Mean Ghouls (7 page)

Mr. Jones's house looked amazingly similar to Dr. Shelley's office. If they didn't know each other already, they should. When Megan had first come down with zombitus, she'd gone to see Dr. Shelley and been surprised at all the monster-movie stuff that decorated the doctor's office. Mr. Jones had more of the same kind of things. If they ever met, they could trade monster-movie lunch boxes and play make-believe with their zombie figurines.

Of course, mixed in with all his monster collectables, Mr. Jones also had his Hawaiian thing going. Hula-girl bobbleheads danced on a shelf next to werewolf figurines. A small, child-size coffin sat in the corner of the room on top of a grass-woven rug. A black painting (could it be Happy's work?) was
hanging inches away from a photo of the sun setting over a beach in Honolulu.

Megan scooted herself back into one of Mr. Jones's overstuffed floral-print chairs. The chairs matched his shirt and Megan couldn't help but wonder what the famous Yeverman parents would think of designing a room to match a wardrobe. Or a wardrobe to match a room, Megan wasn't sure. Might be a new trend. She tried to laugh at the situation, but her nerves were on fire.

Mr. Jones left the room for a minute and when he returned, Megan discovered something important. Yes … drinks at ZA were served with mini umbrellas. Her Coke had a pink one stuck in the straw.

Megan sipped her soda for a long quiet moment. Mr. Jones sat down in a comfy chair that faced hers.

“You've made a broad accusation,” he said while sipping a Coke of his own. “What brings you to your conclusion?” His accent seemed stronger at night. He sounded an awful lot like what Megan imagined Dracula sounded like.

Megan toyed with her umbrella, trying not to notice that soda was gurgling out the sides of Mr. Jones's mouth, making the bloodstains there turn a muddy brown. She took a deep breath. “Because
I saw …” She tapped her chin. “I saw … What did I see?”

Blasted zombitus brain fog!

Unable to remember all the details, she opened her red notebook and reviewed her notes.

“The Zom-Bs —” She paused to make certain Mr. Jones knew who she was talking about. When he identified Brooke, Betsy, and Brenda, she went on. “The day after the cure was stolen, I saw the Zom-Bs coming out of the research center,” Megan said. “They were carrying a bag of glass tubes. I think they had the vials of the cure.”

Mr. Jones was intrigued. “Go on,” he told her, wiping his face on a handkerchief.

“They came out a broken window.”

“Did you see them break the window?” Mr. Jones asked. He was now taking notes in his own ZA notebook.

“No,” Megan said honestly.

“Hmmm. Did the girls say they had taken the cure?” Mr. Jones asked.

“No,” Megan admitted. “But they said that after whatever they're planning to do on Visitors' Day, no one will care that the cure was stolen.”

“Do you know what they are planning?” Mr. Jones chewed the end of his pencil until it splintered.

“Uhh.” This wasn't going so well. “No,” Megan said again.

“I see.” Mr. Jones tucked his pencil into his notebook and closed the cover. Megan waited to hear what he'd make of her suspicions while he took his time finishing his drink. “Ms. Murry,” Mr. Jones said after what felt like an endless silence. “It is not kind to accuse without proof.”

“But I do have proof!” She had one more thing to tell him. “They like it here!” Megan blurted, trying to convince him that she was right. “Brooke, Betsy, and Brenda
like
being zombies. They don't want to get cured. They aren't popular at home. They're only cool here. The Bs stole the cure so they can rule the school forever!”

At that, Mr. Jones laughed. Not the normal laugh of an older man, but the cackling chuckle of a witch. Megan shrank back in her chair, hoping that he hadn't saved her from Brett so that he could have her brains all for himself.

“Oh dear, Ms. Murry,” Mr. Jones said as his laughter died down. “If that is your criteria for thieving,
then you must add me to your suspect list. I, too, love it here. I do not wish to be cured. I have built the perfect home for myself. I also hope to stay a zombie forever.” He waved his arm around his bungalow and said, “Have you considered that perhaps I stole the cure?”

