Signal to Noise(35)

“Turn on the stirring plate,” Sebastian said, checking his notes.

“Stirring plate,” Meche muttered.

“I need the hydrogen peroxide.”

Meche passed him the diluted solution. They watched as the solution in the beaker turned amber and then a deep shade of blue.

Isadora was laughing again, chirping about some inanity or other. She spoke too loudly and she did it to get the attention of the class. Judging by Sebastian’s reaction, it had the intended effect.

“Well then, that’s a chemical oscillator reaction,” Meche said, carefully writing in her notebook. “You know, chemistry is a lot like magic.”

“Huh?” Sebastian asked.

She would have blamed his blank stare on the fumes, but Meche knew better.

“Well, chemistry was started by alchemists. All of them with their formulas and books and secrecy. I think they were a lot like us.”

“I suppose so.”

“Except we are not looking for the philosopher’s stone.”

“The what?”

“You know, the substance that turns lead into gold.”

“Maybe we are. In a way,” Sebastian said.

Meche glanced at Isadora and she thought she wouldn’t have Sebastian, not even if he was plated in gold. Sebastian was stupid.

Then Meche remembered Constantino and realized she was as dumb as her friend.





THEY WOULD HAVE taken the motorcycle, but Sebastian was out of gas and didn’t have money to fill the tank. So they walked instead. He did not mind. It meant they would spend more time together.

“Are you going to need help with your literature homework again?” he asked.

“Why? You need help with math again?”

“Even trade,” he said. “My lit for your math, as usual.”

“Throw in a bar of chocolate and it’s a deal.”

“I’m not throwing in a bar of nothing.”

“Blah.”

“Stay and watch TV with me. That’s your extra payment.”

Meche made a face, like it would be such a chore to sit with him and watch two hours of whatever stupid programming was on, but he knew that was exactly what she wanted to do. They could make cheese sandwiches and grill them on the stove. As far as Sebastian was concerned, that was his definition of happy.

By the time they reached Daniela’s house they had decided Meche would purchase the Cheetos, seeing as Sebastian was in the gutter money-wise. Sebastian would make the sandwiches and they would fix themselves some lemonade.

They agreed to stay with Daniela for an hour before setting off together. They regularly brought Daniela her homework when she was not feeling well and they did not expect anything but the usual “hello” and “come in.” But when Daniela’s dad opened the door he looked very tired and he had this sad, sad look on his face.

“Can we see Daniela?” Meche asked.

“Daniela is in the hospital,” her father said, shaking his head.

Daniela’s lupus flared up now and then. Last summer she had spent a whole month in bed. When Daniela was sick, little purple bruises appeared all over her body and her face. She got tired and had to stay inside because sunlight made her sicker. Her mom was always afraid she’d get a kidney infection and die.

“Is she really sick?” Meche asked. “Can we go see her?”

“She has a fever... she has Macrophage Activation Syndrome. Her body is attacking itself. She needs to rest.”

The long words floated in the air, stinging their ears. Meche did not say a word, twisting the cuffs of her sweater. Sebastian took the reins and spoke.

“We’re very sorry. Can you tell her we came by?”

“I will.”

Meche and Sebastian looked at each other. They walked quietly back home, kicking an empty juice bottle. After a few blocks, Meche looked up at Sebastian.

“But she can’t be sick. We are going to the party together next week. Her dad even gave her permission to go, which is a major win,” Meche said.

“Yeah, but she’s really bad,” Sebastian muttered. “She might have to stay in bed for several days.”

“We need to help her. We have to cast a spell.”

“Just the two of us?” Sebastian asked.

“We don’t have much of a choice. Come on, hurry.”

She ran towards the factory and he ran behind her.





GETTING MONEY THANKS to a spell was one thing, but Sebastian was not sure they could actually cure Daniela. He did not dare to air his doubts to Meche. She seemed very determined to find a solution and he let her keep her hopes up.

“I feel something here,” Meche said, showing him a record.

“Elvis Presley,” Sebastian said. “What song?”

“Jailhouse Rock.”

“Okay.”

Meche put the record in place. Presley’s voice boomed across the factory. Dun dum. Dun dum.

Meche tiptoed around in an imitation of Elvis Presley, hips swinging to the beat of the music. Though Sebastian knew nothing about the dance moves of this time period, and though he had rarely laid eyes on Elvis on the TV, his feet seemed to know the necessary moves. It all felt really fine, all the pieces coming together, and there was that flare of energy that rose from some deep place inside him, rose and became a golden thread, a vapour which reached the ceiling and dissipated. But this time, unlike the previous ones, he felt a stabbing pain in his stomach, as though someone had kicked him.