King of the Mutants (9 page)

I managed to mumble, “What are you doing?”

“Just seeing how this’ll work.” Adelaide turned around and grabbed something off her shelves. “Some of the kids from these parts like dressing up like Dracula on Halloween so I ordered some sets of vampire veneers for the teeth. But I done messed up the order one year and they sent me some movie star teeth. And the forms we make going to be custom for you just like your pants. It doesn’t matter if you got crooked teeth, gangly teeth, missing teeth. They fit anybody.”

In less than five minutes, I had a new smile. For a brief moment, even Freddie seemed impressed. “Wow, besides your tail, you look almost normal, Mav,” he said, giving the closest thing to a compliment he could muster up.

“You two boys look just like brothers! But, Maverick, I wouldn’t eat nothing when you wearing them,” said Adelaide.

“Especially live chickens,” said Freddie with a huff. He wiped a huge glob of blood off his forehead. I looked down at the floor when Freddie’s eyes sent daggers of disgust in my direction.

“Go on, Maverick,” she said, pointing to a red, velvet curtain at the back of the room. “You go check yourself out and clean that face of yours off.”

Anything to escape Freddie’s glare sounded like a good plan. I hopped off the stool and ran behind the curtain to find a tiny bathroom aglow with more candles. On the wall, a mirror greeted me and I stared at my reflection. I almost didn’t recognize myself. Now it wasn’t that I didn’t like the smile I’d been born with, but I’d always wondered what I’d look like if I’d had some good dental work. I washed off the chicken guts with a new attitude, feeling somewhat like the people I idolized—famous rock stars. Maybe even one that was kind of good-looking.

Armed with a sheepish smile, I walked back into the shop and hugged Adelaide. Her skin smelled like cinnamon and brown sugar. She embraced me tightly and whispered in my ear, “You’re a fine boy, Maverick. You was fine the way you was before too, child. It’s not the outside that matters.”

Adelaide may have been blind as a bat, but she could see into my soul. I didn’t want to let her go.

“Now, Maverick, I think your journey will have far less problems,” she said, withdrawing from the hug. “Once you’ve done what you need to do, well, child, you’ve got to accept what and who you are. And that is somebody really special. Both of you boys will know what to do when the timing is a right.”

“What do you mean?” My throat was hoarse with emotion. I think I may have even croaked like a frog.

“It’s not for me to tell you,” she whispered. “You’ve got to create your own path. There are no short cuts to take on the road that we call life.”

I nodded my head slowly, pretending to understand. Truth was, I had so many questions brewing in my brain. Completely lost in confusion, I blurted out, “Ms. Adelaide, how much do I owe you for these teeth?”

“Boy, I couldn’t take your money. I’m just happy to help you out. Now smile real big for me and be on your way. You’ve got a long, important journey ahead of you, and I don’t want to keep you from getting on it.”

Adelaide shook her head with mild amusement and gave us directions to Serafine’s home on the bayou. We’d be traveling for about an hour and a half. Then, we’d have to park in this hidden spot and hop in a canoe and paddle for another half hour or so. Still not looking at me, Freddie wrote down Adelaide’s detailed instructions. I was a little insulted but couldn’t blame him. I have to admit, I was a little scared of myself.

“Good luck, boys,” said Adelaide. “And Freddie, you keep an eye on Maverick, here. Don’t let what happened here today bother you. You two are friends.”

Freddie’s eyes darted back and forth between Adelaide and me. “I’ll help him out as best I can,” he finally said, but the tone in his voice indicated he was still wary of me.

Before we left the Hoodoo shop, I hugged Adelaide one more time. “Thank you for everything.”

“Go on, boys, make Ms. Adelaide proud!” she said and guided us to the door with a smile.

When I jumped into the sidecar, the ever-patient Snaggletooth acted a little squeamish, most likely having smelled the chicken blood. He decided I was still okay and nuzzled into my chest. He reeked, but I didn’t want to move him. He looked too cute; one ear sticking up like someone had crazy glued it into a vertical position.

Freddie didn’t look at me when he started up the engine, nor did he talk to me for the entire ride. I hoped he’d get over it. For me, friends were hard to come by, and he was the only one I had. I slunk into my seat and pat Snaggletooth on the head, brooding.

