Buzzfeed, Boys, Black Magic

springy motherf*ckers

When I parked outside the Newton Center, I didn't notice anything strange. It was a typical gray, mid-June day. The air was thick. My khakis stuck to my thighs. Sweaty. Normal.

And then I got to the front door.

"Leela?"

It was a whimper. A woman's voice. I couldn't tell where it was coming from. I convinced myself I had imagined it.

"Leela?"

Louder now. Stronger. It sounded almost like my mother. I turned around and saw only a summer-camp school bus pulling into the parking lot. Nothing. I wondered if I had reached the age-of-onset for my particular case of adult schizophrenia. A full-blown psychotic break would explain a lot of my recent experiences. Maybe I was already in a rubber room somewhere, so delusional I couldn't see my mom holding my hands, or hear my dad arguing with my psychiatrist in the hallway. That dream, I thought as I reached for the Newton Center's front door knob, would be preferable to the hell I seemed to be living.

"Leela!" This time the voice was unmistakable and above me?

I took a few steps backward and lifted my eyes.

Dr. Moreno stood on the edge of the front overhang. Her face was pale.

"Oh, hey there Doc?" I really didn't want to witness Dr. Moreno pancake herself on the asphalt. "What are you doing up there?"

"Checking the solar panels," she said. I wasn't convinced.

"I thought all the solar panels were on the south side of the roof." I scanned the visible patch of overhang by Dr. Moreno's sneakers.

"I was monitoring the wind turbine." Dr. Moreno said. "The board of directors wants to see a 12 percent reduction in electricity consumption, by golly." She planted a fist against an open palm. Her smile was rigid.

"Oh yeah?" I forgot we had a wind turbine. I could barely see its spinning blades as it sliced through the air behind the raised sun-roof of the upstairs green room. "That's a funny spot to monitor it."

"Can't get too close," Dr. Moreno shuffled her feet. "It's just as bad as a ceiling fan. Could knock your head clean off. That's too gruesome a suicide for me."

"Well," I said. "I should probably get inside."

"Not that I'm trying to commit suicide." She chuckled, and my stomach turned. "I could have climbed on the sun roof, but if I got even a hairline crack in that thing," her eyebrows lifted and she blew up her cheeks, "ho, ho, would that be one hefty bill. Board of directors would have my butt. They spent more on that glass than my annual salary-"

"Right." I took half a step toward the front door.

"That'd be worse than death, I tell you what," Dr. Moreno stopped me. "Speaking of that- I'm going to have to ask you to go ahead and cover animal science until Manuel comes in at 2."

"But what about the planetarium-"

"Animal science trumps astronomy," she said. "The kids wanna see tarantulas and horseshoe crabs, not ursa major. Monday feedings are the money maker."

"Monday feedings?" To quote Dr. Moreno's cringe star show script: I was an astrophysicist. I didn't sign up to scoop crickets into a tarantula tank.

"Cody's gone, the cricket torch is passed to you," she grinned. "How much fun!"

***

I had to switch out my blue planetarium vest with a green animal science one.

The only one in the coatroom was Cody's. His name tag was still clipped to the top left pocket. The lingering stench of weed hung around the collar.