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Lucy brought Michael to Santa Carla when he was a kid. Richard never joined them, and Sam wasn't around, yet. But Michael’s memories of the sunny beach side is barely an outline of what he sees now.
It seems like every ally he looks down, Michael sees someone curled in on themselves sleeping off whatever hangover or influence they had recently taken. What he remembers as colourful changing sheds by the beach now look abandoned with their peeling paint and boarded up doors. And worst of all we’re all the paper faces that stared at them as the brothers drove past lampposts. “Missing Person” headlines every one.
“Mike, are you sure this is the right place?” Sam asks, not taking his eyes off the unrecognizable streets. On the second half of Sam and Michael’s drive from Phoenix to Santa Carla, Michael told what he could remember of the utopia he thought he knew Santa Carla to be.
“This is it. Santa Carla.”
“Murder Capital of the World.” Sam mumbles as he reads the back of the sign welcoming people to the city as they left it on the highway to their Grandpa’s house. Michael hopes the delinquents in this town just have a sick sense of humour and he didn’t just drive Sam to a new hell as they escape their old one.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Grandpa’s house more resembles a barn that was stretched out and given three more pointed roofs. The entire yard is a mess of animal bones, a variety of half done projects, and plants that overtook every spot the previous two listings hadn’t.
Michael parks the truck in front of the main entrance, the best way to keep them heaving boxes to a minimum. As he goes to open his door Michael sees a human body laying across the deck. Unmoving.
“Sam, stay in the truck.” Michael quickly opens his door and runs towards the house. The body is definitely his grandpa. Michael immediately feels dizzy. What would he do now? Sam can’t see a dead body. Where will they go? The house will take more time to process then their Mom’s divorce. Michael thinks he’s going to be sick.
“Mike? What’s going on?” And god, Sam is too curious for his own good. How can Michael hide this?
“Kid? You okay?” That’s not Sam. This voice isn’t Sam. Someone who isn't Sam is touching Michael’s shoulder. Who? Why can’t Michael see his face?
“Hey kid, just breathe with me, okay? In… then out. Good job just like that. Again, in… and out. Keep going.” The voice coaches.
Michael doesn’t know how much time passes until it feels like he can see again. Or maybe it’s more like slowing down his thoughts enough to focus on what he’s seeing?
“Sam?” Michael struggles to get the word out. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, while his mouth feels too tight to open.
A moment passes. Someone moving across the gravel road. A new hand on his shoulder.
“I’m here Mike. I’m okay. You're okay. Grandpa’s okay. You are okay, right Michael?”
“Grandpa?” This word also feels heavy in Michael’s mouth, but he thinks it comes out clearer.
“Hey kiddo. Michael right? Sorry but the scare, I thought you might remember when you were here as a kid and I greeted you and Lucy the same way. Guess I should’ve known better.” That voice was Grandpa. Michael finally manages to look up to see the man’s face. He’s old, but definitely not feeling it in spirit, and his smile is just like their mom’s. Just like Sam’s.
“It’s okay. I’m alive. Just wasn’t expecting I’d find my grandpa dead on his front porch.” Michael’s attempt at a joke seemed to just dampen the other two Emerson’s moods.
“How about we try this again in the house? I need something to drink.” This attempt seems to work and Sam helps Michael stand up, and they watch together as their grandpa stands up moving as if he was a puppet on strings. When all three are finally standing, Grandpa opens the door and leads them into his, no, their house.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
The interior of grandpa’s house isn’t much different from the outside. Incomplete projects cover nearly every surface, an entire half of the main living space is sectioned off for Grandpa’s taxidermy, but rather than plants the countertops and floor beside most sitting areas were stacked tall with books. There didn’t seem to be a connection in the material, magazines on trucks and bikes, taxidermy, and even a few on fashion, but those looked to be from the 60s before their mother had moved out. There was also a vast collection of novels, kids fiction Michael had helped Sam learn to read with, scientific manuscripts, and oddly enough horror.
Sam and Michael quickly settle into their rooms, right beside each other.
Michael doesn’t have much to unpack other than his clothes and weights. As he looks around his new room he feels a bit hollow. Could his existence as a person really be summed up by enough clothes to last a week and a weight set he bought at a garage sale? Was that all there was to him? Nothing more notable?
