“Okay, Shar,” I say, as we’re getting close to time. “You know the drill. I’ll be a step behind you. Remember to cover any movements I’ll have to do, like opening something or moving something for access. As for the girls, let them take the lead. Keep your magic mute. And remember this is first contact. We’re not expecting miracles from this session, and it could be nothing.”
Shar snorts. She’s convinced herself that Jodi is the key to everything. To be honest, although I’m keeping my thoughts to myself, I think she might be right. But I keep my emphasis on “might.” After all, in the intervening week, Jodi’s not exactly been warm to “Starr” at school. The cheerleader’s not been as aggressively nasty, but in public she ignores Shar, only being friendly at night, over text messages and the fake Facebook page we set up for “Starr.”
So it’s absolutely possible that Jodi is evil without a Satanic-cult E, and she’s planning some sort of Carrie-style high school humiliation for Shar. But we’re not without our hopes that it’ll be more. After all, Jodi had put on the kind of act that would entrance any young thing struggling with her identity and her sexuality, and while that could be a high school bully feeling out a new victim, it could also be a cult recruiter putting out her own special feelers.
“Seriously, Shar,” I warn. “For all we know, Jodi’s planning to dump a bucket of pig’s blood on you at prom. Or this is going to turn out to be one of those Christian groups that swear to be virgins until they meet a man like Jesus. So I don’t want you letting loose your mojo and turning them into an actual Satanic cult.”
Shar giggles. “I am good,” she says, and Moo and I nod. Even with her succubus mojo dampened, Shar radiates sexual confidence, something that can’t be bottled. I’ve seen Shar work a room so nearly all the people there would take her home; give her their wallet; or give up their safe, domestic lives to run off with her. Oftentimes she does these things without even resorting to magic.
They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but in a tussle, my money would be on Shar’s lady bits.
“I know,” Shar tells me, her voice serious. “I’ll be sweet and shy. Out of my depth. Let them lead.”
“Good.”
“But if they start something, I’m fucking the shit out of them.”
I nod, knowing that was a lost battle. You can’t take the succubus out of the girl. But at least the women who’ve gone missing are all over eighteen, so apparently Satan isn’t into jailbait.
“As long as they’re seniors, like Jodi, you’re golden,” I say. Moo nods her head firmly and Shar pats her hand again. After a long, pretty fucked-up life, Moo doesn’t care about a lot of things. But sexual abuse, especially of kids, is one thing that pushes her buttons. Her red nuclear-warhead buttons. No one wants to push those buttons.
I look at my watch. “It’s time.” Shar nods, opening her door.
“Good luck,” says Moo. “If you need me I’ll be there.”
And she will. That’s our Moo.
Shar gets out of the Bronco, brushes herself off, and does a little twirl. I clap approvingly, which Moo echoes. From the towering platform soles of her Frankenboots to her thick black eye makeup, Shar would rock a reboot of The Craft.
I hop out to take my place behind Shar, pulling my camo around me as I do so. My friend watches me disappear, shaking her head.
“That’ll never get old,” she says. “Ready?”
“Yep. Let’s hit it.”
Shar nods and strides away purposefully. I follow, smiling at her slightly pigeon-toed stride, exacerbated by her heavy boots. I love these women like family, so much so that it hurts sometimes.
Moo’s voice sounds in my ear, whispering, “Test, test.” I whisper back that I can hear her, loud and clear. Moo’s our techie and, although she’s the first to admit there’s still a lot she has to learn, she does a damned good job for someone who began life as an Egyptian child-goddess, back in the days of the pharaohs.
Once we’ve walked all the way around the little strip mall, where Moo can no longer see us, I start giving her updates. She is, after all, also our muscle. I can’t camo her, so she can’t come with as there’s absolutely no cover for her. But we still want her to be able to find us if the shit hits the fan.
“We’re walking toward the park. But all’s clear.”
It’s a chilly, slightly overcast day in early fall—the kind of day in which you can smell on the wind both the life of summer and the decay of winter. It’s also eerily quiet; the abandoned strip mall behind us and the equally abandoned park in front of us lend a postapocalyptic feel to our adventure.
