A Frenzy of Sparks: A Novel

by Kristin Fields

  “Hey, you,” he called over the counter. “I’m gonna give you my order. You gotta get the whole thing right, no mistakes, and no writing it down, or it’s on the house.”

  “That’s your rule, Joe. Try telling that to Lou, and see how fast the door hits you on the way out.” Lorraine waved her hand, waving off his nonsense. “But go ahead. This one’s smart. Make it extra hard. And if she gets it right, maybe you’ll even tip us for once.”

  Cheap Joe laughed, a deep belly chuckle, one eye squinting more than the other. Gia wondered when he’d last washed that shirt as he rattled off a bunch of biscotti that sounded exactly the same to Gia. Almond this. Chocolate almond that. Hazelnut. Anisette. All before Gia had even folded the box or put on a fresh pair of gloves, but she filled it anyway and put it in front of Cheap Joe to inspect.

  “You missed the—”

  “Nope.” Gia cut him off and tied the box shut. “I didn’t miss anything, ’cause I’ll bet you can’t even remember what you said. They’re all good, and you know it.”

  Lorraine’s eyes twinkled in a laugh, but she held it back until Cheap Joe laughed and took out his wallet, paid for all the cookies, and even threw a few coins in the tip jar as Gia put the sloppily tied box into a bag.

  “See you next week,” he called out as the door chimed, smiling the whole way out.

  “See?” Lorraine said, crossing her arms over her apron. “It’s not hard.”

  “She’s cute, your cousin,” another counter girl said to Lorraine. “Like a mini Audrey Hepburn.”

  “Right?” Lorraine said. “I wish she’d let me give her bangs.”

  The girls chattered. An oven door opened and closed while cookies cooled on racks and people all over the neighborhood ate their treats with tea and coffee, alone in their quiet moments, or carried cakes to relatives’ houses, and Gia was a part of it all just by being here. Gia smiled, and it glinted back in a hundred mirror angles, herself to infinity, as another mixer whirled to life in the basement and a few stray seagulls raced for the bay.

  The parking lot behind Pathmark was empty except for one lonely car in the corner and the last employee, pushing a line of shopping carts back to the store. The streetlights made everything a hazy orange. When the carts were back in front of the store, the guy lit a cigarette, skulked back to his car in the dark corner, and sped off as Lorraine and Ray changed seats. Everyone made a big show of buckling up; they never did the rest of the time, but Lorraine had never driven before.

  Gia was squashed in the middle between Leo and Tommy because she was the smallest and both of them had to sit with their legs wide open. Tommy wouldn’t stop humming the stupid Oscar Mayer Wiener song under his breath because he thought it was hilarious.

  “Would you shut the hell up?” Leo snapped finally, reaching past Gia to knock Tommy’s head.

  “Shut the hell up with what?” Tommy swiped back.

  “Knock it off—I’m in the middle, and you know exactly what, you dumb moron,” Gia said nastily.

  “It stinks in here,” Ray announced as he slid into the passenger side.

  “Course it does. Look who’s here,” Lorraine said. “What’d we take them for?”

  “Because who’d want to miss this?” Leo asked. Lorraine met his eye through the rearview mirror. “The day Lorraine killed the Hornet.”

  “The Hornet’s on its last leg anyway. She’d be doing me a favor,” Ray mumbled, taking a half-empty bottle of rum from the glove compartment and passing it around. Even Gia took a sip. Lorraine waved it away, too focused on where everything was, snapping the headlights on and off and then the windshield wipers, adjusting the mirrors, turning the radio off, giving them a smile in the rearview mirror when she was good to go.

  “OK, we’re gonna do this slow and easy,” Ray said. Lorraine was so small in the front seat, the wheel enormous. Ray took off his sweatshirt and rolled it into a donut for Lorraine to sit on, boosting her a little higher, and checked her foot on the brake.

  “All of you in the back, keep your mouths shut so she can focus. If you get annoying, you can sit on the curb, you hear?”

  Leo snorted, took a swig from the bottle. “What? Like lawn gnomes?”

  “Yeah, but dumber,” Tommy mumbled.

  “Ten and two,” Ray told Lorraine. “No one drives like that, but that’s how you learn.”

  Everyone shut up as she put her hands on the wheel.

