Going Bovine

Going Bovine Page 87

“I’ll be right back,” I say.

“Where you going?” Gonzo sounds panicked.

“I’ll be right back. You guys just … get to know each other. Bond,” I say.

Balder offers Gonzo the butter knife. “Perhaps you would like to stab me again?”

“Cameron, don’t leave me with the freaky yard gnome!” Gonzo pleads, but I’m already up.

There’s a pay phone in the way back next to the men’s bathroom. I drop in all the change I’ve got and make the call. It rings four times and goes to voicemail. I hear my mom’s familiar message—“Hi, this is Mary Smith. I can’t come to the phone right now because I’ve probably been carried away by griffins. But if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you just as quickly as Hermes would.” There’s a pause, and then she says to me, “Cameron, did I do that right? Oh! We’re still recording! Oh my goodness …,” and her laugh is cut off. That message used to annoy the crap out of me—my mom being all spacey and mom-ish. But right now, hearing her voice is the best thing in the world, like waking up and realizing there’s no school. There’s a beep, and my stomach tightens.

“Um, hi, Mom. It’s me. Cameron. Well, you probably figured that part out,” I say, sounding like the biggest dork. “Anyway, I’m okay. I want you to know that first. And, you know what? Keep grading those moronic English Comp 101 papers, because otherwise, we’re all gonna be getting our gas at the K-W-I-K S-E-R-V and drinking our E-X-P-R-E-S-S-Os at the Konstant Kettle, two K’s. Seriously, the world needs you. You matter. A lot. Okay, I gotta go, ’cause the griffins are here and you know how much they hate to wait. Love you,” I add quickly, and hang up.

I turn and bump into somebody reading a newspaper. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“No problemo,” comes a familiar voice. Dulcie lowers her newspaper. Her bright pink hair has been twisted into short, corkscrew curls that wiggle when she shakes her head. “You would not believe the things people put in the personals these days.”

“Dulcie! Where’ve you been?”

“You said you wanted to be left alone.”

“Yeah.” I trace a crack in the tile with my foot. “Sorry. I promise not to be an ass**le from now on.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Dulcie says, laughing. Like a pair of excited puppies, her wings perk up and spread out till they touch the walls of the narrow hallway. I glance nervously toward the restaurant. “You might wanna ix-nay on the ings-way?”

“What? These?” She fluffs them so I can see today’s artwork, a mural of rainbows. “Don’t worry—people only see what they want to see.”

Right on cue, a lady barrels into the narrow hallway and asks if Dulcie is in line for the bathroom. Dulcie shakes her head, and the lady goes right on in without so much as an extra blink.

“I’m just curious, what did she see?”

Dulcie shrugs. “Who knows? Everything hunky-dory in Camland? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah. It’s been a weird couple of days.” I tell her about missing the bus, CESSNAB, the party, and Balder.

“I’m special, you’re special,” Dulcie sings.

“How do you know—”

“Must’ve been on a greatest hits CD. Great and special,” she says quickly. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking—I know you said to leave you alone, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Cameron. You need me.”

“I need you?” I try to think of a comeback, but the truth is, I’m just happy to see her.

“You’ve got grape jelly on your cheek,” she says, brushing it off. “Oh, also? Something just came in.”

“Came in where? Angel Central?” Dulcie doesn’t answer me. “Wow, do you have cubicles? Is there middle management and one annoying angel who drinks all the coffee but never remembers to make a fresh pot?”

Dulcie gives me a playful punch in the arm. “Very funny, Cameron. You know, I’d love to tell you all about it, but, sadly, then I’d have to kill you. Anyway … this just showed up. It’s recent footage of Dr. X.”

She pulls out an MP7 player and presses Play. Grainy video rolls. A guy in a lab coat in a white room. It’s vaguely familiar. “Wait—I’ve seen this guy before! The night the fire giants showed up, I did an Internet search and it led me to him. It led me to Dr. X.”

“Everything’s connected,” Dulcie says softly, and ups the volume.