Of course she wasn't allowed to pick a station. No, new people had to wait at the front of the class, wait until everyone else filed in, took the best prep stations, and then they got to introduce themselves. At least half the class had already endured the same thing in English and Chemistry – the school wasn't that big. Backpack over one shoulder, Tyra leaned against the whiteboard as their teacher welcomed everyone to class. Invited them to find a place to call home for the day. Everyone except Tyra. The vaguely annoyed expression on her face morphed into confusion as Zed walked into the classroom.

Behind the teacher's back, she pulled a fist away from her neck, head flopping to the side as her tongue lolled out. Gallows humour generally got laughs, and he was grinning at her as he made his way to the back. Right beside an oven. The exact place she had been eyeing since she stepped foot in the room. Great. No way would she get it with Mister Popularity laying claim to it – his station mate would fill up in no time.

Except he put his bag on the stool beside him, and any time someone looked like they asked to move it, he shook his head. Weird. She didn't get much time to dwell on it, because once everyone was perched on their stools, their teacher clapped his hands. "Welcome to cooking, seniors! We've known each other for the past two weeks, some of you from last year, but some I'll need to get better acquainted with. Just like we all need to get acquainted with our new student, Tyra Molina!"

Way too enthusiastic, way too proud of his segue. Pushing off the board before he could continue, Tyra shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts – proper pockets, of course – and stood beside him. In the back, Zed leaned forward, chin resting on his fists as he looked on eagerly. Apparently he wasn't kidding about thinking she was going to be entertaining.

"So, I'm not sure why I have to do this in every class. Half these people are in my other classes and have already heard my name, though everyone says it wrong. It's teer-ah, not tye-ra. Think of the jaguar in the Jungle Book." Blank faces. Seriously? "Don't lie, we've all seen Jungle Book. What was his name? …anyone?" she asked, looking through the class.

"Bagheera."

"Thank you, Zed. Bagheera. Teer-ah. Great, we all got it. My family just moved here this week, aaaand see me if you want to talk about a rugby team," she finished, brushing past the teacher to head back to the giant wiggling his eyebrows at her. As she came around beside him, he moved his bag to the floor and she hopped onto the stool. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a dork? Also…" she paused to survey the heads in the class. All on the human spectrum – that was a first. "Are you the only zombie in this class?"

He flashed a big grin while their teacher started putting the notes on the board. "Yes, yes they have. How did you know?" Zed's cheek rested on the counter as he leaned down to fish a notebook out of his bag. "And sure, I may be the only zom in this class, but have you ever tried brain in a can? It's disgusting."

Cringing at the memory, Tyra nodded and pulled out her book before dropping her backpack on the floor. "Oh my God, yes. Blech. It's like. Straight ass. Or garbage. Garbage ass." She couldn't stop her face screwing up in disgust, as if her body were revolting against the mere thought of that cauliflower.

"I mean…that's an accurate description but. When and why did you try that?" he asked, one brow arched as high as it could possibly go.

She'd stuck her foot in her mouth again. Keeping her eyes flicking from the board to her notebook, Tyra shrugged as she jotted down how the different options could affect cook time. "You know, zombies were real – are real – not just science fiction anymore. Who wouldn't be curious?" Skirting the truth. The best way to lie.

That wasn't enough explanation for him, because she could see him looking expectantly at her out of the corner of her eye. Even when he slid closer, chin resting on his hand, very much into her personal bubble, Tyra just wrote a little slower. She could have sworn he pouted before sitting up straight and picking up his own pen.

"You're kind of weird, huh?" His question startled her, and she shot him a side-eyed glare, only to see him smiling as he took his own notes. Having noticed her looking over he leaned closer, though his eyes were still on the board. "I kind of like it."

Tyra tried to fight the smile as she rolled her eyes, but there it was when she resumed writing. Her own face really betrayed her like that. He really was a dork.

Even though she had attempted to tell Mr. Pisano that the whole class didn't need to go over kitchen safety again because of her, there they were. Reviewing kitchen safety. The proper way to hold a blade, wearing oven mitts. Things anyone who had ever been in a kitchen before in their life would know. He'd broken them into groups of six to go over a checklist – one nobody seemed interested in actually doing – so the class was full of quiet murmuring. If he couldn't quite tell what they were saying, he wouldn't know they weren't talking about safety.

Tyra was leaning against the counter, skimming the list and wondering who needed to actually be reminded of this, when someone slid up beside her. The counter ran the perimeter of the room, only interrupted by stoves and sinks every few feet. Glancing up at Zed – nobody else was as tall as him – she noticed he deliberately wasn't looking at her. Just staring out across the room, lips pursed, hands clasped together.

And she was the weird one? They leaned together in silence for a minute before he nudged her arm with his elbow. When she didn't react, he nudged again. "How may I help you?"

"I was just wanting to know if you'd want to come watch practice today. See Kyle run his laps, do his extra drills. Just so you know I was serious about the punishment for his big mouth," Zed offered, leaning over a bit.

He really had no concept of personal space.

Tyra's brow raised as she looked up at his smiling face. "Don't you have a cheerleader to watch you tackle dummies?"

"You use tackle bags in rugby too. Not that we don't also tackle our players." Confusion was written all over his face. From the drawn brow to his slight frown.

"That's what I meant," she stated, smiling angelically up at him.

As it clicked, Zed rolled his eyes and shook his head. The easy smile faded from his face as his hands went into his pockets and he looked back out across the room. "We broke up last year, actually. No specific people watching me tackle my dummies."

Whoops.

That wasn't something she had known. Though it did explain why they weren't glued at the hip like they seemed to be in all the videos. "Oh, uh. Sorry. I didn't realize. You guys looked really cute together, in the stuff I'd seen. Changed the world a bit. Figured it would be like, a lasting thing." Tyra's shoulders pulled up. There went her foot in her mouth again.

He laughed through his nose a little, a bit of pity air, and his smile was back. It didn't quite reach his eyes this time though. "It's fine. Not like it would have been in the news or anything." His hands flew up, fingers flexing to emulate flashing lights for each word. "Local teens break up for ordinary teenage reasons!"

Letting his hands hang in the air for a minute, he grinned over his shoulder at her. "Not very exciting stuff. We just kind of…stopped working? Not in a zombie-human way, just a…person-person way," Zed explained, shoulder shrugging.

Still, it was clear he wasn't totally over it. Happy people didn't lose their shine if they were perfectly fine. Tyra wasn't about to ask how long it had been, though the question was practically burning on her tongue. Right beside what typical teen thing it had been. Instead, she clenched her jaw a bit to stop them from jumping out of her mouth and patted his arm consolingly. He definitely took football seriously, with how much he must hit the gym. She wasn't deliberately trying to notice. Honest.

"I'm still not coming though."