“You can’t give her detention,” Janis yelled at him. “She doesn’t even go here!” I noticed that one of her earrings was missing, and her head wrap had come undone. Her eyebrows shot up and her face broke into a grin as soon as she saw me. “Esme! Did you see that show?” she said. “It was incredible. It was like Patti Smith at CBGB, or N.W.A. in Detroit!”
“Janis,” I said, “it was like neither. It was a bunch of guys in bad T-shirts singing about sleeping bags.” At the mention of sleeping bags, she closed her eyes and started to dance a little groove. “Janis,” I said, grabbing her by the shoulders to hold her still. “How much punch did you have?” She ignored me, continuing to dance as she chanted “Superfüd” under her breath. It sounded like she was a waitress, asking “Soup or food? Soup or food?” over and over again.
“I don’t know what to do,” Brian said, walking over to me and handing me a water bottle. “I thought that the water from the sprinkler system would have broken the spell, but maybe that only works when the water is thrown by a Sitter.”
Realizing what he wanted me to do, I twisted the cap. “Sorry, Amirah,” I said, and splashed it into her face. She blinked a few times, drops dripping off her nose, and I had no idea if it had done anything.
“What’s your favorite band?” I asked.
“Well,” she started, “most people don’t know this, but ‘Sade’ is actually the name of the singer and the entire band. I know this because they played the pre-party for my dad’s fortieth birthday, and for a long time I thought they were my favorite band.” Okay, this was surprising. Maybe a little Fiji in her face had broken the spell? I was relieved, and also surprised that Amirah had such good taste in music. “But after tonight,” she continued, “I love Superfüd always and forever.”
Okay, never mind.
Behind me, Brian sighed. “Where is the band now?” he asked. “Did you convince them to go home?”
I nodded. “It didn’t take much convincing,” I said. “But they’re still waiting to get paid.”
“How much do you owe them?” he asked.
“Three hundred dollars.” Brian’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know if that’s a lot or a little for a band,” I said.
“I don’t either,” he said. “But I do know that it’s about two hundred and ninety-nine dollars too much.” I laughed. “But let’s just pay them and get out of here.”
“I know,” I said, “but they need to be paid in cash. How much do you have on you?” Brian reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and flipped it open.
“Eleven,” he said after he’d counted it.
“How do you only have eleven dollars?” I said.
“How much cash do you have?” he shot back at me.
“None,” I said, “but I’m a teenager. You’re a grown-up. One of the few things grown-ups are good for is cash.”
“Just send them money with whatever that app is that you kids use to pay your drug dealers.”
“Brian,” I said. “It’s called ‘Venmo,’ and I use it for babysitting.”
“The nearest ATM is two blocks away at the Panda Sub,” he said. “It’ll take too long to get there and back.” At the mention of Panda Sub, I had an idea and turned to Amirah.
“Amirah, can I borrow some cash?” I said. “We’ll pay you back.”
“Esme, I totally would,” she said. “But I didn’t bring my wallet, so all I have is my emergency money.” She reached into her bra and pulled out a bill that had been folded into a tiny square. When she handed it to me, the money was wet and sweaty in my palm. I unfolded it to see that it was a five-hundred-dollar bill. “How much do you need?” she asked. “Is that enough?”
“Thanks, Amirah,” I said. “This is great.” Amirah turned back to Ji-A and Janis, and I could hear them start to discuss which Superfüd song was their favorite—that one song about camping or that other song about camping.
Pig lunged at Brian’s car again, almost pulling him off his feet. “Sit!” I hissed at her. “No punch ever again! Bad Pig!” She sat down with a whimper. “I guess Superfüd is getting a big tip tonight,” I said to Brian. “Not that they deserve it. But I guess I’ll run over and give this to them, then meet you guys back here. I still haven’t heard from Cassandra.”
Illuminated in the parking lot lights, I could see Brian’s nostrils flare as he sucked in air. “I don’t like the idea of you meeting up with them alone. Where is their car?”
“In the student parking lot,” I said. “You can’t miss it. It’s a purple PT Cruiser.”
“Let’s get these four into the car, and we’ll drive you over there to meet them,” he said. “And from there, we can go straight to their house, and hopefully intercept Cassandra before they get home.”
“I think we should split up,” I argued. “You head to their house now, and I’ll try to stall the guys in the parking lot. Then I’ll meet up with you later.”
“But we only have one car,” Brian said.
“Janis drove us here,” I said.
“Janis isn’t driving anywhere right now,” Brian said, his voice going all teachery.
“I can drive her car,” I said, and one of his eyebrows shot up. “I’ll be fine,” I assured him, not quite sure myself. “I have my permit.”
“I heard about the median,” he said.
“Stop!” I said, starting to grow frantic. “We’re wasting time!” I turned to Janis. “Janis! I need your keys! And, everyone, get into Brian’s car so he can take you to the after-party!”
Janis held out her keys but looked at me suspiciously. “And where are you going?” she asked.
“To get more soup, obviously,” I said. “I offered to do it since I knew you wouldn’t want to be late.”
“Oooh,” she said as I took her keys. “Get more beef stew. That’s their favorite. Extra chunky.”
