Wild Cards

“Oh, it’s Miss Beecher, hon,” Priscilla said. “I’m an old-fashioned lady, I suppose.”

“Sorry, Miss Beecher,” Adesina replied. Just then her eyes grew wide and she burst out, “Oh, there’s Mindy-Lou Gutiérrez.”

“She’s so kewl,” Adesina said with a sigh. “Her solo videos on YouTube are awesome. She can play, like, every instrument and she even composes! And obvs she’s, like, hep to the jive. Mom, that’s old jazz talk. Yerodin and I are totes into that now.”

Michelle looked at Adesina blankly. She could barely keep up with her own generation’s slang much less whatever language Adesina’s generation was using.

Michelle finished off her Coke. She knew it would be a bad idea to have another—too much caffeine made her jittery—but she went to the bar anyway. A different bartender was there.

“What can I get you?” the new bartender asked. She wore the same generic black-and-white uniform that Billy Rainbow had—though she looked a lot less like a model.

“A Coke, please,” Michelle said. “What happened to the other bartender?”

“You mean Billy? He did what he does best: ditch the last half of the party so he doesn’t have to do breakdown.” The bartender wrapped a paper napkin around Michelle’s glass and handed it to her. “He’s not a bad guy, but he’s always on the hustle. Even when there’s not much at stake.”

“Sounds like a not-so-great guy to me.”

The bartender shrugged. “Oh, he’s lousy at what he tries to do. He’s mostly a doofus. Pretty, but a doofus.”

“I can see that.” Michelle might have said more, but that was when she heard Mindy-Lou Gutiérrez’s voice rise in anger.

“Stop picking on me!” the girl from Modesto said hotly. “You’re just jealous because I’m a better musician than you.” Michelle knew that tone. It was someone on the edge of tears.

“Oh, please,” was the reply. “Everyone knows you’re a poser.” It was the kind of nasty only a teenage girl was capable of, full of snottiness, contempt, and hostility.

“You’re not nearly as hot as you think you are. There are jokers here who play better than you.”

Michelle didn’t know the other girl, but she kinda hated her right off the bat. She was about to intervene when Mindy-Lou spun on her heel and rushed out of the ballroom. The other girl smiled maliciously as she watched.

Adesina grabbed Michelle by the arm. “That’s Jillian Bigelow, Mom,” she whispered. “She’s totes a bitch.”

“Language!”

“Well, she is.”

The ballroom was beginning to clear out. Time to round up the kids, Michelle thought. “You guys ready to call it a night?” she asked.

The Mob looked unhappy. “It’s really early, Ms. Pond,” Sean said. The colors of his skin rippled and gradually changed color.

“C’mon, Mom,” Adesina said. Her wings gave a flap and almost knocked over a floral arrangement. “It’s hella early.”

“You guys have a super-busy day tomorrow,” Michelle said. “It’s time to head off to bed.”

“Ms. Pond, it’s only nine o’clock,” Asti said. His peachy scent filled the air. “No one is going to bed at nine o’clock. Heck, curfew for the competition is ten.”

Michelle had tried very hard to be Strict Mom and Serious Chaperone Woman, but it all seemed as if it was sliding away. The kids’ request wasn’t all that out of order. Dammit.

“Fine,” she said. “But everyone back into their room by ten. Rusty’s going to keep an eye out for all of you. If you’re late coming in, I’m going to know. Also, stay away from those protesters.”

“No problem, Ms. P,” said Peter. He rocked back and forth on his wheel. “They went away when the camera crews left earlier tonight.”

“And don’t go down to the River Walk. Let’s have one night before you start surprising the tourists. Just hang around the hotel. Okay?”

Michelle discovered Jan, Robin’s landlady, lurking behind one of the floral arrangements, looking fiercely at each partygoer as they left. Some of them didn’t notice her, but the ones who did recoiled and hurried out the door.

“Jan, you’re making the guests feel uncomfortable,” Michelle said.

She got a glare in return. “I’m trying to figure out who’re reptoids. Vicky could be at risk.”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Seriously, these are high schoolers with their chaperones and music teachers. Why on earth would reptile people be here?”

Jan stared at Michelle with amazement. “Reptoids! I thought I explained this to you. They’re everywhere.”

“And I suppose they want to be our scaly overlords?”

“They already are,” Jan said darkly. “It’s the conspiracy of reptoids and mind-control agencies.” She pushed her face into Michelle’s and looked deeply into her eyes.

“Unless you’re about to kiss me,” Michelle said, “you better back the hell off.”

Jan shrugged, then did so. “I don’t think you’re one of them. But you can never be sure. For instance, the Bushes are reptoids. So is the royal family in the U.K. I think they were behind Brexit.”

Michelle knew she shouldn’t say anything. It would be a bad idea. Almost as bad as coming on the band trip, but she couldn’t stop herself. “And why would they do that?”

Jan gave her a you-can’t-be-that-stupid look. “Because the queen wants British independence from Europe. Sheesh. Read a paper—or www .reptoids .com .”

“Okaaay, how about we get you back to your room.”

“No! I’m not finished patrolling.” Sparks flashed between her teeth.

“How about we go together?”

“That’s just what a reptoid would say to help throw me off the track.”

“Jan, just let me come with you. It’ll go faster with the two of us. I swear, not a lizard person here.”

“Reptoid! You better not be,” Jan said darkly. “I’d hate to have to kill you.”

“Yeah, I’d look down upon that.”

Thirty minutes later, Michelle escaped to her room. There was only so much glaring and staring at perfectly nice people she could take. Also, Jan was nuts and no matter what Michelle tried, Jan would double down on the cray-cray. It was with a sigh of relief that she sagged against the door of her room once she got inside.

Michelle hit send and her e-mail made a swooshy noise. Just as she plugged in her tablet to charge, she had a text on her phone from Wally: Bed check done. Everyone’s where they should be. Cripes, this is a lot of work.

One less thing to think about. She changed into her pajamas and robe, and tried to figure out what to do about God’s Weenies, the Plano Originals, and Bambi Coldwater. Blowing them up wasn’t an option, and that made her kinda sad.

Michelle grabbed the ice bucket, thinking a drink while she watched TV wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Keycard, she reminded herself. She tucked it into the pocket of her robe and slipped out the door. The ice machine was at the end of the hall near the emergency exit. She caught a glimpse of the exit door closing. Weird.

As she reached the alcove with the ice machine, she could have sworn she heard a giggle coming from the stairwell. A girl’s giggle. Then a lower-pitched voice.