by Raziel Reid
Tommy manages to find a bottle of vodka at the back of the cabinet. It’s only half full, but should do the trick…Tommy adds it to his bag, along with some candles he takes off of the dining room table. From the closet he pulls out the iRobot Roomba. His mom loves it so much she thinks it’s a real maid. They even go grocery shopping together, Roomsy tidying up the aisles while his mom chats away with her other bestie, Siri.
Salt for the pentagram and ketchup to use in place of goat’s blood. Tommy knows a farm on the outskirts of town that has goats, but since he doesn’t have an actual maid to sacrifice, or the actual insides of a drag queen, maybe it’ll be best if everything is fake.
According to the Kens, every bat of your eyelashes should be performative. And doesn’t Tommy take sacrament when he goes to church with his mom and dad on Sundays? It’s not the actual body of Christ. But you’re supposed to pretend it is. Tommy’s parents take him to Famous Family Church. Father Dude is the best show in town. He’s even more dope than the pope. At Famous Family, old Oprah Winfrey Show transcripts are preached as gospel and Us Weekly is in the confessional booth. Tommy always feels so fresh after mass. Like a new post not yet defiled by the comments section.
It has stopped raining by the time Tommy steps outside. The street is even sleeker than usual. Thunder rolls in the sky. Tommy walks quickly down the middle of the deserted winding road toward the cemetery situated behind Famous Family.
Willows Forever is magical: the tombstones are chalk white and powdery, like they’ve all been coated with ivory cover-up. Fitting for the dead who were all cover girls. Jeff Koons topiary and sculptures are spread throughout the grounds, and the ghost of Narcissus haunts the large pond with floating pink water lilies.
Tommy walks deeper into the cemetery until he finds the clearing next to Bild Lilli’s tomb, where the Stoners’ video said to go. Bild Lilli was a shameless gold digger of German origin, a beauty queen and mistress of the first mayor of Willows. And the second. And the second mayor’s son. In the photos of Bild Lilli you can find online, she has a curvy body and the face of a baby. The Kens idolize her.
Using the salt, Tommy makes a pentagram and places the Barbie in one of the points. He lights candles and pulls out Roomsy from his bag, then presses Record on his phone. Maybe if he submits the video to SoFamous the Kens will at least recognize his dedication.
Roomsy is thrown smack in the middle of the pentagram. Tommy kicks at the iRobot until it’s shattered into pieces. Then he squirts the entire container of ketchup onto the offering and pulls out the bottle of vodka, taking a big swig and spitting it out. He’s so ashamed. Kens swallow! But Tommy can’t stand the taste. He pours the remaining vodka over Roomsy and Barbie. He just couldn’t bring himself to kill an actual drag queen, and figures their insides would consist solely of vodka anyway.
“Baphomet, I summon you,” Tommy says. He pulls out a lighter and uses the flame to ignite the vodka-soaked dust inside the crushed vacuum. Up it goes. “Make me a Ken and I’ll be yours to play with forever!”
Tommy submits the video to SoFamous, just as a rumble spreads through the cemetery. Lightning sparks a cotton-ball cloud in the sky. Everything is whited out by the lights shining into Tommy’s eyes.
PLASTIC PLACE
iRobot embers glow in the grass. Tommy squints into the lights. He sees the shadowy frame of a body but can’t quite distinguish a face. A candle blows out, sending smoke coiling around raindrops.
It thunders and starts to rain again. Tomorrow is going to be a slippery day in Willows. The streets will be like Lego in a bath.
The lights turn off and the rumbling goes quiet. When Tommy’s eyes adjust to the dark, he can make out a parked motorcycle.
In a flash of lightning, a face.
“You,” he says quietly.
“Making human sacrifices?” Blaine raises his eyes as he steps into the pentagram, the salt crunching under his boots.
Tommy is spared from answering by another roar of thunder.
“Kind of late for a motorcycle ride, isn’t it?”
“Just trying to clear my head.”
“Yeah, you and me both.”
Tommy starts picking up the séance supplies from the ground, dropping them in his backpack. He can feel Blaine watching him as he picks up the Barbie. Some ketchup blood got on her arm. She looks like she slit her wrists.
“You go to Willows High, right?” Tommy asks, trying to play it cool.
