Book One: Chapter Fourteen

Inside, they waited to be seated next to a small sign that politely asked them to do so.

The diner was crowded. Nearly every booth and table was occupied. The air was filled with the sound of plates and conversation and, underneath it all, music playing softly.

The boy nudged his sister and nodded to a couple of open stools along the long counter. “What about there?”

“I want to sit in a booth.”

“Table for two?” The woman who approached was wearing a long dark dress — it might have been black, it might have been blue, it might even have been red. She wore a small plastic nametag pinned to her dress: Yama.

The lower part of her face was hidden beneath a veil, but her eyes above were friendly.

“Smoking or non?” she picked up two plastic laminated menus.

“Non,” the boy and girl said together.

The woman’s eyes crinkled above her veil. They were, Jee noticed, very dark and flecked with gold.

“Did I hear you say you wanted a booth?”

The girl nodded and the woman turned and led them through the diner to a red vinyl booth near the back.

The kids scooted in opposite each other and the hostess set menus down in front of them.

“Sarah’ll be over in a minute.” And then she left.

Jee opened her menu and studied it. “It says that they serve breakfast all day. Do you think that includes the night, too?”

Her brother didn’t answer.

She looked up at him. “What’s wrong?”

He nodded to one of the tables nearby.

She followed his gaze. Her eyes widened.

The were two lizards sitting at the table next to them, very large and very red. They sat opposite each other, resting on their haunches with their long tails intertwined beneath the table, stretching their necks forward to lap from two steaming bowls in front of them. Their long black tongues forked at the tip. Their skin glittered, like they had rolled in jagged shards of mirror.

Folded neatly along each side of the spiny ridges running down their backs were what appeared to be wings.

They chuckled and hissed at each other across the table.

Jee couldn’t quite tell if they were fighting or friends. She thought they looked a little bit like iguanas, although slightly larger.

One of them glanced over at her and she looked away, pretending to study her menu.

“Cool,” she said under her breath. “What are you going to get?”

“Nothing,” her brother folded his hands over the closed menu in front of him.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Uh, yeah, just a little bit.”

The sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. “What’s your problem?”

“Remember what I told you?”

“What you told me?”

“About eating?”

“What did you tell me?”

“There are rules. That’s one of them. No eating.”

She sighed, loud enough that one of the lizards looked over. “That’s just a story.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s a lot of them. They all say the same thing: If you eat anything here, you’ll be trapped forever.”

She snorted. “What are you going to do? Not eat the whole time we’re here?”

He nodded, determined as he could be.

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” she rolled her eyes. “That way, when you starve to death, you won’t have very far to walk.”

“Who going to starve to death?” a voice said.

They looked up.

A young woman stood at the edge of their table. She was very pretty, Jee noted, the sort of person who looked perfect in jeans and a t-shirt. She had a white apron wrapped around her hips and shoulder length hair so red that it was almost brown. Almost.

She also had antlers, a tall rack sprouting from her hair like two trees at the end of winter.

There was a plastic nametag clipped to her apron, Jee noticed: Hi, My Name is Sarah.

“You have horns.” Jee didn’t mean to be rude, it just slipped out.

The waitress nodded. “Uh huh, I do. Do you like them?”

Jee nodded, deciding on the spot that they were terrific.

“So,” Sarah said, “You’re starving to death?”

Jee pointed across the table to her brother. “He is.”

The waitress cocked her head and looked at him. “Well then, we’d better get you something to eat.”

Sarah pulled a little pad and pen from her apron pocket and winked. “What sounds good to you?”

Assam looked at his sister. “No, nothing for me, thank you.”

“I thought you were starving,” the waitress raised her eyebrows.

“He isn’t really starving yet,” Jee said. “He’s just afraid to eat anything.”

“Afraid?” Sarah looked back and forth between them, half amused and half concerned.

“He read a story about somebody who ate some pumpkin seeds or something and was trapped here so she couldn’t go home afterwards.”

“Oh…” the waitress crouched down and rested her arms on the tabletop, settling her chin on top of them.

“Listen sweetie,” she said to Assam, “I know exactly what you’re talking about . . . but that was a long time ago, a long time ago. And you shouldn’t believe everything you read.”

She tipped her head to wink at Jee. “They were pomegranate seeds, for your information, not pumpkin. And she didn’t get trapped. She wanted to stay.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” the waitress said. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“She did.”

“Why?”

The waitress sighed with exaggerated romance. “She fell in love.”

Jee made a face. Her brother, despite himself, did the same.

The waitress sat back in horror. “You don’t believe in love?”

“I believe in it,” the boy said. “I just don’t like it.”

The waitress fixed her eyes on him. “Really?”

Her eyes were brown, he noticed.

Suddenly, he felt very warm.

“I don’t like it either,” Jee said. “Not one bit. There’s this boy in my class who always says he loves some girl, but he’s a freak.”

