Broccoli & Broomsticks

by Jennifer Fischetto

  He raises his brow. “You just ate and you’re at Mummy’s for salad?”

  Oops, I walked right into that one. I scramble for a believable answer, but at this point, does it really matter? “Um, yeah, well, I love my veggies. I’m vegan.”

  I’ve no idea what that has to do with anything, but luckily he doesn’t push it further.

  After another moment of intense staring, he says, “Be careful out here.” Then he walks off to talk to one of his officers.

  I realize he didn’t tell me why he was looking for Zombie Sire. Does he know he’s been infected, passing on the virus to others? It doesn’t seem like he’s aware Gio’s somehow involved, but it’s not like he’d share his official information with me anyway. I’d like to ask why he’s looking for Zombie Sire, but I don’t want another mini interrogation.

  I go inside the diner and spot Davey. What is he doing back here? I sit on a stool at the counter. “Hey. I thought you worked this morning.”

  “Yeah. Someone called in sick and they asked me if I could fill in. I could use the money for college. Why are you back?” He looks behind me toward the door, as if waiting for someone else to walk in. “Are you alone?”

  “Yeah. I was bored. I figured I’d come back and hang out. The diner’s French fries are amazing.” It is only a partial lie. The French fries are heaven in my mouth.

  He chuckles and puts in an order. Then he turns to me and says, “Why don’t you grab a booth? I’m almost done here. I’ll join you, and I have something to give you.”

  Give? Like a present? I love surprises but this is beyond odd for Davey.

  “Okay.” I head to the booth Phoebe, Malik, and I shared earlier today.

  There are only two other customers seated. Both at different tables along the left wall, both dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and baseball caps, and both paying attention to their phones while they inhale cheeseburgers and fries. One wears an Atlanta Braves hat and the other one says Yankees. That guy is an out of towner. I doubt he’ll know anything. He probably wasn’t here Thursday and Friday. The other guy though…

  Before I get a chance to get up the nerve to talk to him, he signals his server, an older woman named Sara, who’s worked here for years. He slaps a few bills on the table and tips his hat to her as he walks outside.

  Sara grabs the money, quickly counts it, and smiles at me. I assume Davey told her he placed my order since she doesn’t stop. I’m surprised she doesn’t mind.

  Before she passes, I wave her over. “Hi. Were you working on Thursday?”

  She shakes her head. “No, hon. I’ve been on vacation all week. This is my first night back. Is something wrong?”

  Darn, I’ll never find someone who was here when Malik’s grandfather ate here.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  Davey comes over a few minutes later with a large order of fries, a new bottle of ketchup, two spoons, and a pint of ice cream. He sets everything in the middle of the table and sits on the other side of me.

  I pick up a hot greasy, salty fry and bite off the tip. “What’s that?” I jut my chin toward the ice cream.

  “It’s for us.” He pops off the lid and hands me a spoon.

  Doesn’t he remember I’m vegan? “I can’t eat it. It has dairy.”

  He holds out the spoon farther. His smile shines. “Nope. It’s dairy-free.”

  Seriously?

  I take the spoon and grab the pint, angling it so I can read the ingredients. Sure enough it’s made with cashew milk, and the flavor is salted caramel with a chocolate swirl.

  Oh baby, come to mama.

  I dig my spoon in deep and remove a frozen chunk. I stick the whole thing in my mouth and sigh at the sweet, salty, creamy luxuriousness. When I swallow, I open my eyes and see Davey grinning like a fool.

  He raises a brow. “Good, huh?”

  Momentarily embarrassed, I put the rest of my fry in my mouth. I’ve had dairy-free ice cream before, but I’ve never seen it at the diner or any restaurant. I say as much to him.

  “I bought it at Shop-n-Save on my way in.”

  “You did? Why?”

  “For you. I figured I’d stop by your house when I got off and here you are. Like fate.” Color warms his neck.

