“I wonder where he’s going,” I said, then watched as the driver pulled into a Safeway parking lot. “Oh,” I said. “Of course. The grocery store.”
Dion parked a few rows away, and we watched the guy get out of the car. From this close, I was glad to see that it wasn’t Tom. “Okay,” Dion announced. “We’re going in after him, just in case this Safeway’s a front for magical drug running or something.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve been in this particular grocery store, like, twenty times,” I said, then looked at Dion and realized he was joking. I made sure he could see me roll my eyes as I climbed out of the car.
“So, front and follow,” he said as he locked the door. “And quick. We don’t want him to hit produce before we get a good tail on him. It’s like a jungle in there.”
“Har-de-har-har,” I said, following him across the parking lot. “What’s ‘front and follow’?”
“It’s a complicated technique I studied for a long time,” he said. “Just kidding. It’s something I learned from watching TV. You start out and stay in front of him for a while, and I stay behind, and then I move up, and you fall behind, and we do this every few minutes. You won’t exactly blend in with that outfit, though.”
“Well, had I known my day was going to entail trailing one of your father’s associates through the grocery store, I would have worn something different.”
“Here,” Dion said, and next thing I knew, he was taking off his flannel and holding it out to me. “Tie this around your waist. It’ll help.” The doors to the store opened, and we stepped in to see our dude doing his best to dislodge a stuck shopping cart.
Dion and I had been here before, at this shirt-sharing turning point, and I didn’t really want to wear his flannel, but he did have a good argument about my outfit, so I did as he’d suggested.
“You first,” he said. So, keeping one eye on the dude, I walked over to a display of boxes of chocolates and pretended to have a lot of trouble deciding between one that was shaped like a big red heart and one that was shaped like an even bigger red heart. I was able to get a look at not-Tom as he finally got his shopping cart dislodged, and I headed straight for the produce section.
It was actually kind of tough trying to stay ahead of him without losing him, and I meandered a lot, wondering if I looked suspicious or just like someone who couldn’t remember what she’d come to the store for. My phone dinged, and I pulled it out of my pocket to read the text.
Cassandra:
where’d he go?
Safeway
whats he doing there?
Uh…shopping
He was currently browsing the avocados. So far, he’d carefully squeezed probably a dozen but hadn’t put a single one into his cart. I watched him go through at least six more, and then more, and as I tried to watch him without appearing to watch him, I wanted to scream at him that if he wanted avocados in Kansas in February, then he’d better be prepared to take what he could get. Finally he found one that was satisfactory—one—and put it into the cart and walked away. I started walking in the direction I thought he was going, and then Dion was in front of me, so I fell back. I stifled a small laugh when I noticed that Dion was now carrying a pineapple and two potatoes, probably an attempt to blend in. I had to admit—I was almost having fun with Dion. The words we’d exchanged in the car had been almost a conversation, and he was starting to seem almost like a human to me. Almost, almost, almost.
Todd, Brad, or Chad had turned down an aisle by the pharmacy, and he walked past toothpaste, shampoo, and deodorant without picking anything up. Then he stopped, and I saw him pick up a large can, give it a shake, and then toss it into the basket. I’d seen that can—it was exactly the same can that we’d found in Cassandra and Dion’s house. I guess when you accidentally drop your body spray while breaking and entering, you need to buy a replacement. I looked at Dion and could tell by the way he was crushing a box of granola to death that he’d seen it too. Then he met my eye and gave a subtle, quick nod, which I took as a cue that it was time to switch places again. As the guy wheeled his cart into the canned soup aisle, I moved forward and Dion fell back again.
From his previous selections, I had not-Tom pegged as a careful shopper, but now he was blowing my mind and seriously going HAM with the soup. Several cans of chicken noodle, beef stew, tomato, split pea, chili (ew, and double ew). So many cans of soup that I couldn’t keep up, and I was having a hard time not staring. Accidentally I caught Dion’s eye again, and the look of total disbelief on his face made it hard for me to keep a straight face myself. Finally, when Todd, Brad, or Chad must have had at least thirty cans in his cart, he was ready to move on. He made quick detours through paper products (a twelve-pack of toilet paper, not recycled), frozen foods (two cans of orange juice concentrate), and condiments (an economy-sized yellow mustard), and then headed for the checkout.
Dion ditched his potatoes and pineapple, and we headed out the door and back to the van. “Um, so, soup?” he said after we had climbed in, and I burst out laughing.
“What was that all about?” I said, then held up my hands. “Wait, I’m not sure I want to know. Every time I spend too much time thinking about what’s in other people’s carts, I end up depressed about the state of humanity.”
“Cassandra and I buy all our food at 7-Eleven,” he said. “You get in and out, and you can also get a Slurpee.”
Our mark came out of the store and loaded everything into the PT Cruiser, and Dion started the van. We could tell by the direction not-Tom was headed and the turns he was taking that he was heading back home. I texted Cassandra.
We’re coming back
You guys see anything?
nada. no one even opened the door.
When we got back to the house, Dion pulled to a stop next to Janis’s car and rolled down his window. It was clear from the look on Janis’s face that there was some tension in the car.
