Night of the Zombie Chickens (20 page)

J
ust as I thought, Alyssa is upset when I decide not to reshoot the end of
Night of the Zombie Chickens
. Luckily, the more she gets to know Margaret, the less she seems to care. The truth is, it just doesn't feel right cutting Margaret out. It would be like admitting that she was just a last-ditch idea to patch together my movie. Maybe it did start out that way, but the more I look at the footage, the more I like it. It's the absolute perfect ending for
Night of the Zombie Chic
kens
.

It takes me a month, but I finally finish the entire movie, with music and sound effects and everything. My parents even offer to rent the old Roxy Theater downtown for an evening so I can put on a real premiere. At first, I didn't think there were enough people to invite to bother. By the time I make a list of everyone who acted in it, though, the list is pretty long. Then the newspaper somehow gets hold of the story. I suspect my mother called it.

A reporter actually calls up and interviews me. Their photographer snaps a photo of me holding a chicken, and I show up on page three under the headline
YOUNG DIRECTOR SETS SIGHTS ON HOLLYWOOD.
All of a sudden, everyone at school is asking about my movie and they think it's cool we have chickens. Go figure.

At the theater on the night of the premiere, my mother gives me a huge grin, then whips out a cardboard sign. It reads:
TICKETS: ADULTS $3, STUDENTS $2
. And underneath that:
TICKET SALES WILL HELP FUND KATE'S NEXT MOVIE.

“I wasn't going to charge people to get in,” I tell her.

“Nonsense. It's for a great cause. People will be happy to pay.” My mother arranges the sign on a table and places a money box next to it.

“That's a great deal,” my dad chimes in. “Your movie is worth way more than that.”

He pulls out a twenty and winks at me as he throws it in the money box.

I throw my arms around my mother and give her a hug. I'm surprised how happy she looks as she hugs me back. My dad smiles at my mom, and I can't believe that I ever thought he was cheating on her. They may have their problems, but that's not one of them. I hug my dad and he whispers in my ear, “We're really proud of you.”

I'm supernervous. I just know that no one's going to come. The reporter will take a photo of an empty theater and publish it in the newspaper for the whole town to see.

People slowly start to trickle in. Pretty soon, I can't believe how many have shown up. The picnic zombies all wave at me. Even Mr. Cantrell is there, along with some of my other teachers. A lot of kids from school make it, including Lydia and her gang. And everybody takes out their wallet like it's no big deal. After they read the sign, some even throw in a few extra bucks.

Finally, the big moment arrives. The theater goes dark. The voices quiet. I hear a loud giggle, which has to be Lydia.

Night of the Zombie Chickens
is no Hollywood blockbuster, but it gets some laughs, mostly at the right times, and it has some semi-scary moments, too. When Mallory whips off her ski mask at the end and it's Margaret, a murmur of surprise runs through the crowd. I'm happy that my twist ending worked.

My parents told me that, as the director, I should go up afterward and thank everyone who helped with the movie. So at the end, I slowly mount the stairs to the stage, feeling like my knees will give out. I clear my throat and thank everyone for coming out. When I thank my parents for their help, I can feel myself starting to choke up. A few tears prickle my eyelids as I realize it's really over. My first movie is finished. One day, when I'm a big Hollywood director, I hope people will say that
Night of the Zombie Chickens
was made during my formative years. I like the sound of that.

I ask Alyssa to come up, and when I introduce her as Mallory, everyone gives a huge round of applause. Then I call out Margaret's name. She joins us, blushing as red as her hair, and I introduce her as the other Mallory. Even the kids at school clap wildly for her. Alyssa grins at Margaret, then grabs her hand and they raise their arms up over their heads. I've never seen Margaret smile so big. There aren't any fancy actors or red carpets, but I feel like my first movie premiere ever has been a big success.

Afterward, I'm amazed as I count all the money. For my next movie, I will finally have a real budget!

Everyone except me is shocked when Margaret Yorkel gets the lead for
Annie
. Tina Turlick even mutters that it's just because her hair is red and Mr. Cantrell can't afford another wig. Then Tina hears Margaret sing and that shuts her up. Two weeks after my movie premiere, Alyssa, Doris, and I go to the opening night of the school musical. Margaret rocks the house, just like I knew she would. I like to tell everyone that I discovered her first.

Afterward, the four of us go to Twisters for a burger.

“Isn't it funny how we went through all that for nothing?” Margaret says as we wait for our food. “All that work, and the Cute Red Wig just flies off in a storm.”

And that's when an idea hits me with the force of a volcanic cataclysm. I have to catch my breath as I picture it—zombies in wigs. It's the perfect sequel. I'll call it
Red Wig in a Storm
. Now all I need is a tornado, a big glass window, and blood. Lots of blood.

 

I wish to say a special thank you to:

My daughters, Daniela and Rebecca, for letting me listen in on their lives—the tears, the tumult, and, most of all, the laughs.

My critique partner, Diane Swanson, for all her invaluable insights, which made this a better story, and for her most egg-cellent friendship.

My beta readers, for bravely wading through early drafts and for all their thoughtful feedback: Annika Swanson, Carly and Lauri Miranda, and Sofia and Colleen White.

Ben and Lyssa King, who provided friendship, support, wise counsel, and delicious food, all at crucial moments along the way.

My agent, Catherine Drayton, and editor, Emily Meehan, for all their talents in bringing this project to life, and for getting the humor and believing in it.

And, of course, to Henrietta, Agatha, and all the Ladies, without whom this book never would have hatched.