Her phone buzzed almost immediately.
—Are you on your period?
—Why? You like it bloody?
Why did she write that? What did it even mean? The closest she’d come to sex at that point was sharing Dennis Cunningham’s chewing gum in 6th grade. She glanced down at her phone, but it was dark. For a moment she worried she’d offended him, if that was even possible. She thought about telling Gabby and Hart that she’d blown their connection to the nirvana pipeline. Why were her hands so dry? They felt like paper.
Before she could think better of it, she typed— —Well, you hooked me. Are you gonna reel me in?
A moment later, just as the class bell rang, her phone pinged again.
—Gamestop. 4pm.
And just like that, she was in.
Simon
Louise, it quickly becomes clear, is also in love with Duane. Or at least heavily in lust. Almost before they’re out of the driveway and fishtailing onto the main street, she levers herself into the front, crossing her legs in the passenger seat.
“What’s your story, kitty-cat?” she says.
“It’s not complex,” Duane tells her. “I can sum it up with this haiku: My friend Barry died. My father used to beat me. Now I must lift weights.”
“Deep,” she says, touching his arm and taking another hit off the joint.
“Oh,” says Duane, “before I forget. No politics in the Valkyrie.”
“Because …”
“Because there are no politics,” he says. “What people call politics. There’s thoughts and there’s feelings. So we live true in my ride. We call things for what they are.”
Louise puts her feet on the dashboard, stretches her toes. “I’m gonna need you to unpack that a little, Romeo,” she says.
Duane hits his turn signal, changes lanes. “So, divorce, right? Say you’re a kid and your parents get divorced. They show you that this thing called family, with all the rules and responsibilities is bullshit. Don’t trust it. Can’t rely on it. So then when you grow up, you think people are gonna be, whatever, pro-establishment? No. Look around. I guarantee you that 99 percent of so-called abolish the government types are just getting back at Mommy and Daddy for their broken home. So we don’t talk politics in my ride. We keep it real.”
Simon doesn’t want to think about family right now, his or anybody else’s, because when he does, all he hears—from that undermining voice in his head—is disappointment.
“How do you know the Pr…，” he says, then flushes. “I mean, Paul?”
Duane takes his joint back, changes lanes without signaling. “We’re brothers of the chan, spelunkers of the secrets caves, diviners of the cosmic mystery.”
“What does that mean?” Simon asks.
The Prophet takes out a handkerchief, wipes his brow. “Can we agree,” he says, “that if God exists, he exists everywhere?”
“Or she,” says Louise.
“Or she,” says the Prophet. “The key is figuring out what messages are him. And what’s just noise. Have you heard of Jerusalem syndrome?”
Simon shakes his head.
“Jerusalem syndrome is where some people who go to Israel suddenly decide they’re Jesus.”
“Come on,” says Louise.
“It’s true. I’m the second coming incarnate, says the dentist from Weehawken or the plumber from Stockholm. So the danger’s clear. All of us want to feel special, touched. Some of us are just crazy. But I’ll tell you a secret.”
He studies them, making sure they’re listening.
“God doesn’t talk to grown-ups. Only children. Because children are still magic.”
Oncoming headlights blind Simon for a moment. He closes his eyes, thinks of Claire tied to a chair, dead. Did God talk to her? Simon for one has never heard a word from the guy. But he wants to believe that the world is a magical place, that somewhere someone cares about him.
“We met online is what he’s trying to tell you,” says Duane, changing lanes.
“So you’re nerds,” says Louise, pretending to take a selfie of herself with Duane. She purses her lips, leans toward the dashboard, framing Duane behind her.
“If by nerds you mean men of intelligence,” says Duane, “of passion, explorers, warriors. Then hai. The blanket of ignorance must be pulled back.”
“Ooh,” says Louise, “and what’s under the blanket? Or should I say—how big is it? In inches?”
Simon turns and looks out the window, a spike of jealousy piercing him. Like all his love stories, this one is destined to be one-sided. How could any creature on Earth compete with Louise’s adorable, crystalline, waifish appeal? The Prophet leans over, opens the cooler. He offers Simon a juice box.