  The gesture blows me over. It’s so sweet and…a bit creepy It makes me feel uncomfortable. It’s obvious he likes me. Yes, Phoebe is right. I just didn’t want to believe it. As far as I’m concerned, Davey and I are only friends. It’s all I want. A normal friend. I don’t want romantic feelings stepping on our friendship, especially when they’re one-sided.

  “Thanks, but…” I don’t know how to say “I don’t like you that way” without hurting his feelings or embarrassing him.

  It’s a shame too. He’d be perfect for me. Sweet, cute, smart, and not a paranormal, but there’s no chemistry. Malik, however, is different. Those deep brown eyes, the way he touched me and held my hand earlier. It’s been hard to not spend time daydreaming about what it felt like kissing him.

  I mentally shake my head and concentrate on the food.

  We fall into a silence, sharing the ice cream and fries. When we both reach for the last fry at the same time, and our fingers knock into one another’s, we giggle, but the tension only builds. I don’t want him thinking our touching means something more than it does.

  The sheriff enters the diner, glances at us, quirks a brow to the empty basket of fries that isn’t a salad, and walks into the kitchen. There’s no way I can interrogate anyone else now.

  “Do you want a ride home?” Davey asks after offering to pay for the fries. I won’t let him though. I don’t want him thinking this is a date. I gladly accept the ice cream since he got it for me though.

  “Sure.” There’s no sense in walking home if I don’t have to.

  We head out to his tiny blue Volkswagen and drive past the sheriff’s car and onto the road. We don’t speak during the short drive and I use the silence to contemplate my next move. The only thing I can think of is talking to Mr. Zayid again. I’m not sure how much it will help though.

  Davey pulls up in front of my house. He looks like he wants to say something.

  “You okay?” I ask. That’s when it hits me. He wants to ask me out. I’m not positive, but what else can it be?

  He stares out the windshield and doesn’t immediately respond, but then he opens his mouth.

  I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to have to tell him no, so I speak up first. “Look, I hope we can remain friends.”

  He blinks rapidly and looks my way. “What?”

  “After graduation. I’m going away to school, after all. I told my folks today that I want to be a chef and I’m not going to the university. They seem to be okay with it. And I know you’re leaving the state and living in a dorm, but I hope we can stay friends.” Hopefully this squashes any idea of there ever being anything more between us.

  He opens his mouth again and nothing comes out. I’m starting to wonder if he knows how to talk or maybe has a gas issue. Finally he shuts his mouth, takes a breath, and then says, “Yeah, sure.”

  I grab the door handle and open it. “Thanks for the ride and the ice cream. I appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

  I stand in my driveway and watch him drive off.

  Someone grabs my shoulder and I yelp. I look over and see a black ski glove. “Gio, you scared me. Is something wrong?”

  He has a puppy dog look on his face. “Feed me.”

  I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Come on.”

  We need to find a cure so I don’t turn into his personal chef and have to stay home in the fall.

  Chapter Twenty

  I head to the garden since the fridge is depleted of cruciferous veggies. What is it about these vegetables in particular? According to Gio, he doesn’t feel a rush from eating the romaine lettuce in the salad at dinner or the cucumbers and tomatoes. He said they were good, still had an appeal, but not as much as the gas
sy ones.

  The sun has set but it isn’t completely dark yet. Normally I don’t care if it’s night or day, dark or light. I hate that I now look over my shoulder at every little sound. But even amongst this chaos, the garden is my peaceful spot on earth, better than the cemetery. It always has been, even when I was a kid and wanted to play with my dolls rather than help Mom pick and weed.

  There’s something comforting here. It feels like home in my soul. It’s hard for me to explain because I don’t fully understand.

  I squat by the broccoli. It’s sprouted but isn’t fully bloomed yet, small light green florets between darker green leaves.

  “How ya doing, buddy? Too bad you can’t grow faster. Gio needs you.” Yes, I sometimes talk to my plants. Okay, all of the time. They give off oxygen and take in carbon dioxide, opposite of people, so they’re actually the perfect talking companions. Too bad they don’t converse back. It would be super weird but also helpful when I need a sounding board.

