Drawing Amanda

by Stephanie Feuer

  Inky looked over to Amanda. “I know, they’re not real cats,” she said.

  They heard a ring from Amanda’s purse. Inky looked over at Rungs, thinking this was more of his preparation. Amanda must have thought that, too. She picked up the spy phone. Nothing happened.

  “Hey,” she said. The phone continued to ring.

  “Hey, what,” Rungs said. “Answer your iPhone.”

  Amanda stuck her tongue out at him as she picked up her phone.

  “It’s Hawk,” Amanda said. “I’ll go meet her downstairs.”

  *

  “You’re flying solo?” Hawk said, getting out of the long black sedan. Amanda bristled at her tone of voice.

  “Inky and Rungs are packing up the recorder and receiver. They’ll be down in a second,” Amanda said. She put her index finger in her mouth and chewed on a hangnail.

  “Nervous, huh?”

  “I’m OK.” She looked at the purple strand of hair hanging below her chin and wrapped it around her finger.

  Hawk pointed at her finger. “Don’t cut off your circulation.”

  “You’re not helping. Why are you doing this?” Amanda said.

  “I am helping,” Hawk said, “if I may remind you. Who arranged the car and driver for you?”

  Amanda felt the color drain from her face. She didn’t want to say anything that could jeopardize their arrangements. She tried to push back the anger she was feeling. Was Hawk trying to get her to back out or something? Amanda smiled as sweetly as her rising anger would allow.

  “I’m just helping ’cause I figure I owe you—I never thought you’d say that shit. It was epic. No one feels sorry for Ellen, you know.”

  Amanda found this news comforting. Maybe she wasn’t going to be such a pariah after all.

  “But why are you doing this?” Hawk asked. “Inky needs all the friends he can get. You don’t have to do something crazy for him.”

  Amanda glared at Hawk.

  “Well? You’re the one who could get hurt.”

  “Oh, Hawk. Don’t scare me any more than I’m already scared, OK?” Amanda touched Hawk’s shoulder. “Remember when you asked me if I’d ever done anything brave? Well, this is it. I know I’m taking a big risk, but I’m doing something that matters. I’m being brave because some other girl may not be.”

  Amanda turned around to see Inky and Rungs coming out of the building. “And because I have friends who help me be brave,” she added.

  Hawk fumbled with the buttons of her burlap “Feed” bag, then pulled out her phone. For a second Amanda was afraid she’d call the driver or her father or someone and call it all off because she mouthed off.

  “You included,” she said to Hawk.

  “Take my phone. My dad’s name and bank show up on caller ID. You won’t believe the response ‘World One Bank, President’ will get if you have to call the police or something.”

  How ironic, Amanda thought. Two weeks ago I had no phone at all. Now I have three.

  “Trade,” Amanda said, handing Hawk her phone. The only people she wanted to talk to were already with her.

  *

  The four of them were squeezed together in the back of the car, their individual space even more limited because the receiver hung over Rungs’s lap and took up room on the seat. He fiddled with the settings.

  “Yeah, baby, WTG,” Rungs said softly, looking with satisfaction at the blue light on the receiver. “Way to go.” He patted the top of the machine.

  Hawk glanced over at the equipment, and Inky saw her longing. She wanted to be part of this, but she wasn’t going to bail on her group of kids in need. Respect, he thought as he met her gaze and quickly looked away.

  It was uncomfortably silent in the back of the car. Inky stared at the broad shoulders of the driver through the plexiglass divider, his thick neck and shaven head suggesting power. He took advantage of the tight seating and leaned into Amanda on his left and pointed to Central Park in front of them as they drove crosstown.

  “Wouldn’t have thought you had this in you,” Hawk said to Inky. He was grateful for the break in the silence. He took her words as an apology.

  “Things are not always what they seem—that’s for sure. People do what they have to do,” Inky said, forging a truce.

  Hawk nodded and smiled. “I hear you, Artboy.”

  “Here you go, Miss Helen,” the driver said, pulling up to a building next to Roosevelt Hospital. Suddenly Inky was tense. How much time would they have? How long could her session be? But apparently Hawk had already thought of this.

