The Prom Goer's Interstellar Excursion

by Chris McCoy

  I got up from the table and walked to the door.

  “You forgot this,” said the waiter. I turned around, and he tossed a plastic-wrapped fortune cookie to me.

  “I’m not a big believer in fortune cookies,” I said.

  “It seems like you need advice.”

  I picked it up and cracked it open. I read the message:

  DON’T LET OTHER GUYS TAKE YOUR GIRL, BENNETT

  “You’ve got to be joking,” I said.

  “The guys who write fortunes out here have a machine so they can travel into the future to see what’s what,” said the waiter. “They’re always pretty accurate.”

  I saw the bus lift off the ground outside the restaurant, and I ran for it. Inside the bus, I heard Sophie again: “HA…hehhhhhh…”

  Cad and I were going to have a chat.

  “Here you go, Walter,” I said, extracting the grass I had taken from Jyfon from my inside pocket. “It was all I could take with me, but I figured it might be a nice break from Chinese.”

  Walter’s eyes went wide. I thought he was going to cry.

  “You brought me grass?” he said.

  “I wish I could have brought you more.”

  I set the grass in front of him on the floor of the closet.

  “This is the nicest thing anybody’s done for me in years,” said Walter.

  “My pleasure.”

  I watched Walter lean down and—methodically, savoring each individual blade—chew on the end of each piece, slurping it up into his mouth as his eyes fluttered in satisfaction.

  “Thank you. So much.”

  “Enjoy it,” I said, closing the closet door to give him privacy. I could hear his snorts of pleasure through the wood.

  Sophie had been sleeping for a couple of hours on an oversized ottoman at the back of the bus, snoring lightly. Exhausted. The snores sounded like a miniature variation of her laugh, but instead of a “HA…hehhhhhh,” it was more of a “WER…werrrrrr.”

  I might have found it adorable had I not been so irritated. I was listening to Cad tinker on Skark’s guitar, trying to write a song.

  “Oh, pretty girl, I met you far from home…,” he sang.

  With every new lyric, I grew more annoyed.

  “Now I know why I’ve been flying around…. Sophie Sophie…But only with you have my feet left the ground…. Sophie Sophie…”

  “You sound ridiculous,” I said. “You’re thirty and she’s still in high school. It’s a good thing there aren’t age-of-consent laws in space.”

  Cad looked up at me.

  “She’s already told me she’s eighteen, and you told me yourself that you’re graduating in a couple of weeks,” he said. “What’s the problem? Picasso had a teenage muse, why can’t I?”

  “She’s not your muse. She’s my muse. I don’t want to hear you using Sophie’s name in your songs. I use Sophie’s name in songs. You’ve been with a million girls, leave mine alone.”

  “You write songs?”

  “I write songs. Yes. Of which Sophie is a dominant part.”

  “Can I hear one?”

  I paused.

  “I’ve never actually completed one,” I said. “I’m not always great at finishing what I start, but that has nothing to do with this.”

  “I see. How about we make a deal, then. You feel free to use Sophie’s name in song fragments, and I’ll use her name in real songs, and then someday you can release an album of couplets that you can sell down at the local open mike night. I’ll handle the proper album, thank you.”

  “It’s going to be hard to release an album if your band hasn’t written a new song in five years.”

  “Skark hasn’t written a song in five years. I’ve written hundreds, he just never uses them.”

  “I don’t blame him. I’m listening to you working on this, and it’s terrible.”

  Cad lifted the guitar strap over his shoulders and rested the instrument on the chair beside him.

  “If you’re sore about this girl, I’d like to point out you said she was your date, not your girlfriend. If you aren’t official, it’s game on.”

  “How official do things have to be for you? Driver said you went home with his wife on the day they were married.”

  “I regret that decision. Sometimes at weddings you hook up with women you wouldn’t expect.”

  “She was the bride.”