“You go there?”
“I’m Tommy. We have P.E. together. You probably didn’t notice me. I was on all fours…You’re the guy who found the magic earring.”
Blaine looks confused. Tommy smiles. He really is new.
“The pink diamond. Ken Hilton’s. You know, the blond who doesn’t look real.”
“Reality is so fake it’s TV,” Blaine says.
Wax from a burning candle Tommy is holding drips onto his hand. He feels it harden. Blaine extinguishes the flickering flame between his fingers.
“If you’re selling your soul, it’s always best to start a bidding war.” He arches his eyebrows like Jack Nicholson sticking his head through a door broken open with an ax.
Another flash of lightning. It gives Tommy a chill.
“Looks like it’s gonna pour,” Blaine says. “Want a ride home?”
Tommy drops the candle in his bag. “Anywhere but home.”
The bike careens out of the cemetery. Tommy holds onto Blaine’s wet leather jacket as they ride through the downpour. All of the lights are off in the houses they pass and the streets are empty. Everyone’s safe inside, not only because it’s so late but also because when it rains in Willows no one wants to risk water damage.
Blaine takes them to The Hills, pulling up to a chain-link fence surrounding a large cliff-side construction site. Blaine climbs the rattling fence.
“Plastic Place,” he says. “Opening soon.”
Blaine straddles the top and reaches down to give Tommy a hand up. They land in a muddy puddle on the other side. Tommy stares up at a massive concrete and glass structure.
“So this is the new mall,” Tommy says. “I read about it on SoFamous.”
“It’s why my dad moved us here.” Blaine leads him toward the building. “He’s developing some properties in Willows. Thinks this place is some kind of utopia. I told him its own mayor called it a WASP country club on Swarovski-coated crack during a press conference, but that didn’t seem to deter him.”
They walk through an opening in the front of the building because the door hasn’t yet been erected. The staircase in the entrance is the biggest Tommy has ever seen. It spirals for screen shot after screen shot.
Blaine jumps up the wooden treads two at a time. “You have to see this.”
They go all the way up to the top floor, passing beams and a wide space that Blaine says will eventually be the food court. He leads Tommy down a long hallway with sawdust on the floor, construction supplies in the corner, pink insulation sticking out of the wall.
A door at the end of the hall takes them onto the roof. Tommy stares out at a panoramic view of Willows. It looks like a postcard with a photo taken using the Street View app. “And all that will be left of them are their Likes.” He sighs.
“Nietzsche all on his mouth like liquor.” Blaine smirks.
They climb even higher, up the ladder of the rooftop water tower. They’re higher than the WILLOWSLAND sign—the ultimate billboard.
Street lamps emit the only light below. It’s like the glow of a nightlight plugged into an outlet in a dark playroom, shining through the windows of the most intricate dollhouse ever made.
UNNATURAL SELECTION
Tommy gets a personal tour of the mall. The place is huge. Down in the basement is a storage room filled with row after row of shop mannequins with blond wigs. It’s dark, but Blaine shines the light from his iPhone across the porcelain faces—deliberately blank, without a personality, so that you can project your dreams on them.
&nb
sp; “Doll’icious,” Tommy says.
Blaine kicks one over with the tip of his boot. It has a domino effect; an entire row of mannequins collapses and Tommy jumps out of the way.
The sun is starting to rise. There’s no point in going home before school, so Blaine drives them to a diner to grab breakfast. Tommy tries to ask him questions about himself, but unlike most people in Willows, Blaine isn’t especially eager to describe his design history.
“Where did you move from?” Tommy asks.
“Ohio.”
“Do you live on the Mainland or The Hills?”
“Hills.”
“Siblings?”
“Nope.” Blaine squirts ketchup on his eggs, which reminds Tommy of the bloody Barbie in his backpack. “Which is surprising, considering my dad thinks grabbing them by the pussy is one of the Ten Commandments.”
Tommy laughs. “You should meet my parents. Although you might want to download malware protection first.”
After breakfast, they head to school. Tommy loves being on the back of Blaine’s bike. He can’t remember ever feeling so free. Sometimes life in Willows can feel like you’re being moved from place to place, like an arm is extended from the sky and you’re stuck in the grip of a hand with impeccable nail beds. But Blaine drives so fast the hand can’t quite catch them.
