Signal to Noise(65)

“One day, if you’re not careful, all your bullshit is going to bite you in the ass,” he whispered.

“Really, mister?” Meche asked, tipping her head at him. “You don’t scare me. I can hex the life out of you if I want to.”

“Yeah? Let me step back so you can hit your face against the ground,” he said.

“Try it,” she said, her hand inching up and resting against the back of his neck for leverage.

Though they had played and teased each other in a myriad of ways, this didn’t seem like their regular games. He felt an ache—dull and uncomfortable—which made him wince.

Sebastian grabbed her by the waist and deposited her on the ground.

“Coward,” she said.

She scared him, the way her eyes gleamed. There was something ugly and much too cold in her, and it made him want to run off. But, as usual, when he took two steps back with Meche he wanted to take three forward. That was her most distressing form of sorcery, the hold she had on them.

On him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” he said.





ON MONDAYS THE students assembled in the courtyard for the salute to the flag. The national anthem played, five students marched with the flag and everyone raised their left hand, resting it against their chest. Sometimes the principal said a few words, before everyone shuffled off to class.

That Monday the students marched, the flag went by, the national anthem finished playing.

Sebastian, Meche and Dolores stood at the back of their group and watched as a teacher went to the microphone and briefly talked about an upcoming event.

Principal Estrada took her place, ready to dismiss them, grabbing the microphone.

She opened her mouth and croaked loudly.

The students giggled.

The principal, looking rather surprised, opened her mouth again.

The croak was louder. The giggles multiplied.

A third time and everyone broke down in laughter.

The principle doubled over and began vomiting, a sticky, dark substance. Ewws mingled with the laughter as principal Estrada bent down on her knees and continued to vomit. Finally she finished and rose on wobbly legs, stumbling into the school offices.

“Children, children,” said the physical education teacher. “Head to your classes. Now...”

Meche, leaning against the wall, grinned in satisfaction and began whistling a merry tune.





“ARE YOU GOING to give me grief just like Sebastian?” Meche asked her.

“No. I just said it was a bit extreme,” Daniela said.

“Why shouldn’t we be extreme?”

“You really have no fear, do you?”

“Fear of what?”

“Of what we are doing.”

“Why should I?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

God, how was it dangerous? It wasn’t like there was a magic police force waiting to give them a ticket. Nobody could suspect them. Nothing bad would happen to them. Plus, she didn’t feel any guilt over the whole thing.

Power was meant to be wielded.

Meche snorted. “Dangerous for anyone who stands in our way.”

Daniela looked at her, shaking her head while Meche shrugged.

“Look, Estrada deserved it,” Meche said. “She crossed us one too many times and she got what was coming for her. She’s lucky we didn’t break her damn back.”

“Gee, I hope you never get mad at me.”

Meche draped her arm over the shoulders of a cardboard cut-out of David Bowie and eyed the records at the back of the store. It was a wash out. There was no Whiter Shade of Pale in the store and no records with any significant power. This seemed to be the case with most stores which offered new merchandise. Meche had found records with power at used shops, making her guess the power might be related to the previous owner or persons they had come into contact with; a patina that somehow impregnated the vinyl, like thumb prints upon the surface. This was a conjecture she had scribbled in her grimoire, but it made sense. And wasn’t most of everything pertaining to the world of magic a conjecture, anyway?

“What are you getting Sebastian?” Daniela asked, giving up the fight.

“I was thinking a Tom Waits album, but then I decided on a movie,” Meche said, her hands drifting over the records, flicking through album covers.

“Like a date?”

“Not like a date,” Meche frowned. “Why would you think I’d go out with him on a date?”

“Oh... No-nothing. It just crossed my mind. It’s all.”

“I’m done here,” Meche said, tossing the record back in its bin.

“He’s going out with Isadora again.”

Meche raised an eyebrow at that. “How do you know?”

“He told me. They’re going out on Sunday.”

“Sunday we’re supposed to practice! And why didn’t he tell me? This is the kind of thing we need to vote on. He can’t just run off...”

“Maybe because you would have asked to vote on it?”

“Ugh,” Meche said and bit her lower lip.

It wasn’t that she wanted Sebastian to practise every day, but this magic thing required some discipline. They were improving at the glamour and although they had triumphed over Rodriguez and Estrada, both spells had worn them down. The one they had cast on Estrada, especially. Meche’s body had ached so afterwards she ate a whole roasted chicken on the way home from the factory, famished and exhausted by the experience. But she could feel they were getting better. They needed to practise their powers, to explore the limits of their sorcery. To attempt bigger things. What else might they accomplish, the three of them?