Life is dumb and so are you

Life is dumb and so are you[1]

Chapter One:

*

Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse I saw the dead guy standing next to my locker. Matt was talking nonstop in his usual M-Babble, and he didn't even notice the dead guy. Actually, now to think about it, no one else noticed him until he spoke, which is tragically, more evidence of my freakish inability to fit in. 

"No, but Sklyer, I swear to god Dalton didn't fuck Ashley after the game. You really shouldn't be so hard on him."

"Yeah," I said absently. "Sure." Then I wiped the sweat from my forehead. Again. I felt like crap. I must be coming down with what Mr. White, my more-than-slightly-insane chemistry teacher, called the teenage plague.

If I died, would it get me out of my geometry test tomorrow? One could only hope.

"Skyler, please. Are you even listening? I think he just... kissed her four- I dunno- maybe six times.  But that's totally beside the point. He probably wouldn't even had kissed her if your stupid parents had you leave right after the game."

We shared a long-suffering look, in total agreement about the latest injustice committed against me by my mom and the step-loser she'd married seven long years ago. Then after barely half a breath brake, Matt was back with the babbling. 

"Plus, he was celebrating. I mean we beat Union!" Matt shook my shoulder and put his face close to mine. "Hello! Your boyfriend-"

"My almost boyfriend." I corrected him trying my best not to wipe the sweat off my face again. 

"Whatever. Dalton is our lead singer so of course he is going to celebrate. It's been like a million years since Lincoln beat Union."

"Sixteen." I'm shitty at math, but Matt's impalement makes me look like a genius.

"Again, whatever. The point is, he was happy. You should give the kid a break."

"The point is that he was wasted for like the fifth time this week. I'm sorry, but I don't want to go to out with a guy whose main focus in has changed from trying to master singing to trying to chug a six-pack without puking. Not to mention the fact he's gonna get fat from all that beer." I had to pause to wipe my forehead. I was feeling dizzy and forced myself to take it slow, deep breaths when the sweat fit was over. Not that Matt noticed.

"Eww! Dalton, fat! Not a visual I want."

I managed to ignore another urge to wipe my forehead. "And kissing him is like sucking on alcohol-soaked feet."

Matt scrunched up his face "Okay sick. Too bad he's so hot." (Forgot to mention Matt's gay).

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to try to hide my annoyance at his typical shallowness. 

"You're so grumpy when you're sick. Anyway, you have no idea how lost-puppy-like Dalton looked after you ignored him at lunch. He couldn't even..."

Then I saw him. The dead guy. Okay, I realized pretty quick that he wasn't technically 'dead.' He was undead  or un-human. Whatever. Scientists said one thing, people said another, but the end result wad the same.

*

When the sweat finally cleared away I looked up to see Matt's calm acne covered face staring down at me. 

As usual I said the first ridiculous thing that came to mind. 

"Your clothes smell like fear... and rat poison."

Matt gasped and leaned back pressing his pale fingers to his chapped lips, unsuccessfully trying to hold back a sob. 

I sat up and coughed. I had a killer headache, and I rubbed the spot right between my eyebrows. It stung as if a wasp had bit me and radiated pain down around my eyes, all the way across my cheekbones. I felt like I was going to blow chunks.