Megan got an instant headache. “I thought you were getting the first dose.” She didn't understand.

He pointed to the coffin in the corner. “That is not made for a body. It's a locked safe for my most valuable things.” He turned to face Megan, his eyes glowing softly as he said, “I want a vial to save for posterity.”

Glancing around the room, Megan asked, “To add to your collection?”

Mr. Jones chuckled. “Exactly. One more thing for my
collection
.”

He rose and walked Megan to the door. “It's late. Go back to the dorms.” Moonlight illuminated the path. “Stop pretending you're a detective,” he said. “There is no mystery here. Relax. Don't worry about the cure. Someday my researchers will find one, but today is not that day. In the meantime, I suggest you hang loose. You might find you like it here.”

Megan shook her head. “No disrespect, sir, but I
want
to go home.”

Mr. Jones squinted at Megan and scratched his chin. “Yes,” he said. “I understand. Your friend Sam used to say that, too.” He added, “In time, he came to see the advantages of being a zombie. So will you.”

With a soft click, Mr. Jones closed the bungalow door behind Megan.

“He doesn't get it,” Megan muttered to herself as she headed back to the castle. She was frustrated. “He doesn't want to be cured.”

Megan hurried toward her dorm room. Her knees kept locking, which made running difficult. But she wanted to sit on her bed and write down her conversation with Mr. Jones in her notebook before she forgot.

She was concentrating so hard on not forgetting that Megan didn't see the guy waiting for her by the castle door.

“Megan,” he said.

“AUGH!” She jumped and turned to run as fast as her straight legs could go.

“Wait!” the guy cried after her. “It's me.”

Megan was having a hard time processing who “me” was. Her brain fog felt foggier than usual. And the moonlight made her vision blurry. Terrified that Brett was back to eat her brains, Megan hurried toward the cottage. Mr. Jones was strange and she didn't trust him, but she had nowhere else to go.

“Megan!” Sam yelled after her. “It's me, Sam.”

“Oh.” Megan felt foolish for running away. She slowed to a stop and waited for him to catch up. Her heart was beating so hard, she wondered if it would ever settle back to a normal rhythm. They were on the pathway to Mr. Jones's, near the break off to the research center.

“I was worried about you. I've been searching all over for you,” Sam said. The way he was squinting at Megan made her uneasy. “You feeling okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” she lied. She wasn't feeling okay at all. The combination of what had happened with Brett and the fact that Mr. Jones didn't believe her was making Megan's head feel full. Plus, she had a toothache and her brain felt like oatmeal.

She looked up at the moon. It was full, big and round and reddish. What did Zach call it when it looked like that?
A hunter's moon.
The thought made her shiver.

“I was afraid that Brett —” Sam said, looking at Megan with a frown.

“He almost did,” Megan said. He didn't seem like a brain sucker, but then again, Megan had no idea what Brett would have done had Mr. Jones not showed up. “Mr. Jones saved me,” she told Sam.

“Told you he was nice.” Sam's frown flipped to a grin.

“He still scares me,” Megan admitted. “I think Mr. Jones might have stolen the zombitus cure.”

Sam laughed. “No way.”

Megan told him how Mr. Jones said that she might like it at ZA if she'd give it a chance.

“He's protecting you,” Sam said, defending the old man. “Remember how upset you were when you found out there was a cure and then found out there wasn't? It keeps happening. He just wants you to get into the routine of school and stuff.”

“I don't know….” Megan's detective mind was spinning.

“I thought you said the Bs took the cure?” Sam asked.

“I did,” Megan said. A possibility took form. “Maybe they're all working together.”

“You're getting goofy,” Sam said. “Mr. Jones didn't tell the Bs to take the cure. He's hired researchers and built a fancy lab. He wouldn't waste his money by finding a cure just to steal it himself.”

“Unless …” The mystery was becoming clearer. “Unless he has so much money that he doesn't care,” Megan retorted. “Did the cure ever go missing before the Bs got here?”

