I shouted, "Oh, Mrs. Roman! This is it! This is really it. This is good-bye." I threw open the door and scrambled out onto the tarmac. I ran back to the casket, shouting, "Wait!"
John held up one hand to the other men. They stopped and took a step backward. I reached my hand out and touched the dark metal of the casket. Then I tried to encircle the entire top section, where Mrs. Weiss's head was, with my arms. My arms would only go about halfway around, but I hugged her as best I could.
After a few seconds I stepped back. John put his hand down, and the men moved back to their positions. I stood there and watched them wheel her away. I didn't need to put any fingers up to my face this time. I knew I was crying. I could feel hot tears running down my cheeks.
Neither Mrs. Roman nor I spoke again all the way back to the mall. Then it was like a spell had been broken. The funeral duties were over, and the work duties had begun.
Mrs. Roman looked at me nervously and said the strangest thing. "Well, Roberta, I don't know what to do now. You're the owner of the store. You tell me."
"Please, Mrs. Roman, don't do this."
She held up one finger. "Okay. Let me make a suggestion. You let me run the store like I've been doing, at least for the next few weeks. That'll give you time to mourn, sweetie. People need time to mourn. Me, I've been through this. I know mourning. It's easier for me to handle than for you."
"All right. Thank you." I sat down numbly on the stool behind the register.
Mrs. Roman didn't let me mourn for long, though. She started right in, "Now, let me tell you some financial things that you may or may not know about. Your father signed a paper to open a trust fund that contains all of your money and property."
"He did?"
"He certainly did. Isabel showed me the paper. She showed me all the papers. One had his signature and, of course, a notarized seal."
I realized that I had probably tricked him into signing it, like everything else. I tried to focus on what she was saying. I asked her, "What is in this trust fund?"
"Everything that Isabel owned. Who else was she going to give it to? That daughter who didn't need her for anything? No. It's all yours, Roberta. And it's a lot—minus some money to the lawyer and whatever the funeral arrangements wind up costing. I have to pay those bills out of the estate. That's part of my job."
I pressed my fingers against my eyelids. "Because you're the executor?"
"Yes. I'm the executor of the will. That job only lasts for a week or two, until those bills get paid. But I'm also the guardian of the trust, because you're a minor. That job lasts until you turn eighteen. Get it?"
"Yes. I understand."
"You need a guardian of the trust to keep your father from getting his hands on the money. Isabel, of course, was very worried about that. Guess who the guardian was before I came along? Mr. Lombardo! Can you believe that?"
"I can't believe any of it."
"It's like you had a guardian angel."
"I guess."
"I don't guess. I know you did." Mrs. Roman turned on the register. I looked up at the clock. It was already ten-thirty. I gasped, "Oh no! Mrs. Roman! I have something I have to take care of today. I have to go."
"Then you should go. You should do whatever you have to do. I'll keep things running here." She unlocked the glass door enough to let me out.
I said, "Thank you. Thank you for everything." and hurried into the mallway. I walked quickly through the glass doors. Then I ran across the parking lot and down Everglades Boulevard until my side started to ache. I was walking fast along 111th Street when Kristin pulled up across from me in her Volkswagen. Karl was sitting next to her. I climbed into the back next to Will.
Karl turned toward me. His eyes were in focus. "So, cuz, I hear you got a secret plan."
"Yeah, I'll explain more when we pick up Betty."
Kristin asked, "So, where does our 'witch' live?"
We turned into the Golden Glades Mobile Home Community. A young guy with dark hair and a mustache was washing a pickup truck at the third trailer in. Kristin pulled into the driveway and rolled down the window. "Is this where Betty lives?"
The man turned off the hose. "Who?"
Kristin turned to me. "Oh no. Is that the wrong name?"
"I don't think so."
Kristin repeated, "Betty. The girl who works at the West End Mall."
The man said, "Yeah. She lives here." Betty came out of the mobile home. He turned to her and said, "Must be a mistake. This bunch looks normal."
Betty ignored him. She squeezed into the back with Will and me, and the man went back to washing his truck.
