Dedication

  To Toby Katz

  Contents

  Dedication

  1. Zombie-Free Zone

  2. The Torture Department

  3. Picture Day

  4. Two Heads Are Better Than One

  5. Fabulo

  6. The Vomitorium

  7. Fabulous News!

  8. Photobomb

  9. Chase Scenes Are Cool

  10. Bazillions

  Back Ad

  About the Author and Illustrator

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  My name is A.J. and I hate zombies.

  Zombies are dead people who come back to life. That’s weird.

  I’ve never seen a zombie in the real world. But after I go to sleep, my dad watches this TV show about zombies, and one night I sneaked over to the top of the stairs to watch. It was scary!

  After that I was sure there was a family of zombies living in my bedroom closet. I told my dad, and he got out the vacuum cleaner and used it to suck up all the zombies that were living in my closet. It was like Ghostbusters. But I’m not going to use my closet anymore, just to be on the safe side. And I’m never going to use the vacuum cleaner, because there’s a family of zombies living inside it.

  Don’t worry. There’s nothing else about zombies in this book. Don’t you hate it when you’re reading a book and they start talking about stuff that has nothing to do with the book?*

  Anyway, it was Friday, my third favorite day of the week. Why is Friday my third favorite day of the week? Because on Friday, there’s no school tomorrow!

  My teacher, Mr. Cooper, came flying into the room. Mr. Cooper thinks he’s a superhero. But he’s not a very good one, because he slipped on a sheet of paper and almost slammed his head into the cloakroom door. Mr. Cooper was carrying an armful of papers, and they scattered all over the place when he fell.

  “Guess what?” Mr. Cooper asked.

  “Your butt?” said Michael, who never ties his shoes.

  “You ate a cashew nut?” said Ryan, who will eat anything, even stuff that isn’t food.

  “You got a crew cut?” said Alexia, this girl who rides a skateboard all the time.

  “You went to Pizza Hut?” said Neil, who we call the nude kid even though he wears clothes.

  Any time somebody asks “Guess what?” you should always answer with obnoxious rhymes. That’s the first rule of being a kid.

  “No,” said Mr. Cooper. “Monday will be Picture Day! Everybody take one of these forms and bring it home to your mom or dad to fill out.”

  “Eeek! Picture Day?” yelled Andrea Young, this annoying girl with curly brown hair. “I love Picture Day!”

  “Me too!” said Emily, who always loves everything that Andrea loves.

  “We have to draw pictures?” I asked. “What’s the big deal? We draw pictures all the time.”

  “No, dumbhead!” Andrea told me, rolling her eyes. “Picture Day is when a photographer comes to school and takes our picture for the yearbook.”

  I was going to say something mean to Andrea, but she and the girls were jumping up and down and freaking out about Picture Day.

  “What are you going to wear?”

  “What are you going to wear?”

  “What are you going to wear?”

  In case you were wondering, all the girls were asking what they were going to wear.

  Ugh. Girls are always worried about what they’re going to wear. If you’re a girl and you’re reading this, let me give you a clue—nobody cares what you wear! You could all wear laundry bags over your heads and I wouldn’t notice.

  Come to think of it, it would be cool if all the girls came to school wearing laundry bags over their heads.

  “I’m going to wear my new blue dress!” said Andrea.

  “I’m going to wear my new blue dress too,” said Emily, who always does everything Andrea does.

  Ugh. I’m going to wear whatever is on the top of my drawer.

  “I’m going to wear my new shades,” said Ryan.

  “Why would you take the shades off your windows?” I asked.

  It would be weird to wear window shades.

  “Not those kinds of shades, dumbhead!” said Ryan. “Shades are sunglasses.”

  “Oh, I knew that,” I lied. “Why are you going to wear shades on Picture Day?”

  “Because shades look cool,” Ryan told me. “Secret agents always wear shades. I want to look like a secret agent in the yearbook.”

