Jazz Hands
Oklahoma

‘Yo, you can get up now.’

How I fell asleep, down in the crumby, cramped space between two seats, I have no idea. But fall asleep I did. And now that Jennifer was waking me, I felt that instant panic of not knowing where I was, of expecting to see my bedroom wall, the Spider-Man posters. Instead there was this American girl I hardly knew, who was, like, seventeen and standing in the aisle with the Converse-wearing zombie woman.

It all felt a bit overwhelming to be honest.

Jennifer’s arms reached out, but not to help me. She wanted the box, which I’d been using as the world’s least comfortable pillow. I lifted my head from it. The right side of my face was tooth-out numb. My brain pounded.

‘I’ve explained everything to Nicky,’ said Jennifer. ‘About running away from Tulsa. But how our parents didn’t even notice so we’re giving up and going back. Nicky’s been real chill about it all. And … umm … she really likes musical theatre. Like really.’

‘Good morning, good morning!’ sang the woman.

Pulling myself from the space, I noticed three coins shining where I’d slept. I picked them up and offered them to her.

‘Keep it, honey,’ said Nicky, looking at me with a strained smile.

I pulled myself into a seat.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a killer headache.’

‘I hope you’re not going to suggest it’s our singing.’ She did some fake laughing, then continued. ‘So I don’t know if you noticed,’ she said in an unreasonably loud voice that sounded like an exaggerated impression of an American accent, ‘but we’re all dressed as zombies.’ I nodded. I had noticed. ‘We’re down from the Missouri State musical theatre programme and we’re heading for Tulsa. And it’s so much fun already. Roooooooooad triiiiiiiiiiiip!’

Nicky did a little clap and jiggled her shoulders. The pain behind my skull increased by 33 per cent. She had a strange face. Her muscles were pulled tight and almost shivered with the energy required to hold the smile. Her eyes didn’t look happy, though. There was, like, a spark of panic behind them. She wore two huge earrings that were each a block of text. Both said I STUDY MUSICAL THEATRE. WHAT’S YOUR SUPERPOWER?

‘Road trip!’ she said again and pretended to play a saxophone, I think. I looked to Jennifer. She shrugged. ‘There’s a zombie walk happening. Do you know what a zombie walk is?’ I shook my head, even though I had a fair idea through understanding the words ‘zombie’ and ‘walk’. ‘People dress as zombies and they walk around. It is so, so neat. Like, oh my actual God. Can you even imagine?’

‘Sounds like the bomb, right?’ asked Jennifer.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It does.’

‘Today in Tulsa they’re trying out for the world-record largest zombie walk. I mean, we wouldn’t miss it for the world. Well, unless it clashed with a Hamilton tour! The only way I could imagine it being better is if the zombies could sing but I contacted the organisers and they were worried about disturbing local residents, which I can totally understand. Still, go, Missouri! We are so blessed.’

Nicky put her hands together in prayer, closed her eyes, and muttered silent words.

Jennifer stared. A serious face. ‘Nicky’s said we can stay on until Tulsa, Jay.’

The singer’s eyes snapped open. She raised a finger. Its nail had very bright red varnish.

‘Uno conditiono. I can’t have dos young runaways on my conscience, even if I am dressed as the undead! Hahahahaha. Someone ought to record me.’ She looked down the aisle. ‘Who’s got a voice recorder?’ A few people held up their phones. She flapped a hand. ‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I am such a kidder.’

Unbelievably Jennifer’s face got even more serious.

‘Nicky’s going to dump us with the first police officer she sees.’

It was my chance to flash my eyes in disbelief as Nicky said how she’d said nothing about dumping, how there’d be no dumping, no siree.

‘Safely handing over to state officials to ensure your safe return home,’ smiled Nicky. ‘I believe that’s what I said.’

‘I thought we were going back to our home in Tulsa,’ I said. ‘To our parents?’

‘Whoa there. What’s with the accent?’ asked Nicky. ‘Are you an actor? Do we have an actor on board? Selfieeeee!’

‘My brother’s back from boarding school in England. Our parents are Harry Potter mad.’ Nicky narrowed her eyes. ‘Also, he’s adopted.’ Jennifer drew a circle round her face. ‘You might have noticed the slight colour difference.’

