Needy Little Things(13)

“Everything I do is for you, Tess.” He mouths the words like a prayer, but I know what he’s saying without having to hear it. It’s his fifth birthday without her and he’s said the same thing every year. He blows out the candles, then plucks a vanilla wafer from the top of the treat and pops it into his mouth.

The sun begins to set, painting the sky my favorite colors. Once it dips below the horizon, Deja and I visit booths with handmade art, jewelry, and hair and skin products, all lit with sparkly colored lights. Strong scents like tea tree oil and sage assault us as I fulfill more random needs. Eventually, Malcolm stands up on a stack of pallets and shouts for us to come back. I don’t hear him, but I see his long arms waving us over. Deja grabs my hand and we run back to him and Jude.

“Come on. I want to check out this metal band they’ve got going up next.” Malcolm makes a sign of the horns and sticks out his tongue. No one looks impressed. “Haters. Y’all never heard of faking it till you make it?”

We get a spot right up front. The music begins with a loud squeal from an electric guitar and there is only one need breaking through.

Earplugs. Earplugs. Earplugs.

I rustle through Santa Bag until I find a handful of the squishy orange plugs, then I shove them into each of my friends’ ears and into the hands of anyone who will accept them. Once that’s taken care of, I join in on the feral jumping and dancing. The music is muted, but the bass pounding through me is a worthy experience. Some people wedge their way between our group, separating the boys and me from Deja, but I can see her long braids whipping through the air as she gives headbanging a go—dozens of golden beacons pinpointing her exact location.

Malcolm fishes her from the crowd when the song ends. She comes out panting, looking happy and so damn full of life. Malcolm leans over and says something in her ear. Her smile breaks briefly, but then she hugs him.

Plate. Bucket. Extension cord. Soap. The needs grow louder now that the live music is paused, but I can’t pinpoint any of them. I’m exhausted.

“Sariyah!” Deja whines. It’s not the first time she’s called me. “You’re out there in la-la land while I’m about to pee my pants.” She puts her hands over her crotch and mimes an urgent need to go to the restroom. “Come on!”

I tap Jude’s shoulder and point to the porta-potties. He gives me a thumbs-up.

The line is tragically long when we get there. This festival has treated my nose to some mysterious scents, but porta-potties have never been anything but up front about exactly what they are. There are ten of them, each with lines at least fifteen deep, and based on the look on her face, it’s going to be a long, hard wait for Deja.

She wiggles next to me. “Don’t you have to go?”

“I’ve been limiting the liquids. You see these tights Malcolm talked me into wearing? I don’t want to have to roll them down inside one of them cramped, stank things.”

She pinches the front of her romper. “At least you don’t have to get naked in it!”

I do have to go, actually, but the noise in my head is an endless distraction.

Phone. Hairpin. Potato. Scissors. Aloe vera. Potato. I survey the crowd, trying to figure out who on earth urgently needs a potato, but there’s no use. It’s dark and almost everyone is drunk or high. Still, it nags at me. Potato, potato, potato. In my searching for the source, I notice the line at the end of the row has gotten short.

“Hey, Dej, that line—”

She’s not next to me anymore. I scan the lines to my left and right, but she’s not there. She’s gone. I tear off the noise cancelers, but it only makes my ability to hear worse. Music blasting. People singing. Somewhere, a dog barking. I pound the sides of my head with the heel of my hand, trying to focus. “Deja!” I abandon our place in line. “Deja!” My heart thunders in my chest. I text and call her several times back-to-back but get no response. Maybe someone let her cut them. I wait and watch as person after person leaves the porta-potties. She never emerges. It’s possible she couldn’t hold it and decided to go in the woods.

I trot over to the trees and call out for her, but there’s no answer. This is not good. I need to find Jude and Malcolm. I text them, but my phone dies shortly after. Based on the number of songs that play, way too much time passes. I’m near tears when I hear someone shout my name.

“Sariyah!”

The voice is familiar, but it’s not Jude or Malcolm or Deja.

“Sariyah!” Closer this time, but I still don’t see whoever it is.

I spin until I make myself dizzy.

A pair of hands grip my upper arms to steady me. “Easy. Are you okay?”

“Nurse Rincon?”

He chuckles. “Don’t look so surprised. I have a life outside of East Lake, you know.”

I want to hug him. “It’s not that. I got separated from my friends. I’ve been looking for them.”

“Yes, sweetie. I could see your distress from well across the way. I’d been purposely keeping my distance before that.”

“You saw me earlier?”

“Yes. You and your little friends. I trust you, but I wasn’t trying to end up on anyone’s socials. I don’t think Principal Mayjack is ready for this outfit.”

I note his chain mail shirt dotted with decorative pins of Africa, Colombian flags, and … herbs and avoid eye contact. “Have you seen them?”