  Ryan is weird.

  I hate Picture Day. Do you want to know the thing I hate the most about Picture Day?

  I’m not going to tell you.

  Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.

  But you have to read the next chapter. So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on you.*

  The thing I hate most about Picture Day is that my mom forces me to buy new clothes. Ugh, I hate shopping! And the worst kind of shopping is clothes shopping, because you have to spend hours trying on clothes.

  I don’t mind grocery shopping so much. You don’t have to try stuff on at the supermarket. Like, you don’t have to try on the bananas before you buy them. That would be weird.

  “Let’s go, A.J.!” my mom shouted up the stairs on Saturday morning. “We have to get you new clothes for Picture Day.”

  “What’s wrong with my old clothes?” I hollered back.

  “You’ll have the picture for the rest of your life,” my mom said. “That way you’ll know what you looked like when you were in third grade. Don’t you want to look nice for the picture?”

  “No.”

  It isn’t fair! I thought only the girls had to care about looking nice. Boys should be allowed to look like slobs. That’s the first rule of being a boy.

  I could have begged and pleaded and cried and freaked out. Sometimes that works. But I knew there was no arguing with my mom. When your mom wants to go shopping, there’s no stopping her. That’s the first rule of being a mom.

  We drove a million hundred miles to the department store. A department store is a store that has a lot of departments, so it has the perfect name.

  My mom got a shopping cart. You know it’s bad news when your mom gets a shopping cart, because that means she’s planning to be shopping for a long time. Ugh. But shopping carts are cool, too, because it’s fun to run around the department store pushing a cart and bumping into stuff.

  We wheeled our cart past the furniture department.

  We wheeled our cart past the kitchen department.

  We wheeled our cart past the garden department.

  Man, department stores have a lot of departments.

  Finally, we got to the boys’ department. Or as I call it, THE TORTURE DEPARTMENT. And you’ll never believe what was in the boys’ department.

  Boys!

  Well, of course there were boys in the boys’ department. That’s why it’s called the boys’ department! But the boys in the boys’ department weren’t just any boys. They were my friends Michael, Ryan, and Neil!

  “What are you guys doing here?” I asked.

  “The same thing you’re doing here,” grumbled Michael.

  “We have to buy new clothes for Picture Day,” grumbled Ryan.

  “Bummer in the summer,” grumbled Neil.

  The guys were all with their mothers. None of our dads were there. I can’t wait until I’m a dad so I won’t have to go clothes shopping anymore.

  Actually, my mom wanted my dad to come, but he said he would rather poke hot needles in his eyes than go clothes shopping. That was weird. I don’t know why anybody would want to poke hot needles in their eyes.

  Our moms were all gabbing about the weather and other boring stuff that grown-ups talk about. That’s when this salesman came over. His name tag said “Mr. Bob.”

  “What can I do for you young men?” Mr. Bob asked us.

  “You can close the store early so we can get out of here,” I told him.

  “Very funny, A.J.,” said my mom. “Mr. Bob, these boys need new clothes for Picture Day.”

  “Aha! Picture Day! You boys came to the right place,” said Mr. Bob. “What are your favorite colors?”

  “Yellow,” said Ryan and Neil.

  “Plaid,” said Michael.

  “Orange,” I said.

  “These boys need plain dark pants, white shirts, dark jackets, and ties,” said Ryan’s mom.

  Ties? Really? I hate ties! What’s the deal with ties? Ties are dumb. The last time I wore a tie, I thought I was gonna choke.

  Mr. Bob led us to a rack of boring-looking man clothes for boys. Then we had to go in the fitting room to try them on.

  The fitting room is the only good thing about the torture department. They have a mirror in there that lets you see yourself from three sides, all at the same time. That is cool. And it’s even cooler when you stick your face right next to the line where two mirrors meet.

  “Hey look,” I told the guys. “I have one eye in the middle of my head!”

