Out loud. To anyone else but me. You know that, right?” “Why not?” I ask. “He can’t. I mean, it’s a proven fact: zombies can’t read, so….” “Because of people like him, Tanner. I’m not quite sure why you’re not getting that yet. People. Like. The. Zombie. You’re not going to get elected by putting him down. Period. You have to remember the zombie vote.” Remember it? How can I forget it? Unsteady on my heels, which I’m not really used to wearing, I inch past Brody to the heavy violet curtains that currently cover the stage. (Why are all high school auditorium curtains purple? Tell me! Why?) If you angle yourself just right, and Brody’s not trying to weasel in right next to you, which he usually is because he’s that kind of guy, you can see through a slit in the last curtain out to the auditorium. “It’s standing room only,” I say, turning back to him. Brody is tall, angular, sharp, and even more so in his tailored navy blazer and pleated khaki slacks.