“Will do,” I said. Then I gave Brian a quick wave and started to run, not wanting to waste another second.
The school grounds were dotted with people in various stages of comedown—climbing trees, cars, and anything else they could find, or else lying on the ground, sobbing like Amirah. Word must have spread that the dance had shut down early, and I could see a few confused parents starting to appear, plus a fire engine and two cop cars. I was scanning for the band when the PT Cruiser pulled up right in front of me.
Brad was driving, and Tom was in the front passenger seat. He got out and started walking toward me. “I’ve got your money,” I said. “The dance committee got together and decided to up your fee because it was such a good show and everyone clearly loved it so much.” I held out the bill, and Tom reached for it as he came toward me. Instinctively I let go, right as he grabbed it, not wanting our fingers to touch. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark shape coming toward me.
“What the?” I said, starting to turn toward it. Then I heard a crow squawk, and everything went black.
I came to with something sharp poking into my side, and my head jammed up against something hard. I couldn’t move, or even blink, and realized that my eyes had been open the whole time, but I was just now returning to consciousness. I was halfway on my side, twisted and contorted into an awkward position and crammed into a space where I didn’t really fit. As my vision came into focus, I could see just enough to know that the sharp poke in my side was a drumstick, and the hard thing currently pressed against my forehead was a guitar case. I was staring straight up at the ceiling of the car, and out of the corner of my right eye, I could see part of a cymbal, gently jiggling. Everything was moving, except me. I couldn’t move a muscle. I couldn’t even blink.
I was in the back of a car. Specially, Superfüd’s car, and they were currently occupying the front and backseats, and arguing about it.
“Dude! How long have I been saying we needed a van? There’s not enough room for the four
of us and our equipment in this car. We look like tools all jammed in here!”
“Shut up.” I recognized that voice as Tom’s. “Everyone agreed this was the car for us when we bought it, so bite me. We’ve got bigger things to think about right now.”
“Yeah, no crap! You just freaking kidnapped a teenager from a school dance! We’ve been lying low this whole time, and now every cop in the county is going to be looking for us!”
“I had no choice! Trust me on this. Her people don’t call the cops. Now shut up and give me time to think.”
“Dozens of people saw us do it!”
“No one’s going to say anything. All those kids think we’re gods. Besides, what part of ‘shut up’ do you not understand?”
“I’m not going to shut up! I shut up two months ago! We all did! We went along with your plan then, and where did that get us?”
“Where did that get us? Where did that get us? When was the last time you looked in the mirror? Because where it got us is written all over your face. And were you asleep for that show we just played? People freaking love us!”
Whoever was driving drove like Janis, and each time the car turned a corner or came to a stop, some part of some instrument rammed into some part of my body, and I couldn’t move a millimeter to readjust or get out of the way. The cymbal rang out like a wind chime in a hurricane.
“I’m not arguing with that! I’m just saying that I signed up to be a rock star! Not a kidnapper two times over!”
If I could have broken out in goose bumps, then I’m sure I would have at that. Two kidnappings? Obviously I was one of them, and then the other…it had to be Circe. It just had to be.
“The kidnapping was what made us into rock stars!” Tom’s voice was now screeching.
“Now, let’s all be reasonable here,” a third voice spoke up in a tone of measured calm. “I think we can all agree that we like being rock stars, but I also think it’s okay to acknowledge that some of us don’t enjoy breaking and entering or kidnapping. Those who feel that way—”
“Chad, shut the hell up….”
Okay, so now they had just copped to breaking and entering too? If I hadn’t been in fear of being decapitated by a cymbal the next time we went around a corner, I might even have gone so far as to say that getting myself kidnapped had been a stroke of genius.
“Tom, you know I don’t like it when you take that tone of voice with me,” Chad said. “And even you have to admit that breaking into that house was a risk that was not worth it. We barely got out of there before that guy came home, and we found nothing.”
“It also lead this girl right to our door.” At hearing that, I felt a jolt go through my entire body. Ugh. So my showing up at their door had tipped them off to something?
“Well, maybe that wouldn’t have happened if someone—Todd!—hadn’t had a hole in his backpack and basically left a trail of clues, including a flyer with our freakin’ picture on it!”
“Hey! I fixed that hole!”
I could hear someone give a loud, theatrical sigh.
“That backpack is butt ugly too. It makes you look like you’re excited about your first day of third grade. Also, I friggin’ hate the name ‘Superfüd.’ It makes us sound like we’re a smoothie.”
“Well, let’s all just air our grievances right now. Todd, your dandruff is disgusting.”
“What the? I’m not even a part of this argument!”
“ ‘Superfüd’ is a rad name! It makes us sound like we’re an über-version of something everyone loves!”
“We should have gone with ‘Shredding Chicken.’ That’s the perfect name.”
“Are you friggin’ kidding me? That sounds like you’re getting prepped for Taco Tuesday!”
“I am so tired of arguing about names! You think Nickelback got where they are by changing their name all the time? No! They picked one name, and they stuck with it!”
“Shut up! All of you! Can we just focus for a minute? We just kidnapped a teenage girl from a school parking lot, so what the hell are we going to do with her?”