  “And Skark wrote a hit song about it: ‘Forbidden Cake, Forbidden Frosting.’ Top ten in fifty-three galaxies. That’s what you do with these awkward situations. You channel them into art.”

  “I don’t want Sophie channeled into your art. I want her back in New Mexico with me.”

  “I hear you, but the fact remains, you two aren’t technically together. As far as I know, she might just be your neighbor who agreed to go to the dance with you or something.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “She is your neighbor who agreed to go with you, isn’t she? It gets better and better. I’m sorry, but the gloves are off.”

  “I came to space to rescue that girl, and the moment I get her back, you swoop in.”

  “It’s not my fault she and I are hitting it off.”

  Something in my brain snapped.

  “Leave her alone!” I yelled. I leaped at Cad, knocked him to the ground, and stared into his eyes while squeezing his face with my fists.

  “Stay. Away. From. Her,” I said, punching him in the side with each word.

  Cad tried to block my blows. “Not if you ask me like that…”

  “I mean it,” I said, pulling him toward me by his shirt and slamming him back down onto the ground again and again. I was prepared to kill him. I wasn’t sure what the penalty for murdering somebody in space was, but I was willing to go before whatever tribunal was in charge and defend myself. A crime of passion.

  “If you don’t back off, you and I are going to have problems. I will stay awake until you fall asleep. I will chop you up and I will eject you out of here, and I will make sure that we’re near a planet so I can watch you burn up in its atmosphere. You got that, Cad? Are we clear?”

  Cad thought about this.

  “You sound like Skark,” he said.

  “I’ve been having to listen to him a lot,” I said. “I’m not surprised some of his personality has rubbed off.”

  “Does Sophie have any cute friends?”

  “She’s not a big socializer at school, but I can check,” I said.

  “If you do that for me, I’ll call off the pursuit,” he said. “You know, I didn’t think your body could be any stranger than I already thought it was, but having you on top of me is like being mounted by an angry Slim Jim. Now get off.”

  I rolled off Cad and collapsed out on the floor next to him, out of breath, my heart pounding. I wasn’t used to such physical confrontations.

  “You’re stronger than you look,” said Cad. “You don’t look like you have any natural athletic ability.”

  “I didn’t think I did,” I said. “I must have a lot of unused adrenaline saved up from my youth.”

  And then…

  “Um,” said Sophie.

  Cad and I looked up, and saw her staring at us from the ottoman.

  “When did you wake up?” I said.

  “As soon as you tackled Cad. It was pretty loud.”

  “I see,” I said. “So…did you hear all of that?”

  “You were practically shouting,” she said. “And we’re on a bus. So yeah. I heard all of that. Did you really think I was interested in Cad?”

  “You’re not interested in me?” said Cad.

  “What is wrong with you two?” said Sophie. “You have all the glories of the universe in front of you and you’re arguing about a girl. Grow up. I’m using the restroom, and you better stop being creepy by the time I get out. I’m so tired of being here.”

  Sophie got up, opened a door, and yelled.

  “Hello,” I heard Walter say.

  “Why is there a ram in th
e bathroom?” she said.

  “That’s the closet,” said Cad. “The bathroom is the next door down.”

  “This bus is psychotic,” said Sophie, slamming the closet shut and opening the door to the bathroom.

  Cad looked at me.

  “Man, she’s attractive,” he said.

  “I can still hear you,” said Sophie from the bathroom. “Let’s just get to this festival and get home. This is a nightmare.”

  —

  Sophie was looking out the window, arms around her knees, tracing the paths of the passing comets with her eyes. She’d slept as much as she could, I guessed. Though her environment had changed, she was just as stuck and not in control of her fate as she had been a few hours before. I felt bad about my own actions. It wasn’t much of a heroic rescue if you didn’t get the girl you rescued home safely. And it was even worse if you immediately jammed her into the middle of a love triangle to boot.

  I walked over to her.

  “Mind if I pull up an ottoman?” I said.

