Tara set another drink in front of Amy. "Well, this is new, love."
"You think?" Amy replied blearily.
Betsy gripped Amy's arm suddenly, causing Amy's drink to spill.
"Huh?" Amy mumbled distractedly, attempting to scrape the alcohol toward her. She gave up and leaned forward to try and slurp the liquid off the table's surface. Her already-wet hair dragged in the liquor. Tara stared.
"Amy! Stop it!" Betsy exclaimed as she caught sight of Amy's behavior. Shaking the other woman's arm to get her attention, Betsy squeezed harder and pointed to a table across the room. "Look!"
Amy turned blearily in the direction Betsy indicated. "What?"
"It's happening again. I'm seeing more ghosts." Betsy took a shaky drink of her chosen beverage, looked again and shuddered.
Amy looked at her, still clearly confused. "What?" she asked again.
"Don't you see Tracy?" Betsy asked, pointing again.
Amy looked, blinked, rubbed her eyes, blinked, and said, "Well, actually, I see about three Tracys. And Becky. I think." Betsy looked expectantly at Amy, waiting for a reaction to this revelation. Amy shrugged, then took a drink and said, "So?"
"So--Tracy's dead!" Betsy exclaimed.
"She is?" Amy asked, frowning deeply.
"Yes!"
"Oh." Amy paused a moment. "Are you sure?"
"Well, Nat said she was dead."
"Was Nat sure?" Amy asked.
Betsy looked at Amy, then Tracy, then drained her glass. This was not helping. She spotted Valerie, who was looking mournfully at the dance floor. Edging toward the injured NatPacker, Betsy began hesitantly, "Valerie?"
"Yeah?" Valerie looked up from her Sex-On-the-Beach, trying to not glance back at the dancers.
"Valerie, do you see Tracy over there?" Betsy asked, pointing.
Valerie looked. "Yeah," she said absently, glancing back at her wrapped ankle, which was propped on another bar stool, then to the dance floor.
Betsy was beginning to look quite lost when suddenly Valerie whirled back around, paying sudden and complete attention to the figure across the room. Then a smile spread across her face. "Tracy's here! Hey, Jennie!" Jennie turned from her conversation with a Mountie. "Look!" Valerie called brightly, pointing.
Jennie turned and her grin spread even wider. "It's Tracy! She's okay!" Jennie's grin began to fade as Valerie frowned. "What?"
"Well...why is Tracy okay?"
"Does it matter?" Jennie asked, her face as pink as the strawberry daiquiris she had been imbibing, despite the Coke currently in her hand.
"Are we sure she's not a ghost?" mumbled a still-nervous and slightly disgruntled Betsy.
"Let's find out. Betsy, help me carry Val; we'll go say hi," Jennie said decisively, setting her Coke on the bar and waving goodbye to her companion, who was still looking worriedly at her orange hair.
Betsy and Jennie locked arms to make the kind of rescue chair the Girl Scouts seem to always learn, but which often proves less than optimally effective. Valerie was fortunately not difficult to carry and did support part of her weight by holding onto Jennie and Betsy's necks. There were hardly any raised eyebrows as they crossed the room--far stranger things had been happening for the past two weeks.
"Who was that you were talking to, Jennie?" Betsy asked.
"Oh. That was Mitchell the Mountie. He helped me get to work that morning when I didn't have my glasses," Jennie explained briefly.
As they neared the small Perkulator contingent, Becky flagged them over. "Hey, guys!" she called, smiling and raising her glass. She turned to Tracy, "Do you remember the NatPack? Or, at least, this part of it?"
Tracy took a breath and raised her eyebrows, her expression indicating that she did indeed remember the chief perpetrators or last war's frightening impromptu performance of select bits of Phantom of the Opera at the Raven. All she said aloud was, "I think so." She pointed at Valerie's bandaged ankle. "What happened?"
"Oh, someone tried to mug me and I fell badly fighting his knife away from him." Valerie shrugged at the shocked expressions of Tracy and the Perkulators. "It's good to see you," she added.
Jennie and Betsy set Valerie gently onto her good foot. Betsy stepped hesitantly toward Tracy.
"Are you really...I mean...how...." Betsy trailed off uncomfortably, reaching hesitantly toward the younger woman.
After a somewhat uncomfortable silence, Tracy took Betsy's hand, shook it,
and said, "Tracy Vetter."
Becky smiled placatingly at Tracy. "The NatPack. Remember--they're the
slightly unstable ones?" She shrugged at Jennie's glare.
Valerie and Betsy burbled happily at Tracy and Becky leaned toward Jennie.
"So what's with the ghosts?" Becky asked.
"Well, it seems Nat has developed a whammy. She seems to have gotten most
of us with it. Betsy seems to see ghosts. And if you've noticed Amy over
there--she doesn't normally drink alcohol. At all."
Noticing Jennie gesturing at her, Amy raised her glass, spilling half of
it down the front of her in the process.
Becky nodded. "I see. And I suppose the...whammy...is responsible for
the Bozo hair, and the orange clothes and nails and glasses--"
"No! Orange is a wonderful color! It's nice and bright and shiny!"
"Uh huh. So is fire--"
"Fire..." Jennie breathed, grinning happily.
"--but you don't usually stick your hair in it," Becky finished
Jennie frowned. "Why not? Hair burn. Pretty bright shiny burning
hair." Jennie smiled again, her eyes glazing over mischievously.