  “I’m going to do some shopping and stuff after, Ivan,” Hawk said to the driver. “Please stay with my friends.”

  Rungs looked up from his receiver. “Thanks, Hawk.”

  She hugged Amanda, and said, “Good luck. And call me.” Inky thought he saw Amanda giggle, which puzzled him. Hawk got out of the car and started to walk away. Then she turned and tapped on the driver’s window. He lowered it, letting in a cold blast of air. “Whatever they need, Ivan, no matter what.”

  *

  As they drove toward Megaland Studios, Amanda spread out a bit but shivered into Inky.

  Inky watched the Hell’s Kitchen streets through the partially opened window. “We’re just about there,” he said. Amanda took Rungs’s phone out of her purse and checked the time. Inky looked at the display. Ten minutes until she was due at Woody’s, and they were just a couple of blocks away.

  “Let’s test the phone again,” Inky said to Rungs.

  “You’re going to keep that near you at all times,” Inky said. He thought that Amanda could hear the worry in his voice.

  Rungs sent a text message to the phone in Amanda’s hand. Inky looked at a string of gibberish on the tiny display.

  “Hit OK,” Rungs said to Amanda.

  Amanda complied. Inky looked at her wrist, the lovely curve between her forearm and hand, and the spot where the little round bone protruded and made an elegant slope. His fingers itched for a pencil. He shook his head to keep his focus. He would remember this. He touched her lightly on the arm. She didn’t pull away.

  “Now don’t do anything,” Rungs said. Inky felt his cheeks burn even though the words were meant for Amanda. He thought his friend could tell he had other things on his mind. He looked at the phone in Amanda’s hand. For a barely discernible second the lights behind the phone’s keypad illuminated, then went off.

  “OK, you’re set,” Rungs said.

  Then Amanda handed Hawk’s phone to Rungs. “Use this when you call the police,” she said. Inky looked at her, then over to Rungs. “Hawk’s …”

  “Brilliant,” Rungs said. “Her father’s caller ID.” Inky could see Rungs refining their plan to include this.

  “Don’t accept any food or anything to drink,” Rungs said to Amanda. His voice was picked up by the phone in Amanda’s hand and fed back through the receiver. First there was a high-pitched sound, then Rungs twisted a knob and the screech stopped. Rungs’s voice was doubled, with a slight delay, giving it an impactful echo.

  “Nothing. He may try to drug you.”

  Inky shuddered at Rungs’s words. He sensed that Amanda did, too. “You can still back out,” Inky said to Amanda.

  “Don’t tempt me,” she said.

  Chapter 35

  So This Is It

  THE CAR TURNED DOWN WOODY’S STREET. On the left was a low row of brick buildings. There was a rusted sign for AAAuto. Another shop offered floor tiles. Above it, a woman in a floral dress was shaking out a rug from a fire escape. Inky spotted what looked to be a factory building next to a building with boarded-up bay windows. There was no sign, but there was a flagpole holder where the Megaland Studios banner they’d seen in the online pictures must have hung. It looked dumpier than the old promo pictures they’d found online.

  “This is where we want to go, but could you go around the block and park by the car repair place?” Rungs said to the driver.

  The driver circled the block. Th
is was the block that Inky would walk down later to deliver the artwork to Woody, setting the end of the plan in motion. The thought was like a puddle of colors swirling together on a palette, muddy and confused. If he felt this way, what must Amanda be feeling? Inky took Amanda’s hand and squeezed it as the driver idled the car.

  Rungs gave his final set of instructions. “Remember everything we went over. Don’t let him back you into a corner. Know where the door is. If you say ‘emergency’ your phone is programmed to dial the police. We’ll hear everything that’s going on. It’ll be like we’re there with you.”

  “You’re about as comforting as soap in a rainstorm,” Inky said. He wanted the floorboards to swallow him up. Why did he say something so stupid?

  Amanda looked at him, shook her head and giggled in spite of herself. “Soap in a … that’s just strange.”

  “I know, right. But I got you to smile,” Inky said, leaning closer to Amanda. Her skin was a vanilla crème color, so inviting. Inky touched her cheek. He leaned in towards her and could feel her closeness. Her lips were a perfect strawberry red, with a little spot in the corner slightly swollen where she’d been biting it.