Sam considered the answer. “I'll admit that the Bs have been here every time a cure was stolen.” He stopped Megan before she could shout
Aha!
“But the doctors hadn't even discovered a cure until a few years ago.”

Megan didn't hear what else he said until Sam put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a little shake. “You're thinking so hard that you're zoning out. Listen to me. It's not Mr. Jones,” Sam said.

She didn't believe him. “So, do you think the Bs stole the cure on their own?”

“No,” Sam said. “I don't.”

“Then what are they up to?” Megan asked. “What was going on in the tower?”

“I don't know,” Sam said. “But I'm certain it wasn't about the cure.”

“If you're so sure it wasn't the Bs or Mr. Jones, who do you think took it?” When he didn't answer right away, Megan plowed forward. “See! It has to be the Bs or Mr. Jones. There are no other suspects!”

“Uhhhh-uhhhh!” Sam groaned. It was the first time Megan had heard him go full-on zombie. “Can we talk about this later?” He looked around. “Privately?”

Sam was irritated with her and Megan didn't understand why. She was about to solve the mystery. “Why are you arguing with me?” Megan asked him.

“I'm not,” Sam said. “I just don't want to discuss this anymore.”

“Then why are you arguing with me?” Megan wouldn't let it go. “Mr. Jones obviously convinced the Bs to steal the virus cure.” She knew she was right. Why didn't Sam see that she was right?

“I'm not arguing. You're being impossible,” Sam replied.

“Mr. Jones didn't believe me about the Bs and now you don't believe me about Mr. Jones.”

“You're jumping to conclusions.”

“Am not!”

“Are, too!” One of Sam's fingers fell off just then. He quickly scooped it up and stuffed it into his pocket.

“See?” Megan said, feeling like her head was about to burst from being so very right. “Nurse Karen says zombie transformations happen when we get too emotional, so that proves you
are
arguing with me.” She pointed at Sam's pocket.

“I guess I am!” Sam gave up. “This conversation doesn't make sense. Why would Mr. Jones use the Bs like that?”

“Because he didn't want to do the dirty work himself,” Megan responded, stifling the urge to add Zach's catchphrase:
Duh!

Sam let out a long sigh. “Can we finish this conversation tomorrow? We aren't getting anywhere. I already lost a finger. And you —” He reached out to touch Megan's hair. “Let's stop fighting. Get some rest. It's been a long day.”

She flinched and pulled back. “Don't touch me,” she said.

“But there's a —” Sam let his hand drop to his side.

“I know what I'm talking about.” Megan's loud voice cut through the night. “Mr. Jones and the Bs are in this together. I have to find the cure and steal it back.” She added, “I'm not speaking to you again until you admit that I'm right.” Megan turned, and stormed into the castle.

“You're wrong,” Sam called out after her. “Dead wrong.”

 

When Megan entered the dorm room, she was surprised to find Happy sketching ideas for a new painting. It was after two in the morning.

“You look rotten,” Happy said as Megan closed the door. “Where have you been?”

“Thanks. I feel rotten,” Megan replied in a snippy voice. “But I think the question should be: Where have
you
been?”

“Huh? I've been here all night.” Happy ruffled the papers she was working on. “Making ugly drawings for a lame project. Why?”

Megan didn't sit. She paced the room, saying, “You were supposed to meet me and Sam at the tower to spy on the Bs.” Saying his name made her feel even angrier. She couldn't believe he doubted her!

“I forgot about it.” Happy pressed too hard on her black charcoal pencil and snapped off the tip. “Sue me.”

Megan said, “Did you forget to meet up with the Bs, too?” The question came out like an accusation.

Happy noticed. “What's wrong with you?”

There was so much emotion boiling inside Megan, she couldn't control it anymore. All Megan wanted was to get cured and go home, but no one was going to help her! In fact, everyone at Zombie Academy was working against her.

