Mysteries Among Mysteries

Okay, so my "Secret Admirer" wasn't Luis.


How do I know? you may well ask. Well, I used all of my considerable powers of deduction, espionage, observation, and detection. And plus I asked him why he put the card with the kitties on it in my locker.


"What...card?" he said.


The problem with differently biotic people--okay, problem is the wrong word, if Phoebe bothered to edit my entries any more she'd slap my wrist for suggesting that anything about the poor dead dears was problematical--what I meant to say was one of the many unique and endearing distinguishing characteristics of differently biotic people is that it is nearly impossible to tell when they are lying. They don't blush. Their eyes don't twitch up and to the left, they don't shake, and you can't tell if there is an additional quaver in their voice. All of which adds up to me not really being able to tell when they are lying. And they do lie. Colette Marie Beauvoir especially is always telling lies. I know you stole my pink socks, Colette! Confess! Confess!


But Luis wasn't lying. I didn't need telepathetic powers to tell me that.


"With...kitties?" he said.


"Never mind," I said.




So now my attention turns to the other new kids, Travis and Eric. This time I will need to be more cunning, more subtle. A direct question wouldn't work with Eric or Travis; Eric would get scared, Travis would make jokes. I'll have to bide my time...



But what if it isn't one of them, as I originally thought? What if the card is a joke, as some of you suggested, or what if it isn't from a secret admirer at all but a secret creeper? Brrrr.



By the way, it isn't from Norm. Don't ask me how I know. I just do.



BTW and OMZ, after I asked about the card, Luis said he "liked me". Bells rang. School bells, not wedding bells of course, so he didn't really have time to elaborate.

A Mystery...

So I ended up getting a valentine after all. It was a day late, but who's complaining? The valentine came in a little red envelope and had a pastel drawing of two kittens, the boy kitten (you could tell it was the boy kitten because it had a blue bow, and the girl kitten had a pink bow and long eyelashes) with his tiny forepaws clutched over his heart, and he was beseeching his sweetie to "Be my Valentine?". It looked like the sort of card you'd get by the bagful when you were in kindergarten or first grade and then, sadly, never get again in your life. And the card was signed...well, that's the mystery. It wasn't signed. It had been pushed through the gap in my locker until just the corner of it was sticking out.

I have three suspects--I mentioned a little while ago that I would be chaperoning a group of newlydead kids around the school? Three of them are boys, and I am pretty certain that the Valentine came from one of them. Which is very flattering at all but I assure you that I was very professional in my chaperoning and not flirtatious at all so I hope none of them got the wrong idea.

Meet the suspects--

Eric
Eric is very quiet and shy but he did tell me that he died because of a long illness. He didn't tell me what the illness was but I get the idea that he was bedridden or hospitalized for a long time; he is very frail and his skin tone is a shade paler than most zombies, even. He has very wide blue eyes that almost look too big for his face, but he doesn't let you look at them very long. We didn't get the chance to talk much but I know he really likes cartoons. I think he said Invader Zim was his favorite.

Travis
Travis is almost the polar opposite of Eric; he's one of the most outgoing zombies I've ever met. He apparently died as a result of a Jackass-style stunt he tried to do involving a dirt bike, a long ramp, and a woodpile. He said that he was impaled on a tree branch during the stunt and died, and then he asked me if I wanted to see the scar. Omz, no! He bla bla bla'd the whole time I spent walking him around--he talks so fast that he nearly sounds trad, and all of his stories involved some extreme activity he'd done--rock climbing in Utah, white water rafting in Colorado, shark hunting off the coast of Florida. His parents are "rich and still love him even though he's dead" and I wasn't sure which fact was more important that I understand.

I guess I'm kind of painting him out to be a blowhard but actually he was kind of funny once he settled down a bit. And although it sounds grisly and sick, he had a whole table of us--trad and zombie alike--laughing at the story of his death. Not many zombies have a sense of humor about that stuff so that at least was refreshing.

Luis
He's the mystery within the mystery, because he shared almost nothing with me. Eric was shy but he'd at least answer a question when you asked it; and unlike Eric, Luis would maintain eye contact an uncomfortably long time. Zombies do that, especially newlydeads who haven't regained much of their functionality, so I don't think he was being intentionally creepy. Plus he has really nice dark eyes and I bet it if he were still alive he'd be really good looking. That sounds really shallow and judgemental--he's still kind of good looking, but if he was alive he'd look even better. You get the idea. But I got almost nothing from Luis at all about his background. About the only thing that he said to me unprompted was "I like...your...bracelets...and your...hair," which was very sweet and nice of him and probably the only remotely flirty thing any of the three said to me the first week I was showing them around. But the Kitten Kard? Doesn't seem like his style, somehow.