  Like now. What are we going to do? I can’t keep feeding Gio broccoli salad and hiding this from our folks. It’s not only about Gio anymore either. There are other people in town affected, going to become affected. This is getting too big, too fast.

  I let out a deep sigh, which comes out like a groan, and push the emotionally crippling thoughts out of my head and body. This isn’t the time for a meltdown. There’s too much to do.

  I move over to the cauliflower, say hello, and stroke its leaves. The small head vibrates for a couple of seconds and then stops.

  What the…

  The broccoli does the same, as well as the asparagus and tomatoes. The vibrating stops abruptly. Was it my imagination? I don’t have to wonder for long though because suddenly the vegetables grow and widen, bloom right before my eyes.

  This can’t be. It’s not possible.

  But there it is, happening. The vegetables become fat and full. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this size. Part of me is elated. Gio's going to be thrilled. But the other part is shrieking on the inside because it hits me.

  Oh my Goddess, I have powers.

  Right? That’s what this is. What else can it be?

  I don’t have time to freak out though. I’ll have to deal with this later. Right now, I have more food and that’s most important.

  I run inside with two armfuls of broccoli, cauliflower, and asparagus, and yeah, I’m still squealing on the inside despite telling myself to focus. I dump the veggies onto the table and Gio and Tomás appear in the doorway. I bet my brother can smell the stuff from far off.

  His eyes widen and a smile lifts his hangry face. He rushes forward and grabs a head of cauliflower. Tomás and I stand there stunned for a moment, watching Gio suck in the veggie so fast, he’s making and leaving tiny cauliflower crumbs on his shirt.

  “Whoa, that’s disturbing, dude,” Tomás says.

  “So,” I agree.

  After another moment, I ask Tomás to grab a disposable, aluminum pan from the cabinet above the fridge. While he hands it over, I ask, “You and my sister, huh?”

  His sheepish grin covers his large face. “She likes to sit by the falls. I live near there and we ran into one another one day. We started talking.”

  I hold up a hand, palm out, to stop him, in case he starts telling me how he stared into her eyes one day and felt the pitter patter of love. I’m happy for them, but I do not want the details of either of their sex lives.

  I take the pan, add some of the veggies, and put the rest in the fridge. “We should take some of this to Malik’s grandfather.”

  Gio looks offended. “Why?”

  Tomás grimaces. “Dude, chill. You have plenty.”

  “This can help him. I’m going over there now. Can you give me a ride, Tomás?” I still don’t want to borrow a car.

  “Sure.”

  Gio stands up and starts picking at the crumbs attached to his shirt. “I’m coming too. I can’t sit in this house any longer.”

  I text Malik and by time we arrive, he’s standing at his front door. We enter and step into a living room that looks like it’s straight from another time. One of those old decades, before they had color TV or remotes.

  The walls are covered in wood paneling the color of cinnamon. The shag rug matches, as well as the coffee and end tables. The fireplace is red brick, and the sofa and armchair are navy blue.

  Nana is sitting beside Mr. Zayid on the couch. I didn’t know she’d stayed when Dad dropped Malik and his grandfather off.

  I set the pan of veggies on the coffee table. “These are for you. They’re from our garden.”

  He digs in with an appreciative nod. “I remember more now. Things have gotten clearer.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was at the diner. The place was empty except for me and one other table—a young couple wrapped up in one another.”

  Malik and I exchange glances.

  “There wasn’t a server. One had to leave and the other hadn’t showed up yet. The boy was helping out.”

  “The boy?” Malik asks.

  “Yeah, with the blond hair. Doug or David.”

  Goosebumps break out onto my arms. “Davey?”

  He looks up, thinks for a second, and then nods. “Yes, he served me my food.”

  My stomach knots. Davey is involved? How can this be? He’s not a paranormal.

  “I need to talk to him,” I say aloud but more to myself. It’s time for some honest communication with my friend, even if it means I have to spill the truth about Nocturne Falls.

