“Oh, thank God!” I yelled, trying to get her to hear me over the crowd. “Ji-A and Amirah and Pig were somehow affected by my spell. They think Superfüd is the best band in the world.” My words did not have the jolt-into-action effect I had hoped for.
“I agree!” Janis shouted, jumping up and down. “Superfüd is the best band in the world!”
Oh no.
Someone near the front of the crowd had started a chant, and Janis joined in. “Pitch the tent! Pitch the tent!” she yelled.
“Janis!” I screamed at her, grabbing her shoulders and trying to get her to look me in the face. “You despise camping for what it does to your hair!”
“Let’s make s’mores!” she yelled.
I dropped my hands and took a step back. What the heck was going on here? Slowly I started to turn around, and everywhere I looked, every person I saw was 100 percent, completely, and totally focused on Superfüd. People were singing along. Girls were crying. The few stoners who hadn’t switched to vape were holding lighters in the air. So was the art teacher. Everyone loved it.
My spell was good, but there was no way it was this good. Superfüd had done something. But when? How? I’d been with them from the time they’d gotten here, and I hadn’t seen them do anything. Unless…Oh God. The punch.
They had been really interested in the punch, and I’d just assumed it was because they were obvious weirdos when it came to food and drink. But what if they’d spiked it? Right under my nose when they were making such a fuss about their CDs and ringer tees? I was supposed to protect the people at this school. How could I have let this happen? Even Pig had drunk the punch!
Suddenly a deep voice broke through the crowd. “Booooooo! Boooooo! You suck! Get off the stage!”
I spun, frantically, trying to locate the sound of the only other sane person in the entire gymnasium. Then I saw who it was: Stacey Wasser, hands cupped around her mouth as she yelled at Todd and told him to do something very obscene with his microphone.
“Stacey! Stacey!” I said, running over to her. “You hate this band!”
“Eff yeah,” she said. “These guys blow!”
“When did you get here?” I asked her.
“I dunno,” she said. “Five minutes ago. Long enough ago to know that these guys are posers!” She yelled this last part over the crowd.
“Did you drink any punch?”
She took a break from her heckling to give me a weird look. “No way,” she said. “I only drink milk.”
“Come with me, please,” I pleaded, grabbing her hand. “My dog is here, and I want you to meet her.” Now I had her attention.
“The dog you lost?” she asked, following me back through the crowd.
“Yes, but she came back this week.” We cleared a crowd of sophomores, and I was relieved to see Pig, Amirah, and Ji-A standing right where I had left them. “See?” I said to Stacey, pointing at Pig. “There she is!”
“That’s a good-looking dog,” Stacey said.
“I know, right?” I said, grabbing Pig’s leash from Amirah and thrusting it at Stacey. “Could you just watch her for a minute? You can still yell at the band from here, but I, uh, need to go to the bathroom.” Stacey reached out and took the leash from me, and I could see her giving Ji-A and Amirah a strange look.
“Sure,” she said. “But what’s wrong with your friends?”
I looked back at them. They now had their eyes closed, and their arms around each other, swaying along to the music. “They’re drunk,” I said, going for the most believable lie.
“No,” Stacey said, “I mean their clothes. What’s wrong with their clothes?” Stacy herself was wearing a pixelated camouflage long-sleeved sweat-wicking T-shirt, army-green sweatpants, and SpongeBob Crocs with socks.
“They’re from New York,” I offered, and she nodded. Then, apparently satisfied with my answer, she turned her attention back to heckling the band. I started to weave my way through the crowd, and when I looked back, Stacey was still gripping Pig’s leash tightly.
On one side of the gym, a fountain of screams erupted as two girls started clawing at each other and pulling hair, desperately fighting over what appeared to be the last Superfüd T-shirt. Karen jumped up onto the punch table, and for a brief second, I expected her to try to break up the fight. Then she lifted the punch bowl over her head and threw it, pineapples and all, onto the two fighting girls. Momentarily stunned, they stopped fighting, and in that second, Karen jumped off the table, grabbed the T-shirt, and took off at a sprint.