Sam’s room was different from Michael’s. Sam could barely fit all of his eclectic clothes in the closet, which was even larger than the one in Michael’s room. Sam had half of his comics still in the box by his bed, but the other half had already been put on the shelves he apparently cleared of taxaderied robins and gophers. Even the walls had a touch of Sam’s presence. His poster of Rob Lowe taking off his shirt on the closet, ironically enough, and several movie posters. Sam has a presence you couldn’t just pack up in five minutes.
The last thing the brothers do to move into their new home is hide Sam’s box of notes from Ryan. Since the old one had broken, Michael helps Sam hide the new one. Michael had found a buttery-yellow cylinder tupperware their mom planned on selling, and instead given it to Sam. The brothers scour Sam’s room for a good hiding spot and untimely decide to take a hidden in-plane sight approach. Now on the top shelf in Sam’s closet, in the back corner because Sam still feels uneasy leaving it too unguarded, sits a yellow plastic tub filled with notes of Sam’s secret.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Michael would be fine with staying home for the night, resting after the drive and hours of unpacking. But Sam wants to explore.
They take the truck down to the boardwalk, it’s not flashy or attractive, but Michael feels like for once he isn’t trying to find someone new when he goes out after dark. Thousands of lights flash, and Michael can hear four songs at once, blasting from every direction.
A brief exploration of the grounds and agreement to meet up at the giant rollercoaster if they get separated later and the Emerson brothers are consumed by the mystical influence of Santa Carla’s boardwalk.
“Mike! Look, there’s a comic book store! Let’s go!” Sam yells over the music, quickly grabbing Michael’s arm and dragging him behind. Sam is getting a little too used to Michael being dizzy enough for him to push and drag around. But Michael could fix that later, Sam’s happy right now.
The store itself looks similar to any other comic store Michael had seen in Phoenix. Rows upon rows of boxes and shelves packed right with comics of any kind. Sam immediately finds the DC hero section, specifically Superman, and starts rearranging the set up.
“I can’t believe they put Superman #77 with #200, Red Kryptonite hadn’t even been discovered yet! And #98 with #300? Lori Lemaris wasn't even introduced!”
“Whatever you say, nerd.” Michael laughs at his brother. Leave it to Sam to be concerned about comic arrangements after his life is uprooted over the course of a week. His laugh dies when Michael notices two boys watching them. They were Sam’s age, but glared at them like the brothers are threats. Finally the one wearing a red bandanna walks over, though the other with an army green jumper is closing in on their other side.
“Is there a problem guys?” Sam asks, confident and almost daring. Michael is surprised, maybe all Sam needed to feel better was a new environment.
“Just scoping your civilian wardrobe.” The boy wearing a bandana sneers. Michael considers stepping in, to make sure this punk knows he won’t hesitate to fight someone younger than him, but Sam answers first.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Without turning his back, Sam shifts to the Batman comics. Michael stays by the Superman collection. Maybe Sam could handle himself, and if he couldn’t Michael was within ear, and fist, shot.
“For a fashion victim.” Michael takes a deep breath. Sam didn’t react, so neither will Michael.
“Listen buddy, if you’re looking for the diet frozen yogurt bar, it went out of business last summer.” Before learning about Sam, Michael would’ve just taken that as the two boys making fun of Sam’s mall fashion style. But now he can hear the implications.
Get out, you don't fit in here, you're soft, you’re delicate, you’re not welcome.
Sam looks like he caught the double meaning as well. He didn’t back down though. Not that easily.
“Actually, I’m looking for a Batman #14.” Sam’s voice doesn’t shake. He did move closer to Michael, and the door, though.
“That’s a very serious book.” The bandana boy said, the other quickly followed saying “Only five in existence.” They took a step closer. Michael sees Sam immediately take two steps back.
“Four actually, and I’m always looking out for the other three.” Michael can remember Sam raving about that issue when he first got it. The one wearing a bandana walks to a different shelf and quickly returns with what looks like a vampire comic. Sam didn't take it when it was offered.
“I don’t like horror comics.” The boy pushes it into Sam’s hands anyway.
“Well, Robin, this one might save your life.” The boys attention is pulled away from Sam when a crowd of, likely drunk or high, guys not much older than Michael steal some magazines and run off. As soon as the two boys take their eyes off Sam he’s at Michael’s side once again dragging him. But this time away from the comics.
