Rock God by Barnabas Miller

Author:Barnabas Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2011-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

They were all huddled together by the front of the bus: B.J., Layla, Kev, Jann, and Purple Pants. No one spoke at first. They just eyed each other with confusion, trying to catch their breath, trying to make sense of the last ten harrowing minutes, trying to figure out what might happen in the next ten.

The bus driver was maintaining a speed of 70 miles per hour as they cruised down the highway. He had long brown curly hair cascading down his back, and he wore a frilly white pirate shirt with the laces untied at the center, revealing his muscular chest.

Escape had been the only thing on B.J.’s mind until now. There’d been no time to ask himself whether it was really wise to hop on Purple Pants’s bus without even knowing his name—without even knowing why he wore the purple pants or employed pirates.

Purple Pants was standing at the front of the bus’s aisle, steadying himself between two armrests, his head no higher than the tops of the vinyl seats.

“The name’s Terry,” he said in his heavy British accent. “Terry the Wünder-Dwarf. And it ain’t ‘Wonder-Dwarf’ like the white bread, aw’ight? I prefer the German pronunciation, ‘Voon-der Dwarf.’ Now, which one of you blokes is gonna tell me what just happened back there?”

“I got no idea,” KeVonne blurted out, reaching down to pull a Bootsy Boot off his aching foot. “Beej? You wanna tell us what just happened?”

B.J. remained silent. He kept his head hanging low, praying the river of adrenaline pumping through his veins wouldn’t cause him to projectile vomit onto Terry the Wünder-Dwarf’s head.

“Hey, it’s cool, man,” Terry said calmly. He could tell B.J. was too traumatized to speak. He patted B.J.’s stomach, which was not the greatest idea right now. “I been in my share of Barney when I was a young dodger too, mate.”

Barney? It was hard enough to understand Terry’s accent, let alone the weird words he was using.

Terry looked up at B.J.’s pale, clammy cheeks. “Relax, mate, aw’ight? You’re safe wif us now. You’re on the Wünder-Bus, man. You wanna tell me what just happened? Did you fall in love wif a biker’s daughter? Is that why they was coming after ya?” He smiled and jabbed B.J.’s thigh with his elbow. “I been there, man. What’s her name?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Layla said. “I mean, I don’t think that’s what it was.”

“Then what was it?” Jann ripped off his leather jacket and hurled it to the floor. His white T-shirt was soaked under the arms with sweat. “What is your beef with hobo bikers, Levine? First that freaky albino at the Fillmore and now this? We could have died out there, dude! They could have run us over. They could have stuffed us all in that van and held us for hobo ransom or something!”

“I know that, Jann! You think I don’t know that? This is all my fault, okay?” B.J. shoved his way past Terry and ran down the length of the bus, searching for a place to be alone.

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