  We spent a million hundred hours trying on clothes. I thought I was gonna die. Mr. Bob had to keep running back and forth getting other clothes because our moms were never satisfied. Poor Mr. Bob. I can’t believe he has to work in the torture department every day. Mr. Bob should get a medal, or a new job.

  “Are you kids almost done in there?” shouted Michael’s mom.

  Finally, we all had on our new suits. Mr. Bob helped us tie our ties. We looked just like our dads, but shorter. So naturally, we had to play a ga
me I call Pretend to Be Your Dad.

  “Look, I’m Mr. Businessman,” I told the guys as we looked in the mirror. “Give me your money.”

  “You’re fired!” said Ryan. “Let’s read the newspaper and go play golf.”

  “Nice weather we’re having,” said Michael. “I need some coffee.”

  “I’m a funeral director,” said Neil. “After we bury the bodies, let’s go watch the game.”

  Our moms were calling us, so we had to stop playing Pretend to Be Your Dad and come out of the fitting room. Mr. Bob lined us up, just like they do at the police station with bank robbers.

  That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. Our moms burst out crying.

  “Aren’t they handsome?” blubbered my mom.

  “They look so grown up!” blubbered Michael’s mom.

  Sheesh, get a grip! The moms were sobbing and slobbering all over the place. They started pulling tissues out of their purses and blowing their noses into them.

  Well, they were blowing their noses into the tissues, not into their purses. It would be weird to blow your nose into a purse.

  “I can’t believe my baby Ryan looks so mature and grown-up,” said Ryan’s mom. “It seems like only yesterday that he was wearing diapers.”

  “You were wearing diapers yesterday?” I asked Ryan.

  The moms took out their cell phones and started taking pictures of us. Do you know what a bunch of moms are called when they take pictures of you?

  Mamarazzi! Get it?*

  “Say ‘cheese’!” my mom shouted.

  Ugh. Why do you have to say “cheese” every time somebody takes your picture? What does cheese have to do with pictures? I don’t even like cheese.

  “Stop scowling, boys,” said Mr. Bob. “Smile for the camera.”

  “You look very handsome, A.J.!” said my mom.

  “I look terrible,” I replied. “I hate getting my picture taken.”

  “Don’t mind my son,” Mom told Mr. Bob. “He says he hates everything.”

  “I understand,” Mr. Bob replied. “I was a boy once.”

  “Just once?” I said. “I’m a boy all the time.”

  Mr. Bob is a nut job.

  The mamarazzi took pictures of us from every possible angle. After a while, my face hurt from smiling.

  Finally, we were finished in the torture department. My mom paid for the suit, and I pushed our shopping cart out to the parking lot. That’s when I got the greatest idea in the history of the world.

  “Hey Mom,” I said. “Since you took all those pictures of me in my new suit, we don’t need to take any pictures on Picture Day. So, can I stay home from school on Monday?”

  “No!”

  It was Monday. Picture Day. The worst day in the history of the world.

  I know I said there aren’t any zombies in this book, but did you ever hear about the Picture Day Zombie? My friend Billy, who lives around the corner, told me about it. The Picture Day Zombie is a zombie who only comes out on Picture Day, so he has the perfect name. If you ask me, that’s just something Billy made up to scare people.

  Don’t worry, there won’t be anything else about zombies for the rest of this book. I promise.

  Anyway, I got dressed. My new jacket was really uncomfortable. My tie was cutting into my neck. I thought I was gonna die. My parents were in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, because that’s what parents have to do. It’s the law.

  Before I could leave for school, they had to fill out the sheet of paper Mr. Cooper had given us. It was an order form so we could buy pictures.

  “Package #1 is two eight-by-tens and two five-by-sevens,” my mom told my dad. “Package #2 is three eight-by-tens and four five-by-sevens. And Package #3 is five eight-by-tens and six five-by-sevens. Which package should we buy, dear?”

