Vend U. (2 page)

We gathered at a safe distance from the machines, like ten or twelve feet, which was still nearer than we’d been since it happened. We stood there and jiggled our feet and stuff but nobody said anything. Nobody did anything. Nobody knew what to do.

The biggest vending machine’s liquid crystal display started to glow a sunny color with black letters flashing across it, like there was a new kind of candy being advertised.

So of course we had to see what it said. It was like vending machine gravity took hold. We weren’t thinking about Jocelyn anymore; we just fingered the dimes and quarters in our pockets. We just wanted to slip them into the slots. We just wanted to hear those wonderful noises, click chinggg whirrrr grunk. And the thunk of a vendable being vended. We wanted to grab something out of the grab slot. We wanted to check the coin returns.

We were nice kids; would the vending machines eat us?

We all inched forward with our necks stretched so we didn’t have to get too close before we could read the black letters.

On a mellow yellow background the biggest vending machine was saying, DON’T WORRY.

All of a sudden we all started smiling and laughing because everything was all right; the biggest vending machine was our friend. The biggest vending machine forgave us for being of the same species as Jocelyn. Life was good; we could buy candy bars again. O great vending machine, thankyou thankyou. We all crowded around to drool over the NutRageous bars, the Starbursts, the Almond Joys, the—

“Whoa!” somebody yelled.

There behind the glass, between the 5th Avenue bars and the 100 Grands, was a miniature Jocelyn looking out at us.

Really looking. The eyes watched us. It wasn’t like a toy or a doll. It was real. It was exactly like Jocelyn.

We all jumped back and we all started talking so loud and so fast and we were all so discombobulated that we still don’t understand exactly what happened next. Nobody will admit to it, but maybe one of us was actually crazy enough to put money in. Like, a mini Jocelyn only cost ten cents and some of us were saying hey, get her out of there so the cops don’t see her, but we hadn’t actually taken a vote or anything. We were still milling around and babbling when—

Click. Chinggg. Whirrr. Grunk. We all heard the sounds of money in the big machine’s belly, then the mechanism starting to move. We all gasped and watched, quiet as bunnies.

THUNK THUNK.

We all saw. Not one Jocelyn, but two Jocelyns, toppled out of the coil and into the grab slot.

We all stepped back. Nobody reached to pull them out.

Nobody needed to. They came crawling out all by themselves.

BE HAPPY, the machine flashed.

We weren’t happy. We were way far the opposite of happy. We were so far unhappy that we couldn’t move, we couldn’t scream, we couldn’t run. We just watched pop-eyed like frogs as the little teensy hands hauled the metal flap back so the heads and bodies could struggle out. Good grief, Jocelyn was strong. Jocelyns. Plural. They snaked out of that slot like Marines out of the jungle, swung their legs over the edge, hung by their hands for just an eyeblink and dropped to the linoleum floor.

Then, the instant their feet hit the floor, they grew. Quickly. They shot up like inflatables until they were Jocelyn-sized again.

We were all backing away, but not fast enough. Right away, without even saying hi, both Jocelyns grabbed the nearest kid. One Jocelyn grabbed a girl and the other one grabbed a boy.

Kids were screaming now. But the Jocelyns didn’t mind. Like it wasn’t even any trouble they turned the kids they’d grabbed upside down and held them by the ankles and shook them like they were trying to shake money out of a couple of piggy banks.

“Stop it!” we all yelled.

“DON’T worry, BEEEEE happy,” the Jocelyns sang. Pocket money rained down from the kids. The Jocelyns dropped the kids and grabbed the money and jammed it straight into the biggest vending machine.

Too late, as the two kids on the floor scrambled up and ran, too late, as the Jocelyns jabbed the buttons, too late we understood what was happening.

THUNK THUNK.

THUNK THUNK.

Four more Jocelyns.

We didn’t wait around to see these ones crawl out of the slot and hit the ground and shoot up to full size. We got out of there. We scooted, we skedaddled, we scrammed, we split. We vamoosed, we high-tailed it, we made like trees and leaved. We ran.

Our mistake, see, was that we had just sort of assumed that the monster vending machine had swallowed Jocelyn for good.

Well, it was a lot bigger than she was.

But Jocelyn was—

We didn’t want to think it.

When we couldn’t run anymore, we leaned against trees and looked at each other. And we all looked shiny fishy greenish white, our faces like a bunch of egg-shaped liquid crystal displays. Sick.

Nobody knew what to say.

“I bet the machine put up a good fight,” somebody said finally.

“Yeah,” somebody else agreed. There must have been one monster whopper of a fight inside that steel belly before the machine found out it was no match for Jocelyn.

Before it found out that Jocelyn was stronger.

Before Jocelyn took over.

“DON’T worry,” a voice floated across campus from somewhere and everywhere. “BEEEE happy.”

* * *

So far, the adults, the teachers and stuff, still haven’t caught on that there’s more than one Jocelyn. Even before Jocelyn came back from the vending machine, it always did seem like she was everywhere at once. So even if a teacher sees one of her throwing tacos in the cafeteria and a few minutes later sees another one of her putting lipstick on the guinea pigs in the science room, the teacher just figures that’s Jocelyn.

Her parents haven’t caught on yet either, because Jocelyn’s smart. One of her shows up for meals and bedtime—probably they all take turns—and the other Jocelyns grab food out of Kwik-Marts and stay out all night and generally do whatever they like.

And what they like to do the most is torture us.

They pour tapioca pudding into our bookbags. Several times as much as they used to, because there are several more Jocelyns than there used to be. They steal lunches. Lots of lunches because there are lots of Jocelyns. We never have figured out exactly how many Jocelyns there are. Somebody brave went back to look and there are none left in that big machine at Vend U. So we figure between six and nine.

They make paper airplanes and load them with Comet Cleanser and fly them. They yell “Mobile odor zone!” and spray us with Lysol. They climb into bathroom stalls and take Polaroids. Of boys too. In full color. Then show them to people. They grab embarrassing underwear out of gym lockers and send it up the flagpole. They hold kids down and paint their teeth with green nail polish.

“DON’T worry, BEEE happy,” they sing. And the funny thing is, they really do look happy. Not like before.

Not like when it was just one Jocelyn and all of us.

What’s really scary is, now that they have each other, we hate them and they don’t even care.

So they put salt in our drinks. Worms in our pockets. Nair in our hair.

One boy got so desperate because the Jocelyns kept putting posters on his back, I SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ARMADILLO NAMED SNOOGIE, that he actually crawled into a vending machine, the one with nail clippers Swiss Army spy cameras poker baseball fishing hats Parcheesi harmonicas rubber stamp printing presses folding bikes trips to Disney World. He crawled in there to get away from them.

He was never heard from again.