They pull into the parking lot at Willows High. Tommy wishes he didn’t have to get off.
Coach Summers’s whistle blows. The Barks players are practicing on the field.
“You coming to the homecoming game after school?” Tommy asks. “I’m mostly going to see Ken Hilton’s halftime performance. It’ll make the Super Bowl look low-budget.”
As if he only exists when being mentioned, Ken Hilton speeds into the parking lot in his pink Corvette convertible. Ken Roberts is in the passenger seat. Bubblegum pop blares from the speakers.
Ken Hilton is so consumed with his reflection in the rearview mirror that he doesn’t see Tommy standing at the end of Blaine’s bike and almost drives straight into him. He comes to a screeching halt just as Blaine grabs Tommy’s arm, pulling him out of the way.
“You, like, almost hit an animal!” Ken Roberts gasps.
Ken Hilton lowers his heart-shaped sunglasses. His eyes narrow on Blaine holding Tommy’s arm.
“It looks rabid,” he says, pushing his glasses up the ski-slope curve of his nose and speeding into a parking spot reserved for faculty only.
Principal Elliot lets the Kens get away with murder. Dr. Hilton funded the library, even though the Kens only read status updates. The whole faculty has been terrified of the Kens ever since a student teacher dared to object to Ken Hilton’s sexual advances; Ken Hilton retaliated by having one of the tech geeks break into the poor guy’s cloud and load it with his raunchiest selfies. Then Ken Hilton went to Principal Elliot and fake-cried for his life, saying the student teacher was soliciting him for photos. That student teacher was now Allan’s manager at Taco Accessory.
Blaine finally lets go of Tommy’s arm. “Try to stay alive.” He heads toward the front steps of school, saying over his shoulder, “See ya at the game.”
“Guess what?” Tutti is giddy as Tommy approaches her and Allan at the lockers. “I passed the Barks practicing on the field this morning and Ken Carson came up to me and asked if I had any black eyeliner. I guess the team ran out of Eye Black. Can you believe he knows I’m into makeup?”
“He probably follows your tutorials,” Tommy says, dropping his backpack in his locker.
Tommy hates himself for it, but he’s jealous. Tutti has her makeup posts, and Allan is a Science Geek of YouTube. At least he has a thing, even if it is posting tutorials on how to make a rocket from paper and straw. Half a million people want to learn how to do that!
If it weren’t for Allan and Tutti, Tommy’s not sure he could survive Impressions-obsessed Willows High. He and Allan became best friends in elementary, after Ken Hilton dropped Tommy. Before that, Ken Hilton had forbidden Tommy to talk to Allan because Allan had red hair, but Allan was the only one who was still nice to him even after Ken Hilton dropped him.
They became close with Tutti sophomore year. Ken Hilton tripped her right in the middle of the hallway one day and was filming with his iPhone as Ken Roberts tried to shove a toothbrush down her throat. Allan was fearless. He shoved Ken Roberts right off Tutti. The newest Ken, Ken Carson, displayed shocking chivalry by offering Tutti his hand and helping her off the floor.
After the Kens had strutted off, Tommy and Allan tried to console Tutti. Tommy pointed out that at least Ken Carson had touched her.
“Like that makes it okay!” Allan barked. But Tutti seemed to think it did. She remained devoted. It was like that time Justin Bieber spit on his fans from the balcony of his hotel. No matter how much the Kens degrade Tutti, she continues to worship. Tommy understands. The Kens have that effect on most people. It can’t really be explained.
They turn the corner on the way to class, and Tutti is still gushing about her run-in with Ken Carson this morning.
“His lips are so juicy,” she’s saying.
“Wait, isn’t Eye Black a grease that’s used to reduce the glare of sunlight when a player is on the field?” Allan asks. “It’s supposed to be practical, not some kind of fashion statement.”
“This is Ken Carson we’re talking about.” Tutti laughs. “He also asked if I had any cherry ChapStick.”
NEW EDITION
Just as Tutti, Allan and Tommy pass the girls’ bathroom, a bunch of girls run out, scared for their lives.
