“The big thing there.” She tapped the glass. “I can put it in the freezer.”
“Of course. The roast.” Sam lifted it out and slapped it down on a sheet of waxed butcher’s paper. “You realize it’s, like, twelve dollars a pound or whatever?”
“Put it on my tab.”
They moved on to the dairy case. And there was Panda, standing nervously and holding his bat at the ready.
“You again?” Sam snapped.
Panda didn’t answer.
Astrid screamed.
Sam turned, saw just a flash of Drake Merwin before something hit the side of his head. He staggered into a shelf of Parmesan cheese, knocking the green bottles everywhere.
He saw a bat swinging, tried to block it, but his head was swimming and his eyes would not focus.
His knees collapsed and he hit the floor.
As if from far off he saw kids moving quickly, four or five, maybe. Two grabbed Astrid and held her hands behind her.
There was a girl’s voice, one Sam didn’t recognize until he heard Panda say, “Diana.”
“Bag his hands,” Diana said.
Sam resisted but he didn’t have control of his muscles. Something went over his left hand, then his right. Strong fingers held him securely.
When he could focus at last he stared stupidly at what had been done. His wrists were lashed together with a plastic tie. And around each hand was a deflated Mylar balloon, duct-taped in place.
Diana Ladris knelt down, bringing her face to his level. “It’s Mylar. It’s a reflective surface. So I wouldn’t try to turn on your mojo, Sam: you’d fry your own hands.”
“What are you doing?” Sam slurred.
“Your brother wants to have a nice conversation with you.”
That made no sense and Sam wasn’t sure he’d heard right. The only person he ever called “brother” was Quinn. “Let Astrid go,” Sam said.
Drake moved past Diana and kicked Sam onto his back, legs twisted beneath him. Drake stood over him and pushed the end of his bat down against Sam’s Adam’s apple. The same move he had used on Orc the night before. “If you’re a good little boy, we’ll be nice to your girlfriend and her retarded brother. If you cause trouble, I’ll mess her up.”
Little Pete had begun his windup to a full howl.
“Shut that kid up or I’ll shut him up for you,” Drake snapped at Astrid. Then, to Howard, Panda, and the others, he said, “Grab the big hero here and throw him in a grocery cart.”
Sam was lifted and dropped into a cart.
Howard was the one pushing. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. School Bus Sam is Grocery Cart Sam now, huh?”
Drake leaned over and the last thing Sam saw was a strip of duct tape coming down over his eyes.
They pushed him down the highway in the grocery cart. They pushed him through town. He couldn’t see but he could feel the bumps. And he could hear the laughter and taunts of Howard and Panda.
Sam tried to make sense of the route, tried to figure out where they were going. After what seemed like a long time he could feel that they were going uphill.
Howard began to complain. “Man, somebody help me push this thing. Yo, Freddie, man, help me out.”
The cart accelerated for a while, then slowed again. Sam could hear heavy breathing.
“Get some of these people just standing around,” Freddie demanded.
“Yeah. Hey, you: come here and help me push this cart.”
“No, man. No way.”
Quinn. Sam’s heart leaped. Quinn would help.
The cart came to a stop.
Howard said, “What, you afraid your boy here will find out what you’ve been up to?”
“Shut up, man,” Quinn said.
“Sammy, who do you think gave us the heads-up you were going shopping with Astrid? Huh?”
“Shut up, Howard,” Quinn said, sounding desperate.
“Who do you think told us about your powers, Sam?”
“I didn’t know they were going to do this,” Quinn said. “I didn’t know, brah.”
Sam found he wasn’t even surprised. But still, Quinn’s betrayal hurt more than anything Drake had done to him. He wanted to yell at Quinn. He wanted to call him a Judas. But yelling, shouting, crying would make him seem weak.
“I didn’t know, brother, I’m telling you the truth,” Quinn said.
“Yeah. You thought maybe we just wanted to hold a meeting of the Sam Temple fan club,” Howard said, and laughed at his own wit. “Now grab on and push.”
The cart started moving again.
Sam felt sick inside. Quinn had betrayed him. Astrid was with Drake and Diana. And there was nothing he could do.
It seemed to take forever. But finally they stopped.
Without warning the cart tipped over and Sam landed on pavement. He rolled over onto his hands and knees and tried to surreptitiously scrape the Mylar against the concrete.
The kick to his ribs knocked the wind out of him.
“Hey,” Quinn yelled. “You don’t have to be kicking him.”
Hands grabbed Sam by the arms and then he heard Orc’s voice. “You make any trouble, I’ll beat you down.”
They marched him, stumbling, up a set of steps. There was a door, large from the sound of it. Then their feet echoed on polished linoleum.
They paused. Another door opened. Sam was marched through. Orc kicked him in the back of the knees and he fell facedown.