  “OK,” he said. “So the motor’s gonna spin, but you need to transfer that energy from the motor to the wheels. That’s RPM for those of you in the back with half a brain. That’s where the transmission comes in. The gears have to come up to speed slowly, which is what you need the clutch for. The clutch eases gears and works them up to speed without grinding . . .”

  Ray went on and on. The only one who didn’t look dead bored was Lorraine, but that was because she was about to do the fun part and the rest of them were shoved in the back, listening to Ray drone. Blah, blah, blah. Don’t burn out the clutch.

  “Can we just move yet? C’mon.” Gia crossed her arms over her sticky T-shirt.

  “Yeah, move it.” Leo passed Gia the bottle of rum, stuck out his tongue.

  “A’right, first thing,” Ray said to Lorraine. “You’re in neutral, so nothing’s doing. Put your left foot on the brake—good. Now take your right foot, and push the clutch all the way down.”

  Ray changed the gear into first.

  “Don’t worry about the gears right now; just move your feet the way I tell you. Now, left foot off the brake, and let your right foot up slowly. Very slowly. OK, now add a little gas.”

  The car crept forward, and Gia squealed a little bit, bouncing in her seat, because Lorraine was doing it—she was driving! As soon as Lorraine could really drive, they could do girls’ trips to Manhattan or Long Island and get egg creams and real bagels from Brooklyn. Or maybe even Florida like Lorraine wanted, where they’d get tons of pecan logs without sharing with the boys.

  “Try a little faster,” Ray said, ready on the gear-shifting thing.

  “She sees the pole, right?” Tommy said.

  “Yes, Tommy, I see the damn pole.” Lorraine eased the gas, but the car shot forward. The car slammed to a stop. Lorraine squealed. Leo cracked up.

  “OK, that’s OK,” Ray said. “You stalled. That’s what it feels like. Let’s try it again.”

  “Who taught you all this?” Gia asked, forgetting to be quiet. “Oh, sorry.”

  “Your father,” Ray said without looking up, his hand still on the gear switch. When? Where? Gia had so many more questions now, but Ray’s tone implied it wasn’t time to ask.

  They were quiet as Lorraine practiced with the brake and the clutch, Ray shifting gears, the engine churning away inside, occasionally stalling. The whole thing was actually rather boring. Leo nudged at Gia’s leg, at Tommy’s, pointed to his face, held up a finger that told them to wait for it. The car was dead silent beyond the hum of the motor, until Leo opened his mouth wide and let out a yodel that startled Lorraine and stopped the car dead, shooting them all forward.

  Ray whirled, red faced and spitting, “Out! You’re gonna make her burn out the engine. Damn morons.”

  They spilled out. Even Gia was laughing. They walked faster than the car had even been moving toward the curb and settled down, same as in the car, with Gia in the middle.

  “You want?” Tommy asked Leo, holding out pieces of paper with yellow smiley faces.

  “What is that?” Gia asked.

  “Not for you.” Leo took one and put it on his tongue. “You wouldn’t like it.”

  “He’s right,” Tommy said, ripping a square for himself. “Unless you want to try it.”

  “But what is it?”

  “Acid,” Tommy said. “Makes you see stuff. Colors, sounds.”

  “Monsters,” Leo added.

  “No, thank you,” Gia said. That did not sound fun, but these two idiots had the smiley faces on their tongues now. Between this and the stuff in
the basement, Gia wondered sadly why they couldn’t just be together anymore without needing to add something to it, if this was how it would always be. It was lonely being the odd one out.

  The Hornet stopped, started, bounced forward, like a bumper car in a jam.

  “She’s not very good at this, is she?” Gia said.

  “No shit,” Leo said. And suddenly they were hysterical, even Gia, rocking back and forth, faces red, kicking at the pavement until her sides hurt and the car came to a final stop. Ray and Lorraine switched sides, waving for them to hop back in. Poor Lorraine. Good thing for automatics.

  Up ahead, a car bounced into the parking lot, coming in fast and pulling a donut that left tire marks on the concrete. This was the lot for doing donuts in the snow, every so often sliding into one of the light poles if they hit the ice wrong. A smoking car in the snow would end things for the day, and everyone would go back to snowball fights on the block, sleds on the side of the highway.

  “Is something burning?” Gia asked.

