“Tell me about the tainted meat loaf.”
Bam shrugs like it’s nothing. “What’s the big deal? The generator to one of the refrigerators blew out. It’s fixed now.”
“How long was the power out?”
“Don’t know.”
“So you had no clue how long the thing was without power, and you still served the food inside?”
“How was I supposed to know people would get sick? They ate it, so it’s their problem.”
Connor imagines the punching bag and makes a fist with his right hand. Then he looks at the shark, and forces his hand to relax. “More than forty kids were down for over two days—and we’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“Yeah, right, so I won’t let it happen again.” Bam says it in such a rude tone of voice, Connor can imagine her saying it that same way to her teachers, her parents, the Juvies, every authority figure in her life. Connor hates the fact that he’s one of those authority figures now.
“There won’t be a next time, Bam. I’m sorry.”
“You’re getting rid of me just because of one stupid screwup?”
“No one is getting rid of you,” Connor tells her. “But you won’t be running food service anymore.”
She burns him a long, hateful glare, then says, “Fine. To hell with you. I don’t need this crap.”
“Thank you, Bam,” he says, having no idea what possessed him to thank her. “Send John in on your way out.”
Bam kicks the jet hatch open and storms out. She turns to John, who waits nervously outside, twisted in a full body flinch from her angry exit.
“Go on in,” Bam growls at him. “He’s firing you.”
- - -
That night Connor finds Starkey doing close-up magic for a bunch of Whollies beneath the recreation jet.
“How does he do that?” kids ask as he makes bracelets disappear from wrists and appear in other people’s pockets. When he’s done, Connor approaches him.
“You’re pretty good. But as the guy in charge, I should ask you to tell me how it’s done.”
Starkey only smiles. “A magician never reveals his secrets, not even to the guy in charge.”
“Listen,” says Connor, cutting to the chase, “there’s something I want to talk to you about. I’ve decided to shake things up in the Holy of Whollies.”
“A change for the better, I hope,” Starkey says, gripping his stomach. Connor chuckles because he already knows Starkey sees where this is going, but that’s okay.
“How would you like to be in charge of food?”
“I love food,” Starkey says. “And I’m not just saying that.”
“Do you think you can handle a team of thirty and get food on the tables three times a day for everyone else?”
Starkey waves his hand and makes an egg appear out of thin air, then hands it to Connor. He saw the egg trick a few minutes earlier, but now its relevance makes it even more entertaining.
“Great,” says Connor. “Now conjure up seven hundred more for breakfast.” And he walks away, chuckling to himself, knowing that Starkey does have what it takes to make things happen, and make them happen right.
For once Connor’s sure he’s made the right decision.
8 - Risa
In the early evenings, when the desert begins to cool, Risa plays piano beneath the left wing of Air Force One. She plays pieces that she knows by heart and pieces from sheet music that have found their way into the Graveyard.