“Sam, slow down! Sam, stop!” Michael locks his knees before his brother can pull him any further into the labyrinth of carnival stalls. If Sam needs to get away for a bit, then he needs to be calm enough to realize when he can stop running. Michael pulls them into a small alley. It isn’t too dirty but Michael still puts his jacket on the ground before letting Sam sit against the brick wall.
Sam refuses to look at Michael. He allowed himself to get pulled into the alley and sat down easily enough, but his muscles don’t relax. He is ready to run.
“Sam, can you take a deep breath?” Michael tries his best to sound soft, like their mom. He rubs his hands on Sam’s shoulders. Lucy once mentioned how quickly Sam calmed down if he felt pressure on his back and shoulders. Sam slowly takes the prompted breath in, and releases it in hiccups barely a second later.
“You’re okay Sam. I’m here. Do you want to go home? Ryan might still be awake, you could call him?”
As Michael says “Ryan” Sam flinches against his brother's hands. His eyes don’t release tears like they would have a moment ago, they frantically look for an escape. Sam needs out. Michael gives him a hug.
15 minutes later Sam squirms out of his brother's arms. His eyes are still pink, but not threatening to cry.
“Thank you, Michael.” Sam whispers.
“Anytime nerd, do you want to go home?” Michael receives a small nod in answer.
Together the boys walk towards the truck. Past a mary-go-round, cotton candy stand, and stage of performers and excited fans.
“Truth will rise up eventually, you’ll be who you were meant to be.” The lead vocalist sang. His hair is white, not in an elderly way, more like he isn’t human. Perhaps he’s an angel?
“When the secret comes out!” The whole band joins in. Sam stops beside him. The lyric is too close to home right now.
“I promise you, everything will become clear.” The Angel sings, softer than his band mates instruments, but nonetheless heard. Sam relaxes. Michael decides they would stay and listen. Just for one song.
The band enters an instrumental break and Michael and Sam walk closer to the stage. The vocals pick up again, though this time by a girl. She has black skin and long hair. Like the male singer, she looks angelic. Michael swears he sees the stage lights reflect a halo around her. Michael thinks his heart stops when both the singers share the mic and continue together.
“Your faith has been shaken, your powers been taken. It’s time that you take it back.”
Enamoured by the performance, or maybe just the singers, Michael stands still long after the crowd erupts in cheers and the band bows before exiting the stage.
“Mike, MIKE!” Sam shakes his shoulder, he’s smiling, likely at how smitten Michael became over the course of one song. His brother points to a shadowy clearing to the right of the stage where the performers are packing up their instruments. Michael isn't sure who pulled who. The entire band was attractive, but Michael’s eyes linger on the singers.
“You guys were so cool up there! Like your stage presence is so- look at my brother! He’s ready to drop a knee!” Sam rambles, waving his hands like the random gestures would help explain his point. But Michael hears the part about him dropping a knee. He feels his face flush, and his hand connects with the back of Sam’s head. Lightly, of course.
“Really? Well that’s a daydream for sure.” The Angel-man says. Michael can’t decide if he loves the man's singing voice more, or how his talking voice sounds like he’d ask for the impossible and Michael would give it. He thinks it’s all in his imagination, but Michael thinks he sees the girl's eyes looking him up and down before looking back at the blond.
“Are you tourists? We haven’t seen you two before.” The shortest band mate asks. He has a curly blond mullet and chaotic patchwork jacket. Michael find it unnerving how his smile seems to have fangs, of course that is just a trick of the light.
“We just moved here actually. Thought we’d come check out the boardwalk for our first night, we were actually just about to head home before we heard you singing.” Michael manages to say, without looking at the singers. A victory if he ever heard it.
“New locals, how exciting!” Michael’s victory is immediately lost, the girl is staring right at him, and her smile made his heart crawl up his throat so he could offer it to her. He swallows it down.
“Yeah, yeah it’s really great, we love it so far!” Michael couldn’t stop his tongue, but manages to stop his thoughts when Sam disappears from his peripheral vision. “Sam?”
His brother is behind him. Hiding as if he was four again and could be safe if he hid behind their mothers legs.
“Hey, you okay?” Michael forgets about their audience. Sam is pale, except for his eyes. Those are growing red again. But still Sam nods.