  “If that’s what you want to do,” she said.

  I dragged the puffy, circular piece of furniture next to her and joined her in just looking outside. I could see why she’d been staring out the window so long. Driver was coasting, and she was watching a meteor shower from above, comets raining down on the red atmosphere of a planet below us, bursting into pools of fire as they split apart.

  “Do you think anybody lives down there?” I said.

  “I don’t know. It has a bunch of those swirling red Jupiter spots, which I think are unpleasant places to be.”

  “Probably better than living on a bus with three guys and a ram,” I said.

  “Four guys and a ram,” she said. “You’re forgetting to include yourself.”

  The Interstellar Libertine soared out of view of the planet being assaulted by comets, and once again everything looked far away—blinking pinwheels and atomic crayon streaks of magentas and blues swirling together.

  “I’m sorry that you heard us fighting over you,” I said. “But to clarify, I never said you were my girlfriend. I know that we’re just going to a dance, and that’s it.”

  “I can’t believe you came after me,” she said.

  “Those aliens really ruined the night we were having,” I said. “It made me mad.”

  “It was a good night up until that point.”

  “It was the best night I ever had,” I said. “Plus, going after you seemed easier than explaining the situation to your parents.”

  Sophie rubbed her eyes.

  “I bet they’re freaking out right now,” she said.

  “You’re fine,” I said. “I’m sure they just think I kidnapped you. I walked out of the desert alone and abandoned my truck in the drive-through of an In-N-Out Burger.”

  “After I was abducted, you went and got food?”

  “I know how that sounds. But it was In-N-Out.”

  “At least it was In-N-Out,” she said. “Those burgers are great. I would have done the same thing.”

  “That’s where I met these guys.”

  Sophie turned and looked at the band. Skark was scrounging in the seat cushions, mumbling something about missing his stash. Cad was tuning his bass. Driver was tapping on the controls of the bus with his drumsticks, giving a good whack to what appeared to be very sensitive equipment every time he came around to the downbeat.

  Due to Driver’s habit of drumming while driving, the dash-board looked like it had been shot up by a Gatling gun. The glass protecting the digital readouts was covered in spiderweb cracks, and several gauges were permanently unlit because the bulbs had been broken so many times. I could only assume that Driver was piloting the bus mostly by feel at this point.

  Driver shoved the drumsticks into a space next to his seat and nonchalantly started flipping through a fashion magazine.

  “I can’t believe this is where I am right now,” said Sophie. “This is the first time in my life I’ve actually missed home. Boring, terrible Gordo, New Mexico.”

  “If you want, you can stay there and I’ll go to Princeton for you,” I said.

  “You’d have to wear a wig.”

  “Small sacrifice.”

  She looked down at her arms.

  “All my scratches are really going to screw up our prom pictures.”

  “I’ll appreciate those pictures no matter what they look like, if they mean we got back.”

  Behind us, Cad began humming and mucking around on a guitar again, but as his humming turned into words, I could hear that this time the song had nothing to do with Sophie. It was a simple melody—a few chords, a little bit of whistling here and there—the subject of which was looking for a home when you no longer feel like you belong where you grew up. The house was there, but home was somewhere else…. My life was there, but I wasn’t myself….

  We listened to him finish the song, whistling and humming for the outro.

  “What’s that one called?” I said.

  “ ‘Home,’ ” he said. “It’s an old one.”

  “It’s great,” I said.

  Cad took his hand off the strings. “I don’t need you ridiculing my songwriting any more tonight.”

  “I wasn’t kidding. It’s a great song.”

  Cad tapped the body of the guitar, examining my face to determine if I was telling the truth. “I’ve always thought it might be good. Skark hates it.”

  “Skark is a drunk,” said Sophie.

  Cad gave us a small smile.

  “That might be the first time in a decade somebody has told me one of my songs is good,” he said. “Groupies excluded, of course.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “I guess I’ll work on it a little more. I’ll keep it down. Thanks, guys.” He went back to strumming the melody, and we went back to looking out the window.

