Young Writers Society

Wednesday, 14:30, route 31

Rage is too weak of a word.

This is the second time in two days that Divinity has found some part of her attached to the bus seats by someone’s nasty gum. As she leans forward in her seat to nose her way into a quiet conversation between Willow and Drake, the tip of her index finger brushes against something damp and squishy under the seat, and when she tries to pull her hand away, she can’t.

She shudders, and Martin peers at her from the corners of his eyes like she’s an alien.

“What?” Divinity sputters. She rips her hand out from under the seat and grimaces at the tiny pink blob still stuck on her skin.

Like the sensitive person he is, Martin inches towards the aisle and away from Divinity. “Please tell me my nose deceives me and that is not gum.”

“It’s gum,” Divinity confirms, voice grim and low. Then she makes a gagging sound and shakes the offending hand at Martin. “Eww, this is the second time this week. You should help me get it off.”

Martin scoots until he is almost falling out of his seat, an arm raised to defend himself from the pink nastiness stuck on Divinity’s finger. “You know, if you weren’t trying to get that stuff on me, I just might.” He swats her away, thankfully managing to hit her forearm and not her hand.

“Oh, you’re on,” Divinity hisses. With her clean hand, she snatches Martin’s wrist and twists, dragging him down to touch the gum under their seat. “How’s that, Mr. I’m-so-much-better-than-you-because-I’m-a-vampire?”

“It’s nasty, you barbarian.” Shuddering, he rips his hand from under the seat and shakes it at Divinity, as though the gum will come off with anything less than soap or peanut butter.

As Divinity leans forward to go offensive with her gummy fingers, a firm, pale hand pulls on her shoulder, and she pauses in her fight. In the seat behind her sits Marie, smiling with a slight, worried quirk to her lips and eyebrows.

“I think you are setting a poor example for the younger people on the bus,” Marie says. She gestures like a game show host at the gaggle of kids behind her, the usual group of middle school girls dressed in kaleidoscopic clothing, and tilts her head.

Like always, Marie is right. With a grimace, Divinity notes that the middle school crowd is rife with gigglers, all of them pointing her way. A quick peek at Martin shows he is equally disgusted with his behavior. He is scowling so hard his fangs poke out.

“Oops,” Divinity admits.

Marie beams her wise and innocent actress smile and lifts a delicate hand. She makes a swivelling motion with her index finger, and Divinity and Martin turn back to the front of the bus, blinking in confusion and curling their lips in stunned frowns. When they fall back to earth from their stint in obliviousness, they find Willow and Drake staring at them, mouths hanging open.

“If I’d known you two would be so explosive,” Drake says, “I wouldn’t have introduced you to each other.”

Willow nods, shutting her mouth with a clack.

“If you hadn’t introduced us,” Divinity counters, crossing her arms and smirking, “you wouldn’t have figured out half the things we know about the weirdness going on right now.” She turns to Willow next, her grin turning to a slight frown. “By the way, Willow, are you feeling alright? You know, since you fainted yesterday and all.”

Averting her gaze, Willow titters and loops a lock of black hair around her fingers. “Um, about that… I didn’t actually faint.”

Drake frowns, frustrated and angry, and a little resigned. “She had a spiritual excursion.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Divinity says. She scoots forward in her seat and prepares for a lecture, but Willow holds up a hand to stop her.

“Drake already talked to me about this. Why don’t Martin and I tell you two what we figured out instead?”

Always tempted by information, Divinity softens. She pretends to be horribly put out and gestures for Willow to continue, keeping Martin and his stoic face in view to catch his reactions.

“Well, uh, so I separated my spirit, obviously, and then you two left,” Willow begins, “and I went back to that room where the blonde lady in the leopard print was living. Um, it seems like all the energy she had was attracting other ghosts, which explained the giant line on Monday.”

Martin crosses his arms. “Tell us why she had all that energy again.”

“Well, she’d just been cheated by an alchemist, I guess,” Willow says, expression pinched in thought. “I couldn’t tell with all her screaming, but I think she meant to make some profit selling Drake’s chessboard and got ripped off. Then she died before she could exact revenge on anyone.”

Divinity whistles, but with the din of the bus covering any low noises, she just looks like she’s making a kissy face. “So she really was the target of all those car accidents.”

“Yeah. But, well, she’d absorbed most of the other ghosts by the time we reached her, so she was really just an angry ball of energy when I saw her. If we were in a place with a lot of predatory spirits, the woman wouldn’t have lasted so long, but uh…” Willow trails off, and her cheeks flush with pale, sick green. She looks to Martin, hoping he’ll finish the story for her.

“So she lasted long enough to gather up even more energy,” Martin says. “Tell Drake and Divinity what you saw next.”

Willow swallows and glances around the bus. It’s loud enough that no one will hear unless they are trying, but she leans in anyways, silently inviting the rest of the group to join her in their huddle.

“It’s no temple, but we do have some nature spirits leftover from before European colonization,” Willow says. She turns greener and paler, and she quivers, though that may be the vibrations from driving and not fear. “And, well, there was a canine spirit in the leopard print lady’s room, and it was really really dense. If it were like a normal spirit, it would’ve been huge.”

“Let me guess,” Drake says. “This spirit ate the ghosts?”

Cringing, Willow nods. She bites her lip and looks to Martin, begging him to take over.

He sighs and uncrosses his arms. “This could mean a few different things,” he explains. His back is straight, and he smooths his features into logical indifference. “It could mean your thief is lost forever, and we will never figure out where your chessboard went. It could mean Willow will be attacked very soon, and she may not win. And it-

“Or I could eat the canine and the ghosts and turn into a cannibalistic monster,” Willow says.

“Or that, yes,” Martin agrees. His mask of calm fractures around his eyes. “And without the ghost of this thief, or the ghosts of the many other women killed, we may never be able to catch the man behind all those hit-and-run incidents.”

If silence were possible on the bus, the following pause would have been deafeningly quiet.

Then Divinity shrugs, and the tension loosens. “That’s all very happy, but is there any outcome to this that could possibly be good?”

Willow suddenly finds the floor fascinating.

“We thought for a while,” Martin says, “and the possibilities all seem pretty disastrous.” He glances out the window, at the red brick buildings looming ahead, and then at the line forming in the aisle. “Also, I think it’s your stop, Divinity.”