When the song ends I think it's time to get out of there. This was too much, too disturbing on every level. But then Rowan
is singing again and there's no way I'm leaving. I barely notice when Cia and Kel come up and start pulling me away. I'm outside, blinking in the sunshine, before I come back to the present.
“Hurry up, Jay! We're going to be late!”
“Huh?”
“Man, what's the matter with you? You look like you're high. You haven't been smoking up, have you?”
“What? No. What are you talking about?”
“Forget it. Let's just get in the car.”
So we get in the car and we're almost back to our school when we get pulled over by a cop.
The cop is wearing one of those rock-hard faces as he asks for Don's driver's license. Don is shaking and stuttering. We forgot about hiding in the backseat.
“You are aware that your novice license allows only
one
non-family passenger, are you not?” The cop's tone is nasty.
“Yessir. I am. I guess I forgot. It was just a short drive, doing a favor for my friends here...”
“Too bad your friends aren't doing you any favors.” The cop shakes his head like he's disgusted.
“It's my fault,” I blurt, but he cuts me off.
“Was I talking to you, mister?”
“No, sir.”
“I didn't think so. Now you kids just sit right there. I've got some writing to do.” He pulls out a pad of paper, slowly finds a pen and clicks it open. Then he fumbles around trying to open up the pad, rubs his hand along his jaw, stares off into space. We all slump down in our seats. We are so busted. This, plus there is no way we're going to be back at school on time.
When the cop is finally done writing, he informs Don that his license will be suspended for one month. The details about that will be sent by mail. Then he tells the rest of us to get out of the car. “Have a nice walk,” he says.
Kel, Cia and I get out of the car. Don has his head down on the steering wheel. “Man,” I say, “I'm really sorry. Really sorry, Don.”
Don doesn't look up. He mumbles something I can't hear. I look at the cop, who has his arms folded across his chest, watching. “Please, officer. It was my idea. I asked him to do it and it was just a five-minute ride for...a school project.”
The cop says nothing.
“It's not like he was speeding or anything. Don's a good driver, really careful. And I swear we won't ever do this again.”
Still the cop says nothing. I feel like such a jerk. “Isn't there anything we can do?” I plead.
He laughs. Then, “Maybe there is something you can do. You seem sincere about this, and I'm in a good mood. How about you sing me a song and I'll let your buddy off with a warning.”
He doesn't think I'll do it, I can tell. He figures maybe I'll just get mad and mouth him off or I'll slink away. But there's no way I'm going to let Don down, not if I can help it. I straighten my shoulders and take a breath.
Cia hisses, “Don't sing âYou're Dead'!”
She has a point. So what, then? And the next thing I know I'm singing, “The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round...” The cop bursts out laughing. Kel, Cia and Don are all staring at me like I've lost it. I can't believe I'm doing this either, but I am. I get through the first verse, go into another one about the driver on the bus going up and down, and the cop starts waving his hands.
“Okay, okay. Enough.” He turns to Don and says, “Would you mind handing me that notice?”
Don is grinning like a guy who just got away from a firing squad. When he gets the ticket back, he holds it up to show us. Written in large letters across the paper is the word “Warning.”
“Thanks, man,” I say to the cop.
“Yeah, thanks a lot, officer, sir,” Don says.
The cop gives him one more stare down. “It won't happen again, right?”
Don says, “Uh-uh, no way.” And the cop gets back in his patrol car and that's that.
The other three turn and look at me.
“What?” I say.
“The Wheels on the Bus?” Kel snorts. Then they're all laughing.
“So I couldn't think of anything and then a bus drove by...” They aren't listening. They just laugh harder. “Forget it,” I tell them and start walking toward the school.
Kel and Cia follow behind, singing “The Wheels on the Bus” the whole way back.
Not that our troubles are over. We're late, and Cia's teacher is one of those who won't let anyone into class after the bell. Cia doesn't manage to be the one to answer the phone call to her house later that afternoon. Her mom gets the automated message. “Your son or daughter had one or more unexplained absences from school today. If you were not aware of this absence, please discuss this with your son or daughter.”