  “I couldn’t care less,” Dad replied.

  My dad and me are a lot alike.

  “The important thing, A.J.,” he told me, “is to turn in this envelope and make sure you don’t lose it. Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

  “Actually, it does,” I told him. “Money is made out of paper, right? And paper is made out of trees. So money does grow on trees.”

  “Go to school now,” said my dad.

  Arguing with your parents is fun. That’s the first rule of being a kid.

  I took the envelope full of money and put it in my backpack. When I got to school, everybody was dressed up in their new Picture Day clothes.

  “You look very handsome, Arlo!” said annoying Andrea, who calls me by my real name because she knows I don’t like it.

  “I do not,” I told her.

  “Ooooo!” Ryan said. “Andrea said A.J. looks handsome. They must be in love!”

  “When are you gonna get married?” asked Michael.

  Andrea had one of those rolling suitcases with her. She opened it, and it was filled with mirrors, combs, hair spray, and all kinds of other junk girls use. Man, it sure takes a lot of stuff to make Andrea look good.

  She started fussing with her hair. That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened.

  Emily walked into the room.

  Well, that’s not the amazing part. Emily walks into the room every day. The amazing part was that she was wearing a ski mask over her face!

  There are only two reasons why you would wear a ski mask. The first reason is because you’re going skiing. The second reason is that you’re going to rob a bank. Bank robbers always wear ski masks. I guess they like to go skiing after they finish robbing a bank.

  I knew Emily wasn’t going skiing, and I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to rob a bank either.

  Everybody was looking at her.

  “Don’t look at me!” she shouted.

  “What’s wrong, Emily?” asked Mr. Cooper. “Are you okay?”

  “I have . . . a pimple!”

  Oh. I guess there are three reasons why you would wear a ski mask.

  Emily started crying, as usual. She took off the ski mask. Her pimple was tiny. Nobody ever would have noticed it if she hadn’t been wearing a ski mask. And I never would have looked at her if she hadn’t told us not to look at her.

  Emily is weird.

  “Don’t worry, Emily,” Mr. Cooper told her. “That won’t show up in your picture. They can Photoshop that pimple right off your face.”

  Emily stopped crying. We pledged the allegiance, and then an announcement came over the loudspeaker.

  “All classes, please report to the playground.”

  “They’re going to shoot the photo of the whole school!” said Andrea. “I’m so excited!”

  We had to walk a million hundred miles to the playground. There were bleachers out there, and most of the classes were already on them. Our school has about five hundred kids.

  Our class lined up across the back row of the bleachers. Ryan, Michael, and Neil were all the way on the right side. I had to stand between Emily and Andrea on the left side. Ugh.

  Everybody was talking. Our principal, Mr. Klutz, came out. He has no hair at all. If we used hair instead of money, he would be broke. Mr. Klutz held up his hand and made a peace sign, which means “shut up.” So we all stopped talking.

  He told us that the photographer’s name was Ms. Joni and that she would be here any minute.

  That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened. There was a noise in the sky.

  We all looked up.

  A helicopter was flying around.

  It was getting lower.

  Then it landed in the middle of the playground!

  And you’ll never believe who got out of the helicopter.

  No, I’m not going to make you wait until the next chapter to find out. I’ll tell you right now.

  It was Ms. Joni!*

  Ms. Joni was really tall and skinny. She went over and hugged Mr. Klutz like they were old friends.

  “Ms. Joni and I are old friends,” Mr. Klutz told us. “We went to college together, and then she went on to become a famous photographer. Her pictures are in all the fashion magazines. It was so nice of her to come here to take pictures of you kids for Picture Day.”

  We gave Ms. Joni a standing ovation. It had to be a standing ovation, because we were all standing.

  “Well, hello and thank you!” Ms. Joni said. “It is simply fabulous to be here. You all look fabulous. And this is a fabulous school. I bet my old friend Mr. Klutz is a fabulous principal.”