Back in her room upstairs, however, Zoe made no move to her homework, but paced relentlessly.
Should I go or should I not? Going would surely raise her in the eyes of Elmo; if she went, took risks, she might seem more dangerous. More tempting, perhaps, than Abby. And if Elmo still didn’t like her…there’d be plenty of other interesting guys there, would there be? Going, though, would definitely cool down B.B.—but who cared about him, anyway?
She remained undecided for the better part of an hour. She slumped at her desk, not even having the will to get up and blast her music. She was starting to get a headache.
Her desk was a mess. Papers and writing utensils lay scattered all across its surface; there was a plate that still needed washing. A lamp perched precariously on top of several textbooks. There was some candy, some old homework, a few gum wrappers, all just lying around, waiting to be noticed. At the back of all this junk was a wall of photographs, held in small, pretty frames. There was one of Zoe and the family, out for a picnic in the park; another of her dancing ballet, which had been her favorite hobby as a little kid; and one of her with friends: Ernie and Bert to one side, their arms around each other’s shoulders; Murray, who had moved away not long after the photo was taken, and Telly, who had left the year before high school, both giving each other bunny ears. Zoe was surprised to see Big Bird, as well; she’d forgotten he used to play T-ball with them all the time—in the picture he was kneeling, yet he still towered over everyone, barely fitting into the picture.
At the center, drawing attention with their big grins, Elmo and Zoe sat, half-leaning against each other. Zoe picked up the picture and looked at it sadly. This had been during a time when she and Elmo had been like brother and sister. Every day was an adventure; every night a sleepover, staying up way past their bedtime and eating chocolate, laughing that they had outfoxed their parents once again. This was before things had changed, before Elmo grew handsome and exciting, before they got hooked on pot.
Her phone buzzed. With a sigh, Zoe set down her photograph and picked up. The screen read ELMO’S CELL.
“Hello?” she said.
“Zoe…”
“Elmo?” she said. “What’s up?”
“Zoe,” he whispered again, and Zoe felt a cold jolt; something was not right here.
“Elmo?” she cried, suddenly panicked. “Elmo, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”
There was silence.
“Elmo, talk to me!”
His voice came up again, and Zoe fell silent, not daring to breathe. “I don’t feel good,” he groaned. “This is bad…this is really bad…”
Oh God. “Elmo, where are you?”
Another long pause, just when she was about to ask again, he spoke. “Outside the stadium. Zoe, I don’t feel good,” he repeated.
“Don’t leave!” said Zoe fiercely. “Do you understand me? Don’t go anywhere! I’m coming to get you! Elmo, stay there!”
She hung up, hoping to God that he would listen to her. She was going to get him, but how? She could drive, but she had no car. The stadium was way downtown, and in a bad neighborhood, too; she’d be stupid to go walking through there alone. She supposed she could take the bus, but it was already past seven o’clock—did a route still run down there at this time? She would have to see. She didn’t think about what would happen if one didn’t.
Zoe fumbled around her desk for change; there were coins scattered everywhere. As she collected the last dime on her desk, she happened to glance out the window. It was growing dark, but not dark enough that she couldn’t see the cars parked along the street below. Her eyes fell on a large black pickup. Of course—Big Bird!
He was probably still mad at her, but that was the least of her problems right now. She raced down the stairs. On her way down she nearly collided with old Mr. Humphrey, who was hobbling up the stairs to his apartment with a grocery bag in hand.
“Ho, now, young ‘un,” he quavered. “Why the r—?”
Zoe blew past him, turned down the 200’s hall and hammered on #208. It opened almost at once.
Big Bird blinked. “Zoe? What’s up?”
“I need a ride!” she said excitedly. “Please, it’s urgent! Please, B.B.!”
Perhaps he sensed her anxiety, or heard the slightly hysterical note in her voice, because he did not ask questions. He merely pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go.”
In the pickup, Zoe directed him towards the old stadium. There was an awkward silence as he drove.
“So, um,” he said finally. “Going to tell me why you need a ride out there?”
Zoe hesitated. “It’s Elmo,” she admitted. “He called me, he sounded pretty bad.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Get him out of there, of course! What else would I do, just leave him suffering?”
Big Bird was silent for a moment.
“Why,” he said, “do you think it’s your responsibility to get him out of trouble, when it was his mistake in the first place?”
Zoe bristled. “If you’ve got such a problem with it you can let me out right here and I’ll walk!”
“No,” Big Bird said quickly.
“Elmo’s my friend,” Zoe replied stubbornly. “And friends don’t just dump each other.”