So Mrs. Stanton discusses it by grounding Cia for two weeks.
“What are we going to do?” Cia moans.
“I don't know. Do you think your mom would listen to me if I talked to her?”
“I doubt it. But you can try. Maybe you could sing âThe Wheelsâ'”
“Shut up,” I say. “That's not going to happen again. Ever.”
“So what then? We're going to miss the battle?”
There is no way I want to miss the battle. Not this time. “You don't think you could sneak out?”
“Oh, yeah, right,” she says. “I'm going to sneak out with a drum set.”
“Okay. I guess I'll talk to your mom.”
I bring Kel along for support, but he turns out to be pretty useless. He just sits on the couch in the Stantons' living room with his long limbs folded up in odd angles and says nothing.
“Hi, Mrs. Stanton.” I pause and clear my throat. She's watching me like an ostrich. I once met this ostrich at a zoo, and it had a real mean stare. There were signs on the pen,
Warning! I Bite.
Trust me, you don't
want to mess with an ostrich, but right now I have to. I say, “You know we've been working really hard to get ready for our next show.”
Adults always like talking about hard work.
“If you call making a bunch of noise hard work, then I guess you've done that,” she says.
Clearly, that line isn't going to do it. “Well, we really appreciate you letting us use your garage for practice.”
Gratitude is good, right? They like that.
Mrs. Stanton rolls her eyes. “It's about time you kids showed some gratitude.”
Wow, she's really tough. Cia must have got that from her.
“Oh, yes, ma'am. We are very thankful.” Can I suck up, or what?
“If that were true, you wouldn't be smoking down there.”
I blink a couple of times to make sure I don't look at Cia. “Well, Mrs. Stanton, I can promise you, we won't ever smoke in your garage again.” Now I look at Cia. She sticks her tongue out.
Mrs. Stanton sniffs. “You're saying you promise?”
“Yes. For sure. We promise.”
“Good. I'm going to hold you to it.”
I think I've made some progress here. “No worries, Mrs. Stanton. The thing is, we were wondering if you might let Cia off her grounding for the night of the contest. Please. Just for that one night. It's really important.”
Mrs. Stanton narrows her eyes. If we were in a Western movie right now, I'd be diving for cover. “Hmph. If it was so important, maybe Alicia should have thought of that before she cut class again.”
“The thing is, that was a mistake. Sort of an accident. Cia wasn't trying to cut class, she was just a little late. And it was my fault. We got held up at lunchtime...”
“You got held up? What are you talking about?”
“I mean we were delayed. We were in this situation.” I'm talking really fast now. “It's not important. But what I was thinking
was maybe we could do something else to make it up.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like maybe we could clean your garage for you.”
I hear Cia and Kel gasp. I ignore them. I didn't warn them about this. It just came to me, in the moment.
Mrs. Stanton has a gleam in her eye. “You're willing to clean the garage? Really clean it?”
“You bet. We'll do a real good job.”
She grins and looks at each of us, one by one. “It's a deal. You know, I might have let her off in exchange for weeding the flower bed. I do understand how much you kids want to win that contest.”
Man.
“You and your big mouth, Jay.” Cia isn't happy with me.
“Too right,” Kel grunts. He's wrestling with a large hunk of plywood. We have to move it so we can get at the fifty cans of old paint we're supposed to haul away.
“What about the battle?” I ask. “We get to go, don't we?”
They don't say anything, not out loud. But Cia mutters stuff like, “Whatever. Could have been weeds. Way easier than this.”
I ignore her. I have something else to think about while I operate a broom. I had this dream last night and I can't shake it. It was all mixed up, the way dreams are, but the part I remember most clearly is that I was a midget. Maybe a dwarf. Anyway, I was small but not a kid, and I was talking to a giant guitar. Then the guitar morphed into a skeleton and started laughing and chanting, “Raynor, Raynor.” I woke up sweating and hardly slept again for the rest of the night.