“Took you long enough,” Janis said, scowling.
“What’s up your butt?” I asked. “We were there exactly as long as he was.”
“Janis has to pee,” Cassandra said, explaining, “so I’m jumping in with you guys.”
“There’s a McDonald’s just two blocks away,” Janis said. “I’ll be back in a sec.” She was driving away before Cassandra was even fully out of the car. As Cass climbed in with us, I kept my eyes on the shopper. He was in the driveway unloading his groceries, and no one came out to help.
“Those definitely are the guys who broke into our house,” Dion said. “We saw him buying Axe.”
“What the hell is Axe?” Cassandra asked.
“It’s body spray for men,” Dion explained.
“Ew,” Cassandra said. “Where do you spray it?”
“I don’t know,” Dion answered, then added, “Somewhere on your body?”
“It was the same stuff we found at your house,” I pointed out, interrupting them.
“Oh,” Cassandra said, nodding. Then, to my surprise, she gave a snort of a laugh. “Who brings their body spray with them when they’re breaking into someone’s house?”
I laughed too, and even Dion smiled.
“Seriously,” Cassandra said, “we should just go kick the door in right now.”
My smile faded, though, as I remembered the feeling I’d gotten stepping onto their front porch. “I don’t think we want to kick the door down.” Cassandra looked at me and arched an eyebrow. “At least not yet,” I said.
* * *
—
We sat waiting in silence for Janis’s return, but she was gone for a considerably longer time than it would take someone just to pee, and I scrolled my phone for a bit while Dion fell asleep and Cassandra just stared out the window. When Janis reappeared in the distance, I was relieved. As she pulled up next to us, I could see she was drinking a McFlurry.
“Ooh, my McGriddle!” Cassandra yelped, clambering out of the car.
“Thanks for asking if we wanted anything,” Dion said with a scowl.
“Hey, you guys were just out and about. You had your chance,” Janis called back.
“That was different,” he said. “Who gets food at the grocery store?”
An hour passed, and nothing happened. More time and still nothing. “Maybe they’re just taking naps?” Dion suggested.
The day dripped along, and then Janis rolled down her window. “Can you believe she’s never seen The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?” Janis called to me.
“One hundred percent,” I said.
“Why would I watch a show that was on TV before I was even alive?” I heard Cassandra ask.
Janis turned back to her. “That’s the whole point,” she said. “Clothes were cooler then, people were cooler then, young Will Smith was a dream. Everything was better!”
“That show just sounds boring,” Cassandra said.
“What about it sounds boring?”
“Does anyone go to prison?”
“No!” Janis said. “Just because it’s a show about Black people doesn’t mean that someone is going to go to prison!”
“I didn’t say anything about Black people,” Cassandra said. “I just like shows that are set in prison, where someone has to join a gang….”
I checked my phone. It was only eleven in the morning.
At twelve-thirty, Dion and I were deputized to go to Taco Bell, which was good, because I really had to pee. When we got back, the Quesaritos momentarily revived everyone’s spirts, but by midafternoon, we were bored out of our minds.
Cassandra and Janis went for snacks and to use the bathroom. Dion and I shared a bag of sunflower seeds, and cracking the shells at least gave us something to do. By five p.m., we were bored out of our skulls.
The neighbor had not been exaggerating. These guys never left. I’d been to school assemblies that were more enthralling. Janis was ready to call it quits.
“My butt has been asleep for, like, the past two hours,” she said, “and I need to go home and do homework.” I needed to get home too. It was one of my nights to stay with Mom so that Dad could go sit in a crowded place somewhere and drink beer and yell at a TV screen.
Cassandra didn’t seem quite ready to leave but finally gave in, as a day of inactivity was clearly getting to her. She cracked her neck and stretched her arms in a way that made me wince. “How do people sit all day?” she moaned. “I feel like I’m twenty-eight or something. I need to go home and do some push-ups.” She looked back at the house. “I don’t want to miss anything, though.”
I nodded. This was the second day in a row that we had seen these guys and just left, but I wasn’t sure what else we could do. “I’ll text Brian,” I said, “and have him switch the monitor to Red Magic. That way, if these guys do get up to anything tonight, we can save our butts and still be on top of it.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Cassandra said. Then she did one more elaborate stretch and climbed into Dion’s van and they drove away.
I got in with Janis, and called Brian as she headed toward my house.
“Hey, you at home?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Just doing a bit of crafting. I noticed that the three of you weren’t at school today, by the way.”
“Ooh, yeah, that,” I said. “We were doing a stakeout. Coffee, doughnuts, that whole thing. But don’t worry, we studied the whole time.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’m sure you did. I know how much you hate to miss school.”
“Hate it,” I said. “Never want to miss school. Anyway, I need you to look up the address we were staking out on your Red Magic monitor thingy.” I gave him the rundown of what we’d learned, and then read him the address. On the other end of the phone, I could hear him walking through his closet and then into the Batcave.
“One sec,” he said, and I could hear him set the phone down and type. A short while later, he picked up again.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Wait, really?” I said, kind of shocked. What I had felt when I’d stepped onto their porch was definitely Red Magic.