B.B. sneered slightly. “Isn’t that what he’s been doing to you the past few weeks?”
Zoe didn’t say anything, but it the back of her head, a little voice whispered, He’s right. Elmo knows he can play you like a violin, ‘cause you’re just a sucker.
The pickup passed through one of the rough neighborhoods. Zoe could see tattooed men on the sidewalks. They leered unpleasantly as the truck drove by. She shivered.
The old stadium finally came into view. Even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to see him from here, Zoe scanned the surrounding lots frantically for Elmo. But despite her careful scrutiny, even as they pulled up, he was nowhere to be seen.
There were lots of cars around. B.B. parked between two old vans and turned off the ignition.
“Well?” he said. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
Ignoring this jab, Zoe climbed out of the truck. “Elmo?” she called, though not loudly; some instinct told her to keep quiet.
B.B. seized her wrist.
“Listen,” he breathed. The two teens went very still. From not far away, Zoe heard the sound of movement: like a very subdued scuffle.
She started ahead, but B.B. stopped her and reached out an arm. She understood. He was going to go first. He tiptoed—well, as much as an eight-foot-tall bird could, anyway—past several cars.
Zoe was close behind him. When he stopped, she ran clean into him. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Well met, Abby,” B.B. said.
Zoe’s jaw dropped open. As she made to go around Big Bird’s considerable breadth, she heard a familiar, tinkling laugh.
“Well, hello, B.B.,” Abby replied. “It’s okay, I’m open for another friend.”
“You’re open for any man with a big dick,” Big Bird said dispassionately.
Abby laughed. “You certainly qualify,” she purred, and Zoe heard that note in her voice, the same tone she used when seducing Elmo.
Abby’s eyes widened as Zoe came around Big Bird’s side. “Oh, well, well. I see you already have a, um…date,” she said condescendingly.
Abby, her top half naked, was curled around a black muppet with a fringe of purple hair down the center of his head. Zoe could see her dark lipstick was smeared.
“I’m surprised to see you,” Abby sneered. “I thought both of you were too goody-goody to come down here.”
“We are,” said Zoe, looking down at her. “Where’s Elmo?”
Abby shrugged. “How should I know? I can’t keep track of everyone.”
“You invited him!” Zoe said angrily.
“I did not.” Abby’s eyes narrowed. “He came of his own accord.”
“Like hell,” said Zoe. “What did you do, hook up for five minutes then ditch him?”
The black muppet stroked Abby’s arm. Abby ignored him.
“You’d be lucky to even get that,” she sneered at Zoe.
“That,” said Big Bird, “was uncalled for.”
Zoe flared up. “You stupid b***h!” she snarled. “You don’t care about him at all, do you? You just care what guy can bang you the hardest!”
“Abby,” said the black muppet.
Again, Abby ignored him.
“Ha!” she exclaimed. “Why should I care about that skinny sonofab***h? Nothing matters to him. You can’t see it, can you?” she added, noticing Zoe’s expression. “He just wants sex and drugs, sex and drugs. That’s all that matters. At least I feel sorry for you. But he doesn’t care. He uses you. I can’t believe you’ve let him, a girl like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zoe demanded, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.
“Zoe,” said B.B. suddenly.
“What?” she snapped.
“Look.”
Following his gaze, she saw a lone red figure wandering around at the far end of the lot.
“Jesus Christ,” she breathed. “Elmo.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Abby and the black muppet resume as she and B.B. hurried away.
Elmo was clearly not all there where they reached him. His eyes had a slightly glazed look.
“Elmo!” Zoe cried.
He made a funny moaning noise, took one step towards her, and puked all over the sidewalk.
Zoe jumped back with a yell.
“F**k,” gasped Elmo, bending over. “This is bad, man. This is real bad.”
Zoe made to guide him around the puddle of puke, but B.B. made this unnecessary by picking him up and swinging him clear over. Together, he and Zoe helped the sick muppet back to the car.
“You puke, it goes into this,” said Big Bird rather roughly, pushing an old bucket into Elmo’s hands. Elmo seemed to nod, though it might have been his head jerking.
“His house is right down the street from our building,” Zoe told B.B. as he climbed into the driver’s seat. She was sitting on the armrest between the two front seats, half-supporting Elmo.
“Are you crazy?” Big Bird asked, reversing out of the space. “We’re not going to take him home. Look at the sh— I mean, kid.”
“Well then what are we supposed to do with him?” Zoe cried.
“Let’s take him to the hospital.”
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