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Wayne tried to invite me over a second time after algebra, and it pained me to turn him down, especially in front of the Ds. The brushoff seemed to interest them even more than the shoes though, which Matilda assured me was a good thing.
“We’ll have to fabricate a college boyfriend for you,” she said over my shoulder, as I clicked through a video list of makeup tutorials on YouTube. There was no way I was letting her slimy zombie fingers near my face.
“Right, like they’re gonna believe I have a college boyfriend.”
“They might, since you’re giving one of the most popular boys in school the slip.”
“Wayne will know it’s a lie.”
“So what?” Matilda sneered at me. “He’s not on the prom committee. We don’t have to worry about what he thinks right now.”
“Whatever.” I sighed and clicked on one of the video links. Some girl gave the same exact step-by-step instructions for doing smoky eyes that I had just watched three others before her do. I took a wild guess and decided that this was a fairly popular look.
Matilda fetched the shoebox from under my bed again and retrieved an eye shadow pallet, eyeliner, and mascara. She set them on the desk next to my keyboard. “This isn’t rocket science,” she said. “Figure it out tonight, so you don’t have to worry about screwing it up in the morning.”
I spent the next hour sitting on my dresser and glaring into the mirror above my vanity, while Matilda coached me through the process of painting my face. I didn’t have half a clue about makeup. I had a tube of tinted lip balm that I’d bought freshman year, in hopes of luring Wayne closer to my lips. That was pretty much it. Anytime I walked in on my mom while she was putting on mascara, she would tell me how lucky I was that I didn’t need makeup. Apparently, Matilda didn’t think so.
By the fifth attempt, the makeup finally started to look like something other than a kindergartener’s handiwork.
I sighed at myself in the mirror. “I look like a streetwalker.”
“That’s kinda the point.” Matilda shrugged and wrinkled up her nose. The bluish skin around her eyes was beginning to flake off. A chunk landed on the edge of my dresser, and I cringed away from it.
“You’re... molting.” I made a face and flicked the dry skin to the floor.
Matilda moaned. “I know.” I had the feeling she would have cried if her tear ducts weren’t so dried up.
The first brilliant idea of the day hit me suddenly. “You should probably start spending the night out back in the shed. The cold might help slow down your decay.”
Matilda looked skeptical. “You really think so?”
“Yeah, and then I could actually get some sleep and be more productive during the day.”
She tilted her chin up. “Fine, but I’ll still be waiting for you when you get home. Don’t try anything stupid.”
“What could be more stupid than letting a zombie take over my life?” I grumbled. We both turned to look back in the mirror at my new face.
“We still need to do some online shopping,” Matilda said.
“About that. I have, like, fifty dollars in my Paypal account.” My meager allowance was usually spent on books. I had a feeling I was going to have to dust off my library card if I wanted to do any reading in the near future.
Matilda folded her arms. “Can’t you swipe one of your parent’s credit cards?”
“My parents don’t have credit cards,” I lied. There was no way I was going to steal from my parents. I had to draw a line somewhere.
“Ebay it is then.” Matilda spun my desk chair around and motioned for me to sit.
We browsed through hundreds of listings for short skirts and low-dipping blouses. There were sequined handbags and chunky bracelets, fake eyelashes and cropped jackets. Most of the clothing didn’t look like it covered nearly enough skin.
“You do realize that it’s the middle of winter, right?” I said, after Matilda had me click on a listing for a studded tube top.
She rolled her eyes. “You wear a jacket over it, duh.”
“A real jacket? Or one of those cropped jackets that look like a preschooler’s hand-me-down?”
Matilda ignored me and pointed to another listing. “There! That’s the one we want.”
The listing was for a lot of miscellaneous items. There were two off-the-shoulder blouses, a pair of jean print tights, a khaki miniskirt, and two pairs of silver hooped earrings. All for thirty bucks.
“That should get you started. We can make some alterations to a few of the things that you already have.”
“Super.” I clicked the buy now option on the listing, hoping that Matilda was done with me for the evening.
My cell phone vibrated on my dresser, but I ignored it. It was probably Chloe. I was still trying to decide what to tell her. She already thought I needed therapy, so there was no way I could share the fact that my life had been hijacked by the evil dead. Truth or lie, I really didn’t want to talk to her with Matilda breathing over my shoulder.
I stretched my hands over my head. “Well, it’s late, and I still have algebra homework to do. It should be dark enough for you to head out to the shed now.”
“Right.” Matilda pressed her cracked lips together, and then she walked over to my bed and pulled my sketchbook out from under my pillow. “I’ll just hang on to this for now. It would be a shame if you screwed up my plan and the Ds happened to get their hands on it. Keep that in mind when you’re doing your algebra homework.” She slipped out of my room and down the hall.
I had a horror movie image of my mom doing dishes at the sink and spotting the Hun as she snuck into the shed. In fact, I almost hoped for it. At least someone would believe me then. Of course, my mom would probably try to rationalize it away, and I’d end up in a nuthouse anyway.
I sighed and flipped open my algebra book. My cell phone vibrated on my dresser again. I just wasn’t ready to lie to Chloe, so I let it ring. My homework was a lot tougher to manage with so much on my mind and zero sleep. I struggled through equations and word problems, unable to focus on any one thing for too long. Matilda had infected my thoughts. If one evil zombie takes over your life, subtract one potential boyfriend, and add two brainless sidekicks. How many days will it take for your brain to explode? Please present your answer in an equation.
