Sparks

by S. J. Adams

  “The Beach Boys,” Emma replied.

  “What?” I asked. “No way!”

  “Sure,” said Emma. “It’s called ‘God Only Knows.’ ”

  The Beach Boys were about the only rock band I really knew much about. In the world of Full House, they were the biggest, most popular band on the planet. They showed up as guest stars now and then.

  When the song got to the chorus I realized that I’d heard the song plenty of times over the years, on car stereos and playing quietly in the mall and stuff. I’d just never realized it was the Beach Boys. Or that it was so incredibly gorgeous.

  “I didn’t know the Beach Boys did songs like this,” I said. “I thought it was all songs about surfing and cars and, like, sandcastles and stuff.”

  “Yeah,” said Tim, “they were kind of secretly awesome. The guy who arranged their songs said they were teenage symphonies to God. And some guy once said the strings on this song are proof of divinity.”

  “It was the guy from U2,” said Emma. “Either that or Elvis Costello. But if I see one more hipster on the Internet saying that their Pet Sounds record is better than Abbey Road, I’ll pound them into sand and make a castle of my own.”

  I shut up for a minute and let the music play. It was gorgeous. Maybe it was just that Emma had turned the volume way up, but it sounded almost like the voices were straining to break out of the stereo and go forth into the world.

  And toward the end, when each of the Beach Boys took turns singing the main chorus line, one after the other, piling harmonies on top of each other like a choir of angels who didn’t know what they’d be without whoever they were singing to, I looked around the car and felt like I knew what everyone was thinking.

  Tim didn’t know what he’d be without Emma.

  Emma didn’t know what she’d be without Tim.

  And I didn’t know what I’d be without Lisa.

  It killed me to see both Emma and Tim so miserable about each other. I was totally going to have to make sure they ran into Heather soon and got it over with. Emma might just about pass out, but Tim wouldn’t ditch her. She’d see. After all they’d done for me that day, it was the least I could do.

  When the song ended, Emma pushed another button without a word, and another Beach Boys song I already knew, “Wouldn’t it Be Nice,” came on. It hit me just as hard as the other one. All those lines about how nice it would be to be grown up and in love in a world where no one told you that you were too young or too stupid or that you shouldn’t be sleeping together. It was happy and bouncy, like how I always thought of Beach Boys songs, but you could hear this wistful sadness behind it all that I’d never noticed before.

  The week before, I’d taken an online survey where they asked me what my favorite color, food, and movie were and all of that. It was sort of depressing, because I barely watched any movies or anything. The whole thing felt like a wake-up call to get out more. I ended up just making up dumb answers, like I told them my favorite song was

  “He’s Our Dad (He’s Got a Really Clean Room),” the song D. J. and Stephanie pretended they were writing on the Full House episode where they busted a hole in Danny’s bedroom wall. It was a terrible, terrible song.

  Would all music sound this incredible now? Like, would even crap sound like art to me now?

  Well, no. I found that out fast enough. The next song Emma played was some song that just sounded like feedback and noise. It didn’t sound like art at all. The rest of the songs she played as we drove were hit or miss. But the hits sounded unbelievable; it was like I was hearing music—not just this music, but music—for the first time.

  We finally made it to Southhaven Mall, soaking wet and freezing cold, with about forty-five minutes to spare before a 7:00 movie would let out. My yogurt-and-snot-stained shirt was also soaking wet now, so I fished a royal blue sweater out of the laundry pile, waved some incense over it in attempt to cover the smell, and put it on. I was still going to be a chilly, damp, and slightly stinky mess, but I could handle it.

  After all, I always thought I looked sort of cute with wet hair. One time, after we went swimming in seventh grade, Lisa even told me that I did. It was just a casual thing, like “Hey, your hair looks cute like that,” but I’ve replayed it in my head a million times.

  “All right,” said Emma. “Ready to do this thing?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.

  I reached up and rubbed Bluddha’s head. I don’t know if it’s just because my hands were wet or because I rubbed too hard, but some of the paint came off. When I moved my hand away, there was a spark of gold on his head, peeking out from beneath the blue. That had to be a good omen.

  “Let’s roll,” said Tim.

  We dashed out of the car and ran like hell through the rain to the main entrance. I honestly couldn’t remember when I’d last been at Southhaven Mall—most of the shopping I did was at the strip malls on Cedar. If I went to any mall, it was usually Jordan Creek, the one out in West Des Moines.

  Inside, I saw that everybody else must have been shopping in Jordan Creek, too. Southhaven Mall was in bad shape. Some of the stores were shut up, and there weren’t many people wandering around.

  I’d expected the place to be jumping. I mean, it was Friday night, the beginning of spring break. Shouldn’t even a dumpy mall like Southhaven have been packed with teenagers from the East Side? Then again, maybe the whole “hanging out at the mall” thing was just another thing from the Full House era that I hadn’t realized was out-of-date now.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “Actually,” said Emma, “this is fairly crowded, as this mall goes. People aren’t as into strip malls when there’s a storm going on.”

  “Weird,” I said.