Becky turned to Tracy. "Hey, Trace. Do you see Nick?"
Tracy scanned the room. "Uh...yeah. He's right over there." Tracy
pointed.
"Could you go get him?" Becky asked. "We have a problem here we need him
to fix."
"Sure," Tracy replied brightly.
"And, Jennie, could you go get Amy?" Becky smiled engagingly.
"Why?" Jennie's eyes narrowed; she was suddenly suspicious of Becky's
familiarly calculating manner.
"Um...she ought to be walked around every now and then?"
Jennie looked dubious and tapped her foot a bit.
"Hey," Becky wheedled. "I don't want to miss my only chance to see Amy
schnackered, do I?"
"Guess not." Jennie headed for the bar and retrieved both her Coke and
Amy. When they returned to Becky's table, Nick was arriving with
Tracy.
"But I still don't understand," he was stammering. "They told me you were
dead."
Tracy shrugged. "Well, I'm not."
"B-b-but how?" Nick sputtered.
"Does it really matter?" Tracy's patience was wearing a bit thin. She
shoved Nick toward Becky. "Becky needs you for something. Make yourself
useful."
"Hey...." Amy slurred. "We're mad at you." She pointed at Nick, who was
closer than she had thought, and she ended up poking him in the chest.
"Nick, we need your help," Becky said quickly as Nick, looking startled,
grabbed Amy's arms and kept her from tipping over. "Apparently Nat has
acquired the ability to hoo-doo people--"
"To what?" Nick asked, perplexed by Beck's comment and Amy's behavior.
"To hypnotize people," Becky clarified.
"What?! That's not possible," Nick objected.
"Nick," Valerie interjected gently, "why not? After what happened, you
had to know there would be some kind of repercussions." Nick looked quite
downcast. "I know you hoped everything was fine," Valerie continued, "but
it doesn't always seem to work that way."
"So anyway," Becky resumed, "someone needs to undo what's been done to
them. Amy's been drinking all the alcohol she can lay her hands on."
"For days," Betsy added.
Nick raised his eyebrows at the NatPacker now sagging in front of him.
"Why doesn't Nat just undo it if she did it to begin with. She can't
think this is a good thing."
"Well, Nat doesn't seem to be able to do any of this consciously. It only
happens by accident, and if she thinks about it--nada," Jennie
explained.
Nick nodded, a bit sheepishly, but seeming to be accepting of this, even if
he was still uncomfortable with it. Appearing to make a decision, he said,
"Okay. Who first?"
"Amy." Jennie poked her friend. "Amy." Amy looked up blearily.
"Amy, look at Nick."
"Why?" Amy asked petulantly. "I'm mad at Nick. He hurt
Natalie."
"Well, I'm sure he didn't mean to," Valerie said soothingly.
"But he did. Ishn't that what counts?" Amy looked confused.
"Well, why don't you tell him that?" Jennie asked.
"Okay." Amy paused. "Where ish he?"
"He's right in front of you," Betsy said.
"Oh." Amy looked in front of her, then looked up at Nick, who got and
held eye contact as best he could with Amy too drunk to even stand
anymore.
"Amy, you don't need alcohol," Nick began gently.
"Don't need alcohol," Amy mumbled.
Nick continued, "You don't want to drink alcohol. At least not all the
time. And you're not going to get sick, you're just going to sleep in a
little while for several hours."
"No more alcohol," Amy repeated. They sat her in a chair, where she
looked dazed but didn't reach for the nearby glasses. Everyone breathed a
sigh of relief.
"Now Betsy," Jennie encouraged. "She's been seeing ghosts."
"What if I want to see ghosts?" Betsy asked. She paused a moment.
"What am I saying??"
"Betsy," Nick said, getting her attention. "You don't see ghosts."
"I don't see ghosts," Betsy intoned.
"You don't see ghosts, Betsy." Nick smiled, then added, "You don't see
ghosts unless you're looking for them and want to. And if you do, they
won't bother you."
"Won't bother me." Betsy backed away, nodding.
"Now Jennie," Becky said.
"Why me?" Jennie demanded. "I'm fine."
"It's the orange," Valerie explained. "She usually hates orange."
Nick cringed a bit at Jennie's appearance. "Jennie," he said.
"Why should I let him? I'm fine," Jennie repeated.
"But you could look," Amy offered. "He has nice blue eyes."
"That's true," Jennie turned to Nick. "Blue goes well with orange.
Pretty blue. Have you ever thought of wearing oran--"
Susan walked past at that point and murmured, "Oh, my God." She shook her
head, the image of Nick in orange warring with the image of him in pink.
Both seemed equally abhorrent.
"Jennie, you don't like orange," Nick began.
"Don't like orange," Jennie repeated, her voice a bouncy sing-song.
"You don't want to wear or see orange unless you need to or unless
you choose to. You can choose what colors you like." Nick stepped
away.
"No orange," Jennie murmured.
"Um," Susan spoke up to alert the group of her presence. "Could I
possibly just borrow Jennie for a moment here?"
Becky looked at Nick, eyebrows raised questioningly. Nick nodded and
shrugged.
"Jennie," Susan said soothingly, taking the NatPacker's hand, "I want you
to come with me for a second. Okay?"
Jennie seemed to be coming back to reality but was still a bit fuzzy.
"Okay." She followed Susan meekly.
The others watched the two disappear into the nearby restroom and moments
later a piercing sound erupted from behind the door.
Jennie screamed. "Oh, my God!!"