Page 50 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

‘This girl knows her way around a grilled cheese,’ promised Nick.

Reba wrapped Zoey in a colourful hug of fabric and jangly jewellery. ‘You, love, just saved an old gal’s life. I’m Reba, but I also answer to Reebs on occasion. And you’re …’

‘Zoey. I run The Smoothie Maven.’

Reba waved her hands effusively. ‘Maeve’s shop! Dear old Maeve, we went way back. Probably before you were born. What a way to go out, eh? A killer smoothie. Seems a shame, when she could’ve been doing something fun. Anyway, I’m glad to see the shop’s in good hands. Although if you want some advice, a bit of Baileys makes any smoothie better.’ She tapped her tie-dyed pocket, which from the looks of it held a flask full of said Baileys.

‘Rum’s not so bad, either,’ said Nick, shooting Zoey a grin.

‘Well, you can always come to us if you overdo it on the Baileys,’ Zoey told Reba. ‘Many do.’

‘Bah, I never overdo it. I know my limits: none. And who’s this?’ asked Reba, flirtatiously touching Nick’s arm. Her bangles clacked musically.

‘This is Nick,’ said Zoey, amused.

‘You don’t look like a smoothie maven.’ Reba’s cat’s-eye glasses flashed as she gave Nick an up-and-down. ‘You are a looker, though. Where’d you find him?’

‘In a bed of mushrooms,’ said Nick, grinning. ‘Or close enough to it.’

‘Ha! Best I’ve found in a bed of mushrooms is enlightenment. And some ideas for wallpapering my home. I’d take you any day, handsome.’

‘Um,’ said Nick.

‘You get used to Reba, promise.’ There was mirth in Gracie’s grey eyes. ‘I’ve travelled half the country with her at this point. Endless photographic inspiration.’

‘And he comes with a dog.’ Reba was effusively patting Alice. Fur wafted all about in a miniature tornado. ‘I do love a dog. I wear mine around my neck.’

‘Um,’ said Zoey.

Reba waggled a couple of pendants. ‘Got my doggie here, and my man as well. No wonder my neck’s giving me grief.’

A skinny girl with a bullring and a shirt that read The Best Kind of Bra is a Vertebra hurried up. ‘I’m a chiropractor, if you want to get that sorted out.’

Reba scowled. ‘Absolutely not. No one but my ancient mattress cracks this old back. I’m kooky, not a quack.’

‘This is going to be a fun day,’ whispered Nick.

Zoey sucked on her top lip, trying to hide her smile. Because she agreed entirely.

Leaving Reba to bellow about the proper ratio of cheese to bread to the proprietor of Toastface Grillah (apparently Reba had been a grilled-cheese vendor at Shakedown Street for at least a decade before her late husband had invented some sort of sound system that was still in use today and was prominently featured in the Moogseum), Nick and Zoey beat the rush into the Lloyd Center.

In spite of the near-constant rain, Portland leaned heavily on the neighbourhood-centric, high-street style of retail, and residents were used to running from awning to awning every time the skies opened. The Lloyd Center was one of the few departures from this, and yet it was still distinctly Portland. Instead of the standard chain shops you might expect, it was filled with quirky boutiques and maker spaces: bead vendors, a D&D store, a magic shop, a pickleball court, and a backyard chicken spot that was presently sounding quite feisty. There was a tiny pinball museum, and even a roller-skating school with ramps set up on the second floor. (Fair, Zoey supposed: not everyone wanted to slide around on the mall’s famous ice rink.)

Around all of this, as defined by Ainsley’s signage, had been set up dozens of vendor booths and demonstration areas catering to both the body-modification and the hippie wellness crowd, which made for quite the interesting Venn diagram of decor. Cardboard skull cut-outs blinked red LED eyes next to racks of magnetic bracelets that aligned chakras or communed with foxes. Vibrant tattoo flash art gleamed from black velvet curtains, contrasting delightfully with a cheerful display of herbal bath bombs with healing properties. And the people made it even better. A lace-clad woman was affixing a rock-climbing harness before preparing to launch herself into the middle of a rotating ink display, where presumably she’d spend the day like a spinning tattooed mermaid. Next to her, two women with Rapunzel-esque hair extensions were arguing over a plant wall decorated entirely with microgreens. Zoey snapped a surreptitious photo as inspiration for the selfie wall at The Smoothie Maven.

Boppy bluegrass music played quietly over the mall sound system – although not for long. There was a whole line-up of performers set to do their thing. According to a billboard stretched between two giant cardboard roses, Wall of Knobs were set to headline.

‘Ooh, and Ship of Theseus.’ Nick perused the poster, which Ainsley had done a spectacular job on. ‘I love them. Although are they really Ship of Theseus now that they don’t have any of their original band members?’

Zoey quirked an eyebrow. ‘These are the philosophical questions of our times. Well, and of Plutarch’s times.’

They picked their way along the glossy mall floors, Nick clearly thinking that said floors would be fun to slide around on your socks, which funnily enough was exactly what today’s Ice-Skating 101 involved, explained a passing InkWell guide. You had to work your way up to skates.

‘Booth 33,’ muttered Zoey, as though the location of her booth was a great mystery, even though she and Nick had set most of it up the previous evening. Her rolly wagon kalunked along behind her, whacking into the odd display and occasionally terrorising a mall walker. ‘Aha. Here we are.’

Zoey wheeled the wagon around behind the Smoothie Maven cart and started unpacking the jars of pre-blended smoothies, arranging them in tidy rows based on colour. Nick helped, only pretending once to put them too high up for Zoey to reach. He relented immediately when he saw her scowl, popping some decorative fruits and flowers up on the higher shelves behind the cart instead.

‘Thanks again for taking over for Terriffany. I’m sure you’d probably prefer to be doing … mushroom stuff.’