Waiting for Sunday

chapter 23 - bargain for time

Felix is disentangling his weary mind from a nightmare he has had several times before—open water, crash of cold, bubbles for breath—when a rampant knocking noise startles him at last into the world of the waking. He sits up and stares into the murky gray-blue haze of his bedroom, backpack tossed half-open on the floor, his desk a spill of sketchbook paper and ink pens, the beginning of another fictional landscape, horseshoe-shaped, staring up at the ceiling. It's quiet for a moment. Then whatever was knocking knocks again, and this time a voice comes with it: "Felix! Felix Montenegro! Feeelliixxx—"

By that time, Felix has tossed an old high school sweatshirt over his head and triple-checked that he's wearing pants and he's made it to the front door. He swings it wide and meets Quincy's eyes, which are weirdly sparkly. It takes his sleepy brain a moment to remember eyeshadow is a thing and she wears it sometimes. "Good morning, Q," he says, forcing his voice into a much more pleasant version than it usually is at this hour. "How did you get up here?"

"Tailgating, obviously. Your neighbors are very trusting. Listen, can you be downstairs in five minutes?"

Felix thinks about it. "I can, but I won't be happy about it. Why?"

"Lillie and Mira are waiting in the car."

Felix is violently awake now. "They're—why?"

"Oh, you love that word. Why this? Why that? Because, Felix. Because we're going to a corn maze. So get presentable and get your ass downstairs, okay?" Quincy says, and pats his cheek. "We'll get coffee on the way."

Felix groans. "I don't need any."

"Liar. You look like a zombie. Five minutes, Felix."

She's gone before he's shut the door.

Approximately seven minutes later, Felix gives Lillie and Mira a shy nod of acknowledgment and climbs into the passenger seat of Quincy's Subaru. It takes him only a short while of occupying this small space with them to realize the three women are buzzing with the same sort of restless, frazzled energy, like a radio tuned to too high of a frequency. Something has happened. Maybe the same something to all of them, more likely something different, but the result is the same. This has become more than a passing interest. Now, the resolve has hardened; now, there is dedication.

Felix doesn't know whether the feeling in his gut is excitement or dread.

"So," he says, trying to keep his voice light. "Corn maze?"

Quincy starts, "Long story short, Nao says he needs some magicky root or whatever—"

"He said it was called thimblewheat," Mira corrects politely, her gaze out the window.

"Yeah. That. And only one farm in our general area has it. Hence, corn maze," Quincy finishes. "Are you down or not?"

It's a stupid question, considering Felix has already dragged himself from bed and into this car, considering Lillie is here and he is trying not to think about the late spring, fresh tulip perfume emanating from her skin. So Felix just looks at Quincy.

She grins and pops a stick of gum in her mouth before tossing the pack into the backseat. Quincy starts the car.

Forty-five minutes later, the Subaru rumbles up a dusted gravel path, stopping before a rotting wooden archway with a faded sign reading Whipple's Corn Maze. A plastic skeleton leans drunkenly against one of the posts, and a trio of pumpkins clusters in front of the other. Lillie figures this probably has something to do with the fact Halloween has just passed. At least, she certainly hopes that's the only reason the first person greeting them here is a skeleton.