Midnight on Strange Street, page 17
Angrily, Dani got to her feet. She placed her fists on her hips and looked down on the winding track.
Victory, she instructed herself. Envision victory.
She closed her eyes and heard the cheer of the crowd, smelled the smoke of a fireworks celebration, saw the gleam of the first-place trophy. Once she had that trophy, Mitchell would have to shut up. Once she had that trophy, her parents would have to hold up their end of the deal; there’d be no more fights at home about swim team, and at last, Dani could get a new board. And once all that was settled, then Dani could think a little harder about aliens and the end of the world.
One step at a time—that was Dani Hirsch’s philosophy.
Dani skated down Hazard Hill in a lazy putter, careful not to overexert herself or her board. She didn’t believe in practicing right before big races. The Sardines had already put in the hard work, and now it was time to store their energy. Now was the great big breath before the plunge.
When she reached the hill’s base, she turned east, toward the city, pushing off the ground in long strides. This was desolate, desert land, made of rock and sand, of steep cliffs and crags. Overhead, the cloudless sky stretched out in all directions, and the sun beat down on her face. She was hot and sweaty, sure, but Dani liked the heat. By the time she got home, maybe she’d even want a cold power smoothie.
Cars passed Dani on the road, shimmers of colored metal that winked light into her eyes. She skated at a safe distance, watching cautiously as each zoomed by. Then, glancing back, she noticed a large blue van crawling up behind her. She glided over, past the edge of the road, to let the van pass.
But the van didn’t pass. It remained behind her, traveling at a slow, measured pace.
Dani frowned, putting more energy into her push-offs.
She glanced again at the steadily moving van, trying to make out the face of the driver. All she could see was that they were wearing silver, as was the figure in the passenger seat.
Not just silver.
Silver suits.
Dani swallowed hard and looked ahead. Callaway was only minutes away. If she could make it into town, and out of this wide-open space, she could shake the van easily enough.
Dani skated faster.
The thrum of the van engine changed pitch, a slight acceleration. Dani swallowed again. She was too afraid now to look back. She had to focus on getting to town. She had to get to town.
Dani skated even faster. As she did, her board began to stutter, hiccuping globs of orange glow behind her. Dani teetered, off-balance, and whispered, “Hang in there. Don’t die on me now.”
A little green car was approaching from the opposite direction. Frantically, Dani considered if she should try to flag them down.
If they stop for you, she thought, the van will speed away, and those people in the car will think you’re crazy.
But that’s what I want, Dani told her rational thoughts. I want the silver suits to speed away.
She raised her hand and waved toward the car, waving and waving…until they passed.
Maybe they hadn’t been looking, or they hadn’t understood. Dani was still skating after all. She probably looked like some kid goofing off.
But I can’t stop skating, Dani thought miserably. If I do, the van will catch up, and then—
Dani didn’t know what happened then. She only knew she didn’t want to find out.
Her board was struggling, shuddering every few seconds, but it hadn’t died on her yet. She no longer liked the feel of damp heat on her skin. Everything on her—bangle bracelets, charms on her sneakers, even sweat—was weighing her down.
Still, the van didn’t speed up, didn’t draw nearer. There were no shouts, no blaring horns. The silver suits were simply following, in time with every stroke Dani made.
I’m telling Mom and Dad, she thought. This is why they should let me have my own phone.
Then, finally, finally, a shiny Texaco sign came into view, the first building on the western edge of town. Its red-and-white star had never looked so beautiful. Soon, many other buildings appeared: storefronts and banks and apartment complexes. More cars filled the road, and the traffic became steady. Streets took shape, forming into intersections Dani knew by heart.
Dani took a sharp turn onto Euclid Street and kept on for many more moments, pushing her sneaker off the asphalt in rapid strokes.
Then it happened.
There was an awful groaning sound beneath her feet. A crash, scrape, swish.
Dani threw out her arms, desperate for balance as she fell forward onto the sidewalk. When she looked back, she saw the awful reality: Her board had given out and now lay motionless, several feet off, in the bike lane.
“NO!” Dani shouted, lunging for it, just as an oncoming pickup truck honked loudly, swerving to the right. She grabbed hold of the board, tumbling back onto the sidewalk as the truck barreled past.
For several moments, all Dani did was breathe—shallow gasps that ricocheted through her body. Then she sat up, inspecting her scraped palms and bloodied right knee. Blinking, she took in the scene around her. To any other passerby, it would seem like a normal day in Callaway. Light traffic continued to pass on the street. The sun blazed down through leafy green trees. A congregation of grackles, gathered on a telephone line, chattered obnoxiously.
The blue van wasn’t around. Dani didn’t see it anywhere.
But that didn’t mean she felt safe.
Wincing, Dani got to her feet, inspecting her board.
“Come on,” she pleaded. “This can’t be it. You’ve got more glow in you, I know it. Come on.”
Gingerly placing the board on the sidewalk, she flipped the power switch.
Nothing happened.
“Come on,” Dani demanded.
She reset the board and flipped the switch again, almost violently.
Nothing.
