a day undead

We're-THEY'RE dead?

blaire collins

Slamming the car door, I walked to the front of the school. Waiting there was Layla Miller, my best friend. "We're going to be late," Layla hissed. My straight, light-brown hair fell in front of my cobalt eyes, and I tucked it behind my ear. Layla grabbed my wrist and led me through the doors to our next class. We made it to class right as the bell rang; Mrs. Mitchelle, our math teacher, gave us an inquisitive look before nodding at us to take a seat.

I slid into my seat, taking out my binder, and Mrs. Mitchelle walked in front of the class to start the lesson. Our math teacher was also the head of student council—which was good, because during class students would stop by to talk about school events, which took up a few minutes. Usually, they'd stop by at the end of class, so she'd always forget to assign homework.

So, naturally, when the door swung open on February 24th at 7:36 am, I was expecting a student to walk in. But no, it was the principal. I was still happy, as the two stepped outside for a moment to talk. I turned to Layla, who was checking her phone. "I'm so bored, what time does class end again?"

Layla responded, "Don't ask me, I don't give a crap about school." I shrugged. It was true. Nobody gave two craps about school, or anything to do with school. Not yet, at least.

layla miller

As I walked back to my locker from english—well, sprinted—I thought about everything going on. Usually, I wouldn't have to run to my locker on Mondays, but I had to make a stop before I went to soccer practice. I panted as I stopped in front of the principal's office. My brother needed me to pick up his bag—he left early, due to being "sick". I knocked on the door, and the quiet talking stopped abruptly. "BUSY!" The principal shouted. I scrunched up my nose and turned on my heel. Grouchy, I thought. I started sprinting again. 

When I got to the locker rooms, all the girls were already almost changed into their red and white uniforms. I grabbed my own duffle bag and threw on my own uniform. Looking in the small mirror attached to the inside of my locker, I also tied my hair into a ponytail. I laced my cleats and ran out to the field. "You're late, Miller. You know the drill."

I sighed, still panting, and immediately started my two laps around the soccer field. I thought about what had happened over the weekend. How Charlie had broken up with me. I didn't cry—no, I saw it coming. He claimed it was because he was questioning my feelings for him. We felt distant for a bit beforehand, though, so I wasn't surprised.

 I looked down and noticed my shoe was untied; I hadn't tied it well due to being in a rush. I bent down to quickly tie my shoe (again), but looked up. I opened my mouth slightly to show my shock (to nobody in particular,) because my soccer team had left. Practice wasn't over. It didn't take me a whole hour to run. No, practice had just started. Did everyone leave early? Where was the coach? I stood up without double-knotting my laces. I walked off the track surrounding the field and took a few steps toward the goal. I leaned against it and squinted into the distance. Someone was running—no, limping—over. I recognized the bright red uniform to match mine, but I wasn't sure who it was. The blonde ponytail swinging behind her had to be Katie B. Barnes, but the skin looked pale and slightly blue. She had a dazed look on her face. I wondered if my contact had fallen out, because she didn't look right. I let go of the goalpost and stepped back as she got closer. "Katie?" I whispered, knowing she couldn't hear me. As she crossed the field, I continued taking steps back, towards the baseball field. Katie got close enough for me to see her eyes; her iris was a faded white. My own eyes widened as I spun on my heel without hesitating and ran straight for the locker rooms. I shut the door tight behind me and looked around frantically for a place to hide.

carson stewart

I'll be honest. I'm not a ladies' man, but when Ilene Carleson, one of the most popular girls in school, might I add, grabbed my shoulders that day, I was pretty sure every girl in the school swooned for me. But she wasn't going to kiss me, no, no, I had it all wrong. She was trying to bite me. My first words were, "I don't think that's how you do it, man," But she just groaned. I guess she was upset or something, so I let her be. When I opened the door to the main hall, I saw Thea Johnson—another girl whom had a higher popularity status—running to me. I knew they all liked me. But, of course, I was wrong yet again. She didn't like me—she was trying to attack me. I turned around and ran in the other direction. There was something wrong with their eyes—they were white. I guessed it was a flu going around. Good thing I didn't kiss them.