“We’ll put her with the other one,” Tom said.
“Then what?”
“Then I’ll take some time to think, and I’ll come up with a plan, since I seem to be the only one who cares about this band!”
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” someone whined. “I don’t care about being famous. I just want to go back to being normal. I can’t take these side effects anymore. I’m sick of soup! Do you know what I would do to eat a non-pureed sandwich? Or some freaking chips and salsa? I miss crunch, man! I would kill for some crunch.”
Okay, so I guess it wasn’t just outsiders who found Superfüd’s eating habits a little odd. Apparently it was out of necessity rather than preference.
“Me too, Todd! You think I eat split pea because I like it? I don’t! No one likes split pea! We made this decision—together—that we were going to do whatever it took to make it! That we were going to be bigger than 3 Doors, bigger than Puddle, bigger than Hooba, even! And now you guys just want to give up? When we’re finally on our way?”
“You yourself said that those things don’t last forever! What if it runs out before we get famous and we’re just stuck like this forever?”
“Well, Chad, that’s why we kidnapped this girl, remember?” Tom’s voice now was a low hiss. “So we can trade her for the big one.”
“If Circe couldn’t find it, what makes you think this girl can?”
“Positive thinking, Chad!” Tom snapped. “No one gets anywhere by being a downer!” My mind was racing. So they were looking for the talisman, the big one, and they planned to try to trade me for it. That meant…
“Shit! Watch out for that bird.” Then there was the sound of squealing tires as the car swerved wildly. The cymbal crashed into the window, and my useless body crumpled into a corner. Bird. I desperately wanted to know what kind of bird, but Superfüd didn’t elaborate.
“Freaking hell, Brad!” someone yelled. “When will you ever learn to load a drum kit? Fix that cymbal, or the next time it makes a noise, I’m going to throw it out the window.” There was some grumbling, and then all of a sudden, a face appeared above me, and an arm to mash the cymbal into different positions, now making ten times as much noise as it had been. Then the face—Todd’s, I think—glanced down at me, and then looked back again, alarmed, his eyebrows knitting together.
“Her eyes are open!” he screeched. “I knew it wouldn’t work!” A horrible smell filled the car. Then all I saw was darkness, and just like that, I was out again.
* * *
—
I could smell the coffee, and I needed it today. I was bone-tired, and as I shifted slightly in bed, my body protested the effort, but my mind was electrified with the realization that I could move again. The coffee smell was strong as I pushed myself up into a sitting position.
My vision was blurry, and I could just make out shapes ringed with rainbows, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The coffee wouldn’t let me breath. It felt like it was in my nostrils.
Then I realized, it was in my nostrils. Literally, my nose was full of coffee grounds, so full that I couldn’t breathe. I launched into a sneezing fit, sputtering, puffing air out of my nose and sending coffee grounds spraying. There was a crash as something jumped out of the way of my olfactory spittle.
I pawed at my face, trying to dislodge the remaining grounds, and managed to inhale some of them, sucking them up through my nose until I could feel a drip down the back of my throat. I launched into another fit, coughing this time.
Finally they were gone, at least to the point where I could breathe unobstructed, and that was when my eyes finally focused and I saw where I was. It was a small room, with no windows, cinder-block walls on three sides and a corrugated metal door on the fourth. It was dark, the only li
ght coming from an orange lava lamp that glowed in one corner. There were cardboard boxes stacked halfway to the ceiling, plus a weight bench, a pair of Rollerblades, a beach umbrella, and all kinds of other junk.
And I wasn’t alone. There was someone else in here, who had jumped out of my way. I squinted, trying to see them better. It was a woman, and she had dark hair, and was dressed like she was going to work, in ill-fitting pants and a blazer and—
“Oh my God,” I said. “Circe!” And then I started to sneeze again.
She laughed. “Yes. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. Here.” She walked over and held something out to me. “I found this old bandana you can use to blow your nose. It’s been in here for ages, so any germs it once had are petrified now.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking it from her and giving my nose a few honks. Circe was wearing the same outfit she’d had on two months before, when we’d seen her at the hotel, but her helmet-shaped wig and the pancake makeup were gone, and she looked prettier now. Like an older version of Cassandra, basically.
“Sorry about the coffee,” she said, sitting down on the weight bench. “It was the closest I could find to smelling salts.”
I used the bandana to dig the last of the coffee grounds out of my nose. “What did they do to me?”
“They knocked you out,” she said. “With magic at first, I think, but then it seemed like that didn’t work, so they just used ether.”
I nodded, and my head throbbed. “Coffee,” I said. “I like coffee.” I rolled my neck back and forth, and every nerve ending whined like Dion’s van. “Who just carries around ether?” I asked. “Does that mean it was premeditated?”
“With them, who knows,” she said. “Though I get the feeling that they don’t have much of a plan.”
“Where are we?” I asked. “This looks like a…”
“Storage unit,” she said. “It’s the band’s storage unit. Those,” she said, pointing at the Rollerblades, “are Tom’s. Before he decided he wanted to be a rock star, he thought he was going to go pro.”
Spells Like Teen Spirit Page 27
