It took some persuading, but Sue finally agreed to return to Lakewood with the officers. By the time she arrived, morning recess was about to give way to third period. The astonished kids had lost interest in both work and play, and spent their time sharing their experiences as zombies with each other. As Sue slipped into her desk, she overheard Beat communicating to Zeke, "It was incredible—as if I had abandoned my thoughts and cares, and allowed someone else to walk my body for a while. It was the most supremely satisfying moment of my life."

"I don't know what to think of it," said the Pomeranian boy. "Maybe God was trying to teach us that if we go forth and touch the lives of our friends and neighbors, those friends and neighbors will spread the love to their friends and neighbors, and so on."

"I'll be buggered," said Beat sarcastically. "The solution to the world's ills has been sitting under our noses all along."

Mrs. Krantz called her pupils to attention. "I'll call the roll, just to be sure nobody's been eaten," she said, lifting a sheet of paper to her eyes. "Buster Baxter?"

Before the rabbit boy could make his presence known, the public address speaker crackled to life. "This is substitute principal Rodentia Ratburn," announced a pleasing female voice. "I'm happy to confirm that Herbert Haney will resume his duties as your regular principal tomorrow morning."

All the kids cheered except for Buster, who suddenly felt as if his stomach was grinding rocks. Tomorrow is the last day of my normal life, he thought.

"Also, regarding the strange disturbance that took place during second period," Rodentia went on, "you'll be glad to know that the perpetrator has come forward and confessed."

"Perpetrator?" said Binky, amazed. "You mean somebody perpetrated us into zombies?"

"Only a twisted, evil mind would be capable of such a deed," said Arthur. "Someone like…"

"D.W. Read," said Rodentia over the intercom.

Every jaw in the room dropped. "Your sister did this?" Muffy blurted out.

Arthur shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past her."

A faint, bashful girl's voice was heard through the speaker: "I don't want to."

"You can do it, D.W.," said Rodentia encouragingly.

The kids could hear their own hearts beat as they awaited D.W.'s statement.

"I'm…I'm sorry," the girl spoke up. "I'm sorry for inventing the game that turned you all into zombies."

The intercom fell silent, as did the entire classroom. George was the first to express vocally what everyone else was thinking: "Huh?"

"But…that's ridiculous," said Beat. "There's no such thing as a game that can force you to play it."

"There's Jumanji," said Binky.

"Jumanji's a movie, you silly goose," Beat retorted.

"It's a game, too," said Binky wisely.

D.W.'s right, thought Arthur. She really does get blamed for everything.

For the next five hours D.W. was a pariah, shunned even by her classmates and her best friend, Nadine. In the lunchroom she ate at a table by herself, companionless until her brother decided to have compassion on her. "Don't worry about it," said Arthur, resting his tray of spaghetti and pudding next to hers. "By tomorrow they'll be laughing about the whole thing."

"But I want them to laugh today," said D.W. dolefully.

"You didn't really turn us all into zombies," Arthur consoled her. "You don't have the ability to do that. The principal and the superintendent couldn't explain what happened, and they wanted a scapegoat, so they blamed you."

"What's a scapegoat?" D.W. asked him.

"Hmm," said Arthur, searching his brain. "A scapegoat is…"

"In Biblical times," said Beat, who was standing behind them with her meal, "the Jews of Jerusalem observed Yom Kippur by symbolically transferring their sins to a goat, and then driving the goat into the wilderness. Metaphorically, a scapegoat is someone who's blamed for the ills of society, often as a distraction from the real causes."

"Yeah," said D.W. with a grin. "Like Arthur."

As Beat occupied a spot across from them, she said, "I think Miss Ratburn was out of line when she made you confess. What does she know about zombie outbreaks? At least Mr. Haney would've admitted his ignorance in such matters."

"You should run for principal, Beat," said D.W. "You'd do a better job."

"No, thank you," said the rabbit-aardvark girl. "I've got my sights set higher than that—the school board."

They enjoyed their food in relative silence, at least until Sue strolled past the table. "Hey, Sue Ellen," D.W. called to her. "Can I have my meteor back now?"

The orange-haired girl stopped and sneered. "That's Sue to you. And no, you can't have it back—not after what you did."

"Stop it!" said Beat, suddenly indignant. "You have no right to blame D.W. for…"

"Go take a flying leap," Sue snapped at her before marching away.

"Excuse me," said Beat flatly. Rising to her feet, she followed Sue's path to the cafeteria exit.

Arthur looked down at the girl's half-eaten meal. "She sounded really angry," he remarked. "Since I'm the student body president, I'd better make sure they don't have an argument, or a fight."

He jumped up from the table, leaving D.W. alone once again. When he reached the center court, he found that Sue was rifling through her locker, while Beat was striding single-mindedly toward an exit door. Crisis averted, he thought with relief.

He was wrong. The moment Beat was outside, she located the nearest tree with branches she could reach, and started to pull herself higher and higher…

To be continued