As soon as Kristin pulled out, Karl turned around again and said, "All right. We're all here. So what's this plan?"
I explained it this way: "I know the lady who books the guests for Angela Live. If we can pass an audition today, we'll be on the show on Monday."
Betty asked, "How is that supposed to save our jobs? Isn't Angela Live always a freak show? What are we supposed to be? Freaks?"
I told her simply, "Yeah. They want a freak show about kids who can't tell virtual reality from reality. We need to go in and give them that."
Karl asked, "So ... what if we pass this audition?"
"They will do Angela Live from Arcane."
"Cool."
"Let me go over your parts, okay? It's very important that you understand your parts. Each of you is playing a different kind of freaky teenager."
I turned to Will. I noticed that he was wearing an Ironman T-shirt. That had to be the first time he'd worn it since the trash trailer incident. I told Kristin, "Good idea, Kristin. Will has on the perfect shirt."
She said, "Yeah. And check out Karl's feet."
Karl struggled to show me. Instead of his usual sneakers, he had on shiny black combat boots.
I said, "Great. Great."
I turned back to Will. "Listen, Will, you need to talk about how you listened to too much heavy metal rock music, and now you hear voices telling you what to do."
Will looked very nervous. "What kinda voices?"
"I don't know. Like, deep, loud voices. Try to say something really scary and demonic."
"Like what?"
Kristin broke in, in a fake baritone, "Like, 'I am the voice of Satan. Do as I bid you.'"
But Will just repeated it back in his normal, high-pitched voice. "I am the voice of Satan. Do as I bid you."
Kristin laughed. She told him, "On second thought, maybe you should say that you can't remember what the voices tell you. Yeah, like, you have blackouts afterward."
I said, "Good. That's good. Now, Karl, you're going to have to say stuff about Nazis. Like, you think Hitler is good. Like, 'Hitler had the right idea.'"
Karl was still in a clearheaded time. He answered, "But I don't know anything about Hitler."
I said, "Come on, Karl. You grew up in Germany."
"Hey, I never even heard about him in Germany. It's like he never existed there."
"Well, then, you can say that you read about him over here. And you listen to him on television."
Kristin objected, "Hitler's not on television. He was too long ago."
"He certainly is on television. I've seen him. I've heard him make speeches in German on the History Channel. And you actually speak German, right, Karl?"
"Ja, ich spreche."
"So you could listen to his speeches and actually understand what he's saying?"
"Ja."
"Then you say that you spend all your time listening to Hitler. Okay, Karl?"
"Jawohl."
I turned to Betty. "Now Betty, what you need to do is—"
She cut me off. "Never mind what I need to do. I know what I need to do."
"Okay. But we all need to—"
"I said I know. I understand. I don't even care about the stupid mall."
"All right. Sorry."
Betty looked out the window angrily. I thought it best to leave her alone.
Karl asked me, "Wh
at about you?"
"Me? Im running the board. I hope."
We pulled into the studio lot. I directed Kristin to park in back, between Channel 57 and the Eternal Word. I led the group around to the front door, past the equipment area, and into Angela's studio. Mrs. Knight, Bill, and Mr. McKay were already in there.
Mrs. Knight walked up and looked over the group carefully. She definitely liked what she saw. I quickly introduced everyone, but I didn't think she was listening. I guessed she was calculating how the show would work best, and that was fine with me.
Mrs. Knight told them, "Okay. Everybody follow me."
They all walked out onto the soundstage. Mrs. Knight seated them on three high stools—Betty to the left, Will in the center, and Karl on the right. Kristin stood off to the side, by Camera 1, where Will could see and hear her.
I joined Bill and Mr. McKay in the booth. It was my first time in there. The booth was a rectangular room with big soundproof windows. Most of its space was taken up by an awesome control board with hundreds of buttons and dials. While Bill stared at the dials, Mr. McKay opened up the studio mike and announced, "We're going to get some sound levels now. Girl on the left, go ahead and say something."
Kristin pointed up to the booth, indicating to Betty that she ought to answer. Betty finally said, "What?"
