Cheryl leaped between them. “There was something weird on the videotape,” she said. “That’s what started the rumor.”
“Something weird?” Devin said, exhaling to calm himself.
“I’ve been wanting to show it to you, but you seemed so out of it, the timing didn’t feel right. I’ve got it here,” she said. She stepped a few cars down to her parents’ white Lexus, popped the trunk, and pulled out her camcorder. All four gathered around the tiny color LCD viewscreen. Devin and Cody sneered at each other when they accidentally touched.
The picture was easy enough to see. There was Devin on his stool, picking at the strings of the Ovation. Karston was leaning against the wall behind him. At first it didn’t seem like anything was strange, but then he noticed some tiny, swirling spots, first near the guitar’s fretboard, then near his mouth, then around his head, and Karston’s, too. They were small. Unless you were looking for something, you’d never see them.
“See?” Cheryl said.
“Isn’t that cool?” Cody said, grinning again.
But One Word Ben shook his head and said, “Dust.”
Devin nodded. “Yeah, I saw it on one of those
Cody turned to him, annoyed. “Don’t ruin it! Don’t tell anyone that! This is great for us! We can play the song at Tunnel Vision!”
Cheryl looked at Devin, waiting for his judgment.
Devin shrugged. “But it’s dust.”
Just dust. As in ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Only this dust swirled, spun, and seemed to dance in tune to the music.
8
Big and brown, the featureless walls and huge windows covered with protective metal grids made Argus High School look more like a three-story factory than it did an educational institute. It had one of the lowest percentages of graduates who went on to college in the state, and an even lower percentage of students who graduated, period. It was shaped, appropriately enough, like a big
The first thing Devin noticed upon his return to its hallowed halls were posters on the walls.
Though Devin had never officially said he wanted back in the band, he’d never said no, either. A strange enthusiasm about the ghost song and the big club date had taken over his band-mates, even Cheryl, so he, as usual, had shut up and gone along for the ride. It wasn’t so bad, he realized now. The posters were pretty cool— respectful but edgy. The art he recognized as Cheryl’s, but it seemed like some of the phrasing had to be Cody’s. And maybe it
The second thing he noticed as he walked down the crowded halls toward homeroom was that people were stopping their conversations to gawk at him. They weren’t pitying looks, exactly. There was something else in their eyes: a respectful curiosity. The stares were familiar, but Devin couldn’t quite place them until he realized they were the same kind of looks he’d gotten when he’d left the stage at Tunnel Vision. It felt…good, but he didn’t quite want it to.
Fear of another attack from the Slits was a vague tingle at best. After the meth bust, Nick and Jake turned state witness, which led to ten more arrests. There were still no charges for the murder, though. Devin had been asked to look at a lineup, and while one short muscular hood had looked hauntingly familiar, he couldn’t quite square him with what he’d seen leaping about his kitchen. He gave the police a maybe, but in his own mind, Devin was now convinced the shadows had played tricks on him. A Slit had killed Karston. It had to be.
In any case, the gang had been effectively gutted both by the police and a storm of publicity. Their colors hadn’t been seen on the streets in days. Devin knew that it wasn’t because Karston had been killed; it was because Karston had been killed in Meadowcrest Farms. Knowing that made him sick.
Down the hall, by the entrance to the gym, he spotted Cheryl, wearing cute green shorts and a T-shirt. She was using an open stapler to put up more posters. Happy to see her, he sped up, about to call her name, when he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder.
He turned to see a few guys and some girls staring at him. One of the boys, a gangly sort with long hair, a faded jacket, and a noticeable slump, nodded at Devin, then toward one of the posters on the wall.
“You’re in that band? You’re in Torn?” he said with a bit of a slur.
Devin nodded. They all smiled slightly and nodded back in tandem, saying things like “Cool” and “All right.” The wave of approval from people he didn’t know at all was strong and strange. Devin started to feel really good about it in spite of his reservations. In fact, it was probably the first time he’d felt good since Karston died.
What should he say to them? Cody was good at this kind of thing, but he was home these days. “So, you coming to the show?” he asked, hoping it didn’t sound too lame.
The nodding became more enthusiastic.
“Yeah.”
“You bet.”
“You guys rock.”
He tried to keep cool, but a small smile curled his lips. Before he could say anything else though, another hand found his shoulder and gently pulled him around.
“See?” Cheryl said. “You’re famous now.”
“Right,” Devin said.
“No. Enjoy it,” she said. She kissed him. “But don’t forget the rest of us mortals.”
With that, she wandered off down the halls, the tops and bottoms of the posters in her hand rising and falling as she went, earning her own respectful stares.
Devin turned back to his small group, his smile now full blown.
“And did you write that song on the site? About the angels?”
“Yeah, it’s mine.”
“And you’re gonna sing it at the show?”
“That’s the idea. Well, Cody will sing it.”
“The guy who got kicked out. Yeah, that’s what I meant.” But then the gangly kid took a nervous step closer and whispered, “So are all the rumors true, man?”
“What rumors do you mean?” Devin said, trying to seem innocent.
“You know,” the kid said with a knowing smirk. “That you killed that loser Karston just to get his bass.”
That afternoon, Devin and Cheryl sat at “their” place, a huge rock just outside town, watching white clouds roll and billow in the blue sky. The rock was atop a low hill that sat at the edge of an abandoned development. Construction had stopped due to bankruptcy. The roads there were dirt, leading to various holes in the ground that had been dug out by backhoes for concrete foundations that were never poured, and then left to collapse or fill with rainwater. At their backs, new McMansion rooftops peeked through thinner woods that sat along the dirt road, but ahead of them, the forest began.
Cheryl tried to comfort him, hugging him steadily. “It’s just a stupid rumor,” she said.
“Yeah? Later in the day some other kids said they heard we’d sacrificed Karston to a demon in exchange for a killer song. It’s all just too weird.”
“There’ve been so many hits on the site, the server crashed again,” she said, nudging him.
“It’s not because the song’s any good—it’s because Karston died,” Devin answered. “Is this how you want to
