“Was the fire department here?” I asked. I touched my face. There was no mirror, but I could feel how dirty, and probably charred, my face was. The sting in my eyes told me they were bloodshot. I must have looked as bad as I felt.
“Oh yeah,” said Chester. “But the rain had pretty much put out the fire by then.”
“The fire department didn’t shut down the party?”
“They were going to, but the rain had already done their work. And they wanted to see the final parade when the Happies marched down Main Street at dawn.”
“No!” I cried out. “I can’t believe I missed it! Was it amazing?”
Slick said, “I’ll show you that cut when you’re not so hungover. I don’t want to make you more sick over what you missed.”
The most important question: “How the fuck did I end up in UnHappies Jail?”
Chester said, “You were exhausted. Overstimulated. Tripping.”
Slick said, “Cra-cra-crazy. Now don’t kill yourself, but when you started rolling around in the embers, Evergrace Everdell was actually the one who saved your ass.”
“Everbitch saved me? Doubtful.”
Chester said, “Shocking, but true.”
Slick said, “Evergrace performed what she called a ‘Random Act of Compassion.’ She made a citizen’s arrest of you, and put you in here, handcuffed to Thrope.”
“You let that happen?” I asked them.
Slick said, “Everyone agreed it was for the best.”
Chester added, “Including the CHP.”
Fuck! “CHP was also here?”
Slick said, “Hell yeah. They were pretty nice about the whole thing, in the end. They told the drunk and tripping kids to roll themselves down the Ravishing Ravine, because the bottom of it was technically Nevada land where they had no jurisdiction to prosecute. And by then no one was really fist-fighting or vandalizing anything anymore.”
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “The CHP wanted to see the last parade, too.”
“Yup,” said Chester.
Slick gave Chester a look, and then nodded at him. He reluctantly pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and flashed it at me through the jail bars.
“What’s that?”
Chester said, “A summons. For you to appear in court to answer charges of trespassing, instigating disorderly conduct, violating fire laws. Shit like that.”
“OH, FUCK.”
Slick said, “They could have arrested you. ‘OH, I’M LUCKY’ is more like it.”
Thrope started to stir, her body moving, her mouth babbling “Wha? What? Wh…where?”
“I gotta go,” said Slick. “Mom said she’ll make a hangover batch of chilaquiles for you when you get home.”
Chester said, “I’ll leave a fresh bottle of Advil by your bed. You’re welcome.”
Theirs was the ultimate betrayal. I shrieked, “You guys can’t leave me here like this! With Thrope!”
“You two have shit to work out,” said Slick.
Chester said, “Good luck!”
In tandem, they made the sign of the cross over their respective chests.
Thrope’s bite of magic must not have totally worn off yet because she half-smiled in my direction. “Mornin’,” she said.
She was in such a relaxed mood. My head hurt so bad, and I didn’t want to form more words, but I’d probably never have the opportunity to get a real answer from her again. I said, “Why do you hate Happies so much? Why be in a Miss Happies pageant—and win!—if you loathe the place?”
Thrope sighed, and she put her index finger to her mouth, spitting drool as she spoke. “Shhh! I didn’t win fair and square. I was first runner-up. My mistake for trying to have the winner’s hula grass skirt and hula top disqualified as a legitimate bathing suit competition entry.”
“What difference did that make?”
“Because when they held the do-over, the bikini contest revealed she was a he. I had been named runner-up to a man. I hate being second, but especially to a man. I served my term as Miss Happie like a good soldier, but I’ve hated the place ever since.”
“So why didn’t you leave Rancho Soldado?” I asked Thrope.
“Why didn’t you?” she said. “You brats should have left town with your man-stealing mother.”
I was strangely comforted by her attack. All these years I’d thought maybe it was my imagination that she was so mean to us over something my siblings and I had no control over. The bad grades and the thwarting me at Town Council meetings hadn’t been because I was dumb or misinformed, as I’d sometimes secretly feared. It really was personal. That’s how Thrope played her politics. To the bone.
Politics needed to change in this town.
Outside our jail cell, there was a zombie walk of hungover kids and Happies trudging down Main Street toward the exit at Clown Town. Too tired to stop to engage the prisoners on display in conversation, they simply acknowledged us with thumbs-up signs and cries of “Great party, Vic!” and “See ya at inauguration, Mayor Thrope!”