Desperation had brought hot, stinging tears to Dani’s eyes. Sitting down beside the board, she placed her left hand atop it, gently stroking the chipped blue paint.
“Please,” she coaxed. “I need you to hang on one more day. I need you for this race. We can do it, together.”
Then Dani shut her eyes and, one last time, tried the power switch.
There was a low, rickety whirring noise. A garbled cough. Then there was the sweetest sound that Dani had ever heard: the hum of power.
Her eyes flew open.
“YES!” she shouted, fist pumping the air. “We’re back in business!”
Dani didn’t waste another second. Even though there was no sign of the blue van, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still out there, searching for her. She had to get out of sight.
Buzzing with determination, Dani stepped on the board and set out onto the street, speeding ahead, tears still blurring her eyes.
Bleeeeeep.
Dani startled at the shriek of a horn, turning in time to see that she had flown through a four-way stop. A man in a giant SUV was raising his hands toward her, shouting. She raised her own in apology, but still, she didn’t stop skating.
She didn’t stop until she reached Cedar Lane.
The man in the navy suit was having a very bad day.
“It’s unacceptable,” he said. “What part of stealth did those drivers not understand?”
“You did give them orders,” replied the woman with the high ponytail. “You said you wanted them monitored more closely, individually.”
“I said I wanted basic surveillance, not careless incompetence. Now that Hirsch girl is on her guard, and I have a very good reason to suspect the boy is onto us, too.”
“The boy,” said the woman, looking up from the digipad she’d been typing into. “Sebastian Gil.”
The man took a seat, slumping in exhaustion. He placed a hand to his forehead and sighed. “I think he’s been placated for now, but there’s no real way of knowing. We’re this close to the twentieth, and now—”
“Do you think,” said the woman, “your plan is still viable?”
The man in the navy suit looked up sharply. “Of course it is. I told the DGE they could trust me, and I never betray a trust. The plan will still work.” The man pointed to five photographs tacked on the wall. “They’re different, each one of them, but what’s the common denominator? It all comes back to Component G.”
“And glowboarding,” said the woman.
“And when do we know the subjects will all be gathered together? At the race, tomorrow. They’ll be in one location, and they’ll be fatigued after competing.”
“They’ll practically skate into our hands,” murmured the woman, frowning at her digipad. “And after that, they’ll be in the department’s custody?”
A dark look crossed the man’s face. “In theory, yes. That’s how the plan works.”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door.
“Yes?” called the woman.
A short, owlish man shuffled into the room, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth.
“What is it, Smith?” asked the man in the navy suit.
“That reporter, sir,” said Smith. “The, erm, documentarian. He’s been quite insistent. It’s the third time he’s called today. What should I tell him?”
The man in the navy suit glanced at the woman. She answered with an almost imperceptible shrug.
“Tell him I’ll speak to him,” said the man. “Make a phone appointment for this afternoon.”
Smith nodded and left the office.
The woman studied the closed door as she said, “I can’t believe we’re this close.”
“It’s staggering,” the man agreed. “DC is waiting on tenterhooks. This is going to change everything: our diplomacy, war strategy. With leverage like this, we’ll be back in the game. Imagine the threat they’ll pose when they’re properly trained, when their energy has been harnessed. This war is going to end. Peace—what we’ve all been fighting for—will finally be a reality. And we’ll be the ones to make that happen. Us.”
The man in the navy suit was having a bad day, but now at least his mind was feeling clearer. He had regained his focus. From here on out, there would be no more mistakes.
Now it was only a matter of waiting for race day.
Tonight, Bastian was working with oranges and blues. Using pastels, he filled in an ink design that he had finished a few days earlier: five stars scattered across a midnight sky. This wasn’t a constellation, like the plastic stars above his head. He gave these stars no pattern and no special names. They simply existed, bold and true, on a glowboard stencil.
That’s the best revenge you can get on any bully.…They can’t stop you from living your life.
That’s what Nando had told him.
Now, on the eve of race day, before the Sardines faced the Grackles, Bastian meant to take his form of revenge, however small. He was going to live his life. He was going to make art.
The sun was going down, and only Bastian’s desk lamp lit the room. Dusk—that was Bastian’s time. He felt most alive in the early evening, brimming with ideas, his hands itching to create. Though tonight, his thoughts wandered as he worked. He was thinking about a sheet of paper marked DGE, folded into a swan, and about Mr. Jensen shaking Nando’s hand in the coffee shop. He was thinking about tethering and a race time of 2:12. He was thinking about the light beings and what they had told Dani about an “elixir.” He felt close to a revelation, right on its edge.
Then Bastian looked down at his design.
He had been filling in a star, careful of his work, drawing and coloring in small triangles. At least…that’s what Bastian thought he had been doing. But the paper told a different story.
Bastian’s stars had transformed. They had taken on the shape of people—five figures, gathered together in a circle, their hands joined.
“What?” Bastian said, under his breath, afraid to break the spell.
Was this what he thought it was? What he’d been waiting for? Was this them?
Hello? Bastian formed the thought and pushed it outward. Who’s there?
That was when the static filled his ears.
The Grand Canyon, Bastian thought. Picture it. Show them. Show them.