“He might be a freak now,” the waitress said. “But give him a few years. It sounds like he’s onto something.”

“So,” Sarah stood up. “What do you like?”

“I like waffles,” Jee pointed to a picture on the inside of the menu. “The big square ones with strawberries and whipped cream, please.”

“Good choice.” Sarah made a note on her pad, bobbing her head. “Belgian waffles with strawberries . . . and to drink?”

“She might be lying,” Assam said quietly across the table. “How do you know you can trust her?”

Sarah stopped, pen in the air. “Excuse me?”

His sister rolled her eyes and then again, because the first time wasn’t enough to express how stupid she thought he was.

“Look at her. She has horns. Of course we can trust her.”

“They’re antlers.”

“Exactly.” Jee sat back and folded her arms in triumph.

Assam looked down at the menu folded in front of him.

He looked back up to Sarah.

She stood, pen poised over the pad. She raised her eyebrows.

A large man walked by. He was so hairy, it stuck out all over. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with a killer whale on the front and carried a tray loaded down with steaming plates. The boy followed it with his eyes.

He was very hungry. And she did seem trustworthy.

“Do you have hamburgers?”

She nodded, making a note on her pad. “We do. What do you like on them?”

“Uh…” the boy glanced down at the menu.

Sarah smiled and leaned in close. “My favorite is the southwestern: Cheddar cheese and barbecue sauce,” she said. “With bacon and onion rings. It’s the bacon that makes it Art.”

He nodded. “That sounds great.”

She made another note on her pad. “Do you want fries?”

He thought for a moment. “Fries, please.”

“Excellent choice . . . and to drink?”

The children stared at each other.

Sarah stood with her pen poised over her pad, waiting.

“Go ahead,” Assam said to his sister.

“No, I’m still trying to decide.”

At home, they always had milk with their meals. Each of them was waiting to see if the other was going to order something different.

“Annie makes very good shakes and malts,” Sarah offered after a long moment.

“What’s a malt?” Jee asked.

Sarah tipped her head back and forth, her antlers waving in the air. “It’s kind of like a milkshake only a little different.”

“Do they come in strawberry?”

Sarah nodded. “Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and pomegranate — just kidding,” she gave Assam a wink.

He knew he was blushing. He could feel it but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Fortunately, his sister was thinking about malts.

“I’d like one of those,” she said. “A strawberry one, please. To go with the waffles.”

Sarah nodded, making a note on her pad. “You like strawberries, huh?”

Jee smiled. “I love them.”

“I bet. Okay,” she turned back to Assam. “And for you?”

“Chocolate, please. A malt.”

“Gotcha.” Sarah made another note and smiled. “I’ll go put these in, kids.”

They watched her head off, threading her way through the tables, her antlers bobbing like trees in the wind.

“I like her,” Jee said. “She’s nice.”

Her brother stared at her.

“What?”

He sighed. “Forget it.”

“No. What now?”

He frowned at her. “Nothing.”

“Fine.”

They sat, staring at each other.

Finally he said “It’s just…”

“…just what?”

He fixed his mouth in a hard line, not unlike their mother’s. “You should be more careful.”

“Of what? Waffles?”

“Julia…” he said, exasperated.

“Ut!” she pointed at him, triumphant. “Now who’s not being careful?”

He closed his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, sorry, okay? Just . . . try not to be so friendly.”

It sounded lame, even as he said it.

But before his sister could call him on it, a low voice growled next to them: “Who had the chocolate?”

Assam opened his mouth to reply and then froze, staring upwards.

There was large black dog standing at their table — lean and lithe, with short dark fur and ears so sharp they stood upright.

The dog stood stiffly on it’s hind legs, wearing a white apron and balancing a broad tray on it’s slender forepaws.

It set the tray down carefully on the table. There were two tall glasses on it — one pale pink an the other pale brown. Next to each glass was a silver column frosted with condensation running down the side.

Each glass was topped with whipped cream and a single cherry on top, glowing chemical red.

“Right,” the dog growled down it’s long muzzle at them. “Two malts. Who’s got chocolate coming to them?”

After a long moment, the boy meekly raised his hand.

The dark dog chuffed impatiently to itself, lifting the glass gingerly between its two paws and setting it down on the table in front of Assam. The silver cylinder followed afterwards, a paper-wrapped straw stuck to the condensation on its side.

“Thank you very much,” Jee said as she got hers.

“De nada,” the dog walked away with stiff, almost unbalanced steps through the crowded diner.

The girl picked the cherry off of her malt and held it out by the stem, offering it to her brother. “You want this?”

He shook his head at her absently.

“I hate them, “ she said, setting the cherry down on the table and watching it stain the paper napkin a bright, unnatural red. “They taste like chemicals.”

She peeled the paper off her straw. “Stop staring. It’s just a dog.”

She sipped her malt, experimentally.

“It’s not a dog,” her brother told her. “It’s a jackal.”