There’s also absolutely no sign of Jodi.
If I get doused in pig’s blood, I’m gonna take it out of that girl’s hide, I think, as I give Moo an update.
“At the park. No one’s here. But there’s a ribbon tied to one of the beams of the picnic pagoda.”
We keep walking toward the pagoda, Shar giving no indication she’s being followed.
“There’s an arrow chalked on the concrete. It’s pointing toward the cornfield,” I tell Moo.
None of us acts surprised. Shar and I both grew up in Illinois, so we know all about cornfields. Both of us had done our share of youthful partying in hidden rooms made from trampling down interior spaces of cornfields, and we’d dragged Moo along.
I’m tiptoeing quietly, but even Shar’s Frankenboots are muffled as we step onto the grass and away from the asphalt of the park’s sidewalks. That’s when I see her.
“I see Jodi,” I whisper. The girl’s wearing her cheerleading costume again, causing me to wonder if she has any other clothes. And if she does, why she never wears them.
“Hey ya!” Jodi calls out, waving at Shar from across the field. Shar waves back and hurries toward her.
“Hi there,” Shar says shyly, when we finally get to Jodi. I can’t help but grin.
“You look gorgeous.” Jodi steps up to Shar, studying her closely before swooping in to give my friend a lingering kiss. I look away until I hear her say, “We’re this way.”
Jodi takes Shar’s hand and leads her off into the cornfield. There’s a very narrow walkway of trampled stalks of corn, and I’m glad Shar’s walking so loudly, as I’m making a shitload of noise. It’s impossible to be quiet in a cornfield.
It’s also difficult to keep your footing, and I’m so carefully trying not to get my big feet tangled in the cornstalks that I don’t realize we’ve found the others until a bunch of voices say, “Hi.” They sound like bright, cheerful, high school voices. Not the voices of a Satanic cult.
I look up to see a small group of girls staring at us. Moving my head carefully, I pan my camera over them so that Moo can make IDs.
Meanwhile, Jodi plays the good hostess.
“Everyone, this is Starr. Starr, do you know everyone?”
Starr murmurs, “No, I’m sorry,” probably for Moo’s benefit. I can picture our Alfar halfling, iPad at the ready, taking notes.
“Well, that’s Lara, that’s Madison, and that’s Jenny and Ana.”
Unfortunately, none of these girls match our files of the missing. In fact, these are all current students.
As the girls make small talk, I use the opportunity to do a careful scan of the area. But I can’t feel anything at all, which is odd. But then I’m distracted by Jodi taking charge of the conversation. What starts out as frivolous chitchat steadily grows more serious, with Jodi asking careful questions. The girls talk about the teachers, about the boys at the boys’ school, about their parents. It seems innocuous initially, but I notice that Jodi increasingly hones in on negative responders. Lara, for example, is goodness personified. She defends her teachers, thinks boys are sweet and chivalrous, and loves her parents. Jodi quickly loses interest in Lara.
“Starr,” on the other hand, is answering everything negatively. Her parents are assholes who sent her away because they don’t understand her. The boys at the boys’ school are immature assholes who don’t understand her, and she likes
“real men,” anyway. The teachers? Guess what—they’re assholes who don’t understand her. Jodi spends a lot of time commiserating with “Starr’s” woes, not recognizing the fiddle is playing the fiddler.
They talk forever, and it all gets a bit boring, as teenage angst inevitably does, when Jodi says something that makes me perk up.
“So you’re probably wondering what we’re all doing here,” Jodi says.
Yes, I think. We are, actually.
“Well, I met all of you, and I felt really…close to you. Like you’d understand me, and I’d understand you. I know I seem popular at school, but…” Jodi pauses and when she speaks again, her voice is that of a Very Sad Girl. “But the truth is, I’m lonely.”
“You’re lonely?” Madison asks sarcastically. Madison’s a hulking, sullen girl whose gum I’m constantly cleaning off the underside of desks.
“Of course I am. Just because it seems like I have friends doesn’t mean I can’t be lonely.” Jodi’s always-large eyes are big as saucers, and she looks like she might cry. I resist air-playing her a tiny violin, not least because no one can see me anyway.