  “Be sure to speak up,” Rungs said. “Let him think you’re a loud talker. We want to be sure to hear you.”

  Inky was still precariously close to Amanda. He should let her listen to Rungs’s advice, he knew, but he couldn’t move away. And she wasn’t pulling away either. She was looking at him so intently he felt like she was drawing him closer with her eyes, as if there were a magnet in them.

  Be brave, Inky told himself. That’s what today’s all about. He leaned in some more and kissed Amanda on the lips. It was more than a quick peck. His lips lingered before they opened slightly and he pulled his head back.

  He saw a look of surprise in her eyes. It must have mirrored his own. He’d just kissed Amanda. Kissed Amanda, here in the car, in front of Rungs. Ugh. His friend would have something to say about that.

  He’d thought so much about this day, going over every possible detail in his mind, night after sleepless night. But he hadn’t imagined that this would be the day he’d kiss Amanda. He hadn’t allowed himself to think that he’d kiss her at all. A sea of neon colors swirled in his head. He could still feel the warmth of her lips on his. Amanda smiled a smile that said she was surprised, in a good way.

  “Ahem. Ahem,” Rungs said. “Hate to interrupt, but it’s time.”

  Inky felt the blood rush to his cheeks, but he didn’t really mind the embarrassment. He had kissed Amanda. His legs felt jumpy, like he’d eaten too much sugar.

  “You OK?” Inky asked Amanda.

  She nodded. “You?”

  He squeezed her hand as an answer. He wanted to hold on to it. He wanted to say, “Don’t go.”

  She looked over at Rungs as she opened the car door. “We’ve got your back,” he said.

  Inky watched her get out on the traffic side. “Careful, the traffic.”

  Amanda laughed. There were no cars coming down the street.

  “We’ll be listening,” Inky said, “and I’ll be there soon.” Inky took a deep breath as the door closed. He wanted to run out and get her.

  From the sidewalk Amanda turned and looked into the car. “Wave if you can hear me,” she said. Rungs raised his hand. She made a thumbs-up gesture as she approached Megaland Studios.

  Rungs adjusted the receiver between them on the car seat.

  “So now will you admit that you like like her?” Rungs asked.

  Inky nodded and broke into a huge grin. His face felt funny—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled that way.

  Inky heard rustling coming from the speaker. It was no louder than the muted phone conversation the driver was having. Rungs turned up the volume and they heard the sounds of the street. Inky closed his eyes and was able to pick out the sound of Amanda’s footsteps. The footsteps of the girl he’d kissed.

  Say something, Inky thought. Describe what you’re seeing. As if he’d willed it, he heard Amanda’s voice.

  “So this is it.” Amanda was speaking softly in a voice that could be mistaken for her talking to herself. He heard the sound of the door opening, then the street noise was muted as it closed. “Megaland Studios.”

  Chapter 36

  Justagirl in Megaland

  AMANDA HIT THE BUZZER. “Who’s there?” came right away, as if someone had been waiting by the buzzer expectantly. Even through the muffle of the intercom, Amanda could tell that Woody was smiling.

  “It’s me, Justagirl.” It felt weird saying her screen name aloud.

  “I’m coming right down.”

  Her stomach did a flip. The voice was raspy but melodic. She thought she heard the same local accent that one of the doormen in her building had. She wasn’t sure what he’d look like based on hearing his voice. Inky was probably good at that. Inky, who she’d kissed in the car. The thought made her smile. Her first real kiss. Already it had been quite a day.

  Amanda heard footsteps. For a moment she wanted to turn and run. “Oh god,” she said. He was moving quickly down the stairs. Her heart raced. His steps seemed light. At least he’s not fat, she thought, or he’s an awfully quick fat man.

  What was she going to say to him? They’d practiced a couple conversations to be sure she didn’t give away any information about herself, or about Inky and Rungs. But knowing what she couldn’t say wasn’t the same as knowing what to say. And things didn’t always go as planned.

