by Tara Maya, Elle Casey, J L Bryan, Anthea Sharp, Jenna Elizabeth Johnson, Alexia Purdy (epub)
In a daze, Jason sat at the table. People had him autograph napkins, except for a few who'd brought either notebooks or printed images of him.
“Where did you get this?” Jason asked a teen girl who handed him a picture of himself.
“It's a screenshot from you playing 'First Road Out of Here.' I loooooooove that song!” she said. “You're the best guitarist ever. I couldn't believe it when Kelsey told me you worked at McSlobberbooger's!”
“Who's Kelsey!”
“I am!” shrieked another girl. “He said my name!”
“So, do you guys go to McDonell?” he asked. He didn't recognize them, but maybe they attended the Catholic high school instead of the public one.
“Yeah, but I'll transfer to Chi-High if you want me to!” the girl called Kelsey said.
“Uh, that's okay,” Jason said. “Thanks, though.”
Jason spent most of his shift signing autographs and talking to fans, some of whom had come from the town of Eau Claire just to see him. He was in a daze. He knew the music was good, and it was literally magical, but this was too much. It scared him. The first video, the one taken by Mitch's kid neighbor, had only been circulating for a week or so. The music wasn't just entrancing, it was addictive, and everybody who heard it seemed to lose their minds a little.
Mitch was absolutely right, he realized. This was only the beginning of what promised to be a very wild ride.
Over the next couple of days, he continued going to work, but Mona treated him like a celebrity. So did the kids who came from increasingly far away—Sheboygan, Oshkosh, even college students driving up from Madison. All of them asked when they were doing a concert or where to buy their music. Lots of them took pictures of themselves with Jason. One group showed up with full-print posters of the band, which a girl who worked in a copy shop had made. Jason signed it next to his own face.
Mitch called periodically with updates. They were getting bigger and bigger offers for larger and larger venues. Apparently, even nightclub and theater owners weren't immune to the power of the Assorted Zebras.
On Thursday, when Jason was again at work and not working, Mitch called again.
“Forget all those little clubs. We've been invited to play at the Spoon and Cherry Festival on Saturday night,” Mitch said. His voice was awed.
“Are you serious?” Jason whispered. The festival showcased eight independent bands from around the region, at the Statue Garden in Minneapolis. “That's like ten thousand people!”
“They had an opening, so the coordinator dropped us in,” Mitch said. “Apparently a bunch of people had emailed her our video—”
“But how is that possible? Auditions for that were four months ago.”
“Well, she may have bumped some local Minneapolis band to make room for us. But anyway, not bad for a first gig!”
“Saturday night? Do we have time to get ready?”
“We don't need to get ready. We just need to get up on that stage and play. The instruments will do it all for us. I'll announce it on our Facebook page. And our YouTube profile.”
“I'll announce it, too.” Jason stood up and looked over the crowd. “Hey, everybody: Assorted Zebras are playing the Spoon and Cherry Festival this Saturday! Tell your friends!”
The entire place burst into cheers.
“I think they'll come,” Jason said into the phone.
“They can't, it's already sold out,” Mitch said. “We just want everyone to know we played the festival, so we'll get more shows out of this. Gotta go, I have to call Dred and Erin!” Mitch hung up.
Jason's heart dropped a little at Erin's name. They hadn't spoken since she rejected him. This was going to be awkward.
A balding fiftyish man in a tie elbowed his way into the restaurant. Mr. Humphley, the franchise owner. Jason stood up automatically when he entered.
“What in the blue heck is going on here?” Mr. Humphley demanded. “Where is Mona?”
“I'm right here!” She waved from the cash register.
“Where's your cashier?”
“I'm over here, sir,” Jason said.
“What are you doing sitting at a table, kid?”
“Signing autographs, sir.”
“Autographs?” Mr. Humphley glared around at the teenagers packing the restaurant.
“Isn't it great?” Mona asked. “He draws a huge crowd every night. He's the guitarist for the hottest band on Earth!”