“It’s hard,” Shar says, approaching Jodi and putting an arm around her waist. “It’s like we’re expected to always be one thing, and sometimes it’s easier to be that way. But we can still be totally different inside.”
Shar’s “logic” leaves me baffled, but it seems to work for Jodi.
“That’s it, totally,” the cheerleader says, beaming at Shar. Shar beams back, pretending they’ve had a Moment.
“I’m sorry, but you’re, like, the most popular girl in school. And a cheerleader. Why are you even hanging out with us?” Madison still isn’t having any of it.
Jodi heaves a heartfelt sigh. “That’s just how I am at school,” she says. “I’ve learned it’s better just to get along with everyone. But inside, I’m different. I like people like you guys. People who are different.”
“You’ve never seemed to like us ‘different people’ before,” Madison points out, pulling her ugly cardigan tighter around her.
“Yeah, well, there’s someone who has come into my life. Someone who has shown me another way to be. Someone who speaks to the darkness in me.”
At the word “darkness,” there’s a long silence.
“I feel like there’s a darkness in me, too,” Shar says nervously, as if she’s admitting a huge secret.
“Dude, are you part of that cult?” Madison interjects. “Everyone says all those girls have transferred, but we know they’re the ones fucking up the school.” I cheer internally. I’ll happily clean up Madison’s gum if she keeps cutting to the chase like that.
Jodi laughs. “What cult? We’re just here to get to know each other better. There may be powers in this town, powers that might be interested in us, but that’s not what this is about.”
Silence falls on the group as they mull over Jodi’s words. She’s done it perfectly—promising nothing while hinting at everything, all the while denying direct involvement with anything untoward.
“To get to know each other really well, I think we should do a ritual,” she says, her perky cheerleader voice more appropriate for suggesting they bake cookies.
“A ritual?” I hear Ana ask hesitantly. One of the few Hispanics in our school, Ana’s Catholicism runs deep. Although her answers to Jodi’s questions suggest Ana wants to be a rebel, I’m not sure how far that rebellion will stretch.
“Yes. It’ll be super fun!”
Jodi emphasizes her words with jazz hands. I wonder what cults have come to these days.
“What do we have to do?” asks Lara. I’m not sure Lara has any idea what’s going on. Maybe she does think they’ll bake cookies.
Jodi’s bright voice catches Lara’s enthusiasm and matches it.
“I think we should do this thing I learned in a book about ancient religions. When people would make new friends, they would do this ritual to honor each other. And we totally bonded today. I mean, I think we’re all really going to be good friends. So I’d love to do this with you. But, I mean, we don’t have to. If you guys don’t want to be friends or whatever.”
There are hasty assurances from all the girls except Madison that they “do so” want to be friends. Madison’s skepticism visibly skyrockets.
“I’ve always wanted to do, like, a ritual,” Shar says, after giving everyone enough time to kiss Jodi’s ass. She’s stuck close to Jodi this whole time, encouraging the girl with her presence, but that’s it. Our girl’s kept her mojo dampened.
“But it’s not, like, I dunno…evil or anything?” Lara asks hesitantly. I want to pat her on her blond head and send her home, and I can tell from the split-second flash of irritation that crosses her face that Jodi does, too.
“No, not at all. It’s like…I dunno, something fun. Think of it like this is a slumber party and we’re playing Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board. Remember how much fun that was?”
The girls all giggle appreciatively, Shar touching Jodi’s arm gently to let her know she’s on board. With everyone back on her side, Jodi pushes forward.
“So the first thing we have to do is get skyclad. That’s very important.”
“What’s skyclad?” Lara asks eagerly.
“It means naked,” Shar says helpfully. “I’ve read about it.”
“Oh,” Lara says, suddenly less excited. “Naked?”
“Yes. Let’s honor our bodies. Honor our beauty. Honor each other! We’re friends, right?” Jodi sounds like the host of a game show called “Peer Pressure Punk,” and I’m not the only one to reach that conclusion.
