Second String Savior

by Rick Gualtieri

  I rolled out of bed and grabbed my laptop out of its perch in my laundry pile. Wow, I really had a lot to put away.

  Focus, Jessie!

  I snapped open the screen and turned on the camera. “What in the name of the Phoenix Force?!” Neon streaks fell all around my face. I’d heard of hair color being a bit brighter when it dried, but this was insane. Somehow a subtle auburn henna had transformed into radioactive cherry Kool-Aid over the course of eight hours.

  Wake up, Jessie. I am ordering you to wake up!

  Nothing happened. I kicked my bed frame. Yeouch! Still bright enough to blind Red Sonja. I even pinched myself but could only come to the terrifying conclusion that I was, indeed, awake.

  Oh crap, and it was Monday, too. Not only was there a quiz in Physics, but it was tot-cho day. I couldn’t miss that! I had to pull myself together and figure out how to fix this before Dad caught a glimpse. What to do, what to do?

  First, pee. No sane decision was ever made with a bursting bladder.

  I rushed to the bathroom and breathed a sigh of relief at the ferocious snoring coming from Dad’s room. As much as I loved when we had breakfast together, that made the knot untie in my stomach. I had a few hours at least. Surely I could fix this by the end of the day. Worst case I’d find some brown dye, maybe shoe polish, or I could shave my head, or—

  I looked more closely in the mirror. What the. . .? Not only had the hair on my head turned pure red, my eyebrows had followed suit. Even my eyelashes had taken on a scarlet hue, making my amber eyes look lighter, almost freakishly so. Wait, were my eyes actually lighter? Not only had my hair gone insane, but the rest of me was following in its footsteps.

  Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I dared one extra look.

  “Holy crap, the carpet matches the drapes.” But how?! The only place I’d colored had been my head!

  The world began to spin around me. I had to get it together. Fainting never solved anything.

  I forced down all my panic and dread and focused on working the problem. I took care of the urgent needs first—pee and then a shower. I pulled my hair back into a tight bun to minimize the surface area. Even wet, however, my mane still looked primary red, but it was at least slightly better than neon.

  Next, I dove for my Halloween stash and found mascara and a dark eyeliner pencil. I did what I could to cover up most of the red, but man, I looked garish. Hah, like anyone would notice Kardashian brows with this on top of my cranium!

  I grabbed the first T-shirt I could find and slithered into my jeans. Damn it, the red of my Spider-Man tee kinda clashed with my head, but time was short and I needed to get to school. There was no way I was gonna add a tardy slip to this already godawful morning, but first a quick stop in the kitchen.

  Aww, Dad had left some of the less-bad-for-you toaster pastries and had put the coffee pot on for me after all. Too bad I couldn’t enjoy any of it.

  I slung my backpack over my shoulder and did my best to eat and run. Two swigs of coffee and a cold tart later and I had enough of a rush to manage the sprint to school. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but it seemed like I got more than the average number of honks as I darted around traffic. Then again, morning commuters hated pedestrians in general.

  Whatever the case, I skidded to a halt in front of my locker with a minute to spare, flicked my combination at superhuman speed, then barely managed to dive into homeroom as the bell rang. A cold sweat sprung from my skin as I felt the stares from my classmates. Perhaps the bun didn’t diminish the effect as much as I’d hoped.

  “Wow,” one of the emo girls in the back mouthed. My homeroom instructor, Mr. Miles, aka the teacher voted most likely to be a robot in disguise, even raised a brow as he took attendance.

  Once we’d suffered through announcements, I managed to escape to my first class. Far too many eyes locked onto me as I tried my best to hide in the back. One of the linebackers—Larry or Barry—took a picture as I tried my best to hide in my hoodie.

  “Girl, that is so badass,” a voice said from beside me. I turned to find one of the school’s token Goths cracking a rare smile, complete with enough metal in her face to make Magneto weep with joy.

  “Um, thanks,” was all I could really mutter while it felt like everyone else snickered and pointed.

