I Dream of Disney (Volume II)

Life Can Be A Scream [Z-O-M-B-I-E-S Bucky x Reader] Part IV

Part IV - Pride, Prejudice and Zombies

My eyes ache. It's the eyeliner. I hope the effect of the dark circles around my eyes aren't too much, even though my mother wouldn't stop insisting that it was necessary. The result of yesterday's burst of Zombie power meant that I looked even more preternatural than normal: my skin was that muddy grey complexion reminiscent of dirty concrete, my eyes were lined with thick vein-purple and my hair was a bright shamrock green at the roots.

My mother tried to remedy my freakiness the best way she could: hair coiled and roped into a beautiful and elaborate bun, twining so many times over my scalp that none of my roots were visible to the naked light of day; uniform a pastel blue that added some colour to my features without making me look too grey and my eyes were now ringed with eyeliner. A lot of eyeliner. I was seriously concerned that I would either be mistaken for a raccoon – or Amy Winehouse.

It felt strange to enter the school on the opposite side of the fence. Without realising it, I'd stalled and glanced in that sea of zombie faces to see if I could see any of my friends but luck was not on my side. The current of hormones and name-brand clothing was too strong and I felt adrift again, slinging my bag over my shoulder more securely and walking inside with a sigh. The sign glared down on me, reminding me that NORMALS was not where I was meant to be.

Turns out, orientation day is not just an item on a list but in-fact a highly-valuable experience. Even though I had arrived with what should have been enough time to find my classrooms, the bell was blaring before I had the chance to properly orientate myself. When people started moving, it only complicated matters. I made it to the classroom just as the teacher was about to close the door.

"Ah, that'll be Miss Zeigler," The middle-aged man grunts, "So pleased that you could grace us with your presence. Just so you know, all of my human students arrive five minutes before the bell rings. Perhaps that will make an impression on you?"

"Yessir." I blurted. "It's a big school. I got lost –"

"Then perhaps grab an Atlas on your way in," The man, whom I would later learn was my Mathematics teacher, Mr Addams, remarked, "I trust you might need it to find your seat?"

Borne from a juvenile instinct that I didn't know I had, I clutched my textbooks to my chest as though they were a shield. I took about three more steps further into the class before the teacher promptly sniffed, grunted in agitation and sneezed. After grabbing the blunt edge of his nose, he glared at me.

"The reek of homeschool," Mr Addams grouched. "An added perk, huh?"

I have to give it to him. He made me feel worse about being homeschooled than about being a half-zombie, which was an admirable feat. Like a hangnail at the time of a haemorrhage: the slight pain distracting from the bigger one. Not far from the door, the unoccupied desk was now my fortress. I placed my things down with a grimace at the noise and threw myself into my seat, trying to tell myself that the furious blush would soon disappear.

The first fifteen minutes felt like solitude. Despite the rustle of books or the soft whispers of the gossipers around me, I didn't glance anywhere except for the whiteboard. I had never been so focused on linear equations in my entire life: the digits floated in front of my eyes, the drone of the teacher an almost-comforting hum to my eardrums and the methodical need to write down notes was a way for me to zone out. I might have really started to enjoy the class – if not for one startling realisation.

There were cheerleaders in this class. The only sound that could stir me: the undeniable shift-and-shuffle of pompoms. My stomach dropped. I felt the sudden urge to scan them - my luck probably couldn't get any worse, could it?