“I’m out of here,” Madison says abruptly. And with that, she stomps off in her Docs. Everyone watches her until she’s melted into the cornfield.
“Well, it’s not for everyone,” Jodi says. When she grows up, she should be a politician.
“So, what do you want us to do?” Shar asks. “Why are we getting skyclad? What is this ritual?”
“I just thought it would be fun. We’ll be honoring ourselves. And testing ourselves…”
“Is this a test? For the cult?” Shar asks, building off Madison’s question.
Jodi laughs. “I told you; I don’t know any cult. I just know that sometimes, when special girls find one another, they can call forth great powers.” There’s an ominous pause before Jodi speaks again, back in cheerleader mode. “So what do ya think?”
“I don’t want to join a cult,” Lara whispers. “I thought we were just gonna hang out.”
“Then you can leave, Lara,” Jodi says, her voice firm.
“But—”
“I said you can leave.”
Lara looks around, bottom lip trembling, but the girls have gone all High School Clique on her. They either refuse to meet her gaze or, like Ana, stare at her aggressively. Eventually Lara sniffles and walks off. That leaves Jenny, Ana, Jodi, and “Starr” alone in the cornfield.
“Are the rest of you in?” Jodi demands.
There are murmurs of assent, and Shar’s are fervent.
“Good. I knew it would be you guys. I just did. I saw you guys, and I thought, ‘They’re going to get me. They’re going to be my friends.’ Now let’s start the ritual! But keep your shoes on, or the corn will cut your feet.”
The girls all strip down to their skivvies, then those, too, get hung up on handy corncobs. I take a careful few steps back while they’re stripping, using the noise of their shuffling around to press myself against the wall of cornstalks in case they’re serious about the dancing.
I’m soon glad I did.
At first, the girls stand around carefully not making eye contact, except for Shar and Jodi. Both are sizing up the other women wolfishly, although soon they’re mostly eyeing up one another. After everyone’s gotten a chance to get slightly more comfortable being naked, Jodi gives a delighted little clap.
“We’re all so beautiful! Let’s dance. Take my hands; we’ll dance in a circle.”
Jodi grabs Sha
r’s and Ana’s free hands, and with a little urging is able to get Ana to start stepping to the left. There’s a lot of giggling as the girls start moving, and much tripping over cornstalks. The noise grows more frenetic as the girls increase their pace till they’re whirling, naked, in the cornfield.
The faster they go, the more they laugh, and soon Jodi leads them forward and backward in swoops, all the while keeping them moving counterclockwise. I can’t help but smile. The girls do look beautiful and happy, both sets of cheeks deliciously pink in the chill air.
Indeed, Jodi’s little show is a pleasure to watch, which only makes me wonder who it’s really for.
From under my camo, I spread out my magical feelers under my dense camouflage, but I get absolutely nothing.
The girls are dancing like crazy now, hollering and whooping and laughing. Jodi’s gentle forward and backward swoops have turned into them all rushing toward one another, their hands joined in a circle, then rushing back.
I wait for the inevitable, and then it happens. Jodi “trips,” sending her flying into Shar. The two women grapple, trying to stay upright. Then they grapple, trying to get each other not so upright.
Ana and Jenny stop, eyes wide, watching Shar and Jodi kissing. It’s Ana who moves first, toward the two girls making out. Jodi’s obviously watching to see the other girls’ reactions, because as soon as Ana steps forward, Jodi throws out her hand.
Soon enough, all four are writhing on a blanket Jodi’s pulled out of the backpack she’d left propped up against a stalk of corn. Knowing I won’t be heard over the sounds they’re making, I settle myself down on the ground.
I shut my eyes, giving the girls as much privacy as I can, as I carefully scan for power signatures. I’m so involved trying to figure out if there’s anything hiding in all that dead space that I nearly jump out of my skin when Moo says over my earpiece, “Would you mind turning your head just a little bit?”
For a second I wonder if she’s sensed something. Then I realize I’ve been sitting with our camera panned directly on the mini-orgy before me.
“Thanks,” Moo whispers. Then we wait for Shar to finish. And then finish everyone else.
Something Wikkid This Way Comes Page 3