  I felt almost like I was wandering through some European village after World War II that was full of bombed-out houses, closed storefronts, and rubble. One place that was a toy store when I was a kid was a lingerie and adult novelties shop now. Even a lot of the stores that were left seemed weird—there was a dance studio, a pawn shop, something called “Vampire Connection,” and a church, even. In the mall! Who goes to church in the mall?

  We started walking down the main corridor of the mall, past this giant statue of a naked guy (complete with penis) riding a tricycle. He had enormous angel wings on his back that looked almost like they were made of bronzed flames. I couldn’t help but stare at the thing as we walked by. There used to be another one just like it at Monk Hill, the mall back in Cornersville Trace (or maybe this was the same one, and they’d just moved it since the last time I was there), but I guess I’d never noticed how weird it was.

  The whole world really did seem different now. How had I not noticed before that a big naked angel on a trike is weird?

  And as we passed it, I saw that someone had written the words Saint Merle the Naked in black marker on the brick base. I had a pretty good idea who did that. Emma had probably decided that the statue was a Bluish figurehead.

  I nodded my head toward it and thought, “Saint Merle, if you can throw me any help tonight, I could use it!” I was also silently praying to every other deity I could think of, just to hedge my bets, as I imagined Saint Merle swooping in from the sky on his tricycle to bless me.

  But as we approached the theater, my first instinct was to chicken out.

  “I don’t know about this,” I said. “The mall might close before the movie ends. They’ll probably throw us out into the rain.”

  “There’s a canopy we can stand under,” said Emma.

  “Still,” I said. “Maybe I should just find her tomorrow.”

  “That might be too late,” said Emma. “She might sleep with him tonight.”

  I cringed. “Well, the first time is always bad, isn’t it?” I asked. “Maybe I can take advantage of her disappointment in the morning.
”

  Emma gave my hand a squeeze.

  “Be brave,” she said. “You can do this. You were saying that if she let him go much past first, she’d want to stay with him forever just on general principle, right?”

  I nodded.

  “They won’t do it in the theater, probably,” she went on. “That wouldn’t be comfortable. But the car, later, is a possibility. He could drive her into a graveyard or the nook behind Earthways, if it’s not already taken. So you have to talk to her tonight. Tomorrow might be too late.”

  “In the meantime, we have a minor problem,” said Tim. “Look!”

  Heather Quinn was walking into the mall, just as Ramona had predicted.

  “Oh, shit,” Emma said. “She must have picked something up from a snugglepuppy after Ramona made those calls.”

  Personally, I was glad to see her. I wasn’t quite ready to face my own fears, but I was ready to help Emma face hers. I’d saved her ass a couple of times that night, and now it was time to save her heart.

  “You guys run,” I said. “I’ll get rid of her. Meet me at the record store in ten minutes.”

  Emma nodded, and she and Tim ran like hell. As soon as they were safely away, I turned toward Heather.

  “Hey, Heather,” I called out, and she came up to me.

  “Where are they?” she demanded.

  “Calm down,” I said. “I’m on your side. They’re meeting me at the record store. Come there with me, and I’ll block the exit after they come in.”

  Heather thought for a second, then nodded.

  “Okay,” she said. “You’re all right, Woodlawn.”

  “Sorry about the Coke earlier,” I said. “They kinda gave me no choice.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “They would.”

  And we wandered down the walkway, past St. Merle the Naked and toward the record store.

  “I can’t believe Tim has been hanging out with that girl all this time,” Heather whined. “What the heck does he see in that manatee?”

  “Beats me,” I said, even though it killed me. “I guess he thinks she’s really creative and spontaneous.”

  “I’m creative!” Heather said. “And does she even know how lucky a geekburger like Tim would be to go out with someone like me? It took me a long time to admit to myself that I even liked him. He’s so not the kind of guy I’m normally into.”

  “Who do you normally date?” I asked.

  “Assholes, mostly,” said Heather. “Athletes and stuff. I kind of picked Tim to like at random at first, back in, like, eighth grade, but he’s such a great guy that I just never got over the crush, even if he is kind of a dork.”

  “He’d have to be a great guy to put up with Emma,” I said. This was sort of true. Being in love with someone who didn’t always process information rationally, like Emma, had to be hard.

  “I know!” said Heather. “I guess he thinks that he can’t do any better because he’s sort of a geek, huh?”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  I almost felt bad for Heather, honestly. She wasn’t a villain or anything, other than calling Emma a manatee and starting a rumor about Tim, both of which were really uncool. But I knew what a crush felt like, and she was about to be badly let down.

  I guess that’s just the way it goes sometimes.

  After all, she seemed to think she was entitled to go out with Tim just because she was pretty. It takes more than that to deserve someone’s love.

  I still felt bad for her, in a way, but hopefully this would get her over Tim and let her move on to someone who brought out the best in her.

  When we made it to the record store I told Heather to go hide out by the T-shirts until I gave her a signal. While we waited for Emma and Tim, I flipped my way through the Beatles albums, pausing to consider picking up a copy of Abbey Road because Emma had said it was proof that there was magic in the world. I thought I recognized one or two of the song titles on the back, but I wasn’t certain. I had a lot of catching up to do, music-wise.

