Read Zombie High Chronicles (Book 1) for Free Online Page B

no rules.
    Or maybe this sudden feeling of acceptance is simply for the fact that each of us has tried to make this place our own, starting with the name.
    “Welcome to hell, boys and girls.” I grab my backpack and tug it down over my shoulder.  Turning my face up toward the building, I grin at my handiwork.
    Splashed across the face of the building are the red spray painted words ZOMBIE HIGH.

3
     
    We are so officially screwed!
     
    Staring blankly at the jumbled mess of scribbled quotes on the chalkboard ahead of me, I know that not even on my best day would I give a rats ass about Shakespeare. While the girls around me seem to be thoroughly enjoying their time with the master of love, I am debating between ripping out my own fingernails or shoving my pen into my eyeball. At that point, it is a total tossup.
    “Alright kids, it’s time for lunch,” the middle-aged tracksuit loving English teacher announces as she closes her book. I am pretty sure that Mrs. Simpson is not the most qualified for teaching English, judging by the fact that she insists on spelling my name Rone instead of Roan on a daily basis, but whatever. What else can you expect from a former preschool teacher with inch thick reading glasses?
    Chairs screech as they are pushed back from long rows of tables and the murmur of voices fills the air. There isn't any bell or building wide announcement signaling the change in class. Neither of those is allowed as it might attract too much attention. Sure, because the Dead Heads are just dying to give their two cents on Shakespeare’s sonnet.
    And what about those damn crack of dawn bugle calls? Shouldn't those be banned as well? Seems only fair to me.
    “What do you think we’ll have today? Vegetarian pasta in a bag or one of those nasty BBQ beef sandwiches that taste like cardboard?” Flynn asks as he falls into step with me when I enter the hall.
    “As long as it’s not that chili macaroni I can down it.”
    “Don’t be hating on the chili mac, man,” Vaughn laughs as he catches up to us, throwing his arms over both of our shoulders. I shove his arm off and pick up speed as I head for the stairs. I don’t really mind the guy. He is good for a laugh now and then, usually at his own expense but I have a strict a no touching policy to uphold.
    “Whatever.”  I turn my head to look in a side classroom and stop so abruptly that Vaughn nearly runs right over me.
    “Dude, what’s your deal?”
    “Shh,” I wave at him to be quiet then duck into the empty room. Being on the third floor affords us a prison bar free view. Dropping my bag to the ground, I hurry over to the wall and press back against it to peer out undetected.
    “What are you looking at?”  Vaughn leans against the window beside me and blows a fog bubble to draw in with his finger.
    “Get down.”  I yank him backward and practically tackle him to the floor.
    Vaughn shoves me off and scrambles to his feet, brushing himself off. “Flynn, you’re guy here has some serious issues.”
    Flynn shoots me a curious glance and leans up onto his toes to look out but stays far enough back that I don't have to tackle him too.  
    “What am I missing, Roan?”
    “Seriously? You don't see it?”
    Flynn shakes his head while Vaughn grumbles beside him, rubbing at his elbow where he landed hard when I took him down.
    “I'm starting to think you people are in some of thinking for yourselves. Just go stand over and there and tell me what you see.”
    Vaughn doesn't move but Flynn follows the direction where I'm pointing. He presses against the wall just as I had done and looks out. For a moment I see his gaze flitting around, unfocused on any one thing, but then several shades of color drain from his face.
    “Oh shit,” he whispers.
    “You see it too?”
    Without taking his eyes off of the window, he slowly nods. His adams apple bobs as he motions for Vaughn to join him. “Dude, you really need to see this.”
    Vaughn shoots me a nasty