Ambushed

by Jill Williamson

  I would have had Kimball drive me to Gabe’s, but Gabe didn’t have a TV in his room, and I didn’t think Mr. S would allow Jolt movies in his living room. So I went to Lukas’s place.

  “Oh, I love me some Brittany Holmes,” Lukas said. “Ella es hermosisima.” He popped in the first DVD. “Hey, I heard someone say that Kip is dating her. You hear that?”

  “Kip makes things up sometimes.” And sometimes not.

  “Yeah, because that’s crazy, man.”

  “Yeah.” Crazy.

  So Lukas and I had a Jolt-a-thon, and since he was in the Mission League, I told him that I’d heard some of these phrases on one of our summer trips, though I wasn’t allowed to talk specifically about the Moscow mission.

  “So connection means drugs?” Lukas asked.

  “Yeah, and in the movies, they take the drugs before they call out to the Light Goddess.”

  “Or the Daysman,” Lukas said.

  “Right. The fourth movie said the first Daysman was Bert something. I can’t remember.”

  “You saw the fourth one already? How?”

  “Early screening in Hollywood. Won some tickets. So”—I took a quick breath—“there was also mention of ‘power inside.’ Like, releasing it or connecting to it.”

  “And that’s what Brittany’s peeps do in the movies. It’s what brings the lightning down every time.”

  “There’s definitely a connection,” I said. “No pun intended.”

  “I think so, too,” Lukas said. “You should show Mr. S.”

  “Come on. How am I going to get Mr. S to watch these movies?”

  “Yeah, that’s no good.” Lukas snapped his fingers. “What if you bought the scripts? Then you could photocopy the pages and give those to Mr. S.”

  “Yeah, I could do that.” The only question was, did I beg Grandma to help me buy the scripts online, or should I ask MacCormack for them? I wasn’t sure I was ready to visit The Sanctuary again, knowing my dad was trying to get his she-minion to “own” me. “Think you could order them online if I gave you the cash?” I asked Lukas.

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  “Thanks.” At least now I had a plan.

  REPORT NUMBER: 11

  REPORT TITLE: I Get Kisses, a Mickey, and a Night in Jail

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: Grandma Alice’s House, Pilot Point, California

  DATE AND TIME: Saturday, March 3, 3:47 p.m.

  I WOULD HAVE SKIPPED KIP’S jolt revolt party, but he started texting me that afternoon, freaked out that no one would show. Since I’d signed up two months ago, I said I’d go. Though I don’t know what I was thinking. Looking back, it must have been the painkillers that made me say yes. I should have stayed with Lukas.

  A party meant a lie. I called Grandma and told her I was spending the night at Kip’s and promised to be careful with my knee. Kimball gave me a ride from Lukas’s house to Kip’s. I felt a little weird having my former SRO drive me to a party, knowing there’d be alcohol there. But what Kimbal didn’t know . . .

  Plus Kip’s parties never got out of hand, probably because everyone knew his dad was a cop. His dad wouldn’t be there, of course. He never was. I think they worked out a deal. Whenever Kip had parties, his dad worked late. And Kip was careful to keep things quiet.

  Like I said, must be nice . . .

  This time, Kip tried to make the party special by playing Jolt soundtracks and passing out plastic Lone Ranger masks, but it was just a regular party. Brittany didn’t show. And I didn’t ask. He did have more than fifty people there throughout the night, so I guessed he’d earned his prize pack. I hoped he’d loan me his DVD screening copy of Jolt IV so I could verify some things in my report.

  The moment I arrived I grabbed a spot on the couch by the wall where no one would trip over my sore leg. I did my best to keep a video game controller in my hand all night. I really didn’t want to be there. I was still mad at Kip. And I could tell he was mad at me.

  Jasmine showed up and instantly attached herself to my side. I guess she liked me. But whenever I looked at her, all I could think about was Grace, though they looked nothing alike.

  What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just hook up with any girl who crossed my path, like Kip or Mr. Johnson? I blamed Gabe and his three Rs.