  I made it to fourth with a few more whispers in my direction. Damn it, why couldn’t Physics be after lunch? I needed extra cheesy goodness to fortify me for the trials and tribulations to come. There was one person I needed to see and needed to see fast.

  “Gary,” I hissed the moment he took his seat, pulling off my hood and pointing to the obvious.

  “Holy shit!” Gary sputtered until he seemed to choke.

  Gary’s death spasms were nothing compared to what happened next, though, as Tony Castorini turned to look my way. Too soon! His jaw literally dropped. That’s it, I’m still in the nightmare. How could it possibly get any worse?

  “If Mr. Bates is finished dying, it’s pop quiz time,” our teacher Mr. Turner announced.

  Fine, Universe, I was asking for it this time. The quiz gave me a distraction, but I could still feel both Gary and Tony staring like I was a two-headed lizard. Hell, for all I knew, a second head was next on my list after exposure to whatever toxic waste had given me inhuman hair.

  Inhumans . . . oh no, I wasn’t going full-on Medusa, was I?

  I tried to make an escape after the bell rang, but I wasn’t quick enough. I don’t know which was worse: Gary’s silent gawking or Tony staring at me. I could feel the old warning all the way down to my bones. Be careful what you wish for.

  “Whoa, Jess, that is some crazy hair. Did you do it yourself?” Tony asked. Eyeballs turned our way from seemingly all corners of the hall.

  Lindsey Stallings glared at me from over her Trig textbook, her auburn hair looking practically monochromatic compared to mine. Okay, maybe my new locks had a tiny perk, as Tony ignored her and smiled at me—the kinda smile a girl could get used to. I felt the world spin again but was certain it was only hormones this time.

  A hand grabbed hold of me and began to pull me away. “Come on. You don’t want to miss tot-chos, do you?” Thank goodness for Gary! We totally needed to talk.

  However, first things first. What would Captain America do in a case like this. . .? Oh yeah, he’d be frozen in an iceberg. So much for that.

  “I had help,” I called out to Tony as I was dragged away. “See you later!”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I plopped into my usual seat in the cafeteria and set my elbows on the table. “Care to explain this?”

  “Explain . . . what?”

  If there was one thing my father had taught me, it was the withering gaze. Gary seemed to shrivel and retreat, his countenance paling by the second. “It’s so . . . bright,” he mumbled.

  “It is also all over my body,” I hissed, leaning forward. Gary’s eyes widened as I continued with the laser focus. I flopped my arm in front of him so he could clearly take in the feathery crimson fuzz upon it.

  “All of it?” he asked slowly.

  “Yup.”

  “Even—?”

  “Yup.”

  Gary gulped and when he blinked, it was my turn to do a double take. For a moment, no more, his eyes had seemed to flash yellow. There was no way that was a trick of the light. There was also no way meeting a mutant fortune teller coupled with hair-maggedon could be a coincidence.

  “Something weird happened, Gary. This isn’t just some hair color accident, and you know it.” Again, there came a quick flash of yellow from his eyes. He blinked, and they returned to his normal shifty hazel. I should have been freaking out at that alone, but my insane-o-meter was maxed out by then. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or not?”

  He finally nodded then looked furtively over his shoulder. “Yeah, just not here.”

  He had a point. I could see a lot more eyes than usual trained my way, some less welcome than others.


  “Oh hi, Jessie!” the cheeriest of voices cried, somehow making my name sound like it had about eighteen syllables. My blood ran cold as Counselor Flake came wandering over, her multitude of clunky beaded bracelets clacking to announce her approach as an early warning system. She peered down at me through her literally rose-colored glasses. “My, that hair is quite the statement. It’s so good to see you expressing yourself for a change.” The overly cheerful greeting was merely a façade, though, masking her true intent. “There isn’t anything you want to discuss, is there? Anything at home that has you suddenly seeking attention, hmm?”

  Subtle, she was not.

  I tried to ignore her, but the plastic smile stayed on her face, fixed and unwavering. “I’m fine,” I said between bites of tater tots. “Just trying something new.”

