Page 96 of Victorious: Part I

When we pull up to the Alien Fresh Jerky store—a bizarre building covered in alien murals and UFO decorations. I almost laugh with relief at having something so ridiculous to focus on.

“What the actual fuck is this place?” I ask as we get out.

Clover grins, already taking photos of the giant alien statues flanking the entrance. “Only the best roadside attraction in the Mojave. Look!” She points excitedly to the World’s Tallest Thermometer towering behind the store. “It’s 134 feet tall!”

“Why 134?”

“Highest temperature ever recorded in the U.S. happened right here in Death Valley, at 134 degrees. Can you even imagine? I would die! Literally, my face would melt off, and I would be this disgusting, faceless like… blob… thing.” Her hands wave around as she talks, but somehow even though she’s being completely dramatic, it’s so fucking adorable. I fight back my laugh, but it’s impossible to fight my smile. She widens her eyes at me, pointing dramatically. “Oh, there it is. I thought your smile had permanently disappeared. But nope. It’s back. Phew!I started to think I was going to need to call the FBI to see if they could help us search for it. Was gonna get alerts out and everything.”

I shake my head, bemused. “Have you ever been tested for ADHD?”

She snorts out a laugh, shoving past me. “Fuck you. I’m gonna go look at alien stuff now and continue to be hyper about it because it makes me happy.”

Chuckling to myself, I walk with her. “For the record, Reel Girl, even if your facedidmelt off, you couldneverbe disgusting.”

She purses her lips at me, narrowing her eyes. “All right. That was a good save. Let’s go.”

Walking with her toward the entrance, I still find it amazing how much she knows about all of this. “How do you know this random shit anyway?”

She shrugs, still smiling. “Just part of my roadside-attraction obsession. I also wanted to learn everything I could about them in case I ever got the chance to go.”

Makes sense.

As we make our way inside, the place is even weirder—alien merchandise everywhere and dozens of flavors of jerky with names like “Abduction Flavor” and “Probe-A-Cano Hot.”

Clover, of course, insists we try as many as possible. “This one’s rattlesnake,” she says, holding up a sample.

I raise an eyebrow. “Ladies first.”

“Chicken shit,” she whispers, then pops it in her mouth without hesitation, then scrunches her face. “Hmm. Tastes like… tough chicken?” she states, but it’s more like a question.

Despite myself, I laugh and take a piece, chewing on the rubbery substance.

It’s not awful, just strange.

“Now this one,” she says, offering another. “Ghost pepper. Supposedly hot enough to make you cry.”

“Sounds like a load of bullshit to me,” I reply, then take it because, apparently, I’m a fucking idiot who can’t say no to her. “Bring it on.”

Hesitating for a second, I inhale, then throw that thing into my mouth. I chew a couple of times, then the heat hits immediately, searing my tongue and making my eyes water like a damn waterfall. “Holy shit,” I gasp as my entire body feels like it is on fire.

Clover bursts out laughing, already recording me on her phone. “Your face is so red!”

“You seemfartoo happy about that,” I accuse, desperately and frantically looking for something to drink.

She pulls a bottle of water out of her bag like she had it in preparation for this very moment and hands it to me, still laughing. “Maybe a little. But it’s perfectly normal for a grown man to let out his emotions, Presley. It’s okay to cry. You just let it all out,” she continues to chuckle to herself while I down half the bottle, glaring at her over the rim.

“You’re evil. You know that?” I rasp, my voice hoarse from the heat.

“Oh, come on, it’s funny.” She beams with her pleasure.

And it is.

I guess.

I can’t remember the last time I did something this stupid and carefree.

Back at the club, everything is life or death.

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