“Whatever,” she shrugged, sipping her malt. “I like malt. What is it?”

“I have no idea,” he said. “It’s a chemical, I think. A mineral.”

She took another sip, sucking in her cheeks. “It doesn’t take like chemicals. It tastes like…” she trailed off.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” she thought for a moment. “It tastes like autumn leading into winter . . . it tastes like what the air smells like when the leaves have all fallen.”

“It tastes like leaves?”

“Shut up. Drink your malt and tell me what a jackal is. You know you’re dying to.”

“It’s a kind of dog,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “No? Really?”

“It’s like . . . like a skinny coyote,” he took a sip of his malt. “You’re right, this is good.”

“They live in the desert,” he wiped his lips with a paper napkin. “Jackals.”

“Not all of them,” she said. “Some of them work in diners making milkshakes.”

Now it was is turn to roll his eyes. “Drink your chemicals.”

“Malt. Yum.”

They sat for a while, sipping and thinking.

The jukebox started a new song, a man with a very deep voice sang about a river or about an old man — Jee couldn’t quite tell for certain which exactly.

They watched as the two lizards paid their bill and walked out, hissing and clicking at each other as they moved through the tables on all fours, slapping their feet against the linoleum, dragging their long tails behind them.

A large black man cleared the table after they’d gone. He wore a white top hat and tuxedo jacket with tails, shirtless beneath with a pair of patched blue jeans. There was a bright white skull painted on his right cheek.

His nametag read, simply, Saturday.

He moved around the table gathering up plates and scraps, clucking his tongue over the mess the dragons left behind.

Jee watched him over the rim of her glass.

He looked up from his work, caught her peeking and grinned at her, broad and friendly.

The waiter had a twin row of jagged teeth like a shark.

Jee glanced away, half-embarrassed and half-frightened.

She stole another peek.

The man called Saturday finished up by wiping down the tabletop with a very dirty looking rag.

Jee wondered if the rag was making the table dirtier or if the table might be making the rag cleaner.

The waiter hefted a large tray of dirty dishes. As he carried it off, he tossed her a quick wink.

She flushed, looked at her brother. “Why aren’t you drinking your shake?”

“It’s a malt,” he chewed his thumbnail.

“Whatever. What’s wrong now?”

She was a little sick of all his worrying and fretting. It was like going to a very cool movie with someone who kept looking at their watch.

He looked at her, the perpetual worry lines on his forehead a little deeper than usual.

“Listen, do you have any..?” but before he could finish, the waitress returned.

“Here we are, strawberry waffles for you, Princess.”

Sarah set down a tray on the edge of the table. “And a cheeseburger for your friend, Mister Happy Fun Guy.”

“He’s not my friend,” the girl told her. “He’s my brother. And he’s hardly any fun at all.”

“Well…” Sarah reflected for a moment. “I don’t know what to tell you. It sounds like you’re stuck with him, then.”

She glanced around the table. “You guys have everything you need for now?”

“Thank you,” Jee said around a mouthful of waffle and whipped cream.

Sarah smiled. “I’ll check back in a bit,” she headed off.

Jee grinned at her brother.

“These are really good,” she told him. “Do you want to try a bite?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Oh, okay Dad.”

“Listen…”

“…your food’s getting cold.”

He pushed his plate to one side. “I’m not eating it.”

“Too scared?”

“No. But…”

“…can I have one of your fries?” she reached across and snatched one without waiting for his answer.

He sighed. “Sure. Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” she took another one and dipped it into her malt. “Mmm, strawberry malt fries.”

“Do you have any money?” he asked her bluntly.

“Why?”

He just looked at her.

She stopped chewing. “Oh.”

Jee looked down at the plate of half-eaten food in front of her. “What do we do?”

He took a sip of his malt and shrugged. “I have no idea.”

She opened her mouth to answer but a sharp whip-like crack from one of the nearby tables caught her attention.

She turned to see that Saturday had returned, joined by two others — a young woman with short coppery hair and a tall thin man with big gold hair. They snapped a white linen tablecloth between the three of them and then swarmed around the table where the lizards had been sitting, transforming it with silverware and china and crystal, and topping it all off with a candelabra in the center.

Saturday stepped back. His eyes darted over the table, checking every detail.

He nodded.

The woman lit the candlesticks one by one, a little green flame danced on the tip of her forefinger.

Saturday nodded again and made a couple of miniscule adjustments to the single place setting.

Satisfied, he brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his lapel and pulled a small folded card out of his breast pocket, setting it carefully in the center of the bone white china plate.

“What’s it say?” Jee asked her brother.

He craned his neck to look across at the table. “‘Reserved’”

She took a sip of her malt and said, half to herself, “I wonder who for?”

Giving in at last, Assam took a bite of his hamburger instead of answering.

He figured it wouldn’t be long before they found out.



_____
© 2008 by T.M. Camp