  Mrs. Flake turned her uncanny valley gaze towards Gary. “And what do you think of this sudden change, Mr. Bates? I mean the school. Are you finding that you’re fitting in?”

  “I’m fine. Everything is just fine. Nothing strange at all.”

  I was almost certain his lack of cool was going to land us in Flake’s office for an extended session of her “this is a safe space” speech. But, fortunately, she seemed to be looking for a full-on confession of not-rightness this day.

  “Okay, then,” she replied, the note of disappointment evident in her tone. “I have other students to check on. You two have a marvelous day!”

  Gary waited until she was out of earshot to lean across the table. “I’ll explain everything I can after school. I promise. We just need to get someplace—”

  “Alone? I’m not sure I want to be anywhere alone with you, Gary. If you want to talk, meet me at Justice Comics. There’s a game room in the back that’s empty until six, but I guarantee Uncle Jimmy will hear if I scream, and he has a shotgun. We clear?”

  He nodded. “I’m just as confused as you. I swear.”

  Somehow, I didn’t believe him.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The back half of the day couldn’t fly by fast enough, but finally the bell rang, and I made a mad dash for my locker. From there it was all about getting to the supermarket on Main Street, grabbing dark brown dye, and making a beeline for the comic shop.

  Adrenaline coursed through me and I skidded into my uncle’s store, managing to flip up my hoodie at the last possible second. “Just running to the bathroom!” I called way too loudly as I bolted for the basement stairs.

  Uncle Jimmy said “Hi” and something I didn’t quite catch, but I was on a mission to save my hide. The box may have said Just for Men, but it promised to cover up greys in only five minutes. Surely it could dampen Chernobyl Crimson in ten or so. Fortunately, Justice Comics had been a florist under the former owner and the basement bathroom still sported a double wide farmer’s sink with a spray nozzle. I could only imagine how many of Uncle Jimmy’s gamer regulars took trucker baths down here—Eww! Still, it was my only hope.

  Jeez, I totally forgot how much less hair men had in general. There probably wasn’t enough to cover every bit of my head, but if I could just get the top, I’d be okay for a cursory glance. I yanked out my scrunchie and let my hair fall over my shoulders, the tips touching my nonexistent chest. Wait, how could my hair be longer than this morning? What kind of crazy Rapunzel crap was this?

  Who was I kidding? I had Day-Glo locks from stem to stern, yet that’s what was freaking me out? That seemed akin to agreeing to laser swords and galactic magic but saying, “oh no, we can’t have sound in space!”

  I squirted the dye into the palm of my hand. Slowly, steadily, I ran my fingers along my temple and down to my shoulder, letting the brown coat my hair.

  Before I could so much as breathe a sigh of relief, however, the oily coloring slid right off, plopping unceremoniously onto the floor. I tried another coat, but the dark liquid refused to grip my follicles as if I had a head full of Teflon.

  Maybe it really is just for men.

  I looked at my reflection. “You’re not normal, are you?”’

  At least my hair didn’t answer. Not sure I could’ve handled that. Sadly, the third time didn’t turn out to be the charm, so I just wiped the mess up as best I could.

  Gary was my only hope now. He had to know something. I mean, when in doubt, ask the guy with the glowing eyes, right? Surely he’d be able to peer into the future and see how I could fix this, especially since I looked more at home on a manga cover than behind a counter selling them.

  “Jessie, your friend is here!” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Oh yeah, Gary was definitely gonna get a piece of my mind. I pulled up my hood, hoping to fool my uncle for just a while longer, and turned to head up to the main floor.

  Before I made it to the stairs, however, a hand shot out from the shadows and grabbed hold of my arm. I was barely able to let out a brief squeal of surprise when a blue haze filled my vision. “What . . . the. . .?”

  And then I knew no more.

  Chapter Seven: Origin Story

  My eyelids fluttered open to a place much brighter than the comic shop’s basement. “What the h—?”

  “Shh, it’ll be okay, I promise,” Gary’s voice whispered back. “Just try not to freak out, please?”