  “I’m coming with you.” Malik stands taller.

  I think of my options. If we show up at his house, his parents may not be happy and he may not be upfront. Is it possible that whatever he wanted to say earlier in the car wasn’t about him and me but about this? Oh, I feel like a fool now, but this means he knows something. He must.

  Wait, what about Friday night? He had come over then too.

  “I’m not going to him,” I say and pull my cell from my pocket. “He’s coming to us.”

  I call his number.

  He picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Davey. It’s Aria. Can we meet? I need to talk to you.”

  “Um, sure.” He sounds hesitant. This is an odd request from me. I don’t think I’ve ever called him. I’ve only texted. But he could also be hesitant because he has a secret.

  “When?”

  “Now. At my house. Can you come over?”

  “Sure. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Great. See you then.” I hang up and look to Tomás. “Wanna give me a ride back?”

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  “I’m coming too,” says Malik.

  “Us too,” says Mr. Zayid, who rises a little quicker to his feet.

  We leave Malik’s father behind again and load into Tomás’ hatchback, which suddenly feels like a clown car. It’s like a segment from an old, slapstick sitcom, like the ones Dad used to watch. Nana, Mr. Zayid, and Malik sit in the back, with me, Gio, and Tomás up front. Yeah, this is cozy. A little too cozy. Luckily Gio is still wearing his gloves.

  Tomás turns the corner and there are a line of people in the middle of the road. No, not regular people. A wall of zombies. It’s not like earlier today with only a few. Now there are at least a dozen, probably more. Where did they come from?

  Tomás swerves, driving his car off the road.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  We’re stuck in an embankment. We don’t have the luxury of getting out and accessing the damage. The herd is staring right at us and walking forward.

  “We’re not far from home,” Nana says. “Let’s get out and walk it.”

  I’m not sure if she realizes we may need to run from them, but we climb out of Tomás’ clown car and take a quick moment to figure out the second best way home, considering the best way is through the herd.

  It’s more than our safety though. I watch the jerky motions of these people and wonder who they a
re. If we don’t figure out a cure soon, these people may end up forever dead. Too bad we didn’t bring enough broccoli for everyone.

  “This way,” Gio says and points to a yard. “I know this area. We can cut through these three yards and we’re on our block.”

  He makes it sound easy.

  One of the zombies gets awfully close to him. I guess it’s not a big deal since Gio's already dead, but I point and make a squeaking noise just the same. Yes, in the face of disaster I become a mouse.

  Gio looks over his shoulder and his face contorts.

  The zombie leans in toward his mouth, as if he’s going to give Gio a kiss.

  Gio grunts and jumps out of the way. His arms and legs do this dramatic dance step, which leaves him looking like a praying mantis. At a safer distance away, he asks, “What was that about?”

  “Maybe he likes you,” Tomás jokes with a snort.

  It hits me.

  “It’s your broccoli breath. They must smell it and like it.”

  Gio and Mr. Zayid both look startled.

  “Let’s go.” Gio and Tomás take the lead.

  Nana and Mr. Zayid are in the middle of our pack, and Malik and I take the end. I’m grateful Malik is by my side. I don’t have to worry about getting scratched, and he makes me feel safe. He would defend me if needed.

  The first yard is a straight shot through. No fences, flowerbeds, or rose bushes, nothing in our way. In fact, the house’s lights are off and there’s no car in the driveway. It should all be this easy.

  Of course I think that too soon.

  The next yard is full of stuff—a kiddie pool, rake and shovel left lying on the ground, patio furniture galore, a grill, hot tub, and enough scattered plastic, little kid toys that could fill a toy store. These people need to hang out with our OCD, storage bin neighbors.

  I trip on a pair of rollerblades and Malik is immediately by my side, helping me up by grabbing my upper arm.

  “You okay?” He glances behind us.

  “Yeah.” I do the same and see a person in the last yard, the one we just walked through. He or she is far enough off that I can’t make out their details. Is it a zombie? Are they following us?