  Last night, I’d dreamed about Grace. It was the dream where I found her hurt in her bedroom. It was the kind of dream that would turn into something I’d experience in real life someday. I wondered how far out in the future it was. I’d been having the dream since Okinawa, but that didn’t mean anything. I’d been having the wolf one for years. But Grace still hadn’t told me when she was coming back.

  When Jasmine went to fetch me more pizza, I sent Grace a text: You okay? I had another dream about you. Please text back.

  Today was the first day since the surgery that I was actually hungry, so I let Jasmine spoil me. She brought me food and sodas and changed the ice pack on my knee. I had my foot up on the coffee table. It wasn’t a bad arrangement.

  Without Megan present—or Brittany—it only took a few beers before Kip started making out with Trella the Troll. Then they went in the kitchen and started baking. They looked so happy, it almost made me want a beer.

  Almost.

  I couldn’t play ball anyway. What was the point of toeing the line?

  Truth was, I was still on the team, in Coach’s eyes. And I’d made a point of being there for the guys. I was going to stick this thing out until the end.

  So I sent Jasmine to get me another root beer. The girl was saving my life tonight with the way she was at my side, playing maid. If she hadn’t been there, I would have caved already.

  About the time Jasmine started giving me a backrub, My Precious II bleeped. A text. Grace?

  Nope. It was from Mary Stopplecamp. Where r u? Just had a nightmare that u got in trouble @ a party.

  A chill ran over me. I knew better than to shrug off a dream of Mary’s. She was gifted in prophecy the same way I was. It was 1:34 in the morning. I looked around. There were only a dozen people still here. But Kimball and Mr. Sloan would still be out front. I just needed to get my crutches and they could take me home.

  “Hey, Jasmine?” I turned to look up at her. “Can you get me my crutches? I’m ready to head home.”

  “Already? But I thought you were staying the night?”

  “I was, but I’m not feeling so good. It’s probably the meds.”

  She stuck out her bottom lip but walked toward the front closet where Kip had stashed my crutches.

  Good. It was time to get out of here.

  I turned my attention back to the TV and watched Chaz attack a herd of zombies. He died almost instantly, though, and it was my turn again.

  Trella passed out the brownies she and Kip had made. Brought me a five-inch square, which turned out to be two that were stuck together.

  “Thanks,” I said taking the gooey warmth in my hand.

  “Get him, Spencer!” Chaz yelled. “Stop eating brownies and shoot them!”

  I shoved the whole thing in my mouth with one hand as I tried to kill two ugly zombies that were standing in the exit of the bus station.

  “Behind you, stupid!”

  “Thut up!” I told Chaz, trying to chew and laugh at the same time and not choke.

  Two turns later, Jasmine fell onto the couch beside me. “Open up,” she said, bringing a brownie to my lips.

  Keeping my eyes on the game, I bit into it, but I got overwhelmed by a herd of zombies that had been hiding in a dumpster.

  I dropped the controller in my lap and let Jasmine feed me the rest of her brownie. “Wait. Where are my crutches, girl?”

  “Sorry! I got distracted by dessert.”

  “Well, can you please get them for me?” I needed to hit the road.

  Instead she rose up on her knees and kissed me.

  Oh.

  Oh wow.

  I tried to come up for air a f
ew times. “Jasmine . . . hey . . . come on . . . Jasmine . . . I really need . . . I need to go.”

  She wasn’t hearing me.

  I guess I just have that kind of effect on girls.

  But Mary’s warning was fresh in my mind, so I finally had to push her away. “Jasmine, I need to—”

  She ran her fingers through my hair over my left ear. “If you don’t feel good come lay down in the guest room.”

  Uh . . . “Jasmine . . .”

  “Spencer, are you playing or not, man?” Chaz asked.

  “Yeah.” So I picked up my controller and killed some more zombies. And I was really careful not to die for a really long time.

  But I was starting to feel weird. A little dizzy. Kind of high. But I hadn’t drunk anything, and I didn’t see anyone smoking.

  The brownies.

  Figs.

  I ran my guy into a cave where I wouldn’t get killed, then glanced at Jasmine. “Did Kip and Trella put something in the brownies?”

  “Spencer, stop hiding,” Chaz said. “That’s cheating.”

  I waited for her to answer. She only smiled a little. “They said it was a surprise.”