  But I was also broke.

  Every couple of seconds, I glanced out the door, down the main walkway to the theater on the other end. I hoped Lisa wouldn’t come bursting out until I finished up with this quest of my own. If she came storming out looking upset, I’d have to leave the store behind and go to her. I was pretty sure Emma could still get away from Heather again if she had to, but then my quest to get the two of them face-to-face would have to be a quest for another day.

  I tried to plan what the heck I was going to say when I saw Lisa, anyway. If she didn’t come bounding out looking distraught and in need of comfort, maybe I could say something funny and make her laugh. Then I’d say a line from that one Beach Boys song Uncle Jesse sang on the wedding episode and just watch her heart melt.

  It seemed like a pretty smooth way to do things, if I had the guts and a whole lot of luck and maybe some sort of divine help.

  Come on, St. Merle the Naked, I thought. I’m counting on you now.

  Meanwhile, while all this crap was running through my brain, Heather was still flipping through T-shirts. She didn’t seem too nervous at all, but she also wasn’t being entirely patient. After a few minutes, she turned to me and said “Well?”

  “Just hang on,” I said. “They’re coming.”

  After ten minutes, just like we agreed, Emma and Tim walked into the store.

  “Did you lose her?” asked Emma.

  “No,” I said. “I think you need to talk to her. Now, Heather!”

  I ran around behind Emma and Tim to block the door.

  Emma turned and looked at me with a horrified expression as Heather turned from the T-shirts to face them. Emma grabbed Tim by the arm and started to run, but I blocked her.

  “You need to get this over with, Emma,” I said.

  “How could you?” Emma asked me, starting to hyperventilate. “How could you?”

  “Watch what happens,” I said. “This is a holy quest.”

  “Tim!” said Heather. “I have to talk to you. In

  private.”

  “You can talk to me here,” said Tim, who sounded confused.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime, Tim,” said Heather. “With me.”

  Emma just about collapsed against me.

  I looked at Heather—she had dressed for this occasion. Her boobs were almost popping right out of her shirt.

  Tim looked shocked.

  “Huh?” he asked.

  “I’m serious,” said Heather. “This bitch has been trying to keep me from you, but she can’t run anymore. I’ve had, like, the biggest crush on you since middle school. You want to go see a movie? Or go for a drive? Or go to my place? My parents aren’t there. We can do anything we want.”

  Emma started to say something, but Heather interrupted.

  “Don’t you dare say a word this time, Wolf,” she said. “I’ve had enough of your fat ass!”

  Emma looked like she had been punched.

  Heather turned back to Tim, who looked too shocked to say anything. “Those calls from the debt collector have been from me. I’ve been trying to call you forever,” she told him. “The manatee messed with your phone. Your computer too, probably. You never got my emails, did you?”

  Tim shook his head.

  “Go ahead, Tim,” Emma muttered. “I don’t blame you. Go with her. You can probably get laid tonight.”

  I could almost see the wheels in Tim’s head turning as he figured out the whole thing. And then he smiled.

  “Can I ask you something?” he asked Heather.

  Heather nodded.

  “Are you Bluish?” asked Tim.

  “What?” asked Heather.

  “Sorry, but it’s against my religion to date girls who aren’t B
luish.”

  I couldn’t help but say, “You don’t look Bluish” to Heather.

  I don’t know who looked more shocked—Emma or Heather. Neither one could believe Tim was saying no. Emma was sobbing.

  “She’s serious, Tim,” Emma whimpered. “You don’t have to scare her away. You can go be with her. I won’t blame you.”

  Tim turned to Emma and sort of held her enough to keep her from collapsing. “Did you really make it look like she was a debt collector calling?”

  “Yeah.” Emma nodded. “And all of her emails get sorted into your trash folder automatically.”

  “You’re totally going to Nebraska,” he said.

  She nodded again, and he sort of chuckled.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll go there with you.”

  It took her a second to register what he’d said.

  “For real?” She was barely whispering.

  “Yeah,” said Tim. “I swear to Bob. But Bluists never die.”

  And he kissed her on the mouth. Emma slowly went from looking shocked to leaning into the kiss. Well, standing upright into it, and then leaning into it.

  They weren’t in a graveyard, but a record store would do.

  Heather looked at me. “How can they not die?”

  “None of them have yet,” I said.

  When Tim finally came up for air, Emma looked dazed.

  “Holy shit,” she said.

  Tim was right. Anything can happen on a night when you cross off the last three goals on a holy quest

  checklist.

  Suddenly, there was a big flash of light. For a split second, I thought it was an actual Spark of Blue, but then all of the lights except for the emergency lights next to the fire alarms turned off.

  The storm had knocked the power out. People began to groan.

  “Run, Debbie,” said Tim. “People are going to be leaving the theater. Go get her!”

  In the dark, I couldn’t see the look on his face, or on Emma’s or Heather’s. And I didn’t stick around to look.

  I ran like a bat out of Nebraska.

  Twenty-one