They'd fallen into a rhythm of sorts. Weekly dinners at the Donnelly house had evolved into weekly evenings ranging from movie nights to game nights. Each time, Dale drove Zed home to Zombietown, no questions asked. No one would dare call him out on missing curfew when the Chief himself had authorized it.

Zed had grown used to the routine, so he was taken aback when Addison told him they were going out for dinner. With the exception of his ice cream date with Addison, he'd never eaten in a Seabrook restaurant.

She warned him that it was a bit more upscale, recommending he wear his suit from the homecoming game in order to meet the dress code. He was more than happy to do so, dusting off the pink ensemble he'd stashed in his closet.

After fumbling with the tie for what felt like an eternity, he tracked down his father in the study to ask for help.

"What on Earth are you wearing?" Zevon asked with a laugh, taking in the sight of his son's powder pink suit. "And where did you manage to get it from in the first place?"

Zed rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. "Addison's family asked me to go out to dinner with them tonight in Seabrook and apparently there's a dress code. I got this before homecoming – one of the guys on the team was going to get rid of it since it was too small for him but I convinced him to give it to me instead."

Zevon shook his head, eyes still crinkled with laughter as he reached out to fasten the tie. As he straightened it out, he couldn't resist throwing in a teasing jab. "Don't take this the wrong way, son, but I don't think it's your color."

"Gee, thanks Dad."

Zevon's expression shifted to something more serious, as he clasped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Now Zed, just...be careful tonight, okay? This town is still getting used to seeing zombies on that side of the barrier. I know you'll be with the Chief, but promise me you'll stay on your toes? I don't want anything to happen to you."

With those words, a small weight settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew his father was right, of course, but it hadn't crossed his mind. He'd grown so comfortable with the Donnelly's that he'd forgotten the rest of the town hadn't made the same strides in accepting zombies as they had.

"Of course."

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"So what's the occasion?" He asked, glancing around the Donnelly's car.

"It's a thank you, Zed," Missy said with a smile as she glanced back at him from the passenger seat. "I checked in with my team today and I'm ahead again in the polls. Apparently there was a recent influx of support from Zombietown and I'm certain you had something to do with it."

That explained it.

"Oh, uh, it was nothing. I honestly just passed out some fliers after the last Zombie Mash and told everyone to share them with their parents. Bonzo did the real work: he made the flyers and translated everything you have on your ads into zombietongue," Zed admitted, not feeling comfortable taking all the credit.

His friend had been thrilled to have a new artist challenge, and Zed knew that the older generations of zombies weren't always confident reading in English. He'd hoped they'd appreciate the translation and at least read over the flyers. It was nice to learn that some had taken the time to consider Missy and show their support.

"Bonzo's a great artist," Addison explained to her parents, smoothing out the silk skirt of her blue dress as she spoke. "And he's got a lot of musical talent. If you wanted to do a commercial or something, I'm sure he'd help you write a jingle for it."

Missy nodded slowly, considering the idea. "I'll think about it. Tonight though, we're celebrating this gain."

Dale grunted his agreement before pulling into the parking lot. The restaurant itself was small and quaint, with lights hanging from strings above an open courtyard in the front. Classical music was playing softly in the background, and white tablecloths topped each table.

Zed had never seen anything like it in his life. He was relieved Addie had given him a heads-up on the dress code. He would've felt painfully out of place in any of his normal outfits.

"Wow."

The word slipped out of his mouth before he could even register that he was speaking.

Addison grinned, reaching for his hand. "Not too shabby, huh?"

"Wow." He repeated in awe.

"C'mon," she said with a laugh, pulling him towards the main door that her parents had just disappeared through.

He was finally able to tear his eyes away from the courtyard and took in the sight of the entryway.

Immediately, his heart sank.

"NO ZOMBIES," proclaimed a large sign plastered inside the window.

He stopped walking immediately, causing Addison to stumble at his unexpected action. She squeezed tighter on his hand, pulling herself back up at the last moment.

"What are you doing?" She asked, turning back to him with an annoyed expression. The near tumble had scared her, and she wanted an explanation for her almost-faceplant.

"Addie, I can't go in there."

"What? Why?"

"Look," he said, pointing at the sign.

Addison eyes followed where he was pointing, and her mouth dropped into an 'o' as she registered the sign. He saw a flush of red creep up her neck, that he'd learned to recognize as a sign of her anger.