“What's wrong with
me
? What's wrong with
you
?” Megan blurted. “The Bs say you're doing something with them on Visitors' Day.”

“Yeah. So what?” Happy didn't explain. She was really good at staying calm. No wonder she barely looked like a zombie.

Megan, on the other hand, was seething. “Brooke says if you don't help the Bs with their plan, she'll reveal who your parents are to the whole school!”

“Brooke's a Mean Ghoul.” Happy shrugged. “She's mean to you. She's mean to me. You seem surprised.”

“Get real. I saw you hanging out with her in science. You were laughing. And you
never
laugh! I think the Bs stole the cure,” Megan said. “And I think you know where it is!”

“Oh, come on, Megan,” Happy said. “It was home ec, not science. And I wasn't laughing. You're not remembering correctly.”

“I —” When pressed, Megan actually couldn't say for sure if Happy had been laughing or not, but it had felt like she was at the time.

“You have zombitus brain,” Happy told Megan. “If you stopped and thought about what you were saying, you'd realize —”

“I know the Bs have the cure. And since you're such good friends with Brooke, tell me, Happy, where is it?!” Megan was sure that her brain was working perfectly. “Did they give it to Mr. Jones? Do
you
have it? I need that cure!”

“Go to the nurse, Megan,” Happy said calmly. “You're flipping out and it's making your zombie transformation accelerate.”

“I am not —” Megan started, but then Happy held up a small hand mirror and turned it toward Megan.

Sure enough, when Happy gave Megan the mirror and she took a long look at herself, she saw that her two front teeth were nail sharp and a stripe of gray had grown into her hair.

That explained why Sam was staring at her so strangely. Then he went and argued with her and made it all worse!

“Zombitus makes everyone a little nutty,” Happy explained. “Ask Sam. He once told me that the first time he lost a finger, he freaked out, rode his horse to the pier, and blew out the night lamps. Then, he cut a bunch of ropes, releasing the boats attached to them into Seattle's harbor. It was a disaster. Mr. Jones convinced Taft to let Sam come here instead of going to prison.”

“Always the hero, that Mr. Jones, isn't he?” Megan snorted as she stared at herself in the mirror. Okay, so she was going through some small zombitus changes. But that didn't affect what she knew to be true. She faced Happy. “Why won't you tell me where the cure is?”

When Happy refused to answer, Megan's anger peaked into a fireball. She threw the mirror down on the floor. “I thought we were friends!” she shouted.

Happy stared at the shards of mirror that littered the floor. “That's seven years' bad luck,” she said. “As if my luck's not bad enough.”

Megan couldn't think straight. Both her legs locked super-straight, her arms suddenly shot forward, and she stumbled across the room like a full
zombie. “Uhhhh-uhhhh.” Flinging her arms around, Megan knocked over Happy's drawings.

They weren't for a painting after all.

And they weren't black either.

Happy scrambled to pick up her sketches, but Megan had seen enough to know that Happy was keeping a huge secret. Happy was designing clothing. Each outfit was drawn in colored fabrics, with gauzy scarves and coordinating shoes and purses. There were fancy prom dresses and casual wear. All of it clean and neat.

“Uhhhh-uhhhh,” Megan groaned again. “Tell me where the zombitus cure is!”

“Get out of
my
room,” Happy told Megan, her voice strong and yet, still calm. “Go see Nurse Karen. She's an expert in massage, biofeedback, yoga, and acupuncture. And she's on duty 24/7. You have to calm down so that you won't transform anymore.”

“This is
my
room, too. I don't have to see the nurse if I don't want to. I don't have to leave if I don't want to.”

“Stay, then. It's a free castle.” Happy went back to drawing.

“Ugh!” Megan grabbed her pillow and her red ZA notebook. She shuffled to the door. “I'm leaving.”

“Whatever.” Happy shrugged.

“I'm going to find that cure,” she told Happy.

Megan left the room, slamming the door behind her. She shouted her last words through the solid wood. “I can't be friends with a thief!”