  I swore for real this time. “Get me my crutches. Now.”

  Her eyes went wide, but she scrambled off the couch and ran toward the door.

  “Desh.” I tossed him my remote. “I’m taking off.”

  “Finally. I’ve been waiting to play all night.”

  “You played first,” I told him.

  “Yeah, but my turn was, like, three minutes.”

  “You’re so full of it.” I glanced toward the door and saw Jasmine talking to Kip and Trella. “Jasmine, come on!” I should have never let her take my crutches. I thought of getting up and hopping to the door. I thought of texting Kimball to come in and carry me out.

  Instead I watched zombies eat Desh’s brains. He really sucked at this game.

  Chaz was up next, and by the time the zombies killed him, one walked out of the TV screen.

  “What the . . .? Look at that zombie!” I said to Desh, who was taking his turn. “Did you see that?”

  But the zombie was gone.

  So was Desh’s turn. Chaz was battling the evil zombies now.

  I needed a bath. I lowered my leg from the coffee table and scooted to the edge of the couch. “Let’s go to the Jacuzzi.”

  “Good idea!” Why was Jasmine screaming? And when had she come back? She jumped up and ran away. Maybe from the zombie.

  I spotted another brownie on the coffee table and reached for it, but it was only my cell phone.

  “I can’t feel my arm.” I turned to Jasmine, but she’d turned into a pillow. “Can you feel my arm, pillow lady?” I chuckled.

  “Desh, it’s your turn,” Chaz said. He was wearing purple.

  “You’re a purple people eater,” I said, laughing. “And you only have one eye.”

  “How many brownies did you eat, man?”

  “A million.” That was funny and I laughed long and hard. I should call someone and tell them how many brownies I’d eaten. “Let’s call Brittany Holmes. Kip has her number.”

  “Kip’s a liar,” Chaz said, staring at the TV.

  Flowers sat beside me and I leaned close to smell them. “Kip said the Jacuzzi is broken,” Flowers said.

  “You smell pretty.”

  The flowers giggled. “You think I’m pretty?”

  “Dude! Something was in those brownies,” Desh said. “Did you eat some? Chaz, did you? I feel weird.”

  “I’m not a moron,” Chaz said.

  “I ate a million,” I said.

  “Spencer, tell me I’m pretty again.”

  “I thought your name was Flowers.”

  “Guys! We need to try something,” Kip said. “Come over here and sit in a circle on the floor.”

  “Who’s making that sound?” I asked. There was a sound, like a groaning. Maybe from under the couch.

  “Don’t you like me?” Flowers kissed my cheek.

  “I like Grace. And Brittany. But Kip stole Brittany from me, and now I have nobody. Kip steals all the girls.”

  “Shut up, Spencer, and get over here.”

  “I don’t want Kip.” Flowers said, and then she kissed me. But someone was still making noise. And I could feel the purple people eater watching us. I broke away. “Don’t stare!” I told the purple people eater.

  “You’re wasted.”

  “Jasmine, Spencer, get over here!”

  So I stood up, then collapsed. “Ow!” My knee hurt.

  Flowers leaned over me, her hair ticked my face. “You forgot your crutches, silly.”

  Somehow Flowers and the purple people eater got me into the circle. The walls were spinning around us.

  “It’s a merry go round!” I said. “Spin it faster!”

  “Guys, shut up. I need you to repeat after me, okay? Say, ‘Light, stream into my mind.’ ”

  “Kip, you’re a freak,” the purple people eater said.

  “Spencer, look,” Flowers said. “It’s like we’re in a car. You’re driving, and I’m in the passenger’s seat.”

  I pretended to start the engine, then grabbed the steering wheel and pressed in the clutch, which hurt my knee.

  “Spencer, come on, man, say it.”

  “It.” I cracked up and fell back on the floor, laughing.

  “No, you moron. Say, ‘Light, stream into my mind.’ ”

  Flowers fell down beside me. Her lips found mine. She tasted like brownies.

  “Jasmine, you’re not helping. Aw, forget them. The rest of you guys, say, ‘Descend down to earth, give power to my heart, and give my life —’ ”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Don’t open it!”

