The Smoky Corridor

32

“Over here, Zack! Over here!”

Most of the other tables were already crowded.

Malik’s table, on the other hand, was almost empty. Malik sat at one end, Azalea Torres at the other. Zack went over to join them. He sat in the middle.

“So, what did you bring for lunch?” Malik asked eagerly.

“Peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s the only thing my stepmom knows how to make.”

“Well, it’s an excellent choice, seeing how Pettimore Middle School has not yet been declared ‘nut free.’”

Zack nodded. If ghosts like Bartholomew Buckingham kept popping in, it never would be, either.

“A bit heavy on fat content, perhaps, at eighteen grams,” Malik continued, “but it will also provide sixteen percent of your daily recommended protein! To control your sugar intake, you might suggest to your mother that she use fruit preserves instead of jelly.”

“She already does.”

“Excellent.”

“And, actually, she’s my stepmother.”

Azalea looked up from the book she’d been reading while nibbling nacho chips. “What happened to your real mother? Did she die?”

Zack nodded. “Yeah. Cancer.”

Azalea nodded back. “Sorry.”

“What’s that?” Zack asked, pointing at her three-sectioned cafeteria plate. Salsa. Chips. More chips.

“My very own Mexican fiesta.”

“Smart,” said Zack. “I saw those tacos they were serving. They said they were beef but the meat looked kind of gray and goopy.”

“Yeah,” said Azalea. “They probably boiled somebody’s shoe.”

Zack and Malik laughed. Azalea actually smiled.

“You ever wish you could talk to her?” she asked Zack.

“Who?”

“Your mom.”

Zack looked at the Goth girl. Beneath all that black makeup, she seemed pretty nice—despite how tough she pretended to be. But they’d known each other for only ten seconds. Zack hadn’t even told Judy how horrible his real mother had been until they’d been together a pretty long time.

So, like he did when discussing this particular subject, he lied.

“Yeah. I wish I could talk to my mom.”

“I think it’d be neat to talk to dead people,” Azalea said thoughtfully.

Zack nodded. It could be. Every now and then.

“So, Zack,” said Malik, “are you fascinated with the afterlife as well?”

He shrugged.

“I think it would be cool to start a séance club,” said Azalea.

“Whom would you seek to converse with?” asked Malik.

“I dunno. Maybe those Donnelly brothers. I’d like to hear their side of the story.”

Zack was tempted to say, Hey, I’ll give you their number. He bit into his sandwich instead.

Benny, his friend from the neighborhood, came over to the table, holding a tray loaded down with Mexican food. Charles Buckingham was with him.

“Hey, Zack. This is my buddy Chuck. Can we sit with you guys?”

“Sure.”

“Awesome!”

The two boys eagerly climbed into their seats but Benny was too excited to eat his mystery-meat taco. “Hey, Zack, I was telling Chuck about how you’re going to blow up the principal’s office.…”

“I’m not gonna blow up the principal’s office, Benny!”

“Great. Because Chuck thinks maybe you should take out the cafeteria first!”

“Or the gym,” said Chuck. “I hate phys ed. I’m so glad I don’t have to take it until tomorrow!”

Great. Zack had one day to figure out how he could convince a gym teacher to go easy on the guy.

“So, Chuck,” Zack said as casually as he could, “you ever think about seeing a cardiologist?”

“Huh?”

“You know … a heart doctor?”

“Can’t. We don’t have health insurance. I just try not to get sick.”

Oh-kay. Zack needed a new idea. The direct approach wasn’t going to work.

“Hello, everybody.” Ms. DuBois, the history teacher, hovered near their table, holding a tray with nothing on it but a fruit cup. “I’m on cafeteria duty. Might I join you?”

“Please do, Ms. DuBois,” said Malik.

And she did!