The Pink Suit

Zed looked at the charity bin.  It was a long shot that anybody had actually made a donation, let alone something that he could reasonably wear on a date.  If it came down to it, he could bleach and dye something to acceptable Seabrook colours.  But maybe he wouldn’t have to.

Mind made up, he plunged his hand into the bin and pulled out a bag of garbage.  Okay.  He discarded it and reached in again.  This time, he’d grabbed a pink infant’s onesie.  Actual clothing.  Another onesie, two more, and a tiny pair of sneakers.  Why would an infant require shoes?  At times, it still amazed Zed that humans could spend so much time creating things that would be outgrown before they could even be worn.  He added the baby shoes to the reject pile and pulled the next item from the bin.  A suit jacket.  It unfolded as he pulled it out and he sighed, reaching into the bin to catch whatever had fallen out, pumping his fist as he pulled out dress shoes and matching dress pants.  Of course, there was still a chance (the odds were definitely not in his favour) that nothing would fit his lanky frame.  He slipped his arms into the jacket, his jaw dropping in awe as the sleeves fell over his Z-band and past his wrists.  Not only was it not too small, it was a perfect fit.

He could hear his friends’ thoughts about the suit.  It’s too pink, Eliza would say, scrunching her nose in disapproval.  Besides, this plan is insane, Zed.  It’s not worth the risk, especially for Cheery von Cheerstick.  He rolled his eyes at the imaginary Eliza.  “Her name is Addison,” he said out loud.  “And this is going to be the perfect date.”  Beside her, Bonzo laughed.  What are the odds that you manage to find a human suit in decent condition that actually fits you better than your regular clothes?    “Because today is about taking a risk to get something that I actually want.”

To Zed, the suit looked just right.  A beautiful light linen, soft pink that would blend into the Seabrook humans’ ideal aesthetic.  Never mind that the suit was dusty and wrinkled, with an odd dark stain on the left leg.  It would come out.  Probably.  He looked from the suit to the donation bin.  Technically, he fell into the category of people eligible to be helped by the charity organization.  Technically, if one removed his zombie-ism from the equation.  The son of a hard-working single father, a sophomore taking a rounded curriculum of courses at school, whose family made do so well that he could almost pretend things weren’t as bad as they were.  From a human perspective, of course.  His family was quite well-off, for a zombie family.  His dad had never let them go without; if nothing else, there was always an extra tin of brains around and a space at the table for a friend or two.

“Jacey.”  Kevin looked at the four cheerleaders surrounding him.

“You could spell it ‘J. C.’ if you really wanted too,” the blonde cheerleader suggested perkily.  A little too perky for Kevin’s liking, but hey, she was a cheerleader.  And she was co-captain of the very team he so desperately wanted to join.

“What’s wrong with Kevin?”

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with Kevin, per se, but there’s being a cheerleader and then there’s being an Acey,” the captain said, as if whatever he was saying was perfectly obvious.  “And trust me when I say that you want to be an Acey.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you do.  Unless you prefer ‘Casey’?”

“Um, no, Jacey’s fine.” Kevin smiled nervously.  “So… that’s it then?  I’m an Acey?”

The shorter male cheerleader smiled back, then frowned.  “No. Being an Acey is one of the highest honours at Seabrook.  Now that I am no longer a student here and therefore not permitted on the cheer squad, you are taking that place.  Being an Acey is about conforming and upholding the best ideals of Seabrook society, despite certain recent changes.”

“O-okay.”  Kevin knew what ‘recent changes’ referred to, of course.

“Think of it, not as losing an identity, but of upholding an even greater one – that of the Seabrook cheer squad.  By becoming an Acey, you stand with unity.  By becoming an Acey, you stand with tradition and legacy and the perfect cheer heritage of our town.”  Bucky’s magnanimous statement sounded impressive, but Kevin wasn’t quite sure that it really meant anything.

“So I change my name to Jacey and I’m part of the elite inner circle of the most prestigious group in the school?”  It sounded almost too good to be true.  His parents would be proud.  He’d be socially protected.  He’d –

“Are you in or not?” The captain and his co-captains – the Aceys – were looking at him expectantly.

“I get to be co-captain?”

“Junior co-captain,” Lacey corrected him, none too gently.

Addison learns Zed’s locker combination

Addison had an idea of how she could still talk to Zed without Bucky knowing.  However, it would involve more than a little sneaking around, as well as the possibility of detention if caught.  Not a problem.  After all, she had only been keeping a secret about herself for her entire life and there was no way that any teacher or faculty would dare to do anything that would jeopardize the cheer championships.  Which would include giving a cheerleader detention this close to the date.

It was currently lunch, which meant that everybody not in the cafeteria was outside or, in the case of the office workers, in the staff room. The office was empty.  All she had to do was find where they kept the student locker assignments for the sophomore class.  Easy-peasy. In typical Seabrook fashion, there was a row of binders along a short bookcase.  Four light pastel coloured binders, and one slightly darker, worn, and obviously quite old.  One for each grade and one for the incoming zombie students.  Zed’s locker combination had to be the last binder.

His name was about halfway down the list.  Zed Necrodopolis.  One of the lockers in a study area off from the rest of the school.  Combination two sixteen eighteen.

Quietly, she slipped the binder back onto the shelf.  Locker fifteen. Combination two sixteen eighteen.  Locker fifteen.  Combination two sixteen eighteen.

“Late for lunch today, Miss Wells?”

Addison looked up.  “Principal Lee.  Yes.  I was just, you see Bucky, my cousin, and, um,” she looked up, offering her best innocent smile.