"This is your sound check. Please say something."
"Like what?"
"Like your name."
"My name is Elizabeth Lopez."
"Thank you. Next." That would have been Will, but he didn't say anything, either. I could hear Kristin whispering to him and Will answering, "What?"
Mr. McKay said, "This isn't rocket science, people. When it's your turn to speak, you say your name, or something else, so we can get a sound level on you."
"My name is William Royce."
"Thank you. Next."
Karl looked up at the boom mike above him. He snapped his head back and shouted "Achtung!" as loud as he could.
Bill nearly jumped a foot. He yelled into the studio mike, "Don't do that again!"
I leaned over to the mike and said, "Mrs. Knight?"
She turned and looked up at the booth. "Yes?"
"Mrs. Knight, it's Roberta."
"Yes? What?"
"Remember, I said I wanted to learn how to run the board for this show?"
Mrs. Knight thought for a moment. "Right. Yes. Mr. McKay, is it all right if Roberta learns some of the cues?"
Mr. McKay leaned over in front of me. "Of course. That would be fine. Is everybody ready?"
Mrs. Knight said, "Yes, we're ready down here."
Mr. McKay told Bill, "Show Roberta what to do on the voice cues."
Bill looked at me with anger, but he did what he was told.
As the audition unfolded, Mr. McKay would say things like, "Camera One," "Camera Two," and "Open Angela's mike," and Bill would push the necessary button or turn the necessary dial. Everything was clearly labeled, so it was no big deal. Of course, it was a big deal for Bill.
Mrs. Knight stood between Camera 1 and Camera 2, where Angela usually stands, but she made no attempt to do an Angela imitation. She pointed to Betty and asked her in a flat voice, "What would you reply if Angela asked you, 'Why are you a witch?'"
Betty thought for a moment, then answered like a Miss America contestant, "I am a witch because I believe in the ancient powers and the ancient wisdom. I believe they are better than anything we have today."
Mrs. Knight asked another question. "Do you believe in God?"
"I believe in many gods—including Jesus, Vishnu, and Zeus."
"Exactly how do you, yourself, practice witchcraft?"
"I practice witchcraft by calling on the arcane arts—such as herbology, astrology, tarot, and numerology."
"I see. And do you have a big black cat?"
I could almost feel Betty tense up at that one. She took a deep breath before answering. "Witches are just as likely to have little white dogs as big black cats. Myself, I have goldfish."
Mrs. Knight laughed. "All right. Thank you." Then she turned to Will. "Ironman? Why do they call you that?"
Will looked at Kristin, who pointed to his T-shirt. He pulled his shirt out and answered, "Because of my shirt."
"I see. That's what it says on your shirt. And you also have what on your shirt—a death's-head?"
Will answered, "Yes, ma'am." Then he added, "Satan stuff."
Mrs. Knight seemed confused. "What do you mean?"
"I listen to so much heavy metal that I hear voices. Like Satan's."
"I see. And do you ever play the virtual reality games?"
Will looked at Kristin, who nodded. "Yeah. I play them every night. It's like I can't stop."
Mrs. Knight nodded and waited for more, but there wasn't any more. Will just stared at her.
Betty saw that and broke in, "I play them, too. They're so real that I can't tell where reality ends and fantasy begins."
Mrs. Knight turned back to her. "Ah! Tell me more about that."
"Sometimes when I'm in a virtual reality game, or 'experience' as we call it, I think it's real. When I get out of it and walk around the mall, I think the mall is the fantasy."
"Uh-huh."
Will said, "Me, too."
Mrs. Knight turned to Karl. "Now, Karl, are you a skinhead?"
"Jawohl."
"Do you speak German?"
"Ja, ich spreche Deutsch. Und Sie?"
"Do you speak English?"
"I do. Although reluctantly, because it is the language of the weak and the inferior."
"Tell me more about that."
I noticed Angela over on the left side of the theater. I didn't know how long she had been in the studio, but she had obviously heard enough to pique her interest. I could hear her, through Mrs. Knight's mike, ask, "Is this the virtual reality show?"