  “Yeah, dummy. Look at the rubber.” Leo passed her the rum. It was sweet and warm on her tongue, not unlike a flat Coca-Cola.

  “Not the rubber, idiot. Something else.” Gia looked around. “Yeah, look.” She hit his arm, pointing back toward Cross Bay, where a thick plume of smoke rose in the air, not like the slow gray smoke when a pope died but fast and heavy.

  “Something’s on fire,” she said. The boys turned to look. The car at the other side of the parking lot stopped, honked.

  “Leo,” Tommy said, blinking real fast, his voice suddenly serious. Gia wasn’t sure if he was seeing something that wasn’t there or if the car had spooked him.

  “Oh shit,” Leo said, standing, dusting the curb from his jeans. Ray looked up from the driver’s side, standing over the open door.

  “Who’s that?” Gia whispered. The car was dark except for two headlights on the pavement.

  “Antonio,” Tommy whispered back. And someone else. Gia forced back a shudder. It was the same man from the canal. What was he doing here? The two men got out of the car and leaned against it as the boys walked toward them, and they did look like boys in comparison, playing at Hells Angels with their mismatched heights and slouchy T-shirts, compared to Antonio’s crisp shirt, rolled-up sleeves, shiny shoes, hair gleaming in the streetlight.

  Gia got in the back seat, safer with the car armor around her, but they were trapped regardless because Lorraine could not drive this car if need be. Lorraine was quiet in the front seat, watching the boys huddle in a circle, as Antonio threw his arm around Ray and laughed at something he said. So quiet Gia slid over the seat and sat as close to Lorraine as she could.

  “What are they doing?” Gia whispered. The air freshener on the rearview mirror stank of lemon. Gia snatched it down and flung it in the glove compartment.

  “I don’t know,” Lorraine whispered. “But I wish we weren’t here for it.”

  “I won’t talk back this time,” Gia promised.

  “Good,” Lorraine said, but the word fell flat because the boys, all of them, were coming toward the car now, spread out in the empty parking lot, looking like the cover of an album with the lights making shadows on their faces. Antonio gestured for Lorraine to roll down the window, and she did, slowly cranking in circles as Ray slid into the driver’s side, Leo and Tommy in the back.

  Antonio leaned into the open window, filling the space with the brightness of his shirt, the smell of Old Spice aftershave, two tan arms crossed on the ledge. He was dark angles up close, harsh stubble on his cheeks and chin, cigarettes and peppermint gum.

  “Hey,” he said, nodding at Lorraine. She gave the tiniest smile. “What do you say you and me go for dinner one night? Get to know each other a little better.”

  “Ray,” Gia whispered, hoping to distract from whatever was about to happen. “Something’s on fire.”

  “Oh, you saw that?” Antonio smirked, amused, pointing off to where the smoke was still rising on Cross Bay, where sirens were now whirling in the background. “Perceptive, this one,” he said to the other guy, who Gia couldn’t see over the car frame. Just shirt and a leather belt. “You gotta watch that,” he said. “Too much noticing isn’t a good thing, you know what I mean?”

  Gia looked at her lap, running her thumbs in circles. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

  “I’m teasing,” he said. “Hey, kid, it’s all right. I’m only teasing. Lighten up.”

  Gia stared at him, wondering if he’d just started that fire in his nice shoes and clean white shirt. If he had punched through the glass of some store and poured lighter fluid on everything inside, struck a match like her father did to light the barbecue, then just walked right out, driven over here, and asked Lorraine on a date, all in ten minutes. Was that even possible?

  Antonio turned back to Lorraine.

  “So Lorraine, lovely Lorraine, what do you say?”

  Lorraine straightened her skirt, smoothed a crease in the red fabric.

  “OK,” she said.

  “OK, she says.” Antonio smiled, pushed a strand of Lorraine’s dark hair behind her ear, thumbed her chin to lift her face a little higher, practically breathing right on her. Gia was disgusted. He couldn’t just touch her like that, like they’d known each other forever. He didn’t even notice that Lorraine was barely breathing, her eyes on her lap, digging her thumbnail into the fleshy spot of her hand so hard it left a half moon.

  “Set it up,” he said, pointing at Ray, before turning back to Lorraine. “Wear something pretty.”

