Judging by the proximity of the sun to the eastern horizon, it was still pretty early in the morning. But that was one of the many disorienting things about Shermer. Different parts of the town were set to different times of day, as well as to different seasons of the year. It was always daytime in the winter on some streets, but two blocks away it might be nighttime in the early spring.
By now we’d walked a few blocks north of the tracks, into the rich side of town. Huge mansionlike homes lined both sides of the street, each with an immaculately manicured lawn and a circular driveway. Enormous oak and maple trees lined both sides of the street, their long, leafy branches stretching out over it, forming a green tunnel up ahead of us that seemed to go on forever. The sidewalks and side streets around us were deserted, except for a lonely paperboy making the morning rounds on his bike a few blocks farther down.
I’d only been here once before, during that early “date” with Art3mis. She’d told me it was one of her favorite places to go when she needed to relax and unwind, and gave me a guided tour of the simulated suburb’s most popular sites. Unfortunately, I’d been too head-over-heels in love to retain much of what she’d told me, and too busy staring at her to take in the details of our surroundings. Since then, because of Kira’s well-documented affection for Hughes, I’d rewatched most (but not quite all) of his films a few years ago. Now I was hoping I’d retained enough Shermer trivia to avoid looking like a complete fool in front of Art3mis.
We kept jogging down Shermer Road, Art3mis in the lead, until we triggered another needle drop—“It’s All in the Game” by Carmel, another track off the She’s Having a Baby soundtrack. Upon hearing it, Art3mis skidded to an abrupt halt. Then she turned around and startled all of us, by singing along with the song’s opening lyrics in perfect harmony.
“Many a tear has to fall, it’s all…a game,” she sang. “Life is a wonderful game, we play and play….”
I’d heard Samantha sing once before, during the week we spent together at Og’s estate, so I knew she wasn’t using an autotuning app. Yet somehow I’d forgotten what an unusually beautiful singing voice she possessed, on top of all her other talents. Hearing it again now, under these circumstances, made my heart ache with a sudden ferocity that caught me completely off guard.
Art3mis glanced over and caught me staring at her like a slack-jawed goon. To my surprise, she didn’t look away. She gave me what can only be described as a warm smile. Then she stopped singing and checked her Swatch.
“Excellent,” she said. “We’re right on time. It’s the start of another day in paradise.”
She pointed across the street. Aech, Shoto, and I all turned around, just in time to see the front doors of seven of the houses across the street swing open at once. In choreographed unison, seven different bathrobe-clad men emerged from their individual homes to retrieve their morning papers. I recognized six of these men as actors—Chevy Chase, Paul Dooley, Michael Keaton, Steve Martin, John Heard, and Lyman Ward—the men who portrayed Clark W. Griswold, Jim Baker, Jack Butler, Neal Page, Peter McCallister, and Tom Bueller respectively. All suburban dad characters in various Hughes films.
The seventh man wore large clear-framed eyeglasses and had spiky hair that was short on the side and in front, but long in the back—the sort of power mullet worn by rock stars throughout the ’80s. His face looked incredibly familiar, but I couldn’t place him. I was on the verge of running a facial-recognition app on him when it dawned on me—the man in question was John Hughes himself!
Hughes made a brief cameo in The Breakfast Club, playing the father of Brian Johnson, Anthony Michael Hall’s character. Which meant that the house he’d emerged from was where Brian and his family must live in Shermer. (And since Anthony Michael Hall had also portrayed Rusty Griswold in Vacation, it occurred to me that there must be at least two different Anthony Michael Halls living on this street—possibly three, if Farmer Ted’s house was around here too. And on top of that there was Gary Wallace, Anthony Michael Hall’s character in Weird Science . But it was a safe bet that he lived on the other side of the tracks, because his father, Al, was a plumber.)
As I watched Mr. Johnson/John Hughes scoop up his morning paper and then shuffle back into his house, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Anorak—the digital ghost of a dead creator, left behind to forever haunt his own creation.
“Hey, Z!” Art3mis said, snapping me out of my daze. “Let me see that clue again.”
I removed the Second Shard from my inventory and held it out. She read the inscription aloud: “ ‘Recast the foul, restore his ending. Andie’s first fate still needs mending.’ ”
“So that’s gotta be it, right?” I asked. “Restore the original ending, the one where Andie ended up with Duckie instead of with Blane.”
Art3mis didn’t respond. She just stared at the inscription, lost in thought.
“That rich pretty boy, Blane,” Aech said, glancing at the large, opulent homes lining both sides of the street. “He must live around here, right? I say we find him and lock his ass in the trunk of his daddy’s BMW. Then he won’t be able to attend the prom tonight. When he doesn’t show, Andie will have no choice but to spend the evening with Duckie. That would ‘restore his ending,’ wouldn’t it?”
That idea didn’t sound half bad to me, but I waited for Art3mis to answer.
“As fun as it sounds, I don’t think that will do the trick,” she said, pointing at the inscription on the shard. “ ‘Recast the foul,’ ” she repeated. “ ‘Andie’s fate…’ ”
“What about that scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off ?” I asked. “When he catches that foul ball during the Cubs game at Wrigley Field?”
Art3mis seemed mildly impressed by my suggestion. At least enough to consider it for all of two seconds. Then she shook her head dismissively.
“I don’t think so…. Recast the foul. Recast the foul. ”
Her eyes went wide, and her scowl of concentration transformed into a huge grin.
“I’ve got it!” she cried. “I know what we need to do!”
“You do?” Aech replied. “Are you sure?”
She checked her Swatch again, then turned to glance up and down the empty street. “There’s only one way to find out. We need to catch a ride over to the high school. The bus should be coming by any second now.”
Just as she finished saying this, a long yellow school bus rounded the corner at the end of the street. When it rolled to a stop at the curb in front of us, we could see the words SHERMER HIGH SCHOOL stenciled across its side.
The bus doors swung open and Art3mis jumped on board, then motioned for us to follow her. Another needle drop triggered, and the song “Oh Yeah” by Yello kicked in as the four of us filed onto the bus. Art3mis led us to a pair of empty seats near the middle. Aech sat next to her and I sat beside Shoto. The seats around us were occupied by high school kid NPCs, all wearing 1980s clothing and hairstyles. Each one was modeled after a teenage actor from a school-bus scene in one of John Hughes’s films. I thought I spotted extras from Sixteen Candles and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
The bus began to move again, and I turned to glance out the window beside me. The sun was rising above the lake to the east. A beautiful spring morning in an upscale Midwestern suburb at the height of Reagan’s America. Period-appropriate cars and trucks—1989 or earlier—filled the tree-lined streets.
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