  Amanda tapped her purse as a reminder that Inky and Rungs were listening. The footsteps were louder, closer. Amanda looked out the glass building door, even though the car was parked out of view, halfway down the street.

  She saw his tan Frye boots and acid washed jeans first. The jeans were carefully pressed, which somehow made her feel better. He was tall, slim, and as she looked up, she was surprised that he was handsome, in a weathered, fatherly kind of way, with long salt-and-pepper hair, very old school, but carefully trimmed. The wrinkles around his eyes made them seem happy, twinkling.

  “Is it really you?” he said, smiling down at her. He opened the inner door wide and half bowed to her. “I told you you were beautiful.

  “Come in, come in. I’m Woody,” he said, sticking his hand out. Bien élevé, she thought. He has good manners.

  “Glad to meet you,” she said, echoing his politeness. She was glad that he didn’t look like a monster. In fact, he didn’t look dangerous at all. Maybe Inky and Rungs had been wrong. “I’m Justagirl—but my friends call me Amanda.”

  Woody gestured for Amanda to head up the stairs. She thought she felt him looking at her as she climbed. At the top of the stairs was a long carpeted hallway. The blue-flecked carpeting was frayed. She could smell cigarettes. Amanda looked at the gold records on the wall. She didn’t recognize any of the songs or band names.

  “Are these real gold?” she asked.

  “They’re real gold records. All these bands recorded here. Megaland was a happening studio back in the day.” He winked at her. “The plaque is just a vinyl record dipped in metallic paint.” He was charming, much in the way that Hawk exuded personal power, which both scared her and made her envious.

  Woody opened the door to the studio lounge. Above the black leather couch were framed pictures of Woody looking hip and mugging it up with various skinny-legged guys with big hair and cigarettes hanging out of their mouths.

  “Some set of pictures. A different world. Sometimes it feels like it was a different planet,” Woody said. He hadn’t stopped looking at her.

  Amanda giggled. The pictures were funny, like caricatures almost. But the giggle continued for too long, riding on a wave of relief, and threatened to go out of control. Amanda pinched herself to stop.

  “Let me show you the rest,” Woody said, not commenting on her giddiness. He put his hand on her shoulder to lead her. It was a polite, chivalrous gesture. It gave her the creeps.

  The main room was a huge space with some smaller
rooms off of it, one of which appeared to be where he slept. “This was the control room. The board—all the faders and dials and knobs—used to be here. Now it’s my work room,” Woody said as he pointed to several computers lined up on a workstation. Amanda noticed a blue velvet curtain suspended in an area in the corner.

  Woody pointed to the old overstuffed armchair across from the workstation. “Have a seat.”

  She tucked her purse at her side and shifted in the chair. Woody sat in one of those fancy computer chairs across from her. She felt like she was in her father’s office.

  “Can I get you something to drink? Lemonade? Hot cocoa?” He walked over to the kitchen area and held up the packet of cocoa. The packet shook. He was as nervous as she was, she thought. This mattered to him, too, but she didn’t know if the reason should make her feel worried or flattered. Maybe he just liked her.

  “How about some tea?” he asked, definitely trying to please her.

  It would be the polite thing to do to say yes, but she remembered what Rungs had said.

  “I’m not thirsty now. I had a big soda on the way, but maybe later.”

  “Here, pick some music,” he said, pointing at a case of CDs next to her chair.

  She leaned over and scanned the band names: Nirvana, Van Halen, Jimi Hendrix, Crack the Sky, aware all the while that he was looking at her. “I don’t listen to any of these bands.”

  “Must seem like dinosaur music.”

  “I missed a lot of music—haven’t really lived in the States.”

  Woody picked a U2 CD and popped it in the CD player and walked over to the velvet curtain. He reminded her of a lizard scurrying about. “At least I didn’t show you my record collection. So, am I what you expected?”

  Amanda didn’t see that question coming, even though Rungs had warned her that Woody would make the conversation personal. She felt her cheeks flush. “I don’t know. I just met you—well, not really. Kind of. You’re, I don’t know. Uh, cool.” Was that the right thing to say? She was so uncertain, and knowing that Inky and Rungs were listening in just made her even more tongue-tied.