The Last Kids on Earth X Fem!Reader [ON HIATUS + UNDER EDITING)

Chapter 2 - Welcome! You Weren't Invited (EDITED)

44 Days Later...

I hate mornings.

Why does the sun have to be so ding-dang bright and cheerful as soon as I wake up? Why do the birds start singing their harmonious birdsongs when all I want is silence? Why the hell does my body refuse to fall asleep at two in the morning but decides to knock itself out at noon?

You know what I need? I need coffee.

And therapy.

But instead, all I have is an empty water cooler and a plush turtle I found hidden in the back drawer of our former principal's desk. Señor Turtle-Tot is a wonderful therapist, but he's not even close to the real thing.

Uh . . .

Where was I going with this?

Ah, right. Mornings. Hate 'em.

Unfortunately for me, I was forced to wake up to yet another day of promise, adventure, and zombie-infested towns that went on for miles. Yippee.

I sat up as I stretched on the pullout couch, popping my knuckles and back with a satisfied sigh. I licked my lips and zoned out for a good minute or two, trying to organize my thoughts, before reluctantly standing up and running a hand through my tangled hair.

Let's get you up to speed. It's been forty-four days since the apocalypse started, and June and I haven't seen anybody else, uh, that was un-undead since.

To be honest, I got bored of being around June all day. I don't mean that in a mean way, really. She is my best friend, after all.

But she's so serious, and she's actually worried about the apocalypse. In my opinion, this is literally the perfect time to have some fun. Whether it's raiding the stores, playing "Cut the Limbs" with my fellow zombies, or achieving my biggest goal yet, taming a Winged Wretch, I think we should be having the greatest time of our lives.

Well, except for the apocalypse part.

Yawning, I went over to my door and unlocked it, pulling the chains off as I opened it. I trudged out into the hallway and relocked it, then headed into the girls' public bathroom. Luckily, all my necessities were already there, so I didn't have to go back to get my stuff.

I started to get ready for the day. Sure, it's the end of the world, but that doesn't mean that I have to quit my beauty routine. (Even though I'm already naturally beautiful, if I do say so myself.)

I tried to put my hair into a ponytail, but as my hair looked like an explosion that went wrong, it wouldn't cooperate with me. And keep in mind that explosions can't go wrong. They just explode. Nothing more.

But my hair exploded badly. Incorrectly. It failed to explode, and yet it succeeded.

I tried to brush it, and I managed to get a few good tugs before the brush snapped. Shrugging, I glanced at the corner of the bathroom, where my giant heap of clothes lay.

I carefully walked over to the pile and peered over it. Gulping, I plunged my hand down into the pile.

"Oh, Fashion Fudge Lord in the sky," I muttered quickly as my hand groped around blindly in the mound of clothes. "Please bless me today with decent clothing, preferably without any stains or zombie organs. Please, please, please . . . yes!"

Thankfully, the Fashion Fudge Lord was in a good mood today, so they granted me a pair of combat boots, cargo pants, and a white hoodie, which was a fairly decent draw compared to last week's pick.