  “Not . . . freak . . . out?” I took in my new surroundings—the dark cabinetry, concrete floors, and sensible granite countertops. I tried to move my hands and felt resistance. “You have me tied up in a strange . . . kitchen, or IKEA maybe, and you expect me to keep calm?!”

  “Um, you’re not tied up.”

  “I’m not?”

  “Hold on, I think you’re just stuck.” There came a quick tug on my sleeve, and then Gary stepped around me. “Your hoodie was caught on a piece of wicker.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, taking in the sink, some bread, and various stainless steel appliances. A toaster with googly eyes stuck to it kinda shattered any illusions of this being an evil lair. I tried to stand up, but the world began to spin.

  “Hold on.” Gary stepped in and steadied me. “Not everyone can handle a sending without getting queasy.”

  I flinched from his touch, and then he flinched, and a terrible silence fell over the room. “What’s going on here? Where the hell am I? And what the frell is a sending?”

  “Promise you won’t freak out?”

  “The only thing that’s making me freak out is you constantly asking if I’m gonna freak out!”

  “Sorry. We’re at my Aunt Phil’s place.”

  “In Southborough?”

  “Not quite. We’re at the coven house in Worcester.”

  “Coven house? Worcester! I can’t be in Worcester. I’m supposed to be at Justice Comics doing my homework. Uncle Jimmy must be losing his—”

  Gary gave me a strange expression before shrugging and looking away again.

  “Gar-ry!” I growled, making his name last a solid ten seconds.

  “Trust me, your uncle hasn’t noticed that you’re gone.”

  “Trust you?! But he called out. . .” I jumped to my feet, dizziness be damned, and lowered my voice as far as it could go. “What did you do to him?”

  “He’s fine. He just thinks you’re still there.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “Technically, yes, but as crazy as it sounds, you kinda also are. I probably should back up and explain a few other things first. Not everything’ll make sense, but you need to hear it.”

  Tempting as it was to throttle him, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, he couldn’t give me answers if he was unconscious. “Okay, fine. I’m listening.”

  “And you’re calm?”

  “You’re not in a chokehold, are you?”

  “Good point.” Gary blanched then took a moment to steady himself. “Just hear me out. I think you might be important.”

  My eyes opened so wide I was certain they’d fall out of my head. “To you?”

  “Me? No! This isn’t some—,” He blushed then quickly regained his composure. “Impo
rtant to everyone. Look, there’s a lot I need to tell you, but maybe it would be easier if I just showed you instead. That okay?”

  I nodded.

  “I . . . haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

  “Really? You knocked me out, dragged me to a strange . . . kitchen in Worcester, and now you’re worried about honesty?”

  “I just want to show you what I really am, what I can really do. Then it will make more sense. I promise.” He fumbled into a drawer and pulled out a pack of playing cards, still sealed. Okay, not exactly what I expected. I crossed my arms over my chest as he ripped off the plastic and set the deck in front of me. “Shuffle and cut the deck for me, if you would.”

  We’re doing card tricks now? I did as he instructed, giving it an extra cut for good measure. He fanned the deck, Vegas style. “Pick a card, any card, but don’t show it to me.”

  There had better be a point to this. I slid a card out and looked at it. Oh, come on! Somehow, I’d managed to snag one of the jokers. Rather than laugh at the irony, I put the card face down in front of him and he waved his hand over it, also Vegas style.

  And then the card glowed bright red and burst into flames.

  “Holy Mary Mother of Gambit!” I cried. “You’re a . . . you really are a . . . mutant!”

  “Magi,” he corrected. “Or magician if that makes you feel better.”

  We stared at each other, unblinking for a moment, but then I noticed sparks in my periphery. Something else was on fire it seemed. It took me a moment, but then I realized . . . Oh no, it was me!

  My eyes widened as I saw flickering embers dancing off the tips of my hair. The card still smoldered as well, sending plumes of smoke upward. Apparently, Gary noticed as well because he grabbed a glass of water from the sink to douse the remains.

  “Wait! How do you know water will work?”

  “I think I know how to put out a magical fire better than you.”