So those are our suspects. What do you think? Who slipped the valentine into my locker? Eric? Travis? Luis? Or...someone else?

I'll share more clues as I discover them...

Happy Valentine's Day

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, so I thought I would wish you all, zombie and trad alike, a happy one. I hope that you have a happy one filled with mushy cards, flowers, and free candy. Especially free candy. Last year some trad kid gave Karen a box of candy, which I guess was really sweet of him but, guess what? Zombies don't eat, brainiac! Karen did eat one, though, before giving me the rest of the box which I very greedily devoured barely sharing any because I can be that way sometimes. I did ask Karen the next day if she wanted another one (I had a few left, and I suspected that they were pretty much all those chewy chocolate covered caramel ones, yuck) but she declined and then did some Jedi mind trick where she told me exactly how many I ate and what order I ate them in. Spoooky! But we miss yoooouuuu, Karen! Where are you? When ya coming home? Anyhow, she didn't have any more of the chocolates and I wondered if giving a zombie a chocolate was like giving a dog a chocolate but that really isn't a good thing to speculate about, omz!

I do not have a special sweetie (sob) but that does not mean my heart is not filled with love. Some of the nastier, meaner zombies (yes, I'm talking to you, Popeye) call us beating hearts as some sort of insult, but I actually think it is kind of a nice thing to be called. They like being called zombies, so go figure.

Anyhow, a certain zombie believes that love is the answer to making dead hearts beat again. I look forward to the day when that happens, for everyone. Maybe tomorrow!

March of the Newlydeads

Busy week here at Oakvale High. We have like seventeen feet of snow on the ground (Okay, that's an exaggeration. A slight one) and we had two snow days and two delays this week. Plus, various sporting events and after school activities were cancelled. And everyone is in just a rotten mood. Rotten, rotten, rotten. I don't think anyone likes the snow except for maybe T.C., and the only reason that T.C. likes it is because there was a group of differently biotic kids coming up the icy concrete steps, and the maintenance staff hadn't done a very good job of sanding...and let's just say the results were not pretty. Unless you were T.C., who was standing on the sidewalk and pointing and laughing like that bully kid on the The Simpsons. And so I whipped out my mad ninja skillz and totally ginsued him with my flying fists of fury, and then I reduced him to a fine red mist with some Norrisian roundhouse kicks.

Except I don't really have mad ninja skillz. I do have mad notebook-decorating skillz, and crazy mad fashion skillz, but neither of those superhero-quality abilities seemed of use at the moment. So I just stuck my tongue out at him.

But not all of the week was bad. There are five, count them, five new newlydeads coming to school next week. Five! Omz! And guess who was appointed by Principal Kim to be the special Orientation Ambassador for these lucky, lucky students? That's right, yours truly. I'll get to show the new kids around the school and hang out and help them get acclimated and all that fun stuff. It should be fun, fun, fun!

Classes sure are getting crowded, though.

OMZ!

That's my new catch phrase--OMZ, as in "Oh my zombie!" I always thought it was kind of blasphemous dropping the "G" word for every little silly thing that happens online or in life.

Omz, that's such a pretty dress!

Omz, Adam, you are so funny!

or

I can't come over tonight, Phoebe. Omz, I have so much homework to do.

I looked up Omz on Wikipedia and it turns out it is also the initials of a large Russian-based international heavy industry and manufacturing conglomerate. Oh well. Sorry, large Russian-based international heavy industry and manufacturing conglomerate! Omz is now the official catchphrase of Margi Vachon!

Don't know if you have following the news, but ever since Tommy's successes in the nations capital, there have been more and more reports of international zombie-ness. There's bunches of 'em in Canada and Mexico. There's dozens in the U.K. and France and Spain. Yay, Euro-zombies. And, omz, there's supposedly some in Tokyo, too! How cool is that?

Of course, not all these reports are credible, and supposedly some governments are suppressing zombies just like in the United States, and etc., etc., etc.

So if you know any international differently biotic folks, tell them we support them. Tell them to stop by, even! I'd love to hear zombie spoken with a French accent! Omz, that would be great!

Living with the Dead

So now I have my very own login and password, courtesy of Mr. Tommy Williams. I asked him if he wanted to post anything and he said that he didn't really feel like it.

"Really?" I said. "But what about being the voice of the Dead Generation? What about all the people that supported you in your trip to Washington? Don't you want to update them on your, ah, life?"