He tried to paint the picture in his mind: unthinkably deep ravines, a crystalline blue sky, his grinning face as his family unpacked a birthday picnic. He had to show the light beings. He had to change their minds. This was his chance.
The static grew louder, and Bastian pressed his hands to his ears. The noise was so loud he couldn’t concentrate. Then a voice broke through, forceful, flooding his mind.
You must be united when we reach you. All five of you must be joined together. Without unity, we cannot…convey…full message…
The static was back, louder than ever, overpowering the voice.
No, Bastian reached out, frantic. Wait. What day are you going to meet us? Please, you have to listen. We don’t want you to eradicate Earth. We have good memories to show you. Things that make Earth worth saving. Please!
The static disappeared. The voice did, too. Silence deafened Bastian, and he stared at his art. His stars had resumed their usual shapes, as though nothing unordinary had occurred. They taunted Bastian, shining in a blue paper sky.
Then a new sound filled his mind:
Bastian? You in here?
Light flooded the room, and Bastian cried out, shooting so far back in his rolling chair that he thumped into the bed.
Lola stood in the doorway, looking equally startled. “Dani says—she says…” Lola frowned distractedly at the artwork on Bastian’s desk. Quickly, he flipped it over, crossing his arms atop the mysterious stars.
“Dani says what?”
An emergency meeting, Lola told him. She says we have to talk. Right away.
Yeah, Bastian answered, his every nerve alight. Yeah, we do.
Dani sat inside Cedar House, cross-legged and stone-faced. Avery arrived first, full of questions, but Dani shook her head in reply to all of them. She wasn’t going to speak until every Sardine was present. So Avery finally took a seat, and Radar flopped down beside her, producing a lazy yawn.
“Me too, bud,” said Avery, scratching his ears. “This better be good.”
At last, Lola and Bastian arrived, taking their beanbag seats. Even then, Dani didn’t speak for a few moments more.
“We’re being watched,” she finally announced. “Someone’s after us.”
“What?” Avery asked, looking around the circle in alarm. Beside her, Radar pricked his ears.
This afternoon, said Lola, breaking into Dani’s thoughts. She took a moment to adjust as Lola formed the tether among the Sardines. Then Lola continued with wide, watery eyes. I was right out there in the yard when I saw someone in the bushes. A silver suit.
“Lols!” Bastian said aloud. “Why didn’t you say so before?”
Lola’s eyes grew waterier. “I don’t know. I guess…part of me thought I’d made it all up?”
“You didn’t,” said Dani. “Or if you made it up, then I did, too.”
She told them then about the blue van and the nerve-racking chase back to Callaway.
“I don’t get it,” said Avery when Dani was through. “They didn’t try to run you over or send you off the road. They didn’t say a thing. They just followed you, and then they disappeared? What does that get them?”
“Maybe they made a mistake,” Bastian said. “Or they were waiting for an order that never came.”
“Or they’re trying to intimidate us,” said Dani. “Make us scared.”
“They’re doing a good job,” Lola mumbled.
“There’s something else, too,” Dani said. “My board—when they were chasing me, it gave out.”
“WHAT?” the others cried.
“It’s okay now. I got it to work again. But Glow in the Park can’t come fast enough, that’s all I’m saying.” Dani nodded to Bastian and Avery. “Have you two seen anything weird?”
“Not weirder than usual,” Avery said. “Not since the aliens showed me their own TV show.”
“You, Bastian?” Dani asked.
Bastian looked around at the others. He licked his lips. “Not silver suits. But…something else. The aliens. They made contact with me.”
“When?” Dani demanded. “What the heck, Bastian? You’re just now telling us?”
“Because it just happened,” Bastian said, hotly. “Literally just happened. They used my artwork.”
“Well, what did they say?” Avery cried. “Did they tell you the date? When are we supposed to meet them? Which midnight?”
Bastian looked grim. “They didn’t give a day. They said something else. Something about how the five of us have to be together. And then…the message was breaking up, but they made it sound like, if the five of us aren’t together, we won’t be able to make contact. We’ve talked about how the aliens keep using our memories, right?”
“Yeah,” said Dani. “That’s kind of your whole theory for how we’re gonna stop them.”
“Well,” said Bastian, “the art on my paper—it was an image, but I didn’t recognize it. There were five people standing in a circle. Not four, five. I don’t have any memories like that.”
The Sardines went quiet.
Then Avery said, “The five of us together. Do they mean…Radar?”
Bastian shrugged, looking helpless. “I guess? But he usually hangs out with us anyway. I don’t see why that was so important for the aliens to tell us.”
“You’re sure they didn’t say anything else?” Dani pressed.
“Hey, it’s not my fault!” Bastian shouted. “I tried to talk to them. I even tried to share my memories, I swear.”
“No one said it’s your fault,” Lola said, touching her brother’s shoulder. “We know you did your best.”
“It has to be connected,” Dani whispered. “Our powers and the aliens’ message and those silver suits. It all has to be connected. I just don’t know how.”
“Do you think they know?” Lola asked. “The silver suits. Do they know what we can do?”
