And I’ve decided not to let my nose smoulder off, so I’m reapplying sunscreen like an addict.
AndI think my magic’s gone wonky. I tried a few spells on the car top that should have fixed it. I put all the magic I hadinto“Shipshape and Bristol fashion!”—and nothing! My wand shot outsparks.
SIMON
Baz coached me through traffic today, then onto the motorway. I feel like I’m really doing this, I’m driving. I need to get some sunglasses now. Wayfarers.
Baz’s sunglasses are as big as his head. And that scarf. It should make him look like a mad old bat, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t look half glamourous. Like a boy Marilyn Monroe.…
My brain gets kind of stuck on “boy Marilyn Monroe” for a while.
Then my favourite song comes on again.
BAZ
Apparently there aren’t enough golden oldies to fill out a whole station, because this is the fourth time we’ve heard this song since we left Chicago. Why would you go through the desert on a horse with no name? Why wouldn’t you name the fucking horse at some point?
Snow goes to turn the stereo up, but the sixty-year-old volume knob is already cranked all the way to the right.
I slide my wand out of my pocket and point it at the radio.“Keep schtum!”
Nothing happens!
SIMON
“In the desert, you can remember your name, ’cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain.…”
BAZ
“‘Welcome to Nebraska… the good life’—I wonder if that’s a spell.…”
It’s the first thing Bunce has said since we left Des Moines. She’s been lying in the back seat with her arms over her face. I’ve envied her.
We whiz past the sign and into the first city we’ve seen in two hours. I’m encouraged that most Americans seem to realize this part of the country is blighted and have settled elsewhere.
“I’m hungry!” Penny shouts. Snow doesn’t hear her. She leans between us to turn down the radio.
“Hey!” Snow grins at her. “You’re up! Are you hungry!? I’m hungry!”
She gives him a thumbs-up, hanging between our seats.
“Belt up!” I shout at her. She lifts her arse in the air and wiggles it, just to bug me. I point my wand at her and say it with magic—“Belt up!”But, again, nothing happens! That spell should have made her sit downandshut upandbuckle her seat belt—but nothing!
You’re never supposed to point your wand at your own face, but I do.Is something wrong with it?
“What do people eat in Nebraska?!” Snow asks.
“Their dreams!” I shout at him.
“Hey, look—” He points at another sign at the side of the road. Middle America is papered in signs.EXOTIC DANCERS! WHOLE WHEAT BREAD! VERY COLD BEER!
This one says,OMAHA RENAISSANCE FAIRE & FESTIVAL! JOUST DO IT.
“Nooooooo,” I say.
“It’s this weekend!” Snow shouts. “How lucky are we?!”
“Desperately unlucky,” I say.