  Sophie examined my face.

  “What?” I said.

  “I’m sorry, but I still can’t believe you only applied to one school,” said Sophie. “I kept thinking about it when I was hiding in the mall.”

  “That’s what you were thinking about?”

  “It popped into my head a few times,” she said.

  I stared out at a cloud of wintergreen-gum-colored space dust in the distance, which to my eyes looked like it was forming a distinct letter L. Loser. Even the universe was mocking my collegiate decisions.

  “What else did you think about out there?” I said.

  She paused for a moment.

  “I thought about how bananas are technically classified as herbs.”

  Obscure facts. I loved her so much.

  “Bananas are herbs?”

  “Banana trees aren’t actually trees. They’re made up of a center stem with a bunch of leaves protecting it all over the place, which means that the bananas are essentially just the top of the stalk popping out. Ergo, the fruit is technically an herb.”

  “If you tell me that parsley is a meat, I don’t think my mind will ever recover.”

  “Parsley’s not a meat. But giraffes sleep less than an hour a day.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No joke. I was glad to be able to zone out and think about weird stuff at the enclosure. I don’t know what I would have done if I had had to actually acknowledge my situation.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said.

  Sophie put her arm around me and gave me a hug.

  “I hope you get into Princeton,” she said. “If you came to outer space for me, it means I know I could call you to save me if I ever got drunk at a party or something.”

  “I’ll save you no matter where you are,” I said.

  “I know you’ll get in,” she said.

  It was nice of her to say so, but I knew I was doomed. It had crossed my mind that there must be a number of good universities up in space—somebody had to be teaching youthful extraterrestrials how to engineer all these advanced technologies. Maybe I could stay and get my education that way. H
owever, I rejected that idea when I realized whatever degree I managed to earn probably wouldn’t be accepted back on Earth, and after having gone four years without a social life in Gordo, showing up on campus in a strange galaxy would have likely just made me a bizarro foreign exchange student with even fewer opportunities to fit in.

  I leaned against Sophie and she embraced me. She helped me put the future out of my mind. I wished I could just major in her.

  —

  The Hyperbolic Back Roads that Skark had been dreading so much weren’t all that bad, to be honest. In fact, they reminded me of a lazy river ride at a water park. An artery of heavenly bodies lined the sky in front of the bus—red giants and yellow dwarfs and a few basic water-covered blue planets that reminded me of home. The orbs’ proximity to each other created a kind of natural gravitational slipstream, which pulled in the Interstellar Libertine as soon as the bus entered the orbit of its first sun.

  We rode the orbit until we were plucked out of space by the overlapping gravitational pull of the next celestial object, which passed us along to the next, and so forth. Driver had his hands on the wheel to steady the bus, but his foot wasn’t on the accelerator. There was nothing to do but go with the flow. It was nice to be moving at a different speed, though Skark was pacing up and down the center of the bus, looking nauseated from this undulating mode of travel.

  “Are you sure there’s no way to get us through this part of the trip faster?” said Skark. “I’m sick, this is boring, and I’m tired of looking at these stowaways.”

  “If I hit the gas, all we would do is break out of the orbit and have to find our way back in,” said Driver. “Gravity is out of whack in this part of space, so we can’t skip it. Breathe. When we get to the other side, we’ll be almost there.”

  “Never tell me to breathe,” said Skark. “I allow air to come into me when I choose.”

  Skark paced some more, giving me an angry stare every time he walked past. Eventually I got tired of it, so I stopped looking up, prompting him to smack me on the back of the head. He didn’t like being ignored.

  The final star in the Hyperbolic Back Roads was the largest and brightest. I held a cushion from the couch in front of my face to protect my eyes, causing Skark to scream at me to stop touching his furniture. The star dragged us around its orbit until Driver gently guided the wheel to the left, popping us out into open space.