"Addison, whatever you're thinking of doing–please don't," he pleaded. "It's not a big deal, I can go grab something at home and meet you for ice cream after your family dinner."

Addison looked livid, opening her mouth to protest when her parents pushed their way back out of the restaurant towards them.

"What are you kids still doing out here?"

Zed chimed in quickly, hoping to prevent Addison from drawing attention to them. "I was just telling Addie to join you in there. I'm not welcome at this restaurant but if you save room for dessert, I'll meet you at the ice cream shop."

"...not welcome?" Missy asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"They've got a no zombie policy," he explained, gesturing to the sign. "I don't want to get in any trouble, so I'm gonna head out now. The last thing I want is for the owner to see me out here and call Z-Patrol–no offense, Chief."

Dale shook his head, "Stay right here. I'm going to have a quick chat with the owner."

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Zed believed he now fully understood the expression 'like a bug under a microscope.' Even without looking, he could feel the weight of the other patron's eyes on him from all over the restaurant. Every time he moved, he saw people flinch in the corners of his eyes. Whenever he spoke, he heard voices whispering about the zombie in their midst.

Addison was staring back at them, challenging them to say anything. When they'd first walked into the restaurant, she'd wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into him. When they'd sat down, she'd pushed her chair as close to his as possible, resting her hand on top of his and rubbing soothing circles onto the back of it.

Clearly, she knew how uncomfortable he felt and was doing everything in her power to ease his discomfort–or at least distract from it.

He appreciated that the Chief was willing to argue on his behalf, but he wished they hadn't had to cause a spectacle. He didn't like being somewhere that he felt so unwanted and he didn't like having to have the head of Z-Patrol fight his battles. It wasn't the zombie way.

His pride was wounded and he felt more self-conscious than he had since the first day of school. He tried to concentrate on reading the menu as a distraction to block out the disapproval surrounding him.

Upon closer inspection of the menu, his anxiety rose. "Uh, Chief, it looks like these are all steak options."

"It's a steakhouse, Zed." Addison explained.

The Chief seemed to understand his concern, and waved it off. "Zed, I am personally waiving the rule for you tonight and I'll let the server know as well. Don't worry about it."

"Rule?" Addison asked, perplexed.

"Zombies aren't allowed to have red meat," Zed explained, keeping his voice low. "Something about people being afraid it'll stimulate our cravings for human flesh."

Her eyes widened by a fraction before she laughed. "That's absurd."

He didn't argue, but he wasn't sure he agreed. The humans had been right about the z-band, what if they were right about this as well?

"Zed, honey," Missy interrupted his thoughts. "Since it's your first time trying it, we can help you order. What do you think, Dale? Maybe a strip steak cooked medium-rare?"

Zed didn't have the heart to argue.

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It turned out, he was very glad he hadn't argued. Even the knowledge that he may never have it again couldn't dampen his excitement over the meal.

The Donnelly's were pleased with his reaction, all laughing when he insisted it was the best meal of his life. Even the wait staff, who hadn't been thrilled to be serving a zombie at first, seemed amused at his reaction.

As they were waiting for the check, things shifted.

"Zed, are you okay?"

Addison was staring at him with wide eyes, and when he glanced at her parents they each wore equally concerned expressions.

"I'm great," he said, surveying their expressions. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"

Addison dug her phone out of her purse, turning the camera on handing it to him. "You're looking more zom than usual."

Zed reached to take the phone and froze. Dark veins were clear underneath the skin of his wrist, branching out onto his hand. He twisted it back and forth, not believing his eyes.

"What the…"

He took the phone, raising it to his face. The dark veins spread up his neck, stopping before reaching his face. The redness around his eyes was more pronounced, but not as noticeable as a rogue zombie. He appeared to be in some halfway point between his usual self and full-on-zom.

"I don't understand," he said "I feel completely normal."

He glanced down at his z-band, seeing the familiar ONLINE screen. He held it up for them to see. As he did, he could see the veins slowly lightening.

"It's probably your body's natural reaction to 'flesh'," said Dale, using air quotes as he explained. He leaned forward in his seat, looking intrigued. "We don't have studies on the subject because typically zombies aren't allowed to eat red meat."

Zed shrugged, eyes trained on his hand where he was slowly watching the veins recede. "Weird."

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