I hadn’t seen Brian since he’d been ironing his tracksuit, and I hoped, prayed, crossed my fingers that if he’d gotten thirsty, he’d just drunk from the drinking fountain like a teacher should. I tore through the guys’ locker room, but Brian’s office was empty. I ran back out and stopped, peering up and down the dark hallway.
There was a light at the end of the tunnel, literally, and it looked like someone was in the principal’s office. I sprinted toward it, the sound of Superfüd and their rioting throng of superfans growing muffled behind me. I crashed through the door, and as soon as I did, I could hear Brian’s voice.
“Brian!” I yelled, running toward his voice. I skidded to a stop at the assistant principal’s door, and saw not only her and Brian but also two very stoned-looking freshman who didn’t know where to look: at their teachers, at me, or at the three-foot glass bong that was sitting in the middle of the desk.
“Esme,” Brian said, looking concerned as he stood up and came toward me. “Is everything okay?”
“Not at all,” I said. “It’s an emergency.”
“Oh dear!” the assistant principal said, glancing at the freshmen and their bong. “It’s not the toilet again, is it? I told the janitorial department that those pipes couldn’t take another dance.”
“No! You stay here!” I said, too forcefully. “I mean, it’s a family emergency.”
Brian was already halfway across the office. “We’re practically family,” he called back. “Gayle, you follow protocol, and I’ll be right back.” Then we both speed walked out of the office, and when we got to the hall, the sounds of cheering and screaming hit us.
“Is that the dance?” he said, moving faster toward the gym door. “How many spells did you cast?”
“Just one,” I said, starting to break into a run and motioning for him to come with me. “But I think the band cast one too. Everyone is freaking out! Even Janis and Amirah and Ji-A! Even Pig!” As we got closer to the gym, the sound got louder and louder, the screaming crowd totally drowning out the band. Brian pulled open the gym doors, and the wall of sound hit us in the face.
“Holy…” Brian’s words were lost in the screams. Fights had broken out everywhere, some people fighting over CDs, some for a spot at the front of the crowd, and some just because. Several of the guys had taken their shirts off, and a few of the girls had as well. Someone had pulled the climbing rope down and scaled it almost to the ceiling and was now holding on for dear life as a few people on the ground swung it wildly back and forth. All of Kendra and Karen’s decorations had been torn down and destroyed, and right in the middle of the gym, there was a pile of bodies. People, lying on the ground, and on top of each other, not dead but sobbing their lungs out with love for Superfüd.
Now that we were in the gym, I could make out a few of the lyrics. Was this still the same song? I listened for a second. No, the chord progressions were different, and it was in a different key, but the lyrics…Yes, I was right. Superfüd had moved on to their second song about camping, and the crowd no longer wanted to pitch a tent. They wanted to…
“Build a fire! Build a fire!”
I looked over at Brian, and saw his nose wrinkle at the same time that an acrid smell hit my nostrils. He was looking behind me, and I spun around as soon as I saw his eyes widen. Some freshmen had taken the chant to heart
, and the wall of streamers was going up in flames.
“Stop the band and get them out of here,” Brian said. “I’ll handle the crowd.” Then he ran toward the wall and yanked the fire alarm. The gym filled with flashing lights and an earsplitting bell, and then, probably triggered by the flames creeping toward the balloon arch, the sprinklers came on, filling the gym with a soft spring rain.
The rioting crowd barely noticed the water, and Brian didn’t miss a beat as he rammed his tracksuited elbow through the glass door of the fire extinguisher. He grabbed it, pulled the pin, and immediately turned it on two girls who were in a rolling tangle on the floor, pulling each other’s hair and fighting, it seemed, about who got to be Todd’s girlfriend. The foam covered them from their hair-sprayed updos to the hems of their dresses, and they both started sputtering. One then rolled onto her back and started to wail. Not from pain but from unrequited love for Todd and hatred for the harpy next to her.
