I wave a hand in dismissal, hoping he’ll take the hint and move on. But he continues to sit there, grinning like a lunatic, so I raise my voice over the noise and say, “I’m waiting for another bus.” Emphasis on another.
“Then you better get comfortable.” He laughs, the sound coming from the depths of his prominent belly. “I’m the only one allowed to drive tonight, and that’s only on account of these glasses. They let me see through the veil.” He taps the right lens, causing the spirals to change direction so they look like they’re receding into his head. “Big storm’s about to come in. Big. Didn’t ya hear?” Only, the way he says it sounds like Dinnitchahear? “Way I see it, you got two options. You ride with me, or you turn into a human snowman. Yours to choose.”
I check my phone again—still no service. What is going on? Though he’s right about the storm. It’s definitely what you’d call big. I’ve lived in Greentree my whole entire life, and I’ve never seen it come down this hard.
I calculate the possibility of my making it home without losing my nose to the cold.
The odds are not in my favor. And frankly, I seriously doubt I can make it back to the store without meeting the same fate.
I imagine my face with a big blank space smack-dab in the middle where my nose used to be.
Also not in my favor.
Still I sit, frozen, watching what remains of my birthday candle as it drips down to nothing.
“C’mon! Whereyawannagota, kid?”
I take a moment to mull the question, and figuring I have nothing to lose, I decide to answer honestly. “To a different, better, much cooler life,” I say, watching as the fog of my breath shoots straight for the flame, effectively snuffing the wick, as the snow continues to slam so hard it doesn’t even seem like snow anymore.
With nowhere to go from here, I heave a breath of defeat, dump the cupcake in the trash, look straight into those crazy spiral glasses, and nod my consent.*4
“Welcome aboard.” He closes the door behind me. “You just get yerself all settled in, and I’ll have you where you want to be in no time.”
* * *
*1 Mom, please reread footnote in Chapter 5.
*2 So far there’s no sign of either ice cream or puppies.
*3 This is exactly what I should have done.
*4 I don’t think I need to say how much I regret that.
8:17 P.M.—???
END OF THE LINE
Even though the driver told me to take a seat, I stand before him, digging around in my pockets, searching for a bus pass that probably won’t even work on this crazy Christmas trolley, or whatever I’m on, as I start to give my address.
“Fuggedaboutit!” he says, shifting into gear and pulling away from the curb in a sudden, jerky movement that sends me scrambling to regain my balance. “On account of the weather and all, this ride’s on me. I know just where to take you.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that. Then again, it seems like the least of my concerns, considering the circumstances. And with every step down the aisle, I become more and more convinced I’ve just volunteered for all kinds of trouble.
The trolley is even crazier on the inside than it was on the outside, with that same graffiti theme painted all over the walls and twinkling red and green Christmas lights lining the ceiling, circling the poles, and draped along the seatbacks.
I slink toward the very last row and take a moment to study the finer points of operating the emergency exit in a way I haven’t done since I was a kid and my parents made Holly and me memorize it.
The driver shifts gears, singing “Jingle Bells” along with the trolley sound track all the way through until he switches to “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”
A few choruses in, he lowers the volume and asks how I’m doing, which makes me even more suspicious than I already am.
I mean, let’s get real. Despite my reputation as a Brainiac Nerd, I’ve just made the stupidest decision of my entire life by agreeing to ride with this crazy, sunglasses-wearing stranger driving a bizarre trolley in this insane storm while I huddle in the back, hoping I’ll arrive home in one piece. And now he wants to chat.
If Dougall were here, I’d probably view this as an adventure, something we could laugh about later. But Dougall’s not here, and I can’t even imagine laughing at the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
Still, I force an enthusiasm I don’t really own, saying, “Great!” Best not to let on how I’m really feeling, since everyone knows that crazy people, like animals, can smell fear from a mile away. “But I’ll be even better when I arrive in one piece and my bodyguard is waiting for me!”
I don’t know why I added that part about the bodyguard. It’s not like I have one. Though with the matching Christmas sweater, hat, gloves, and mittens—an ensemble that at my school would surely mark me as bully bait—I definitely look like a person in need of one. I guess I was hoping it would make the driver think twice about messing with me. But he just nods and smiles as though he can’t wait to meet him.