Zombies in the Classroom

By A.J. Kormon

Their dreams are their essence, essential to who they are . . .

Something strange lingers at Blue Hills Middle School. After making dreamcatchers in art class, many of Cricket Easton's seventh grade classmates aren't acting like themselves. But Cricket and her best friend James discover their dreamcatchers allow them to exist inside their dreams like they do in the real world.

 

As their classmates start to deteriorate into zombie-like states, Cricket and James take it upon themselves to investigate why. Just as they seem to be getting somewhere, James starts acting like a zombie too, forfeiting his dream to make the grade seven soccer team.

 

Alone to save her classmates before they are left as zombies forever, Cricket turns to unlikely (and forbidden) allies for help.

 

Perfect if you enjoy humorous middle grade mysteries with heart and a hint of magic!

• Language: English
• Publisher: SolVin Creative
• Release date: Jul 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781990221224

Book preview

Chapter 1

Brilliant, said Cricket, eyeing the dreamcatcher James held toward her. B-R-I-L-L-I-A-N-T.

Um . . . okay, said James, placing his dreamcatcher on the desk.

It’s one of our spelling words, said Cricket, tying the final jewel on her own dreamcatcher. The spelling test was tomorrow, and Cricket always aimed for a perfect score. If I use the words in a sentence, it will help me remember how to spell them.

Hmm. That wasn’t a sentence. James raised his eyebrows.

Oh, whatever. She flicked his arm with her fingers. Aren’t you glad Mr. Gaines found these purple stones? She plucked one of the crystals from the box and held it up to the gleam from the window. A ray of light reflected off the stone and a long transparent orb shot out of it.

James nodded without looking at the crystal. He seemed less than impressed. Glancing at Mr. Gaines, their art teacher, he whispered, They match his hair.

Cricket smiled and watched Mr. Gaines as he danced around the class. His graying dark hair was slicked back at the sides. Short purple spikes adorned the top of his head. I love his purple hair! She held up her dreamcatcher, admiring how the amethyst in the center caught the sunlight and reflected it around the room. And I love this purple stone. She rose on her toes and touched her free hand to her heart.

James rolled his eyes. So you said. I guess you taking your time to choose all your supplies came in handy, he said. All the students who snatched up their materials right away got white stones. What’s the deal with these things anyway? asked James, referring to the dreamcatchers.

Haven’t you made a dreamcatcher before?

James shook his head.

Weren’t you listening to Mr. Gaines?

Er . . . um, stammered James.

Never mind. I know you don’t pay attention in class. That’s what you have me for. What were you daydreaming about?

James stared at Cricket, his mouth agape, his face turning redder by the minute. It was unusual for him to be embarrassed. Why was he acting so weird?

Cricket didn’t wait to find out what had distracted him this time. I’ll spare you their Ojibwe history, because I’m sure you don’t care—

I care, James interrupted. I just . . .  I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.

Maybe the dreamcatcher will help, said Cricket. Mr. Gaines said they’re for protection, but they might calm your mind too. She shrugged. He said we should hang them above our beds to keep us safe at night and bring us good dreams.

That’s for your little brother, James said. It’s not like I’m scared of the dark. You should take mine for Manny. He needs it more than I do. Maybe it will help him stop stuttering?

James! I should never have told you that, Cricket said, placing her hand on her hip.

What? I’m not going to say anything.

And it’s called disfluency, not stuttering. Cricket scrunched her brow.

Sorry. I forgot. He placed a hand on Cricket’s arm.

James was a good secret-keeper. That was one of the many reasons he was her best friend. I’m serious, James. Promise me you’ll hang your dreamcatcher and see what happens?

I don’t know. It all seems kinda dumb.

Puh-leeeese. Cricket drew out the word as long as possible, knowing James couldn’t resist when she begged.

James let out a long huff of air. Fine. I guess it won’t do any harm. 

The class went silent. At the doorway was Mrs. Gaines and her two-year-old twins. Diana Dearborn ran over to the girls and knelt beside their stroller.

Hi, girls, she said in a loud, squeaky voice.

Mrs. Gaines smiled sweetly. Hi, Diana.