“Dance is over!” Brian attempted to yell over the chaos, brandishing the fire extinguisher. “Leave the gym now or you’re all getting detention! I repeat, the dance is over!” He started to move through the crowd, blasting a few puffs of white foam at anyone who looked like they might challenge him.
“Jock! Fascist! Jock fascist!” someone screamed at him. It was the art teacher. Brian shot some foam into her face and kept going. I had never seen this side of Brian before, and I could have grabbed some popcorn and watched all night, but Superfüd’s second camping song had ended, and I needed to stop them before they launched into a third.
I ran for the stage but slipped in one of the pools of water that was forming on the floor. I slid but didn’t fall, and pressed on, careful not to eat it. The Spring River students had gone full-on Woodstock now, wet hair plastered to their faces, dresses torn and ragged, and blue oxford shirts and khakis soaked through. A guy I had never seen before stopped me, grabbed me by the shoulders, and gave me a strong shake, yelling, “I love this band!” I used my kinesis to pry him off and give him a shove, sending him tumbling into a nearby group of people, who quickly hoisted him onto their shoulders to crowd-surf.
My mascara and glittery pink eyeshadow, which Janis had carefully applied just a couple of hours earlier, were now melting in the water from the sprinklers, and running into my eyes. I tried to wipe it away with the backs of my hands, but that just made it worse. The crowd around me was now chanting “Superfüd! Superfüd!” and it seemed like they were trying to deliberately keep me from getting to the stage, by tumbling in front of me, by pushing me off course, or, in the case of one senior girl in a black one-shouldered gown, by literally picking me up and spinning me around before setting me back down facing the opposite direction.
I stopped and stood in place momentarily, then raised my hands above the crowd in the direction of the stage and used my kinesis to pull the plugs on all of Superfüd’s equipment. Like a car screeching to a halt, the music stopped, the sudden absence of it drawing a huge wail from the crowd. I figured I had no more than a few seconds to get to the band, and I had no idea what the students would do next. I sprinted toward the stage, being careful not to step on any of the people who were now sprawled out on the floor. At the front of the crowd, I could see the band standing there, looking out at everyone, maybe a bit concerned that all their instruments had just gone out, but ultimately looking pretty happy. I leapt and then scrambled onto the stage.
“Tom! That show was incredible!” I said, trying to get his attention. Crap! It looked like Brad and Chad were looking around now, and it was only a matter of seconds before they would realize that their instruments had just been unplugged. Fudge. I splayed my hands behind me, muttering “Oscurokinesis,” and plunged the room into darkness. “People loved the show so much, they set a fire!” I yelled. “And it seems to have blown a fuse!” I didn’t know what a fuse was, but I blew one almost every time I used a hair dryer, and Dad was always griping about it. “I’m so sorry, but I think we’ll have to shut down early tonight,” I added.
Brian must have gotten the fire put out, and my eyes were adjusting to the darkness, a little light streaming in from the windows at the top of the bleachers. I could see the four figures on the stage, stepping around their instruments. Then one of the guys was standing in front of me, a lighter sparked, and his face flickered into view. Tom. But what I had seen in the split second before that had made my heart stutter. His eyes, in the darkness, had been glowing red. Not brightly like coals but a deep raspberry. It had been barely there. But it had been there.
I swallowed, my mouth dry. “Time to pack it up and go home,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice that my voice cracked. “Told you everyone here loved you! Maybe a little too much. Hahaha. You sold out of CDs!”
Tom shrugged, and the lighter went out. Again that glow in his eyes that turned my blood to concrete. “We sold out of CDs?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “They’re all gone.” This part was true, though I had no idea if anyone had actually paid for them.
“Should we stick around and sign some autographs or something?” he asked, and I shook my head violently.
“No, no, no,” I said, scrambling to think of an excuse. Then I didn’t have to. Behind me, the crowd had grown accustomed to the darkness and had pinpointed the location of their favorite band, and they were coming in this direction.
“Guitar player! Guitar player!” a girl yelled, scrambling to get onstage. “I want to marry you!” She was soaking wet, and in her crazed state, she looked like a zombie trying to climb out of the grave. I wasn’t worried about the band’s safety, but I did want to minimize their interaction with the students, so I used my kinesis to give her a little shove and send her tumbling backward.
