THE ZOMBIE PLAYGROUND

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“You think I’m lying? You think I’m not telling the truth about what happened?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just worried, that’s all. Two of your classmates died under very mysterious circumstances, and you, and four others, were there that day. It’s just… it’s gonna kill me if you had something to do with their deaths, and you didn’t come forward.”

I didn’t have anything to do with their deaths, Mom. I tried to be a hero. I tried to save them.

“I’ve said everything that happened,” Brin said. “We left early. They stayed behind. End of story.”

“You and the others are going to be questioned over and over again to make sure all your stories line up straight. Do they?”

“Do they what?”

“Line up straight?”

Brin crossed her arms and slouched down in her chair. “Yes!”

“Because if just one of you says something contradictory, this is only going to get worse. There could be lawsuits. My God, Jeanie might try to sue me—”

Now Brin’s mom was thinking out loud, and Brin didn’t want to have any part of it.

“I can’t listen to this anymore,” Brin said, jumping up from her chair.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tessa shouted. “You are not excused from the table!”

Brin scoffed and started exiting the room, anyway. “I’m not five years old anymore, Mom. You can’t make me stay.”

“But you didn’t eat any of your food!”

“You eat it!”

Brin raced down the hall, toward the main staircase. Tessa followed.

“Hey!” her mom shouted. “Don’t you talk to me like that!”

“How about you try to support me right now, Mom? The way Dad would be supporting me if he were here!”

Tessa brought her hands to her sides and shook her head. “Don’t bring Kristopher into this conversation, missy. Your father has nothing to do with this.”

“Mom, I’m terrified right now! I’m terrified out of my mind! And you’re just filling my head with these horrible possibilities, of lawsuits, of prison—”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Brin.”

“I’m already hurt! I’m already scarred for life! I’m—”

The doorbell rang. Brin let out a half-scream. Then she opened the door.

Ash took a step forward, a pile of DVDs in his hands. He had an obnoxious and ill-timed smile on his face. “Did I hear someone say, Skar residence?” He stepped inside, not even bothering to look at Brin or Tessa, or notice the awkward tension in the room. He just kept on babbling. “So, I know this has been a rough week for all of us, so I brought some old comedies to watch. I have Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Adam’s Rib, and an underrated Hitchcock classic that was his only diversion into all-out screwball comedy Mr. and Mrs. Smith, starring Robert Montgomery, and the late, great Carole Lombard. I figured if I can’t get you to watch one of the scary Hitchcock classics, Brin, I could at least introduce you to his work with a forgotten gem like Mr. and Mrs.—” He finally stopped talking. He glanced at Tessa, then back at Brin. “Did I interrupt something?”

Brin rolled her eyes and headed up the staircase. “What are you doing here, Ash?”

“What do you mean?” he said. “It’s Friday movie night.”