Cricket turned to James and lowered her voice. She’s so fake. If Mrs. Gaines knew how she treats the rest of us, she’d never hire her to watch the twins.

Mr. Gaines practically skipped over to his family, a big smile plastered on his face. He took a brown paper bag from his wife then bent over the stroller and tickled each daughter’s belly before taking the bag back to his desk. He motioned for his wife to come into the classroom.

Come and see the dreamcatchers the students made.

Mrs. Gaines parked the stroller at the front of the classroom and began making her way around the desks.

Diana glared at Cricket as she passed by on her way back to her desk. Good luck in the spelling test tomorrow, Cristine, she said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

Ugh, Cricket said to James. I hate it when she calls me that.

Don’t let her bother you. You know how she is. James glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Diana.

Will you help me study tomorrow? Before school? I can’t let her beat me.

Sure. Not that you need to study. You’ll do fine. You always do.

Fine isn’t good enough, said Cricket. I have to ace it.

James rolled his eyes. Perfect is overrated.

Tell that to my parents.

James frowned as if he didn’t know what she was implying. What did he know? His mom was the best. She seemed to let him do whatever he wanted.

That night, before bed, Cricket thought back to James’s words about perfect being overrated. For her, it wasn't an option. She had no choice but to be perfect. Manny’s speech problems were enough for Mom and Dad to deal with already. Plus, she saw how some of the kids made fun of Manny. Nobody would make fun of her. She’d make sure there was nothing they could make fun of her for.

She tiptoed into the kitchen. Both her parents sat in the living room watching TV. Slowly, she opened the junk drawer, trying to make as little noise as possible. Seeing nothing that would work to hang her dreamcatcher, she pushed a few things aside.

What are you doing, sweetie? Mom asked, her eyes still glued to the TV.

My pen ran out, she lied, pretty sure Mom wouldn’t want her putting a whole in her bedroom wall to hang something as silly as a dreamcatcher.

Did you find another?

Cricket could tell from the volume of Mom’s voice she was still facing the TV. Spotting a tack as she shoved some batteries aside, she replied, Yep, and headed back to her room.

As she pushed the thumbtack into the drywall above where her pillow sat on her bed, she was reminded that Mr. Gaines had said the dreamcatcher was for good dreams and protection. She was a little old to fear bad dreams, and she wasn’t sure what she needed protecting from—other than Diana Dearborn’s bad attitude. She should be hanging the dreamcatcher in Manny’s room. Was James onto something? Would the dreamcatcher protect Manny from the bullies at school? But did the dreamcatcher have to be over Manny’s bed for it to help him?

She glanced in the direction of Manny’s bedroom. The door was open just a crack as it often was when he’d gone to bed. No light shone from inside his room. She slipped the dreamcatcher over the tack and wished for protection for Manny and a perfect score on the spelling test tomorrow.

Chapter 2

Cricket was late, but none of the other kids in her class would have thought so. She’d still make it to school before the bell, but she wouldn’t have time to study for the spelling test. While she didn’t need to study, she wanted to. There was no way Diana Dearborn was beating her on that test today.

Jumping out of bed, she wondered why Mom hadn’t woken her when her alarm went off. What was even weirder was she hadn’t heard her alarm. That never happens. She threw off her pajamas and got dressed, grabbing any old clothes out of her dresser. With her arm full of papers and books, she picked up her backpack off the floor and shoved everything inside. 

She smoothed her unruly brown hair as she ran to the bathroom. That would have to do. There was no time for messing with fly-always and knots. She grabbed a hair elastic off the bathroom counter and put it in her pocket just in case. After she brushed her teeth, she bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Morning, sweetie, said Mom, heading toward her with her arms open for a hug. Cricket ducked then reached to open the cupboard to grab a cereal bar.

I’m late, she said. No time for hugs.

Oh, honey. There’s always time for hugs, Mom said. Cricket paused. No, she wouldn’t let Mom get her way. Why didn’t you wake me? she asked, a frown on her face.

You’ve got plenty of time, Mom said, using her calming voice. Even if you moved at a snail’s pace, you’d still make it before the bell.

Cricket and her family only lived a few blocks from Blue Hills Middle School. Blue Hills Elementary was a few blocks in the opposite direction for which Cricket was thankful to use as a reason for not walking her little brother Manny to school in the mornings. 

