then a bunch of Ishmael’s friends in the audience got up and followed Cass out of the auditorium. I glanced behind me right before we went outside, and other people in the audience, people who were totally not in on the plan, started to follow too. Exactly like Cass said they would. But yeah. None of it would have happened if I hadn’t gotten the rats to agree in the first place.
* * *
I’d managed to pull the Jeep to the side of the road so, at the very least, my brother and I weren’t facing imminent death.
“You can do this,” Ishmael said for the third time.
“I can’t,” I replied tersely. My hands gripped the steering wheel. Sweat beaded on my forehead. “Not only is it illegal for me to drive without an adult, it’s also exceedingly dangerous, being that I’ve had minimal practice and—”
“Dude,” my brother interrupted.
“What?”
“Stop using that superior voice. It’s okay to be scared.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I attempted to loosen my grip on the wheel. Pain shot through my jaw and down my neck. I was going to grind my teeth away to nothing.
“I can’t do it,” I said again, meekly.
“You can,” Ishmael insisted. “You know how to drive. It freaks you out, but you know exactly how to do it.”
“I can’t merge.”
“You won’t need to merge.”
“I can’t park.”
“We’ll find an open space for you to pull over.”
“I can’t make left turns.”
Ishmael hesitated. “We’ll deal with that when we come to it.”
I licked my lips. I took a deep breath. I glanced in the rearview mirror at the road behind me.
“I can’t,” I said.
“Gideon. Look at me.” I complied. Ishmael’s expression was earnest. “You’ve done harder stuff than drive. Way harder. Setting up everything for tonight was harder than driving. And if you don’t drive now, it’ll all be for nothing.”
He was right.
“Oz will win,” Ishmael went on. “He’ll win. Is that what you want?”
“No.”
It was the very last thing I wanted.
“Then put the Jeep in drive, and let’s get to the lava lamp.”
My hands shook. I’d only driven twice. I’d never driven in the dark. I was absolutely terrified.
But Ishmael was right. I couldn’t let Oz win.
Sometimes, no matter how terrifying a thing was, you needed to do it anyway.
I put the Jeep in drive.
“You’ve got this,” Ishmael encouraged.
Slowly, carefully, I eased my foot off the brake.
* * *
Subject #6, Arden Byrd: I stayed home that night because I couldn’t bear to see Oz. Plus things still felt a little awkward with Gideon, even though I could tell he was making an effort to be a better friend. Later, I kinda wished I had gone. I felt—I still feel—like I missed out on something important.
* * *
“I don’t mean to pressure you, dude,” Ishmael said a while later, “but if you don’t go above twenty miles an hour, we’re gonna get there too late.”
“This road is curvy,” I snapped, hunched forward in my seat. “It’s dangerous.”
“Right… It’s just, the speed limit is actually forty-five.”
“Surely, they mislabeled it.”
“Either way, isn’t going too slow kinda just as dangerous as going too fast?”
“I know the rules of the road, Ishmael!” I said.
“Okay, dude. Okay. We’ll get there when we get there.”
* * *
Subject #4, Victor Hofstadt (Father): I’m at the gym, and suddenly people start gathering around the window. I go over to see what the fuss is about. And there’s Cass Robinson, dressed as some kind of court jester, leading a line of people down the street. A couple guys go outside to ask what’s happening, and they end up joining the line. Then a few more people do. Next thing I know, I’m the only one left in the gym besides the kid behind the counter. So yeah. I went out and got in the line.
* * *
My eyes went to the clock. It was 7:00. Oswald would start in about five minutes, fashionably late as always, I presumed.
“Do you think Cass is already at the square?” Ishmael asked as the Jeep crawled along.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think the crowd is going to be really huge?”
“Ishmael. I don’t know.”
I didn’t take my eyes off the road. Though driving was getting slightly less daunting, my body was still knotted with tension. And we’d finally made it to town. Which meant stoplights and other drivers.
Though, to be fair, there were few people on the road for a Saturday night. I hoped because all of them were at the lava lamp.
* * *
Subject #16, Myrtle Johannsen