  “Why’d you open it?”

  “Go, go!”

  The floor shook.

  Doors slammed.

  “You guys, let’s go!”

  “Jasmine, hurry!”

  “Spencer, come on!”

  I pushed Flowers off me. “They’re playing hide and seek.”

  “Spencer, you moron!” someone yelled, his voice distant.

  Flowers screamed and sat up. I stared at the ceiling. It was covered in whipped cream. I reached for it.

  “What’s going on here, boys?” a man said. “That you behind the couch, Chaz?”

  The purple people eater swore and tried to jump over the couch. He fell. Glass shattered. The room stopped spinning long enough for me to see myself sitting on the floor, alone, staring at a pair of beetles.

  “Those are huge!” I said.

  The beetles moved toward me. “Spencer Garmond, right?”

  I looked up to see a man’s blurred face. “Do you hear that?” I asked him. “Someone is moaning. I think there’s a body in the couch. You might want to — Hey! Did you know your feet are beetles?”

  “You been smoking pot, Spencer?”

  “Pot? Flower pot. Flowers gave me the, uh, the . . . brrroowwnniieeeesssssssss.”

  “Spencer, shut up!” the couch said.

  “Stop moaning!” I told the couch. “That’s so loud!”

  “Pot brownies?” the beetles asked me.

  “Troll brownies,” I said. “Ooh, we should watch The Hobbit right now.”

  “Why don’t you get up and come with me,” the beetles said.

  “Because my knee hurts. If I cut off my leg and got one of those artificial limbs like that South African sprinter, think I could play in the championship?” I asked the beetles.

  “You’re not playing anything for a long while, champ.”

  Well, that wasn’t very optimistic. “I wish I was a snake, then I wouldn’t need legs.”

  “Then how would you dribble?”

  “Oh yeah.” Those were some smart beetles.

  ● ● ●

  I spent a night in the Drunk Tank at the Pilot Point Police Station. It wasn’t until the middle of the next day that I started to come down from the high, but they wouldn’t rele
ase me to Grandma until I was sober enough to answer their questions. There was no blanket on the scratchy mattress in the cell. I was freezing and my knee was cramped.

  Finally some officer took me to a room for questioning. Officer Barrios came in with Grandma. They were chatting like old friends. Officer Barrios was the new SRO at Pilot Point. A few years back he’d taken over for Kimball, who now followed me 24-7.

  “C-Can I have a blanket?” I asked through a shiver.

  Officer Barrios nodded to the officer who’d brought me in, and the guy slipped out of the room, hopefully to bring me a blanket.

  Barrios asked me all kinds of questions. Who was at the party? What were we doing? Who supplied the alcohol? Who brought the drugs? Who’s idea was it to put the drugs in the brownies?

  The other cop brought me a blanket, and I pulled it around my shoulders. “Thanks.” I told Officer Barrios that Kip and Trella had made the brownies. “I don’t know where they got the pot.”

  “It wasn’t just pot. It was a mix of marijuana and iVitrax.”

  I sobered up instantly. “What?”

  “So Kip and Trella both made the brownies?” Barrios asked.

  “Yeah. But I didn’t know they’d put anything in them. I swear. I didn’t even want to be there. I was trying to leave, but Jasmine wouldn’t bring me my crutches.”

  “Why were you trying to leave?”

  “Because Mary . . .” I glanced at Grandma. “I need to talk to Kimball.”

  “Just answer the question,” Grandma said. “Officer Kimball said he’d talk with you later.”

  Great.

  “So why were you trying to leave, Spencer? You knew about the drugs?”

  “No.” I took a deep breath. “Because Mary texted me that she had a dream that I got arrested for being at a party.”

  “Mary who?”

  “Mary Stopplecamp.”

  “One of Pat’s girls? Isn’t she a little young for you?”

  I sighed. “We’re just friends.”

  “And she had a dream about you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that made you want to leave?”

  “Yeah. Mary’s dreams . . .” I swallowed. “They usually come true.”

  “I see. Whose idea was it to conduct a séance?”

  “I don’t know. What is that?”

  “Calling on dead spirits,” Officer Barrios said.