“Yeah,” he said, “nothing shows up at that address, or even in that entire neighborhood.”
“Weird,” I said. “Okay, thanks anyway.” As I hung up, Janis was turning onto my street, and I told her what Brian had said.
“Well, even if nothing registers on Brian’s monitor, that band is up to something,” she said as she stopped in front of my house, “and it’s not just bad music.”
The next morning, I was digging through my locker when a “Hey” surprised me.
“Hey,” I said back, turning to see Cassandra. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
She shrugged. “Someone cut off a finger, so Dion’s jobsite shut down for insurance reasons.”
“Ergh,” I said, and grimaced. “Are they okay?”
She looked at me like it was a stupid question. “It’s a finger, Esme. We don’t need them to live. That’s why we have ten of them.”
“Of course,” I said. “Silly me.” I slammed my locker and started to walk to class. We were halfway down the hall when Janis turned the corner and fell into step beside us. Apparently, yesterday’s Fresh Prince debate had inspired her look today, as she was wearing a navy blazer—turned inside out to show off the bright gold embroidered lining—with a striped tie, white oxford shirt, and backward 76ers cap.
“Janis,” Cassandra said, “do you know your jacket’s on inside out?”
“No,” Janis said, and left it at that.
“So, I went back and watched the house again last night,” Cassandra said.
“And what’d you see?”
“Nothing,” she said around a yawn. “People on house arrest leave more often than those guys do.”
“No crap,” Janis said. “We’d have to set that place on fire to get them all out of there.”
“I thought of that,” Cassandra said. “But there might be something in there that we need. Not to mention, if my mom is in there, we don’t want anything to happen to her.”
“It’s too bad we didn’t know where they lived on Monday,” Janis said, “as it seems like the only time they all go somewhere is when they have a show.”
“That’s it!” I said, the realization hitting me. “They need to have another show.”
“I doubt that’s going to happen anytime soon, considering their last one was at a bar that wasn’t even aware they were playing there,” Cassandra said.
We slowed at a traffic jam in the hallway, one that was created partly because two senior girls on ladders were trying to hang up a banner for the Valentine’s Day dance in the middle of the passing period. It was the equivalent of hallway roadwork, made worse by the fact that one kept yelling at people not to bump the ladder, while the other was yelling not to walk under the banner, and this was effectively keeping them too busy to actually hang up the banner and get out of the way.
“What if we just pretend to book them for a show?” Janis asked as we joined the bottleneck of students trying to squeeze around one of the ladders.
“I thought of that,” Cassandra said, “but it doesn’t give us that much time. I mean, they show up for sound check and get turned away at the door? Besides, I think we have to play it safe and assume that they are practicing Red Magic.”
“They’re definitely doing something,” I said, “but I don’t know how we’re going to find out what. We can’t just keep coming up with excuses to go knock on their door.” I pressed forward when someone stepped on the back of my ankle. In this inexplicable hallway crush, I was starting to get annoyed. Not just with the ankle scraper but with school in general, and the upcoming dance, and school dances…
�
�We should just book them for the Valentine’s Day dance,” I said. “It’s perfect. An apocalyptic scenario set to what will undoubtedly be horrible music, so Phantom Limp would be perfect. Ow. What the heck?” I spun around, about to unleash my own apocalypse on someone who clearly didn’t know how to say “Excuse me,” when I saw Cassandra grinning and realized that she was the one who had just punched me in the shoulder.
“Esme Pearl, you beautiful genius,” she said. We were finally on the other side of the student crush, and I stopped.
“Wait,” I said. “I was joking.”
“So the dance is not an apocalyptic scenario with horrible music?” Janis asked.
“No,” I said, “it most certainly is. But there’s no way we can book Phantom Limp to play it. The dance is in, like, two days. I’m sure they already have some other horrible music booked and ready to go.”
“I don’t know,” Janis said, her face scrunched up in that thinking way, and I groaned. Cassandra’s Fresh Prince transgressions were clearly being forgiven, and Janis and Cassandra were back on the same side again. “Even if that’s true, it might not be too late to change.”
“Oh really? Ya think so?” I said, wanting to smack myself on the forehead for ever daring to make a joke. “And how would we make that happen? Join the dance committee?”
“Exactly!” Janis said. She pulled out her phone, tapped a few numbers, and handed it to me. I didn’t recognize the number it was calling, but I could hear a phone ringing.
“What do you want me to do with this?” I asked, but she didn’t hear me because she had turned around and was fighting the crowd upstream to get back to where the two girls were hanging the banners.
“Kendra! Yoo-hoo!” she yelled, waving to one of the girls balanced on a ladder. “It’s Janis from geometry.” Whatever Kendra said back was swallowed up by the sound of the crowd and the ringing of the one-minute bell, and I had a sense of dread blooming in my belly. Just like the Jay-Z song, Janis could sell water to a well, so if she wanted to convince Kendra to let her join the dance committee two days before the dance, Kendra was probably going to let her join the dance committee two days before the dance.
Spells Like Teen Spirit Page 11
