The plot thickens and becomes shinier

Yesterday I waited around for a few more hours at Winfield's before Curtis and Jessie showed up. Curtis had changed his sweatpants-sweatshirt combination from white to dark green. Jessie was wearing the same clothes. There was the same barista working there who had told Horace and me that there were no bikers.

When Jessie and Curtis had got coffee and Orangina I said, "That's the same barista who told Horace and me that there were no bikers."

Jessie said loudly, "Hey Dean."

The barista walked over and said, "What?"

Jessie said, "Why did you tell Sebastian Gardener that bikers don't come and terrorize us?"

The barista knelt down at our table and said, "Shhh," while looking at the other tables to see if anyone had noticed us. But the four of us were the only people at Winfield's at that point.

"Um..." I said.

"Didn't you guys hear?" said Dean the barista.

We all shook our heads. "Hear what?" said Curtis.

"The meeting the mayor held yesterday morning?" said Dean. He kept glancing up at the door, he seemed very nervous. Much like a small rabbit. Or perhaps an anxious hamster. "At nine o'clock yesterday morning? He announced it on the tornado warning speakers? That we were supposed to all come to the high school football field and he would tell us what was going on?"

"I was asleep," said Jessie.

"I was digging a well behind our mom's house," said Curtis.

"I wasn't here yet," I said.

"Why were you digging a well?" Dean said.

"To hide our money from the bikers," said Curtis.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "That's a really, really good idea," he said sincerely. "Mind if I steal it?"

"Nope," said Curtis. "Just don't go letting everybody know that digging wells in your backyard and putting all your money in it is such a great idea, because then everybody'll be doing it, and then the bikers'll find out, and then they'll just drive around to all the backyards and get the money anyhow."

"That's an important point you make," said Dean. "I'll remain wary."

I said, "We are art museums; we enter ourselves and get bored."

No one said anything.

"I was trying to get us back on track," I said.

No one said anything.

I said, "The meeting. At the football field. What happened?"

"Oh, right," Dean said. "I was just premeditating on your profound comment." He glanced at the door again. "Ok," he said, "So the mayor gets us all at the football field and--now obviously not all twenty-four thousand Hawk Center residents are there--and he tells us to tell everybody we know about the meeting so as nobody gets left out."

"I can't believe nobody told me," said Jessie.

"Um, I'm sorry Jessie," said Dean. "Uhh..."

I said, "We have bikers to stop. Keep talking."

"The Gardens are so awesome," said Curtis.

Jessie made a face at him.

Dean continued. "Right, so anyways, the mayor gets us all there, not everybody, but a bunch of us, and says words to the effect that we know the bikers will be coming soon and that also he knew that a certain Christian folk band consisting of three identical dislodged evangelist brothers was all coming and he had just visited their MySpace page and they seemed unseemly."

"Does our MySpace page really communicate unseemliness?" I said.

"Sorta," said Curtis.

"And then he warned us not to get involved with this band," Dean said. He was looking at the floor. "And, uh, he said they'd want us to do all sorta unusual things and he would call the governor again and get the National Guard back and we'd get those bikers this time."

"That's so dumb," said Jessie. "The bikers'll just do what they did last year. They'll just come in June." She fiddled with the buttons on her outermost plaid shirt. "The mayor's so dumb," she said.

Nobody said anything for a while. I thought about what to do. I wondered how in the world the mayor found out we were coming and why he was so opposed to our musical apocalypse-prefiguring. Then my mind started wandering and I started thinking about King Arthur. But then I got back on track and thought about what to do. Then I remembered that I had no idea where Horace was.

"Have you seen my brother Horace?" I asked Dean. "He was here with me yesterday. Had a beard, sunglasses, jumpsuit, hat..."

"Sorry," said Dean.

Then another customer came in and Dean jumped up and ran behind the counter. "Boy you're right that table was dirty!" he shouted to the room. "I'll have to clean it with bleach!" Then he asked what he could get the customer, an old lady.

Jessie sighed. "I don't think he's gonna talk to us anymore," she said.

"Yeah," said Curtis.

"Well, I'm supposed to show someone a bunch of my DragonLance books," Jessie said. "I should go."

"Yeah, I guess I should technically be in school," Curtis said.

They both said bye then got up and left. Which left me wondering what to do. I felt like King Arthur, but the sad King Arthur, not the happy triumphant King Arthur.

I decided I'd just wait and see what happened, and hope that Horace showed up. I went to a WaldenBooks and bought some poetry by TS Eliot and some books by Evangelical preachers who don't understand human nature. I went back to Winfield's and stayed there until they closed, reading the books I'd got. I went to a grocery store and bought some lettuce and some cheese, which I ate for dinner. Then I went to the 7-11. Jessie was working.

"Mind if I sleep in the back?" I said.

"No sign of your brother?" she said.

"Horace is the person most like a wooden table I have ever met," I said.

Then we talked some more, about vampires. Jessie thinks they're really great. Then I went back to the room and fell asleep.

Then I woke up, then I came back to Winfield's.

Horace. Are you out there? We should touch base about how to defend Hawk Center against the bikers, if possible.

Leo. How about you? How is it going evangelizing America and defending the realm of Things-Exist?