Before the door swings shut, Tommy catches a fleeting glimpse of Ken Hilton and Ken Carson in their element: touching up in front of the mirrors. Ken Hilton is at the center sink, as always. The bathroom light fixture is directly above his head, shining down on his blond. Ken Carson is sweaty from practice and is wearing a cropped football jersey. He’s number 69.
Behind them, Ken Roberts is retching in one of the stalls. Ken Hilton surpasses the limitation of his Botox to look disgusted.
“I have no respect for bulimics,” he says. “Anorexics are so much more disciplined.”
Ken Roberts comes out of the stall, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a Benjamin Franklin.
“Let them puke cake.” He sighs.
Ken Hilton turns to his carbon copies.
“Gurs,” he says. “I have an idea.”
“Dude, what?” Ken Carson asks.
Ken Roberts’s eyes pop. “Do you need an emergency Botox shot?”
“What if we, like, introduced a new model?” Ken Hilton says. “Ken: Thot to Hot Edition.”
Ken Carson counts on his fingers. “A fourth?”
“Why do we need another Ken?” Ken Roberts asks.
“So that all of Willows High will be confined to our hot-box. Oh, I’m bored and I need a project!” Ken Hilton runs a pink comb through his hair. “Lately, I’ve been finding extortion trite. Plus, I just added ‘philanthropist’ to my Twitter bio and I think it’s important I not only tweet the talk but walk the walk. And not just down the runway of a charity fashion show. Even if I am a teenage model. IMG was, like, so wet for me that if my walk wasn’t so fierce I would’ve slipped all over the place.”
Ken Hilton only got the modeling contract because he knew he could. He’d never actually model. In his eyes, a model is nothing more than a glorified sales associate. They might as well be working at Willows Mall.
Introducing a fourth Ken to the market is Ken Hilton’s chance to show consumers his power is truly omnipotent. That he can take a mere mortal and transform him into something supernal. Imagined by God. Reimagined by Ken Hilton! He’s determined to prove to all of Willows High, and the greater viral world, that he is the ultimate creator. That he is better than God at creating glamour.
“I really want to do something positive for the world,” he says. “Ugly people are so sad.”
“Fosh,” Ken Carson bobbles.
Ken Roberts huffs from a can of hairspray
. “Who is she?”
“Thomas,” Ken Hilton says. “Thomas Rawlins.”
Ken Carson looks more confused than usual. “Dude, who?”
“Ew.” Ken Roberts lowers his phone. “She’s not coming up on Google.”
“Look on Two-Ton Tutti’s Insta,” Ken Hilton says.
Ken Roberts and Ken Carson hover over a photo of Tommy on Ken Roberts’s phone. They look from each other to Ken Hilton like he should be put on a 5150 psychiatric hold, and not just for the Young Hollywood glamour.
“Thomas is so thirsty she’d gladly drink our douche juice just to feel closer to us,” Ken Hilton says. “That’s what we need. An insecure blank canvas to coat with jiz, sparkles and vodka. The Kens’ mind, body and soul!”
“She does look kind of familiar,” Ken Roberts says.
Ken Hilton shrugs. “I think we’ve been in the same class since elementary.”
“All basic people look the same to me.”
“Dude.” Ken Carson hits Ken Roberts’s shoulder. “You are, like, so racist.”
“Our STARmeter is going to plummet.” Ken Roberts stares back down at Tommy’s photo. “She’s ratchet!”
Ken Hilton drops his comb into his Disney princess makeup bag that has “I Woke Up Like This” written across the bottom. The motion makes Ken Roberts wince, like he expects Ken Hilton to throw it at him.
“You’re just not seeing her potential,” Ken Hilton says. “We’ll have to change everything about her, but once she’s exactly like us she’ll be perfect.”
Ken Roberts and Ken Carson force a smile and bobble their heads in unison. They aren’t thrilled about getting a new sister—they don’t share anything except needles. But they know better than to question Ken Hilton when his mind is programmed.
“I don’t know, bruh,” Ken Carson tells Ken Roberts. “But we do need volunteer credits this semester.”
HOMECOMING GAME
Ken Carson’s jumbo-butt fills the Jumbotron.
A buzzer sounds for halftime and the Barks players run to the sidelines to down spiked Gatorade—what can it hurt? They’re down twenty points. Their uniforms are pink and black. Formerly red and white, but Ken Hilton made Principal Elliot change them.