“I don't care if he's Elvis Aaron Presley! If he's on my payroll, he works. He doesn't sit around on his fanny!” Mr. Humphley approached Jason, glaring. “Got that, kid? Back to work!”
“Most of these customers just came to see me,” Jason said, and twenty teenagers shouted their agreement.
“This is a family restaurant!” Mr. Humphley said. “It's not a disco for teenyboppers!”
“What's a disco for teenyboppers?” Jason asked.
“Get back to work or get out of here!”
“Fine.” Jason grabbed the slawburger hat from his table and threw it into the crowd, who screamed and tore it to shreds. “I'm so sick of saying 'hold the slaw.' Nobody likes the slaw. It tastes like shredded garbage. Why don't you just take the slaw off the menu?”
“You're fired!” Mr. Humphley barked. “Don't show your face in here again!”
Jason pulled off the red Buddy McSlawburger's apron, tossed it on the floor, and walked away through the cheering crowd, most of whom turned to follow him out.
“Isn't he amazing?” Mona sighed at the counter.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jason left work on his bicycle, waving off the countless people who offered to give him rides. He was in no hurry to get home. A number of cars followed him until he turned away from the road, cutting across parking lots, then back yards, and then across a cow pasture and into the woods, to escape the horde of fans following him.
Finally alone in the woods, he rode slowly alongside a small creek. He was worried about how he would act around Erin now, and whether she would hate him or, worse, feel pity for him, like he was some clueless little kid.
On top of that, he had to worry about the goblin that wouldn't leave his room—Jason was constantly picking up after Grizlemor, who was a confirmed slob. And the goblin was a reminder that somewhere, there were fairies that would be very angry when they found Jason. He couldn't believe that the little people with the butterfly wings were really so dangerous, but Grizlemor seemed terrified of them.
He emerged from the woods a few streets from his house, free of his fans now. He stopped in his driveway and took out his phone.
“Yeah?” Mitch answered.
“I have to tell my parents about the concert,” Jason said. “They won't want me to go.”
“Why not? It's a major festival.”
“I'm not even supposed to be in the band!”
“You can change their minds,” Mitch said.
“How?”
“The music, man! Once they hear the music, they'll see how good it is, and then they'll let you go.”
“Don't bet on it,” Jason said.
“Just let the music convince them. You know it will.”
Jason thought about it. “I don't really feel comfortable using fairy magic on my parents.”
“Why not? You're using it on everyone else.”
“But not to trick them...”
“Tricking them into coming to our shows. Giving us their money.”
“Yeah, but that's different.” Jason rubbed his head, staring at his front door. Inside, the lights were still on, even Katie's. Everyone was still awake. “They pay to hear good music, and they hear good music. Right?”
“Right. And when your parents hear it, they'll let you do whatever you want. ‘Cause it's that good.”
Jason thought of the hordes of fans who kept showing up at work. He couldn't imagine his parents acting that way.
“Erin did it,” Mitch said.
“She did?”
“Even worked on her jer
k of a stepdad, and you know how he is. You've got the magic, so use it. I don't want you backing out of the show over this.”
“I won't,” Jason said.
“Then do what you have to.” Mitch hung up.
Jason sighed, parked his bike in the garage, and walked into the living room.
“Home a little early, aren't you, son?” his dad asked. He was in his recliner reading a Sports Illustrated, while Jason's mom watched Crazy for Ceramics! on the Home and Garden channel.
“I got fired,” Jason said, sitting down on the couch.
“What?” Jason's dad dropped the Sports Illustrated. “How did that happen?”
“Did you mouth off to somebody?” his mom asked.
“It's hard to explain,” Jason said.
“Were you late?” his dad asked. “Or did you goof up your work?”
“It's not that. We made this music video—”
“When you were supposed to be working?” Jason's mother gasped.
“Goofing off while on the clock.” His dad shook his head, looking disappointed. “What did I tell you about all that music nonsense?”