Mega-Joan had rallied a chain gang, I mean volunteer crew, to clean up bottles and other litter along Main Street. At the giant fallen clown, I could see Mayor Jerry handing out cigars and coupons for his Tunics of Virility store to people as they exited the park.
“It’s a girl!”
“Congrats, dude!”
I expected Delroy Cowpoke to come by and unlock devil Thrope and me from the handcuffs at any moment, but instead the warden turned out to be Bev Happie. She stood over us outside the UnHappies Jail cell. She said, “I guess you two made quite a fucking ruckus last night.”
Clearly regaining her senses, Thrope spat, “Victoria made a mess of it. Not me. How could you authorize this debacle, Bev? You could have put the whole real estate deal in jeopardy.”
Bev said, “Maybe I wanted to.”
Wait. What? Bev was reconsidering the deal?
Bev released us from the handcuffs. Thrope and I both shook our hands and arms wildly to get the circulation going again. Bev threw me a dirty old Happies dishwashers’ T-shirt to cover up my chest, bare except for the bra holding in Ezra and Esme. I put on the shirt. It stunk so good. Like Happies.
“Where were you last night?” Thrope snarled at Bev.
Bev said, “I was so stressed about signing Happies away, the doc gave me a gawddamn happy pill to settle down, not like that’s your fucking business. Knocked me the hell out for the night. But I woke up with a new lease on life. And now I see all these wonderfully crazy Happies here, and all this mess here, all these remnants of laughter and good energy, and I remember my grandparents’ joy in this place and in their customers. They’re Happies. I’m a Happie. We’re a family. And maybe I don’t feel like selling after all.”
“You have to!” said Thrope. “What would you retire on? Can’t live on goodwill, lady.”
“I don’t need much to live on,” said Bev. “And I only just graduated high school. My life’s just starting. If some overseas businessmen want to buy this land for way less than it’s fucking worth, why can’t I find investors on my own to reinvigorate Happies for the next generation?”
I said, “Exactly! We could modernize the park but still keep its old charm! Install Mexican Seoul taco trucks throughout, and have a mosh pit dance hall, and piñata art festivals, and holed-up tin can light fixtures, and—”
“This business is useless,” interrupted Thrope. “Last night was about nostalgia and anarchy. Those two things can’t finance Happies into the future. The land is all that’s of value here. For God’s sake, we’ve talked about this a million times, Bev. No one wants to buy the business.”
Mayor Jerry stopped by and handed Bev a cigar. He said, “I might like to. Now that I’m a dad, I’d like to leave my kid something great. Much as I love my shirt store, it doesn’t have the same history—or devoted following—as Happies. I got a few mil to spare, give or take some poorly performing mutual funds.”
Bev’s eyes widened in awe. “My h
oroscope in the Death Valley Psychic News said I could expect help from mutual friends!”
“Nonsense!” Thrope spewed.
A mayor doing right by his town? Bev might stick around? Maybe Rancho Soldado wasn’t a wastoid place with no future. Maybe it had some hope after all!
“It’s the best thing that could happen to reinvigorate Rancho’s economy—using our unique resources and local talent to put us back on the map,” I told Thrope.
“Will you shut up already, Victoria?” Thrope said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do all along. Strengthen this town’s economy! Demolish this useless institution and use the land to rebuild Rancho Soldado from the ground up—bigger and better.”
“No, I won’t shut up,” I said to Thrope. “Why can’t you be more encouraging, just for once? Why don’t you put aside your selfish interests for the needs of this town?”
Thrope rolled her eyes. “Not that again, Victoria. Give it up already. You and I both know there’s no one who cares more about this town than me.”
“Except me. I have so many ideas for what a new Happies theme park could be like. I’ll help you find additional investors, Bev!”
Thrope said, “If you know so well what’s best for this town, maybe you ought to run for mayor, you naive teenage idiot.”
Lindsay was gonna kill me when I didn’t make it to San Francisco next week. I never listen to that dumbslut.
I smiled at Thrope. Genuinely. Gratefully. She’d just given me my life.
I said, “Not maybe. Will.”
RACHEL COHN is the New York Times best-selling author of several young adult novels, including Gingerbread, Shrimp, Cupcake, and, with David Levithan, Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist and Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares. Visit Rachel online at rachelcohn.com or on Twitter @rachelcohn.
Rachel Cohn, Kill All Happies
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