“Look, what do we know?” he says. “We know that only one person died.”
“An indie kid.”
“Yes, an indie kid. A nice one. Who was smart and good at math. She didn’t deserve that. None of them did.”
“Unless they’re the ones who stirred all this up.”
“Even then,” Jared says, sternly. “And come on, have you seen them lately? They’re even more scared than the rest of us. And with good reason.”
I don’t say anything, but he’s probably right about that.
“And what I did find out from my grandmother–”
“You talked to your grandmother? I thought she was off in her realms, unreachable.”
“It wasn’t easy, in fact it was a huge giant pain in my ass, but what I did find out is that, when it happened before – because she was there once, remember? – this kind of big public thing meant the beginning of the end.”
I wait for him to continue. “What end?”
He shrugs. “However it’s going to be solved. However the indie kids are going to solve it.”
“If they solve it.”
“They always have.”
“Doesn’t mean they always will. Doesn’t mean people won’t get hurt before they do. Doesn’t mean more people won’t die.”
Jared pulls into a spot in the Grillers parking lot. “We may never find out what’s actually going on, Mike. It may all end with us not seeing anything else–”
“But Jared–”
“Listen to me,” he says, sounding angry. “We’ve got prom, we’ve got graduation, we’ve got the summer. Then everything changes. Are you going to live all that time until we go afraid?”
“Probably.”
“Please don’t.” He’s still weirdly angry. “Not everyone has to be the Chosen One. Not everyone has to be the guy who saves the world. Most people just have to live their lives the best they can, doing the things that are great for them, having great friends, trying to make their lives better, loving people properly. All the while knowing that the world makes no sense but trying to find a way to be happy anyway.”
He’s gripping the steering wheel, hard, and I can see light flashing from his palms. “What aren’t you telling me?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
He just sighs and the light dims. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know about the cops or the pillars of light or what the indie kids have got themselves mixed up in, but I do know this: one, they better not blow up the high school before we graduate, and two” – he holds up his palms again, they flash a little with faint light – “if anyone I care about is put in harm’s way again, there’s going to be holy hell to pay. Literally.”
And that makes me feel a little bit better.
Our shift is crazy. Tina has to be out on the floor full-time, waiting tables herself, even on what should be a slow week night. It’s like the town knows something’s happening and doesn’t want to be alone either. Mel and Henna bring in Meredith, who sits in my section this time. I take them enough cheesy toast to feed a cheesy-toast-loving sperm whale.
“How’s the tat?” I ask Henna, who answers by hugging me.
“It itches,” she says in my ear, then she leans back and looks at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Just you. Saving people.”
“So you’re not mad at me any more?”
“Who cares about mad?” she says.