A few hours later, I tapped Freddie on the shoulder and pointed. He pulled off the main road, onto a dusty old trail that looked like nobody had driven on it in years. The only reason I knew we were going the right way was because Adelaide told us to watch out for a sign with a painted black cat on it. Although the image was faded to the point we almost missed it, it was almost like an invisible force whispered to us through the breeze, saying, “Turn now, turn now.” Well that, and the tip of my tail vibrated, and not just from the bike rattling. Even Freddie shivered like he had the chills or something.

Nature had taken its hold on this place. Weeds and plants grew thickly all around us. Above, enormous weeping willows protected our heads from the hot setting sun. Thick green moss covered their massive trunks, like a psychedelic carpet. Freddie covered the rough terrain with ease while plants slapped our faces like whips.

My senses stirred when the musky scent of the Cajun bayou hit my nostrils. It was like I’d been there before and I felt great, alive. We drove until we hit a dead end.

“Mav,” Freddie sputtered, breaking his unusual silence. He hopped off the bike like the seat was on fire. “I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. Ever since I met you, things just haven’t been right. In fact, they’ve been really, really messed up.”

“From what you’ve told me, things haven’t been right in your life…ever,” I said, sourness filling my voice.

“Yeah, that’s right. But now there’s danger every time I turn around. I don’t want to die. Just look at this creepy place. We’re in a swamp—”

I crossed my arms over my chest. If I had to fight my friend, I knew I’d win. Over the years, I had learned some midget Ninja moves. “Guess it’s all just a matter of perspective because I think it’s awesome here.”

“You would.”

“What in the world is that supposed to mean?” I squealed.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Freddie held his hands up toward the sky and yelled, “My idea of an adventure doesn’t include you attacking me and eating me for dinner with your alligator friends.”

At first, he really angered me and I was getting ready to throw down or launch into an extreme verbal attack, but something in me snapped like a wishbone on Thanksgiving. And I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Freddie,” I spat. “Just because I call you chicken head doesn’t mean I would rip you apart like one. Do you know how ridiculous you sound? Besides, what would be the side dish? Freddie and potatoes? Freddie and collard greens? I know, I know, Freddie with mac and cheese. Extra sauce.”

Freddie went dead silent. He put his hands on his hips, his mouth twitching.

“That’s not,” he finally snorted. “That’s not funny.”

But it was. And we both laughed so hard we could barely stand and our stomachs cramped up. Our out-of-the-blue laughing fit definitely fixed what could have turned into an all-out brawl. An egret swooped by my head, nearly knocking into it, which just made us laugh even harder. Freddie pointed at it. “Egret,” he giggled, his eyes streaming with tears of laughter, “the other white meat.”

“We good, homey?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” snorted Freddie. “I’m sorry I spazzed out.”

The sky began to darken, mosquitoes the size of golf balls feasted on our arms. Our muffled laughter echoed off into the distance. Worry, with a good dosing of fear, replaced our jovial mood.

“We should bust out of here before the bogeyman comes out and gets us,” I said.

“Yeah, or something worse,” agreed Freddie.

HOW TO GET YOUR MOJO ON

Up to our knees in swamp water, Freddie and I trudged down a trail with ferns and plants that reached our elbows. About ten minutes later, the path opened up and the bayou in all its glory stretched out before us. Freddie and I stood in amazement. It was beautiful and scary at the same time, the mood of the place super-cool and super-mysterious. Every square inch of the place pulsed with life, alive and growing.

Where there wasn’t water there were trees. Spanish moss dangled off the branches of the live oaks like green tinsel, casting a sickly glow onto the murky water. Thick roots of bald cypress trees stuck out of the ground. Giant, polka-dotted mushrooms the size of my head jutted out from the soil
. T
he strange sounds of cicadas resonated everywhere. Like waves of buzzing vibrations, their loud acoustic talents, I thought, were remarkable. I could have listened to them all night.

In the distance, a small girl paddled up to us on a torch-lit raft. She wore an outfit similar to Adelaide, except both the girl and the outfit were white. She appeared to be about ten years old. I raised both hands over my head and waved them like we were stranded on the side of the highway.

“Maverick and Freddie?” she yelled, not sounding at all like a little girl. We nodded like bobbleheads. “Serafine has been expecting you. I’m here to take you to meet the Queen of our bayou.”

