Here's a First Look at MY SO CALLED DEATH

“Respecting your new room mate is essential. Now that you are one of the Undead, you could conceivably live for hundreds of years. The relationships you begin now will be the friendships that carry you through the millennium. Remember that, and conduct yourselves accordingly.”

--DEAD High Dorm Handbook for Incoming Students

“Wanted: White noise machine, will pay any price. Would be awesome if it had one of those aromatherapy things too. My roommate snores and smells! Pleaz help! Am exhausted and nasally tormented!”

--Note on Girls’ Dorm bulletin board

“Clarice sucks butt.”

--Bathroom stall, girls’ second floor bathroom

“What are you doing? Is that a cheerleader on my wall?” The shriek from the doorway made me scream and then burst out laughing.

I always laugh when I’m scared. I probably would have laughed as I was falling off the cheer pyramid if there had been time. Admittedly weird, but my friends back in my human life thought it was funny that I giggled all the way through horror movies.

“What are you laughing at? That has to come down.” The girl in the door glared at the United Cheerleader Association calendar I’d hung on my side of the room and threw her sweater on the floor. Her greasy, shoulder length black hair twitched angrily around her shoulders and her heavily lined gray eyes narrowed as if she’d just spotted a maggot on her arm.

Maggots are a zombie’s only natural predator—aside from angry mobs of humans or supernatural slayer types. Principal Samedi had already warned me to watch out for flies that love to lay their eggs in Undead flesh because, once they get started, maggot infestations can be almost impossible to get under control.

Ugh. Maggot infestation. If there was a grosser combination of words in the English language I couldn’t think of it.

The thought made me laugh again. I was in a laugh or cry situation. I had to giggle or I was going to lose what was left of my sense of humor.

“Ohmygod, what is wrong with you?” the girl asked, wrinkling her upper lip.

Guess she didn’t share my human friends’ appreciation for ill-timed chortling.

No wonder, really. This chick didn’t look like she smiled. Ever. She’d already acquired a frown line between her eyebrows—though she couldn’t have been more than fifteen—and her lips turned down in a scowl that she’d clearly worked hours on perfecting. It’s not easy to get the sides of your mouth to turn down like that. Unless you’re a toddler on the verge of a temper tantrum.

The girl stomped her foot, doing an excellent impression of a two year old. “Hello? Can you talk? I asked you what the hell you were doing here.”

“Actually, you didn’t say ‘hell’ the first time.” I propped my hands on my hips, determined not to take any psycho from this freak.

I’d already died, become Undead, eaten brains, been forced to leave the bosom of my family, and endured the stares of the entire second floor girls’ dorm as I’d carried my things down the hall. I was done with bad stuff. From here on out, this night was going to get better. It had to, or I was going to lose it and call my mom and beg her to come pick me up and take me home no matter what the High Council of brain munchers had to say about it.

“Get out. Take your cheerleader crap and that pink…thing and. Get. Out.” She pointed one jabby little finger toward the door and her scowl deepened. “I don’t room with anyone, let alone some blond bimbo cheer freak with pink bedding.”

Ah. So this was Clarice.

Clarice, who Principal Samedi had assured me was going to be thrilled to finally have a roommate. Clarice, who was also a freshman and would love to help me get caught up on the work I’d missed so far this semester. Clarice, who the bathroom stall had warned me “sucked butt”.

Of the three things I’d heard, the last one was the only one I was willing to believe.

“This is where I was told to put my things,” I said, stomach cramping as I realized I was going to have to live with this nasty little troll. What had I done to deserve this? Been born blond and cute, with a love for the color pink? I couldn’t help any of those things. Even loving pink was genetic. It was only a matter of time until that was proven by science. “I’m sorry if I you don’t like pink, but—”

“It makes me want to vomit. And your sweater looks like a unicorn puked all over it.”

“This is the only bedspread that I brought with me.” I returned her glare, deciding it was best to ignore her commentary on my outfit. There was no point discussing fashion with a girl with enough grease in her hair to fuel the deep frier down at McDonald’s. Besides, my sweater was cute. Purple was totally the new black and the glitter was intentionally ironic. “I can look for something else next time I go home, but—”

“Oh, you’re going, alright. Right now. I’m calling the RA.”

“Go ahead and call the RA.” RA? What was the RA? Rabid Animal? Random Android? Rebel Anteater? “But Principal Samedi said this was the only space free on the second floor.”

“Then they can put you on the third floor with the juniors and seniors,” Clarice said, before raising her voice to a scream.