  He flipped his keys to the other guy, and the two of them walked back to their car on the other side of the lot. Ray looked at Lorraine, but she stared into her lap, silent as hell, so quiet it was more unnerving than Antonio had been in the window, and they weren’t even done with him. It was only just starting.

  Ray reached over Gia’s lap for Lorraine’s hand, squeezed it, and drove off.

  The car ride home was silent. They drove past what was left of the bagel shop, firefighters spraying powerful water into the busted-out glass.

  “They’re missing more than the hole in the middle now,” Leo joked, but no one laughed.

  Ray parked, and everyone hopped out. Lorraine slammed her door extra hard.

  “I hope it’s worth it,” she threw over her shoulder before turning toward her house, where the porch light was off and Aunt Diane’s TV shows flickered inside.

  Chapter Eight

  “It’s kind of peach.” Lorraine held the nail polish bottle up to the sun. “Or pinkish.”

  They were sitting on the porch with a bottle of Cutex and cotton swabs between them, filing their toenails. School was two weeks in, but it wasn’t part of the regular routine yet. The afternoons were still endless, the sun burning and burning.

  “I drew blood today,” Lorraine said. “They let me do it alone. It was a weird feeling, tapping into a vein. All I kept thinking about was the blood flowing through, you know? How important it is, carrying oxygen and stuff people need to every part of their body. Like really need. Not just think they do like clothes or cars. I did a good one too. No bruising after.”

  “It wasn’t gross?” Gia asked. “All that blood spraying around?”

  “Don’t be dramatic. And I put an IV in too. She looked so much better in an hour. It was amazing.”

  “Like finding a baby bird and putting it back in its nest?”

  “Sure,” Lorraine said. “I guess it’s kind of like that.”

  If it lives, Gia thought but didn’t say. Same as the old people Lorraine worked with.

  “And you’re being ridiculous.” Lorraine rolled her eyes as Gia adjusted the swimming clip on her nose to keep the nail polish stink out. Nail polish was pretty, but it was made of chemicals. But at least painting toes meant she didn’t have to help with dinner. “Remind me I have your envelope from Lou inside. It’s light ’cause you only did one shift. It gets better.”

  “OK.” Gia sighed. The two twenties from Ray were under
her mattress, the weight pressing them crisp and new. It’d been so easy. The next Friday the dock had been much the same, only Leo had done jumping jacks for hours. Of course it’s good stuff, Ray had said. Look at him go.

  Gia opened the bottle of base coat as Ray came out. Summer had changed him. He walked taller, his hands in his new jeans’ pockets, dye turning his skin blue, strutting past the trash cans lined on the curb as if giving them all the finger. He took his time walking. Endless time. Endless opportunity. And word was out. Everyone whispered about him in the hallway.

  “Here comes the mayor,” Gia mumbled. Lorraine snickered. Across the street, Leo climbed through his window onto the oak tree with tools, legs dangling over either side of the branch, and started sawing.

  “Are we driving?” Lorraine put two hands on an imaginary steering wheel, pressed her toes to a pedal. “Yes? Yes?”

  “Friday at eight,” Ray said. “He’s picking you up Friday at eight, so be ready.”

  Lorraine stared at Ray. Everything about her was still, even her chest, where her breath should’ve been.

  “Who?” Gia blurted, looking from him to Lorraine. But she already knew. She was nauseous all over again, her clothes suddenly transparent. Gia tugged at her shorts, covering her skin, the memory of that day at the canal making her blood cold. What was worth that?

  Ray rocked from heel to toe in a pair of shoes so new the leather stank through her nose clip. He had the look he always had when he built a row of hotels on Boardwalk: the son with the future everyone had sailed across the ocean for. But there was no board to flip here, no fit to throw. It burned quietly instead.

  “Ray.” Lorraine’s voice had a quiet, pleading panic.

  “It’s done. One date. It’s good for all of us, Lorraine.”

  Moron. He’d peed his pants once when a dog had barked too close to him. Who did he think he was now?

  Lorraine huffed. She rarely cried, not even the time the car door had slammed on her finger. She’d just wrapped her good hand around the hurting one and pulled it to her chest, soothed by her own heartbeat instead of someone else to make it better. Now, she tipped her head back to the sky and closed her eyes, the sun filling her with courage.