‘One: I’m colour blind, actually,’ said Nicky, staring. Eventually she broke from her trance and wagged a finger. ‘And two: I’m cursed with this tremendous, fantastic conscience. It’s a blessing as much as a curse and it wouldn’t let me sleep if it knew you weren’t being looked after. Three: don’t think I’ve forgotten about that wrist. You need a professional to take a look-see, young lady, if it hurts as much as you say. Now, has there ever been a musical set in a hospital? What a killer idea!’ She began singing again, as she wandered up the aisle and away from us, doing jazz hands. ‘Thigh bone connected to the hip bone! What’s that tune? It’s a banger. Hip bone connected to the something bone.’

‘Maybe it would have been better to have been beaten up by angry bro at the gas station,’ said Jennifer.

‘Less painful,’ I said.

Later, sitting alone up front, we hissed conspiratorially, our conversation obscured by the singing, which had inevitably started up again. Every so often, the driver would side-eye us from his rear-view mirror like he knew the truth.

‘We’ve got a lift to Tulsa,’ said Jennifer.

‘What about LA?’

‘Tulsa’s on the way.’

‘Really?’

‘Why you always got to question me about everything? We’d be, like, beating the Greyhound if these musical losers hadn’t picked up friends in Kansas City.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know all the stop-offs and dinner breaks built into the Greyhound schedule? They add hours. If we just keep on heading west, we’ll be there this time tomorrow, I swear.’

‘What time is it?’

Jennifer looked into the grey gloom past the bus’s windows, something like a murky fish tank.

‘Dunno. Early.’

Silence fell between us. Partly because of the unreal situation. A bus full of musical-theatre-loving zombies on the way to Tulsa. When I spoke, it was to avoid thinking about it all.

‘Marvel did a zombie series once.’

‘There’s a zombie everything these days,’ said Jennifer.

Nicky appeared, killing stone dead what might have been a good chat. She wore an expression like there was an invisible hornet on her nose. There were dark crescents under her eyes but they kind of added to the zombie feel to give her credit.

‘You two want to get involved? Dumb question! Of course you do! Like, obviously.’

‘Involved?’ asked Jennifer like she’d never heard the word before.

‘In the singing, girlfriend! You picked the wrong bus to play stowaway on if you don’t like singing.’

Jennifer stared her out. ‘Well,’ she said eventually, ‘I don’t like singing. Especially before breakfast. But my brother here’s a choirboy.’

‘I’m not singing,’ I said. ‘No way.’

‘Okay,’ said Nicky. ‘How about I hold my breath until you agree?’

She filled her lungs. She nodded. She pointed at her face as it went from pink to red to purple.

Jennifer kicked me.

‘Okay,’ I said.

Nicky’s mouth burst open for air, a fish out of water.

‘Seriously?’ she said, after she’d caught her breath. ‘I was close to dying there. You Aussies!’

‘I’m not Australian.’

The bus rumbled on and, two minutes later, I was standing in the aisle, holding a microphone given to me by the driver. I also held the head of an empty seat to stop me toppling as the unrelenting wheels bounced over potholes.

And, yes, it was cringe and, yes, it was embarrassing, but I reasoned I should be past caring by now. And I had been in a choir at primary school and my old head teacher had said I showed a lot of promise. Nicky swore the bus would join in as soon as they recognised the tune, so it wasn’t as if I’d be singing alone.

I cleared my throat. Speakers crackled. Jennifer did a comedy wink.

I sang the first line of the theme song of the 1960s Spider-Man TV show.

My voice sounded tiny and shaky. Maybe there was a problem with the microphone? Like it was on the ‘baby’ setting?

‘Ummmm, okay,’ said Nicky really loudly.

Jennifer covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders jumped with embarrassed laughter. But I’d show her. She’d not be laughing when the bus joined in.

I persevered, I was resilient, a quality they’re always banging on about at school.

The zombies gawked. Most mouths dropped open, but none with singing as Nicky had promised.

My voice tremored even more violently as I began the third line.

Nicky stood from her seat and grabbed the microphone.

‘Let’s hear it for …’ She frowned, dropping the microphone from her mouth. ‘What’s your name again, hon?’ she asked.

‘Jacob,’ I replied, my cheeks exploding in pink shame.

‘Jacob! He gave it a good go, didn’t he? A good go, Jacob.’

‘Thanks.’

The zombie passengers clapped for a bit. I returned to Jennifer. Her eyes were watering.

‘I am so sorry,’ she said and pulled me in for a hug.

(Which almost made the embarrassment worthwhile. Almost.)

‘Who knows The Greatest Showman?’ yelled Nicky into the microphone.

The bus went crazy.