What else? He could draw. But what? He could burp any time he wanted to—especially if he drank some soda, then he could sound like a bullfrog. The boys in his class thought that was a good talent, but how could it help him today?
“I want to get out NOW,” he said louder. He hated how his voice got wiggly.
“You will, kid, just hang on a few. Go ahead! Stuff your face with ice cream. It’s the good kind!”
Sam looked at the ice cream, which really was good. He loved chocolate the most. But the lava swimming around in his stomach made him not want to eat any.
Tall Guy said, low and fast, “I told you this was a terrible idea.” He used the voice grownups used when they thought kids weren’t listening.
“It’s just an hour, max,” Short Guy said, in a kind of whisper that Sam could hear perfectly well. “We’re just giving the kid ice cream.”
“A judge isn’t gonna think so.”
“Shesaid she knows the kid! It can’t be kidnapping if you know the kid, right? And we’ll drop him out at the enclave. Then he’s their problem.”
“Not if we’re accessories.”
“What accessories?” Short Guy said, and Sam thought, What is accessories? Could it be a thing that could help him?
But Tall Guy didn’t say what accessories were. “This was a bad idea.”
“Hey! You agreed, it was a great gig. Not much to do, except now and then, and the pay is great. With bonus, if we score for the boss.”
“Score what? That’s what I want to know.”
“Who cares?” said Short Guy. “In fact, I don’t wanna know. If this goes south, the less we know, the better. We can unload it all onto the boss. Look, we’re a couple of guys told to take a kid she knows up to the house, and stuff him with ice cream. Put him in the house, and vamoose. We’re done. No sign of anything arrestable. Speed up.”
Then the van swerved around a corner. Tall Guy was driving faster. Sam’s stomach lurched, but he tried to think of what else he had on his side. There was Oriane, who saw him when he got into the van. Would she run and tell Mom? If she did, then Mom would know what to do. Maybe she would call Alejo! Alejo would definitely know what to do! Sam remembered Alejo saying that the serpent was a protector. Sam thought about Alejo’s kind voice, and how he let Sam paint, and how he listened when he asked how Sam was. Alejo would protect him, Sam was very sure, even if Sam had done the wrong thing.
So he had to give Mom and Alejo time to think of what to do.
Maybe he could get Tall Guy to stop. He sucked in a breath, and produced a pretty good belch. “I get carsick,” he said, and this time his voice was good and wiggly. “I think I might barf.”
Tall Guy slammed on the brakes so fast that Sam skidded on the floor of the van.
Short Guy looked back at Sam, his eyes big and round. “Don’t do that!” Then he said to Tall Guy, “The kid can’t puke in the car! I promised Rich that the van would go back as clean as I got it.”
“If he hurls, you clean it up,” Tall Guy muttered. “I’m driving, here.”
“I’m not cleaning it up! I’ll ralph myself!”
“Oooogh,” Sam groaned, and clutched his middle.
They looked back so quickly the van swerved.
“Don’t!” Tall Guy yelled.
“We’ll be there in a couple minutes!” Short Guy yelled louder. “Eat some ice cream. It’ll make you feel better!”
Tall Guy was driving slower now.
“Ur-r-r-gh,” Sam moaned. “Where are we going?”
“Just to the big boss’s house,” Short Guy said, rummaging around, then tossing back a wad of napkins. “If you have to heave, use those. But hang on, kid, there’s a nice big bathroom at the house. You’ll see. Just hang on till we get there.”
A nice big bathroom…with a window? Sam thought. In one of his animes, when the bad guys grabbed the hero, and locked him in a bathroom, he climbed out the window, and got away.
Now he had a plan. “Ar-r-r-g-h,” he moaned, so they’d get to the bathroom soon. And he took in air, adding his best belch yet.
