clumsy, footfall of Charlie clomping up my stairs. I always knew when it was Charlie and not one of my parents or other friends.

“It’s only Charlie,” I said. “He must have awakened and—”

Willa shot out of bed. “It could be a zombie.”

“The doors and windows were locked. No zombie could get in.”

“Then how could Charlie come in?”

“He probably used our hidden key. He’s done it before.”

William Shakespaw growled, baring his tiny white teeth.

“Grab a weapon,” Willa said. “Any weapon.”

“I’m telling you we don’t need a weapon.” I rubbed my face with my hands and then choked back a laugh when I saw what she’d chosen. “Is that a mascara wand? What are you going to do, lengthen his lashes?”

“It’s the first thing I found!” she cried.

William stood up, his little doggie head cocked to the side.

The intruder delivered two swift knocks on the door, then swung it open.

Willa screamed and pointed her mascara wand.

Charlie gave her a strange look. “What are you doing?”

Willa dropped the cosmetic weapon to her side. “Just . . . getting ready.”

“Good,” Charlie said. “We were hoping you two were awake.”

My heart rose up into my throat. “We?”

Another set of footsteps clomped up the stairs, and Marcus poked his head into the room from behind Charlie. “Hi!”

“You’re okay?” I cried.

“I was undead, then I slept like the dead, and now I’m totally back to normal. All cured, thanks to you.”

Relief rushed through me, and I couldn’t help myself. I ran to Marcus and threw my arms around his neck. “I’m so glad!”

Then, realizing I’d been hugging him for a weirdly long amount of time, I pulled back and grinned. “Sorry.”

He smiled back. “It’s all good.” Then he looked at me strangely, like he was trying to figure something out.

Oh. I still had that makeup on!

“Willa did it,” I said quickly. “She put makeup on me.”

“Ah!” he said, nodding. “You look pretty, don’t get me wrong. But I miss your freckles. Is that weird?”

I laughed. “Not weird, no. You like my freckles?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, they’re you.”

I felt a blush spread across my face—and not the makeup kind. Willa gave me a knowing look.

“So,” Charlie said, breaking the awkward silence. “I brought the ingredients for French toast. Who wants breakfast?”

Downstairs, Jason was already picking his way through my cabinets as we walked into the kitchen.

“Glad to see you’re better, too!” I said.

Jason turned around, mouth full of cookies, and said, “Mamphs. Grad yoo cuu meh.”

Willa raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure he’s cured?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “He’s just rude.”

Jason wiped the cookie crumbs off his mouth and tried again after he finished chewing. “I said, ‘Thanks. Glad you cured me.’”

“And we basically carried you all the way home,” Willa added.

“I owe you one,” he said, turning back to the cabinet for more food.

“Is ravenous hunger a side effect of the cure?” I asked.

“No, that’s just normal Jason,” Charlie said.

Charlie whipped up an amazing breakfast, and we all sat around my dining room table, like a family, to eat it. I still missed my parents terribly, but having my best friends here together helped a lot. And knowing the cure worked filled me with hope for the first time since this disaster began.

I took a sip from my orange juice. “Okay, let’s plan.”

Charlie cleared his throat. “The good news is that we can cure the zombies. The undead turn into the merely unawake. And then they’re completely back to normal after a lot of sleep.”

“But the bad news,” Willa said, “is that there are too many of them, and they have to be cured one at a time.”

“And every time we go out there to cure someone, we put ourselves at risk,” Marcus said.

Jason stabbed a piece of French toast with his fork. “What if we all get bitten, and there’s no one left to throw the cures?”

My throat tightened. “Then the whole town is doomed.”

Charlie stared down at his plate, frowning as he chewed. I knew that look. His brain was working hard.

I bumped his elbow with mine. “What are you thinking about?”

“Science class.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Really? Right now? Such a nerd.”

Charlie scratched his chin. “We learned about viruses the other day. They require a host to survive and multiply.”

“Just like this zombie video game virus,” I said. “It needs a host to survive, and it uses that host to replicate—by biting other potential hosts.”

“So we need to replicate the cure,” Marcus said, following along.

Charlie nodded. “With regular viruses, our bodies defend us by fighting back with an army of white blood cells.”

Willa dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “So we make more white blood cells—us—to cure the zombies.”

I sat up straight in my seat. “Right! We can’t cure the whole town ourselves. But if we can find people we know are good gamers and cure them, we could build up a team.” I looked around at all my friends and smiled for the first time in what felt like days. “We’ll create an army of gamers.”