Well, if that wasn’t the luck of the draw, I thought, noticing as she paddled closer what I’d had the impression of being a little girl was, in fact, a midget. I prayed she didn’t have any fish burgers…or knives…or blowtorches hidden under her dress.

“My name is Darlene,” she said upon her approach. “But most people call me Darling.”

Neither Freddie nor I said anything. I was mentally preparing myself for an onslaught, knowing how cunning little people could be. But Darling reminded me of that old-time actress Shirley Temple with her curly ringlets. She didn’t seem like a threat at all. In fact, it wouldn’t have surprised me if she belted out
On the Good Ship Lollypop
. Instead, she sniggered, “What’s wrong with you boys? Black cat got your tongue? Haven’t you ever seen a vertically challenged person before?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “But I’ve gotten more than one black eye and bruised shin from the ones—”

“Clearly,” she said, “you’ve been hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” I said, my cheeks turning red.

Darling punched my arm, all buddy-like. “No offense taken. You’d have to do a lot worse to offend me. You know, back in the day, I’d met some of those Grumbling’s roustabouts. They give us vertically challenged people very, very bad names. That sword-swallowing kinker treated me ever so rudely when I told him I only date basketball players. See, I like tall men.”

“What’s a kinker?” Freddie whispered.

“A performer in the circus,” I said.

Darling edged the raft closer to us. “It’s best we go before it gets dark. Careful getting on. We don’t want to fall in this time of night. Some hungry gators been lurking about down here and they’re not from Serafine’s camp.”

Using my tail for balance, I helped Freddie and Snaggletooth onto the rocking raft, and then I hopped on. Darling smiled and pushed us off into the middle of the swamp with her oar. Darling pointed. “Look, Maverick, over there, those are some of Serafine’s pride and joy.”

About twenty feet away, a group of about two hundred alligators—eyes and noses protruding—lurked in the Bayou. Goosebumps covered my entire body. Their eyes had that same faint reflective, red radiance I’d seen in my own. In the darkening swamp, it was like a million devilish fireflies floated in the water.

In unison, the gators snapped their mouths opened and closed and splashed their snouts in the water. The raft began to rock precariously. I must confess it flipped me out. Freddie and Snaggletooth edged toward the center of the raft, their bodies shaking.

“My, oh my,” muttered Darling. “The gators never greet anybody but Serafine like that. They usually get pretty aggressive with strangers. They must recognize you as one of their own, Maverick. Serafine was right about you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’re meant for something bigger than you know. She saw it with her third eye.”

Freddie winced. “She has an eye in the middle of her forehead like a Cyclops?”

“No, Freddie, nothing at all like that. Anyway, you’ll soon find out because we’re here and there she is.” Darling pointed to a poor excuse of a wooden dock. Still as a statue, a woman stood on it. She was dressed in white from head to toe. The full Cajun moon seemed to shine directly on this woman, a halo of light engulfing her from above like an angel. She held her head high as we made our approach. I could barely make out her features because her skin was so dark, but I could tell she was beautiful.

I almost tipped the raft over as we disembarked, but Darling had everything under control. We didn’t fall into the reptile-filled water and to say Freddie looked relieved would be the understatement of all understatements.

“It was nice meeting you, Maverick and Freddie. I’m sure our paths will cross again.” Darling giggled and paddled off into the darkness. “Later, gators.”

“Bye?” Freddie and I questioned.

Serafine noticed our apprehension. “I bought lil’ Darling a house of her own,” she said and pointed haphazardly into the now pitch black and mosquito infested bayou. “She was kind enough to meet you boys. We knew you were a coming. I always know.”

Freddie’s mouth twisted with confusion. “How? Is it because you are a Hoodoo Queen? Or a Voodoo priestess?”

Serafine smiled with her eyes. “While I may be a Hoodoo Queen, I’m no Voodoo priestess. You see, Voodoo is a religion, chitlins, and Hoodoo is magic, even though they go hand-in-hand more oftentimes than not. A lot of people get the two confused. Anyway, I worship the Gods of Santeria, so I don’t practice Voodoo at all. Understand?”

Intimidated, I tapped my feet, and because of being almost knee deep in swamp water earlier, the squishy sounds coming from my soaked gym shoes sounded disgusting. Freddie jabbed me in the ribs and then said, “I get it. Santeria is your religion?”