To her surprise, Principal Lee’s face softened.  “I understand, Miss Wells.  Mister Buchanan can be a driving force, to put it mildly.  I won’t tell him, if you won’t,” she offered a cheery, girlish grin and shrugged her shoulders mischievously.

Addison sneaks out

Meet me at the barrier.  7 pm. Tonight.

She wondered what it meant.  A small part of her mind, okay most of her brain power, hoped that it was a date.  A real date.  A date, with Zed, out together.  She looked at her closet, pulling out pastel upon pastel upon pastel… There was nothing in her closet that would be even remotely dark enough to sneak out in.

Okay.  So forget that the date is in Zombietown. Forget that Zed is a zombie and he’s just Zed.  A boy she’s going on a mystery date with.

She’ll need to wear layers.  A jacket. Nice jeans.  Comfortable shoes.  Her eyes roved across the room, settling on the wig.  The wig.

The more she learned about Zed, the more she saw that he was just a boy.  A boy with Zombie-ism.  She looked in the mirror, fingers twisting through her choppy (freak-ish) hair and briefly considered not wearing the wig.  She pulled her hair back, twisting as much as possible into a stumpy ponytail.  Her choppy bangs split in the middle of her forehead, the ends were split, and her whole head was frizzy.

If she washed it – used her mother’s leave-in conditioner and hair oils – it might not look so terrible.  It would still be (freak-ishly) white and oddly styled, but it would real.  She could be herself.

She heard her mother coming up the stairs and dashed across her room, smoothing the wig back into place.

“Aren’t you coming downstairs?  Your father is going to be home soon, we’ll need to be ready for dinner.”  Missy Wells entered her daughter’s room, looking around while trying to appear as if she wasn’t doing just that.

“If it’s okay, I might just stay in here.  I’m not really hungry and I’d rather just go to sleep early.”  Addison yawned, stretching in what she hoped was a convincing manner.

“Are you feeling okay?”  Missy came over, her hand going to Addison’s forehead.

“Just tired.” Addison assured her mother, smiling. “I’ll probably be out as soon as I go to bed.”  She reached for her pyjamas, neatly folded underneath her pillow.

“Okay, Addison.”

Addison watched from her bed as Missy left the room, closing the door behind her.  She couldn’t go without wearing her wig. Someday, maybe.  She waited a few moments, listening as her father came home, as they made dinner, to the clinking of forks and knives and insubstantial chatter.  Of course, the only way out was through the front door, right past the living room. She’d just have to wait until they’d finished dinner and retired to the sitting room, her father with the evening paper and her mother with the latest edition of her political science magazine.

She crept across the room, pulling the closet door open just enough to see inside. Jeans.  A jacket.  Sweater. She closed her eyes and reached out, running her hand against everything inside, stopping when something caught her interest.  Satiny. She opened her eyes, taking the hanger off the rod.  A pink bomber jacket.  Pink jeans would be the best match.  Now for the sweater.

Addison combed through every shirt in the closet, pulling out anything that might match. She found a striped sweater the same colour as her jacket and studied it.  Very pink.  Very Seabrook.  But also no different than any other outfit in her closet.

She continued to listen as her parents went through their evening routine, idly discussing the day’s events, picking up their novels, and finally going to bed. She slipped down the stairs, pulling her jacket tight as she jogged down the street, keeping to the shadows.

Addison runs out of the cafeteria

Bucky was waiting for an answer.

“I want to be a cheerleader.  That’s all I ever wanted.” Addison looked away from Zed, away from her cousin, her voice trembling slightly as she realized that he could expose her as a freak in front of the whole school if he wanted.

“Good.”

“Hey Addison!”  Zed was waving at her from the zombies’ table in the corner.  She couldn’t look at him.  Her mind was a jumble – she’d made the cheer squad, she had a crush on a zombie, her closest cousin had just threatened her (a threat that hit a little too close to home, coming from someone who was supposed to be on her side), and she had a crush.   On a zombie.  She felt the first waves of panic and turned, running out of the cafeteria.

Bucky was her cousin, practically her big brother.  She could trust him to look out for her.  (Right?)

Addison was only vaguely aware that she had stopped running when she caught sight of her still reflection in the trophy case display.

She was a cheerleader.  She fit in.  The only thing that was different about her was her hair and that was easily covered by a wig, but as Lacey had just pointed out, it wouldn’t take much for her to lose it all.  This had been what she had been working towards for her entire life.  Summer after summer of cheer camp.  Which she loved.

But there was also something inside her, whispering that she could grow to love Zed.  A zombie.  She definitely hadn’t imagined the connection that she had felt when he had saved her at the pep rally.  Thinking back on it now (a whole, what, two hours later), Addison could have sworn that she had seen something in his eyes, something soft that was the same way he’d looked at her right after she had punched him in the nose.  He was definitely attractive.  Sweet.  He was a zombie, but Addison was starting to think that he could also just be a boy.  One that she definitely had a crush on.

She could admit it to herself.  She, Addison Wells, had a crush on a zombie.  She said it quietly, once, twice, then grinned.  She like liked Zed.  And she was pretty certain that he like liked her, too.

The original dilemma still existed.  She liked Zed.  She wanted to be a cheerleader more than anything.  She’d left Zed hanging back in the cafeteria after running out.  She’d left Bucky satisfied that she was committed a hundred and ten percent to the squad and  their ‘ideals’.  She herself didn’t even make the cheer squad’s ideals and the other cheerleaders had looked for anything that might have been different about her, picking apart every tiny detail about her appearance.  But this was something that she had been working toward ever since she could remember.  Her entire life had been dedicated to Seabrook cheer.