He just stared at me. Whatever you do, don't try and win a staring contest with a zombie. Ain't gonna happen.

Some of you have asked about Phoebe posting as well; I wish I could give you an update but she's kind of not speaking to me because of my last post. I'm sure she already regrets giving me her password (remember kids: don't give out yer passwords), just as I'm sure Tommy will regret it in a couple days, too. Oh, well. She'll get over it. If I can't be me, I can't be me.

Colette is still talking to me, of course. She dyed half of her hair metallic blue and it looks super cool. I'll stick with pink, though.

Oakvale High Update: Classes are way way over-crowded now that the db kids have come back. There's got to be over thirty of us packed in a class now. And I get to sit next to that charmer, Popeye, in one of those classes. His real name is Chad, can you believe it? Chad Doyle. He absolutely flipped out when Mrs. Rodriguez called him Chad, though. He took off his sunglasses and everything. And his shirt, which was not a pretty sight, believe me, because he's done some really disgusting things--bodifications, he calls them--to himself. Like removed layers of skin right down to the muscle and stuff like that. Too nauseating to write about, really.

"Please put your glasses on, Popeye," Mrs. Rodriguez told him.

"Why?"

"You know why. And your shirt."

"I don't get it. Pinky Tuscadero over there gets to do whatever she wants to her hair, and gets to wear like three thousand bracelets, but I can't..."

"The school has a shirts and shoes policy, Popeye," Mrs. Rodriguez said, interrupting him. "And pants, before you get any ideas. It's all in the handbook."

"Oh, well, if it is in the handbook," he said. "That's like being in the Constitution itself. Or the Bible. The handbook. What about the sunglasses, Mrs. Rodriguez? I bet 'the handbook' has a policy on those as well, doesn't it? And the policy is that they need to come off."

He's such a jerk sometimes. He didn't even seem to notice that Tori Simmons was crying, she was so scared of him.

Mrs. Rodriguez sighed. "We're willing to make an exception for you," she said.

"Maybe I don't want to be the exception. Maybe I want to be the rule."

She told him that if he didn't sit down, put his glasses and shirt back on, and spend the rest of the class with his mouth closed and his hands neatly folded in front of him, she would make certain that he was suspended from school.

He complied, taking his time about it. I don't think he really cares about being suspended, but I think he wouldn't want to miss a few days of getting in people's faces and offending them.

He's in trouble all the time and the weird thing is I know he's trying to get into trouble. I think I'm pretty close to telling him off.

All You Zombies

Hi everyone--Margi here. This blog is more cob-webby than the Haunted House, isn't it. It will say "posted by PhoebeKendall" at the bottom of this post but that is just another example of how the Internet is a total liar. And why is Internet always capitalized, anyhow?

I asked Phoebe if I could post something here and she said sure go ahead here's my password. PSA: Kids and kid-like people,never ever ever give anyone any of your Internet account passwords. Or your wallet, your favorite stuftie, your ATM card, your mojo, or your car keys if you are old enough to drive. You wouldn't want some creeper getting a hold of that stuff would you? Luckily for Phoebe, I am not a creeper, I am her best friend. And besides, she says that she is never going to post here again, anyhow. She doesn't want me to get into it, but she was a bit embarrassed by Tommy's last post. You'd think that maybe she'd be over it and all now that Tommy is back home from his trip and back in school, but I guess it is more complicated than that.

But um yeah I'm not supposed to talk about that. Next topic, please?

So yes Tommy is back in school. And Colette! And we're having a blast every day except when she's being all mopey about missing DeCayce and everything (he's back in New Jersey with his band but they get together like every other week so I don't know what she's complaining about; at least she has a boyfriend), and Adam, and Melissa, and Cooper, and Tayshawn and Jacinta and Popeye (yes! even Popeye!). Pretty much every zombie kid I know in town is back at school, except for Tak.

Tommy, you see, was pretty successful. Politically,at least. Although Prop 77 didn't go through exactly as it was written, a number of limited rights were granted to the differently biotic, including the right to get an education. So the zombies are all back, shambling through the hallways, moving just a little faster than Phoebe before her morning coffee. Which is great! Yay, zombies!

Except, now our school is really, really crowded. Really crowded. And there's um, conflict. Not bullying exactly, at least not the same sort of obvious bullying that was happening back when Tommy was first starting to speak up. More like...intimidation. I don't know how to write about it yet so I won't. Soon, maybe.

Anyhow, I'm going to try and get Phoebe and Tommy to post eventually. But not until I get to have some fun first! I'll be answering questions, too, so post lots.

Bye!

--Margi Vee