I had the weirdest dream last night . . . night, Manny said. Cricket nodded, only half paying attention. Mr. Spitz was real . . . eal.

Manny’s dream must have excited him. It had been a while since his disfluency was so pronounced. Just because he dreamed about Mr. Spitz, his stuffed llama, didn’t mean he was real. Mr. Spitz had been in her dream last night too.

Really, honey? Mom asked. Was he some sort of superhero llama?

Cricket had picked out Mr. Spitz for Manny when he was a baby and she was in kindergarten. She named him Mr. Spitz after she’d been on a field trip to a llama farm. One insolent llama refused to come near the fence so the children could pet him, and when the farmer tried to force him, the llama had spit in his face. The farmer had laughed it off and told the class llamas were stubborn and that particular llama was expressing his displeasure at being forced to do something he didn’t want to do. At the time, Cricket wondered if she could get away with that when she didn’t want to do something.

After dashing around the kitchen and grabbing various snacks to form a somewhat healthy lunch, Cricket said a quick good-bye to Mom and Manny. Mom protested—a cereal bar wasn’t a decent breakfast—and said she’d drive her to school if she’d stay and have some eggs with her and Manny.

There was no way Cricket was waiting around for her slow-poke brother. Mom’s intentions were good, but the only way to get some last-minute cram time in before the spelling test was to leave now. Plus, James was probably wondering where she was.

On her walk to school, Cricket quizzed herself on as many words as she could remember. She counted them on her finger. Every week, her class studied twenty words. She could only remember eighteen. She huffed out a breath before entering the school.

Does everyone seem tired to you today? asked James as he waited for Cricket to get her lunch from her locker.

I’ll say, Cricket said. Did you see Diana’s paper? She spelled her name D-I-A-N-N-A. She chuckled before turning to James. Even I know she doesn’t have two Ns in her name.

James shrugged. I’m not in the habit of looking at other kids’ papers, he said. Unlike you, I could care less about everyone else’s marks.

Who spells their own name wrong, though? Cricket scrunched up her face. She closed her locker while balancing an apple, a granola bar, and her water bottle in her other hand.

Maybe she was stressed out because of the test. He raised his eyebrows. Or this silly rivalry the two of you have.

It’s not silly. Cricket leaned to the side to keep everything from toppling out of her arms. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a good mark.

Want some help? asked James, seeming to ignore Cricket’s last remark.

I got it, she said, snapping her lock into place and pressing her lunch to her chest.

I had the strangest dream last night, said James. He and Cricket joined the other students parading down the hall. The basketball team sprinted by on their way to lunch-hour practice. The two best friends moved to the side to let the team pass. Mr. Spitz was there, James continued. He was jumping all over the place like a crazed llama. I didn’t even know llamas could jump like that. And your unicorn too. What’s her name again?

Grace, said Cricket, grimacing. Her step hitched, then she shrugged. It was a dream. Anything can happen in a drea— She cut herself off, standing motionless in the hallway. Slowly, she raised her finger in the air and opened her mouth, but no words escaped.

What’s the matter? asked James.

I . . . Was Manny riding Grace in your dream?

Yes, why?

And Mr. Spitz . . . Could he jump so high it seemed like he was flying, too.

James nodded his head, and his eyes widened. And you were—

Riding Mr. Spitz, they both said at the same time.

Cricket dropped her apple and they both watched it roll down the hallway.

Look out, James said, as a blonde girl in grade five almost stepped on it. She picked it up and walked to James and Cricket, holding out the apple.

Thanks, said Cricket, accepting the apple from the blonde. She took a close look, brushed it off on her clothes, then took a big bite.

Shouldn’t you wash that? asked James.

No time. I’m not going to waste our lunch washing my apple when we should be talking about this dream we all had. She nudged James’s arm then started down the hallway again.

All? he asked.

Manny said Mr. Spitz was in his dream last night, too.

Was it the same dream? Were you riding Mr. Spitz in his dream too?

I don’t know, Cricket answered without turning to face James, picking up speed as she strode down the hallway. "I tuned him out after he said Mr. Spitz