What does it mean? Am I so spooked about how good Indigo Daze is that I feel like a midget compared to them? And why did the guitar turn into a skeleton? What's that about?
And then it hits me. The girl buried in the graveyard, her last name was Raynor too. Just like Rowan's. I stand still to think about this. That sad song Rowan sang, about goodbye. The other kids in the gym crying. They knew. The song was about her sister dying.
I want to throw the broom across the garage and go find Rowan right now. I
want to talk to her, tell her...What? That I understand? Only how can I really understand? Or maybe I do because she made me feel what she felt when she sang, didn't she? So that's what I should tell her, that she gave me something. How can a guy just come right out and say that to a girl? I could try. I could walk up to her and say I think she's really talented and maybe she and I could get together some time to talk about music. Then we'd go for coffee and sit beside each other in a booth and we'd connect...
“Hey, Jay. Are you going to sweep with that broom or make out with it?” Smartass Kel.
I swing around with the idea of pasting him with the broom, only I don't because there's Amy. She's standing in the doorway with her big lips pouting. She says, “Kel, babe? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Kel ducks behind the plywood. I can't believe he did that. It only takes him a second to figure out that isn't going to
work, because his long face shows itself again, bit by bit. First the forehead, then the eyes, followed by the nose and mouth. He keeps his chin hidden.
“Amy,” he says.“No.”
“What?” Amy whines. She takes a step forward.
“I don't want to talk to you. I'm busy.”
“But Kel! It's important. I really need to tell you something.”
Kel looks like he may be weakening. A wrinkle appears on his brow. But no, he's shaking his head. “Amy, I told you. We're done. End of story. There's nothing to talk about. And stop calling my house all the time. My mom's getting mad.”
“So why don't you answer the phone sometimes?”
Kel just glares at her.
Amy starts pleading in this high-pitched voice. “Listen, Kel, it was all a mistake, okay? I didn't mean whatever I said. I think I was just pmsing, all right? You know I'd do anything for you, Kel. Just give me another chance.”
This is embarrassing. I'd even feel sorry for Amy if I thought she meant what she was saying. Which I don't. I dart a glance at Cia and she's got ostrich eyes. Kel looks like he wants to hide behind the plywood again, but instead he steps right out. “Amy, I've heard all this before. You say crazy stuff, then you say you're sorry. I'm not falling for that again. Just get it through your head, it's over. Finished.”
“Fine!” Amy hisses. “Have it your way, Kel. For now. But we are going to get back together. You need me too you know!” She spins around and stomps out.
We're all breathing a sigh of relief when her head pops in again, like the creature in an
Alien
movie, scaring the crap out of us. “Just you wait and see!” she yells. Then her head snaps back out and we stand there, holding our breath.
Finally Kel says, “Is she gone?”
I inch toward the door and peer out. “All clear,” I say.
“Man,” Kel moans. “What did I see in her?”
“You're asking us?” Cia doesn't really expect an answer, but Kel gives her one.
“I wish someone would've told me.”
“Told you what?” I ask. “That's not something anyone else can tell you about. Love is blind, right?”
“I never loved her,” he says. “Okay, maybe I thought I did, for a while. But now I feel like an idiot. It's so obvious what a cow she is.”
Cia pats his shoulder. “Don't worry about it, Kel. We're all human.”
I don't tell them what I thought about Amy being an alien.
It takes our entire Saturday to clean that garage, but when we're done we have to admit, we like the results. It smells better for one thing. We found a big sack of rotten, moldy potatoes in one corner, and getting rid of them helped a lot. The light is better too. We discovered a window behind a bunch of old cardboard and cleaned it off. Actual sunlight comes into the place now. The last thing Cia
does is dust off her drum set, and then she sits down and lays out a fast pattern, goes heavy on the bass and finishes with a cymbal crash.
“Hey, you know what?” Kel says. “I think the sound is better in here.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It does sound sharper.”