I winced and covered my ears. I couldn’t tell exactly what she was yelling about, but it sounded like she was calling for a manatee, confirming my suspicion that she was completely out of her mind. Manatees do not live on land, even at zombie schools. I might be new, but I wasn’t born yesterday.

I was getting ready to tell Clarice that her cries for a sea cow to come to her rescue were in vain when a pretty girl with bright red hair and a smattering of brown freckles across her pale, Undead nose appeared in the doorway.

Most people wouldn’t have realized she was Death Challenged, but I was starting to be able to tell who was and who wasn’t a zombie within a few seconds of meeting them. It was almost like I’d acquired a sixth sense where the Undead were concerned. I just knew who was my kind and who wasn’t.

Kind of like I’d just known when a girl from another school was a cheerleader, even if she wasn’t in uniform. There’s just something in the perky tilt of the chin that gives the inner school spirit away.

“Hey, Clarice! So this is your new roommate.” The new girl smiled widely, as if she didn’t notice Clarice’s scowl, and held out her hand. “I’m Mandy Dee, one of the Resident Assistants for the second floor, seventh grade through sophomore year.”

Oh. Mandy Dee, not manatee, and an RA was a Resident Assistant, not a Rabid Animal. Still, I wasn’t giving Clarice any Get Out of Crazyville free cards. So far she’d been the rudest person I’d ever met, which meant she was either crazy or an epic jerk. Out of the kindness of my heart, I was willing to call her crazy. A person can’t help being crazy. Epic jerkiness, however, is another matter entirely.

“Karen Vera,” I said, taking the offered hand and shaking it, though it felt decidedly weird. Had I ever shaken someone’s hand? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t seem to remember anything today. Maybe my brains had been irreparably damaged in the accident.

“What a pretty name last name and I love your sweater. You’re going to fit right in,” Mandy Dee said with another smile. “So how are you?”

“I’m good, really good.” I’d just died and found out I had the roommate from hell, how good could I be? I wasn’t good, but I couldn’t tell Mandy Dee that, not when I could tell she loved it here at zombie school.

“Settling in okay?”

“Well, I—”

“No, she’s not. She’s not going to settle in at all. I told Principal Samedi I can’t have a roommate, especially her,” Clarice said, inserting her angry little body between me and Mandy Dee. “It’s just not possible. She’s got to go.”

“This is the only bed free, Clarice,” Mandy Dee said in a logical, perky voice. “There’s nowhere else for Karen to go.” Her eyes slid to mine for a second and I read the pity there, confirming my suspicion that Clarice didn’t get any more likable after prolonged exposure.

“She can go up a floor, can’t she?” Clarice’s whine made me wince. “There are rooms free up there. Entire rooms.”

“Those are only for upperclassmen.”

“But—”

“Clarice, please.”

“But she’s a cheerleader! Look at that stupid thing on the wall!”

“There’s really nothing I can do,” Mandy said, looking straight at me, though Clarice was the one protesting our roommate status. “They’re working on getting some extra space approved for students on the first floor, but right now those are only for female faculty.”

“This sucks!” Clarice made a sound somewhere between a scream and a growl and hurled herself onto the bed on the other side of the room. The bed that was covered with a black bedspread, black pillows, and a black afghan draped across the end.

Geez. I should have known me and the roomie weren’t going to get along. My sweater might look like a unicorn had puked on it, but Clarice’s bed looked like the inside of an emo vampire’s lair. And emo vampires and unicorns do not get along. One is a creature of light and the other a minion of angst-ridden darkness. (But a unicorn would totally win in a fight. One big, sharp horn trumps two tiny fangs any day.)

“Listen, Clarice,” I said, willing to give reason one last chance. I had to live with this girl, after all, and it would be a heck of a lot easier if she would stop acting like me and my cheer calendar were harbingers of the plague. “I’ve never had to share a room before, either, but I’m sure we can make this—”

“Shut up, you freak!” Clarice snatched the afghan from the edge of her bed and pulled it over her head.

Oh my god. She was hiding under her blankie. It was so ridiculous I would have laughed if the lump under the afghan hadn’t started shaking. Sobbing sounds trickled out from underneath. The girl was crying, crying because she was going to be forced to room with me.

I could safely say I’d never felt so repulsive. Even knowing the girl losing it across the room was a nutcase didn’t help. I hadn’t expected to be immediate BFFs with my roommate, but I hadn’t expected this either. This was…horrible! Clarice and her freaky black bed and nasty grease head and chipped black fingernails had finally finished the job of making this the worst day of my entire life. Bar none.