“Whoops,” I said to Tom. “She slipped.” But almost instantly, three more Superfüd zombies were trying to take the stage.
“Sign my arm!” one guy yelled. “If you sign my arm, I’ll never wash it again.”
“Whoa,” Tom said, actually taking a step back. “Wow. This is the most nuts show we’ve ever played. The crowd usually goes crazy, but not like this.” I grimaced, and used my kinesis to knock the new round of zombies down.
“Whoops!” I said again. “They slipped too!” I could see Tom’s glowing eyes watching me. Superfüd was a bunch of idiots and egoists, but it was clear that at least Tom’s curiosity was piqued, and there was no way I could keep this up.
Then a towering figure leapt onto the stage, shook a fire extinguisher, and blasted the next round of incoming Superfüd zombies. It blasted them again, and let out a roaring laugh. “Go cry in your cars, losers! This dance is over!”
I had never been so happy to see Stacey Wasser in my entire life.
“Stacey!” I screamed. “Where’s my dog?”
“I traded her for this!” she said, brandishing the fire extinguisher. “To the gym teacher!” So she wasn’t the best dog sitter ever, but at least Pig was in good hands now. I wondered if Brian had deputized Stacey, or if she had just taken it upon herself to crowd control her classmates. I suspected it was the second option. “Your band sucks!” she said, turning to snarl at Tom.
“See!” I said to Tom, forcing myself to laugh. “Every crowd’s gotta have a hater. But I don’t know how long she can fend them off. You guys should get packed up and get out of here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tom said, “but we still gotta get paid.”
“Oh yes!” I said. “We can Venmo you.”
“Huh?” Tom said.
Crap. I’d forgotten. “Check?” I offered.
“Cash only,” he said.
“Got it,” I said. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot by your car.”
“Sports car,” he said, and I nodded.
“Sports car,” I repeated. “And you should hurry. That fire extinguisher is going to run out eventually.” I plunged back into the crowd, the sou
nd of Stacey’s laughter at my back as she blasted it again. She had quite the future as a mall cop or prison guard.
On the gym floor, the assistant principal, who apparently hadn’t drunk any of the punch either, was trying her best to herd who she could through the door, and at the other door, the school security guard was doing the same. The Superfüd fervor seemed to have dissolved into a lot of crying and confusion, just like a slumber party where everyone gets drunk for the first time. I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a voice-to-text to Ruby, Mallory, and Cassandra, who I could see still hadn’t responded to me from earlier.
“The show ended early. Bad news. Will explain later, but Superfüd is on their way home! Get out of there.” Brian was nowhere to be seen, so I called him.
He answered after three rings, and I could hear him talking, almost shouting, to someone. “Jackson, get back in the car! Stop dancing! Ji-A, that is not a microphone.” Then something muffled. “Teachers’ parking lot,” he said into the phone. “My car. Get here. Fast.” I heard him grunt. “This dog is strong, and I don’t have any treats.” As I hung up, I heard him yelling, “Sit! Stay!” He could have been talking to any of them.
I turned and started to run toward the teachers’ parking lot, cutting back through the gym, where the assistant principal and security guard where now being helped by a couple of cops, who seemed totally flummoxed by what to do with a bawling girl who’d wrapped herself in singed streamers.
I ran out of the building and cut across the lawn, my breath billowing out in white clouds in front of me as I headed to where I kept seeing flashes of green. Ji-A’s Valentino dress. As I got closer, I could see that she was on her knees, on the hood of Brian’s Ford Explorer, using his radio antenna as her fake microphone. “I hope you brought a tarp,” she sang in a voice that was actually not bad.
On the other side of the car, Amirah and Janis pounded on the hood and cheered her on, while Brian was trying to coax her off. “Off the car, now!” Brian yelled. “Or you’re getting detention for a week!” He was holding on to Pig’s leash, and she kept leaping at Ji-A, trying to join in the fun.
Spells Like Teen Spirit Page 26