“Can I just wait in the truck? You can finish your conversation.”
“No it’s okay, we’ll go home now.” Michael tries to put his arm around Sam’s shoulder and walk towards their truck but Sam physically barricades him.
“I said I’m fine! I just want to go to the truck for a bit.” Sam sounded angry, but Michael can tell it’s a front so he doesn’t start crying in public. He pulls out the keys, and places them in Sam’s hand.
“Okay, just don’t get lost, go with strangers, or drive away. You remember where the truck is?” Sam nods and walks as fast as he can without it looking like he’s running.
“Is the kid alright?” A deep voice asks, Michael turns to see the tallest member has moved to the front, he has long black hair, no shirt, and surprisingly enough a young blond boy carried on his hip.
“Uh, yeah, he’ll be fine. Just a long day.” Michael struggles to look away from the young boy, he couldn’t be older than eight or nine. Thankfully, none of the band mates seem to notice Michael’s staring. They nod, the short blond and black guy with pointy hair go back to pack up the formers drum kit. The angel singer smiles at him.
“You’re interesting, what’s your name?” Michael wants to smile just because the man talked.
“Michael, Emerson. Michael Emerson. And that was my brother, Sam.” The blond man smiles.
“Well it’s nice to meet you Michael.” Michael has met an Angel and he has taken Michael to Heaven.
“Ye…yeah, you too!” Michael feels light, he can hardly hear the band laughing at him.
“But Michael, you don’t even know who we are.” The pretty girl laughs, Michael thinks he sees her halo again, he blushes, hard.
“Now look at those cheeks, so much red! So pretty.” Angel man says. For a moment, it also looks like he has fangs, like his eyes are gold. Michael doesn't think he’s even seen light act so weird.
“Now David, no need to tease him.” Pretty girl chides Angel boy, or David. Michael loves how well the name suits him. David, wow.
“I disagree, Star. I think his blush is worth it.” Michael blushes more. David smiles. Star does too.
“We’re your parents hippies too?” Michael asks. He doesn’t think too hard about what he’s asking until after it’s out of his mouth, he just wanted to add to the conversation.
“Too?” Star asks, Michael is happy she’s still smiling, even if she’s confused now.
“Oh, yeah, my mom was a part of that big hippie movement back in the 70’s. Actually where she met Richard, and well I came along not long after that. She actually nearly named me Moonbeam.” Michael wishes he could take back his mention if Richard, thankfully David and Star ignore the middle of his sentence in favour of focusing on the end.
“Moonbeam? Now that’s special.” David laughs a bit. It sounds genuine.
“Well I like it.” Star meets Michael’s eyes while she speaks.
“Hey, Mikey, sense these two aren't going to do it, we’re the Lost Boys!” The short blond cuts in, literally. He shoves past David and Star to be in front of Michael. “I’m Marko, this is Paul, and that’s Dwayne and Laddie.”
The newly introduced Lost Boys gesture to Michael when Marko says their name. Marko gives a finger wave, Paul snaps both his fingers by his ears, Dwayne shoots a finger gun with the hand that isn’t holding Laddie, and Laddie offers a toothless smile.
“Hey, good to meet you.”
“Yeah, clearly not as good as it is to meet David and Star though.” Paul says, though the second half is quiet. Michael first thinks Paul’s trying to start a fight, but reconsiders when the rest of the band smiles and laughs with him.
“So, Moonbeam, you liked our show, and just decided to come over and say hi? Nothing more?” David asks.
“I guess so, yeah. Is that okay?” Michael tries to make it sound like a dare, but he probably still sounds overeager.
“Of course, the best thing about Santa Carla is that if you ask for it, you get it.” David flourishes his arms. Michael likes the sound of his promise.
“Now Michael, may we ask to see you again? Say tomorrow night after our concert?”
Marko laughs “You mean you and Star see him again!” David elbows his ribs, Star stomps on his foot. Marko retreats back to Paul who is failing to hide his laughter.
“I’d love to see you again, I mean all of you! And seeing another concert sounds like fun. On one condition.” Michael panics at his slip up, but manages to sound serious in his last request.
“That being?” Star asks. She doesn’t seem worried about what Michael will ask for, so maybe they won’t see it as weird as his friends in Phoenix would have.
“I don’t want Sam to be alone, can he join us?”
“As you wish, Michael.”