Orc straddled his back, grabbed his hair, and pulled his head back sharply.
“Of course. The roast.” Sam lifted it out and slapped it down on a sheet of waxed butcher’s paper. “You realize it’s, like, twelve dollars a pound or whatever?”
“Put it on my tab.”
They moved on to the dairy case. And there was Panda, standing nervously and holding his bat at the ready.
“You again?” Sam snapped.
Panda didn’t answer.
Astrid screamed.
Sam turned, saw just a flash of Drake Merwin before something hit the side of his head. He staggered into a shelf of Parmesan cheese, knocking the green bottles everywhere.
He saw a bat swinging, tried to block it, but his head was swimming and his eyes would not focus.
His knees collapsed and he hit the floor.
As if from far off he saw kids moving quickly, four or five, maybe. Two grabbed Astrid and held her hands behind her.
There was a girl’s voice, one Sam didn’t recognize until he heard Panda say, “Diana.”
“Bag his hands,” Diana said.
Sam resisted but he didn’t have control of his muscles. Something went over his left hand, then his right. Strong fingers held him securely.
When he could focus at last he stared stupidly at what had been done. His wrists were lashed together with a plastic tie. And around each hand was a deflated Mylar balloon, duct-taped in place.
Diana Ladris knelt down, bringing her face to his level. “It’s Mylar. It’s a reflective surface. So I wouldn’t try to turn on your mojo, Sam: you’d fry your own hands.”
“What are you doing?” Sam slurred.
“Your brother wants to have a nice conversation with you.”
That made no sense and Sam wasn’t sure he’d heard right. The only person he ever called “brother” was Quinn. “Let Astrid go,” Sam said.
Drake moved past Diana and kicked Sam onto his back, legs twisted beneath him. Drake stood over him and pushed the end of his bat down against Sam’s Adam’s apple. The same move he had used on Orc the night before. “If you’re a good little boy, we’ll be nice to your girlfriend and her retarded brother. If you cause trouble, I’ll mess her up.”
Little Pete had begun his windup to a full howl.
“Shut that kid up or I’ll shut him up for you,” Drake snapped at Astrid. Then, to Howard, Panda, and the others, he said, “Grab the big hero here and throw him in a grocery cart.”
Sam was lifted and dropped into a cart.
Howard was the one pushing. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. School Bus Sam is Grocery Cart Sam now, huh?”
Drake leaned over and the last thing Sam saw was a strip of duct tape coming down over his eyes.
They pushed him down the highway in the grocery cart. They pushed him through town. He couldn’t see but he could feel the bumps. And he could hear the laughter and taunts of Howard and Panda.
Sam tried to make sense of the route, tried to figure out where they were going. After what seemed like a long time he could feel that they were going uphill.
Howard began to complain. “Man, somebody help me push this thing. Yo, Freddie, man, help me out.”
The cart accelerated for a while, then slowed again. Sam could hear heavy breathing.
“Get some of these people just standing around,” Freddie demanded.
“Yeah. Hey, you: come here and help me push this cart.”
“No, man. No way.”
Quinn. Sam’s heart leaped. Quinn would help.
The cart came to a stop.
Howard said, “What, you afraid your boy here will find out what you’ve been up to?”
“Shut up, man,” Quinn said.
“Sammy, who do you think gave us the heads-up you were going shopping with Astrid? Huh?”
“Shut up, Howard,” Quinn said, sounding desperate.
“Who do you think told us about your powers, Sam?”
“I didn’t know they were going to do this,” Quinn said. “I didn’t know, brah.”
Sam found he wasn’t even surprised. But still, Quinn’s betrayal hurt more than anything Drake had done to him. He wanted to yell at Quinn. He wanted to call him a Judas. But yelling, shouting, crying would make him seem weak.
“I didn’t know, brother, I’m telling you the truth,” Quinn said.
“Yeah. You thought maybe we just wanted to hold a meeting of the Sam Temple fan club,” Howard said, and laughed at his own wit. “Now grab on and push.”
The cart started moving again.
Sam felt sick inside. Quinn had betrayed him. Astrid was with Drake and Diana. And there was nothing he could do.
It seemed to take forever. But finally they stopped.
Without warning the cart tipped over and Sam landed on pavement. He rolled over onto his hands and knees and tried to surreptitiously scrape the Mylar against the concrete.
The kick to his ribs knocked the wind out of him.
“Hey,” Quinn yelled. “You don’t have to be kicking him.”
Hands grabbed Sam by the arms and then he heard Orc’s voice. “You make any trouble, I’ll beat you down.”
They marched him, stumbling, up a set of steps. There was a door, large from the sound of it. Then their feet echoed on polished linoleum.
They paused. Another door opened. Sam was marched through. Orc kicked him in the back of the knees and he fell facedown.
Orc straddled his back, grabbed his hair, and pulled his head back sharply.