Mrs. Knight answered proudly, "Yes, it is."
"They look great. Do they have a lot to say?"
"Oh yes. They sure do!"
Angela studied Betty, Will, and Karl, one by one. Then she said, "They're perfect. Go ahead and book it."
Mrs. Knight spun back to the auditioners and announced, "You heard the lady. You're in. We have some paperwork for you on the way out. Otherwise we'll see you at three o'clock Monday at Arcane."
I saw my opportunity, and I took it. I stepped out of the booth and said, "Angela?"
Angela smiled at me, thought about my name for a moment, then said, "Yes, Roberta?"
"I think Ray Lyons might like to appear on this show, too."
"Oh? Why?"
"Because the hate crimes at the West End Mall could be a direct result of these virtual reality games."
Angela focused on me more closely. "Keep talking."
"Mr. Lyons owns the mall. He's already trying to solve these hate crimes himself."
"Who are these crimes against? A black guy?"
"No. An Arab. And there's a virtual reality game there called Crusader that makes people want to attack Arabs."
Angela smiled at Mrs. Knight. "This is getting better and better." She asked me, "Can we get this Arab guy to come on?"
"Maybe. I'll ask him."
"Yeah. You do that. You get him, and I'll get Ray Lyons." She turned to Mrs. Knight. "Get Philip Knowlton on the phone."
Mrs. Knight left right away to do that. Angela turned to me again. "Do you have any more ideas for this show?"
I pulled a CD out of my backpack. "This is the virtual reality CD-ROM for Crusader. I thought we could use it as an intro to the show. The people could see the Arabs torturing the Christians and everything."
"Great. Mr. McKay will have to preview that, though."
"All right. I'll transfer part of it to videotape. I can put some of this hardcore CD on tape, too." I pulled out Krystallnacht and showed it to Angela. She seemed impressed.
"This is great stuff, Roberta. Maybe I'll make you my producer."
Suddenly I heard Betty call out, "Hey, Rob
erta! Can we go? I gotta get to work."
"Yeah. Thanks, Betty. Thanks, everybody. I guess you heard that the show is on for Monday. I still have to do some editing here, so I'll see you back at the mall."
Kristin, Karl, Will, and Betty gathered themselves up and trooped out the studio door.
I left the studio, too, and walked over to an editing machine in a small room off the lobby. I emptied out the items from my backpack and worked for about ninety minutes. When I was finished, I had made two highlight videos for Angela, one based on Crusader and one based on Krystallnacht. Then I made a different video for myself based on Ray Lyons's man-in-the-street interviews.
I left Angela's videos on Mr. McKay's chair in the booth, with a note on top, Tapes for virtual reality show.
As I finished the note, I heard Angela's voice from behind me, "What? You're still here?"
I turned and said, "Yeah, I was just finishing those tapes. Crusader and Krystallnacht."
"Oh yeah. I want to see those."
"Do you want me to play them for you?"
"No, not now. I gotta get to the spa. I just want to thank you again for being such a hardworking intern. They're not all like you."
"Well, I like learning this stuff."
"Is this what you want to do?"
"I think so. I think I'd like to be a news reporter."
Angela twisted up her mouth. "Well, I don't want to discourage you, but that's a tough job to break into. You might want to think about producing instead." She started off. "Thanks again for all that you're doing for the show."
"Sure."
I said, "Angela? Do you really think you can get Ray Lyons for the West End Mall show?"
"I already got him, kid. I talked to Knowlton ten minutes ago."
"Great."
"Yeah. I always get my man. See you."
SUNDAY, THE 29TH
This morning, I woke up in Condo #303, showered, and ate breakfast. Then I called our answering machine at Sawgrass Estates. There was only one message: "This is Mr. Lewis from Arcane Industries in Antioch, Illinois. You have missed your third straight payment. Your franchise is officially in default. I believe you understand the consequences of that. If you do not, you are welcome to call me. You should probably call me anyway, so that I can make arrangements to reclaim our equipment."