Around seven, my dad called me downstairs for dinner. I was sure to wash the makeup off before I joined them at the table. I’d get enough weird looks from them in the morning. After about twenty minutes of picking at a plate of taco casserole, I excused myself from the table, claiming a stomach ache.
When I got back to my room, I flopped down on my bed face first. My phone buzzed again. Curiosity finally got the better of me and I picked it up to find four missed calls and eight text messages. Two of the calls were from Chloe, as expected, but I also had one from Wayne, and another from a number I didn’t recognize.
Half of the texts were from Chloe, expressing her extreme confusion and feelings of neglect. Then there was one from Wayne. He was actually apologizing for the way he handled the kiss at the barbeque. My heart tightened. I wanted to message him back, but the thought of Matilda stood in the way. What if I couldn’t get rid of her? What if I couldn’t actually bring myself to kill her and stuff her down the garbage disposal? Would I really have to give up Wayne all over again? I didn’t want to think that far ahead yet.
The last few texts were from the same number as the call I didn’t recognize. It was Eddie. I didn’t remember giving him my number. He was asking some vague homework question, but I didn’t have the energy to text or call him back. I didn’t have the energy for much of anything, I realized just before my eyes closed and I was out.
My dreams were more screwed up than usual. I was suddenly in Wayne’s backyard again, except this time I was dressed up like Matilda. I even had blond hair and bluish zombie skin. Wayne called me Mattie and put his tongue in my mouth, but it tasted different, and it felt like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. I couldn’t pull free from his suffocating kiss long enough to tell him that I was me, not Matilda. It was a far cry from sugarplums. I would have preferred a naked in class nightmare, or even a good old-fashioned falling to my death number. No such luck.
Even with the two extra hours of sleep, morning came too soon. I smelled Matilda before I saw her, and I woke on the cusp of a scream that I quickly swallowed.
“Good morning, princess. It’s show time.” Matilda shut off my alarm clock.
“I hate you,” I grumbled, throwing the covers back.
She laughed. “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“And I guess you got up on the right side of the lawnmower?” I dodged out of my room and shuffled down the hallway to the bathroom. A hot shower was bound to improve my mood.
As grumpy and tired as I was, I could still feel the unsettling cyclone of nerves stirring in my gut. The shoes were one thing, but the makeup was going to be tough. There were going to be looks. There were going to be questions. There were going to be lies. I didn’t know if I was ready for any of it. I did not do attention well.
I stood under the shower longer than I should have and earned a knock from my mother. “Honey, are you okay? You’ve been in there an awfully long time.”
“Yeah, mom,” I shouted over the spray. I sighed and turned the water off. “I’m fine. Just moving a little slow this morning.”
“Okay, sweetie. Your father is leaving early for work. Do you want me to save you some eggs?”
“That’s okay. I’m not hungry.” I vaguely wondered if Matilda had eaten anything since she crawled out of the ground, and I shuddered.
The bathroom grew cold, so I stepped out of the shower and toweled off before blow-drying my hair. I brushed my teeth, rubbed on some lotion, and did half a dozen other things I normally didn’t do as part of my grooming regime. I didn’t know how long it would take Matilda to lose her patience and come looking for me, but I finally decided not to push my luck and put the nail polish back in the drawer.
The Hun was waiting for me in my closet when I returned to my room. She had picked out a pair of beige tights and a green tunic blouse. “This will have to do until the Ebay order comes in.”
“That’s a shirt, not a dress.”
Matilda frowned at the outfit and then at me. “It’s long enough to be a dress, and it will look good with those cheap fur boots of yours.”
“I’m not wearing the blue shoes?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not wearing those shoes two days in a row. Are you crazy? If you wear them every day, you’ll exhaust their coolness. Duh.”
“Oh.” That actually made sense. She had probably read it in some snobby magazine article about skank etiquette. “That shirt is still too short.”
“Just don’t bend over.” She pushed it into my hands and raised a crusty eyebrow, daring me to try her again.
I sighed and closed myself in the closet to try the shirt and tights on. After I slipped on my fur boots, I couldn’t argue with Matilda anymore. She had been right. The outfit looked good on me. I almost didn’t want to ruin it by putting on the makeup, but I was already weary of arguing with the Hun.
“Do I really need all this?” I asked Matilda as I added a second coat of mascara.
“Look, we need to fast-track you into the Ds’ circle. This is the way to do it. I’ve been their leader since sixth grade. I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”
“Right.” I finished up and grabbed my backpack. “Run it by me one more time.”
Matilda held out her slimy fingers and began checking off the list she had come up with. “Talk as little as possible. Act bored with everything. Always be busy with cooler plans.”
I frowned at her. “How am I supposed to get into their circle if I turn them down when they ask me to do something?”
“One step at a time. Seriously, J. I know what I’m doing.” Matilda folded her arms and grinned at me.
I left her in my room and bit back the smile that was trying to creep over my face. The coolest girl in school had just given me a nickname. Well, she used to be the coolest girl in school. I still hated her guts, I reminded myself. She was still taking over my life and blackmailing me into helping her get the boy of my dreams to go to prom with her.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the living room mirror and felt a little sick about the fact that I actually liked the way I looked. Maybe I would wipe the makeup off when I got to school. Maybe I would just make up a bogus story about her plan working, at least until I could devise a way to get my parents out of the house long enough to chop her up and stuff her down the garbage disposal. The idea had sounded really good when I first came up with it. Now it was beginning to sound a little psycho serial killer, even though she was technically already dead.