“No, we didn't make the video at work,” Jason said. “We made it a while ago. But Mitch put it on YouTube, and it's really popular now.”
“Videos of yourself? Why in the world would you want to do that?” his mother asked. “Don't you know the internet is forever?”
“Um...so anyway, Mitch made this video...well, actually Tadd made the video...no, this girl from Mitch's neighborhood actually made the first video—”
“That doesn't matter,” his dad said. “We want to know why you got fired.”
“That's why I'm telling you about the video.”
“Oh, goodness!” his mom said. “It's not...inappropriate, is it? You don't use swear words or anything?”
“No, we just play music. But it's really popular. It's been watched by a million people or more.”
“They must not have enough to do with their time,” his mom said. “These kids.”
“It's...they like the music, Mom!” Jason said. “That's why so many people watch it. And they share it on Facebook and Twitter and that other one...MySpace...so everybody who sees it shares it with more and more people. And so many people just really like the music.”
“Stop trying to change the subject,” his dad said. “We want to know about your job.”
“So a bunch of fans starting coming from all over to McSlob...McSlawburger's. And the assistant manager told me to just sit down and sign autographs. Then the owner came in and fired me for sitting there and signing autographs.”
“Aha!” his dad said. “Goofing off on the clock.”
“But I did what the assistant manager told me to do.”
“Why would anyone want your autograph?” his mom asked.
“Because, I told you, the video's a crazy big hit. In fact...we got invited to play at The Spoon and Cherry Festival. The Minneapolis Sculpture Garden.”
“Absolutely not!” his dad said.
“But Mitch already told them yes,” Jason said. “I can't let the band down.”
“You're grounded, you get fired from your job, and now you want to run around with those kids from that ridiculous band?” his dad shouted.
“Like that Erin Kavanagh girl,” his mom said. “I don't trust her, with all that wild-colored hair.”
“It's not ridiculous!” Jason said. “And Erin's not a bad person. Dad, they're paying us a thousand dollars each. For one night!”
“A thousand...” His dad's eyes went wide, but then he blinked and shook his head. “The money doesn't matter. It's the principle of the thing. We forbade you to go hanging around those bad kids, and you ignored us. And you got yourself fired.”
“But I got a better job,” Jason said. “If I worked at McSlob...the hamburger place all summer, every day, I wouldn't make a thousand dollars.” Jason didn't mention that all the money might have to go to Mitch's mom to repair her house. There would be plenty of shows ahead, the way things were going.
“I don't see why they'd pay so much money,” his dad said.
“Because everyone wants to see us! We're pretty good.” Jason hesitated, then plunged forward. “You should watch some of the videos. Both of you.”
“I don't need to see you making an idiot of yourself,” his dad said.
“We worked pretty hard on the music, Dad,” Jason said. “We've been practicing for a couple of months. I'd really like you to see it, even if it doesn't change your mind. Please?”
“Oh, George, maybe we should watch it,” Jason's mom said. “If he's worked so hard on it.”
His dad grunted. “Make it quick.”
“I'll show you.” Jason walked to the little computer table by the half-flight of steps that led up into the kitchen. He pulled up one of the videos—“First Road Out of Here”—and played it. He cranked up the speakers.
“That's too loud!” his dad said. “Turn it...down...”
Jason's parents gazed at the screen, mesmerized by the sound of the music flowing out.
“See?” Jason said. “People like it.”
His parents slowly stood and walked toward the computer, completely entranced.
“It's so sad,” his mother said.
“It's beautiful! Touching!” Jason's father choked up, clutching his heart. Jason wasn't sure his dad had ever used words like that before.
“Yeah, so you see why I need to go play this concert, right?” Jason said. “Everyone wants to see us. Mom? Dad? Are you listening?”
His parents were drifting closer and closer to the computer speakers, paying him no attention. It was creepy.
Jason paused the video. “So, can I go and play Saturday night?”
“What happened to the music?” Jason's dad asked.
“I want to hear more!” his mom said. “Right now, Jason!”
“Then tell me I can go play at the show.”
“Of course you can go and play.” Jason's father dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief. “The world shouldn't have to go without music like that.”
“Okay...great!” Jason said. “Thanks!”
“Would you push 'Play'?” his mom snapped.
“Sorry!” Jason unpaused the video. “There you go.”
He watched his parents swaying to the music. His dad put an arm around his mom, and they swayed slowly together.
“So...I'll go tell Mitch, then,” Jason said.
They didn't reply. They didn't seem to hear him.
Jason shook his head and went upstairs.
“What's that music?” Katie asked as Jason passed her door. She was stretched out on her bed, reading Darkwing Duck comic books.
“It's nothing,” Jason said.
“Nah-uh. That's your music! Everybody's talking about it.”
“Oh, everybody is, huh?”
“Everybody on the innernet!”
“Wow. Okay, see you later, Katie.” Jason walked into his room and closed the door. A new, funky smell had infused his room since Grizlemor moved in.
“I'm hungry!” the goblin said from under his bed.
Jason knelt and lifted the comforter. Grizlemor lay on his bed, looking up from his book. He was surrounded by dirty spoons and empty cans: Beanee Weenies, Spaghetti-o's, chili.
“Why don't you clean up a little?” Jason asked. He gathered the cans into the trash bag he'd left under his bed for exactly that purpose.
“Take the trash bag with you when you go get me more food,” Grizlemor said. “It's getting full.”
“With no help from you.” Jason gathered up the sticky, dirty spoons. “Don't you have anywhere to live yet?”
“Sure do. Right here.” Grizlemor patted the carpet. “Nice place, too. Smells a bit like humans, but I'm taking care of that.”
“You really are,” Jason said. He stood up.
“Don't forget my food!” Grizlemor said.
“What do you want now?”
“Saltine cracker
s, topped with grape jelly, cheese, and cod liver oil.”
“Are you kidding?” Jason asked.
“Goblins never kid about food.”
Jason sighed. He took the dirty spoons downstairs and put them in the dishwasher. He glanced at his parents, who were both hunched over the computer screen, watching another video, their eyes glazed. He didn't bother trying to hide the bizarre crackers as he put them together for the goblin. His parents didn't even seem to know he was there. They were lost in the music.
In his room, he slid the plate under the bed. He heard Grizlemor gobble them down, and he was glad he didn't have to watch—the goblin's eating habits were the most disgusting he'd ever seen.
Jason took out his phone and looked at Erin's number, which had a snapshot of her smiling face beside it. He wanted to call her, but what could he say? She'd made her feelings perfectly clear.
He threw the phone aside and took out his guitar. His hands played how he felt, the lower three strings, filling the room with sadness.
Katie wandered in, drawn by the music. She sat at the foot of his bed and listened, and she gradually began to cry. Not sobbing or screaming like she usually did, but just slowly leaking tears from her eyes while she watched Jason play.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The instrument factory sang and chimed with some of the most beautiful sounds Aoide had ever heard. They bounced and echoed pleasantly from the brick walls, where the bricks were the assorted colors of a bag of gumdrops. Sunlight poured in from the skylights and the huge arched windows, all of which were open to catch the buttery breeze from the bakery next door.
Aoide and Rhodia followed Ladon, a male fairy with long green hair, a golden nose ring, and a serpent tattoo snaking up his neck. He had dragonfly-style wings.
“We've got everything you need,” Ladon said. “Visit the luthiers up here—” He pointed to where several fairies carved the pieces of a violin, working with slow, painstaking care. One of them had a violin string stretched taut between tall, glowing geodes. She sang a single long note to vibrate the string while it soaked in the pulsing light of the magic stones. Much of the work took place behind a tapestry, where brightly colored smoke rolled out while the enchanters cast their secret spells.
Neus and Skezg, the faun and the ogre, dragged behind them, watching young apprentice fairies cast spells over raw boughs and limbs, recently cut from trees and still damp.
