Mary (Bloody Mary) Page 7

  “Go away,” she snapped.

  “Mary’s on me. She followed me after we summoned her. Please, help me,” I said, talking as fast as I could to get it all in before she hung up.

  “Are you local like your friend?” she demanded.

  The question took me off guard, but I nodded in response. “Yes, I’m from Bridgewater.”

  Cordelia went quiet. I could hear her deep, even breathing. “Forty-seven Nickel Street in the Folly, gray house. Black windows. Until then, avoid everything shiny. Everything.” And she was gone again.

  Part of me wanted to go see her right then, but Mom had planned a night of tacos and Sandra Bullock movies. If I bailed, she’d know something was wrong. The other problem was a ride. Mom needed her car, and relinquishing the keys required an explanation.

  “Hey, can either of you drive me out to Solomon’s Folly tomorrow after school? I know it’s far, but I want to talk to Cordelia. It sounds like she might help me.” I jotted down the address on a piece of paper by my nightstand. I could have asked Jess to take me, but I wasn’t ready for her company. Apologies or not, she’d screwed me over.

  “Can’t. Dentist appointment at two tomorrow. I’m getting dismissed from school,” Anna said. She murmured an apology before disappearing into the hall. A moment later, I heard her in the kitchen shuffling around, the door to a closet opening and then closing.

  “I can,” Kitty said. “No problem.” Kitty didn’t often drive because Jess was our chauffeur, but she did have one of her dad’s cars at her disposal whenever she needed it—usually the red SUV with the sunroof.

  “Thanks.”

  I retucked the towel and went out to see what Anna was up to. I found her standing in front of the open bathroom door with a broom and dustpan in one hand, the salt shaker in the other. She scowled at the sea of glass in front of her.

  “Man, your mom’s going to be pissed,” she said.

  “Maybe.” I didn’t have an excuse for the mirror, though I was leaning toward telling her it happened while I was at school—like it fell off the nail because our downstairs neighbors got too rowdy again.

  Anna stopped eyeing the wreckage long enough to turn around to offer us salt. “I’ll get this cleaned up if you guys will watch me in case…you know.”

  Kitty snagged the salt from her and sat on the carpet, her gaze swinging my way. “Y-yeah. I’ll watch. I’m…Shauna, are you okay? What did Cordelia say?”

  “She gave me her address and said to avoid all shiny surfaces.” After seeing Mary in the shower doors, the suggestion made sense. At least she hadn’t passed through to grab me, so maybe regular glass restricted her more than straight mirrors? Her possession of the showerhead was more understandable, too, since that was stainless steel, which was reflective. The doorknobs were brass, so maybe that’s how she locked us in and out at Anna’s place and here.

  I glanced down the hall. Family pictures—shiny frames. The television in the living room—shiny screen. The windows—shiny panes. The more I looked, the bigger the problem grew. Silverware, computer screens, the stove. The microwave. The car. My cell phone. My hair clips. Anna’s glasses. Anything plastic, anything glass, anything metal. Which was everything. Mary could be anywhere.

  What was I going to do? I couldn’t escape all of that! I was exhausted, scared, and in pain. Was I supposed to pitch a tent in the middle of the woods? Even then, wouldn’t the zipper be shiny? Did she really mean everything shiny?

  “Holy crap,” I whispered. All I wanted to do was lie down on my stomach and go to sleep. I hated Mary, I hated what we’d done, I even hated Jess. I was covered in mud, I couldn’t shower, and…

  “Shauna?” Kitty’s voice stopped me from spiraling deeper. She smiled tightly and nodded at the bathroom. “When Anna’s done sweeping, if you want I’ll sit in the bathroom with some salt so you can shower. I won’t look, but you’re all…you know. I’m sorry about the shiny thing. I’m sorry about all of it.”

  “Yeah, it’s…I still want to punch Jess,” Anna said between sweeps.

  I swallowed hard and nodded, my face turned away from them so they couldn’t see that I was two seconds from losing it. “Thanks, guys. Thanks for sweeping, Anna,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” Before either of them could follow me, I went back to my room and threw myself into my computer chair, wheeling it as far away from my vanity as possible.

  I looked out my window to stare at Mom’s empty parking spot. She’d be home soon, and I realized I’d never warned her that we had company. She’d be pissed if I didn’t tell her and she only had tacos for two. Plus, I had to borrow the car to drive Kitty and Anna home. She deserved fair warning.

  I called her at work and left her a disjointed message. “Hey, Mom. Uhh. Came home from school with the girls and the bathroom mirror was broken. I’m cleaning it up now, but we’ll need to get a new one. And Jess left Anna and Kitty here with no ride, so I have to borrow the car when you get home. We can do tacos after still, if that’s cool. Bye.” I hung up, glad my mother didn’t have to work tonight.

  Clean and rebandaged, I sank into the couch with Anna and Kitty, exhausted. The TV droned on, filling in for our silence. Words couldn’t quite capture how messed up our situation was.

  Mom walked in a little while later with a family-sized box of tacos and a movie. She must have gotten my message about Kitty and Anna. I hadn’t asked them to stay for dinner, but by the longing looks they gave the Taco Bell box, it was clear they planned on sticking around. I didn’t mind. Two more people to fight off the pop-up ghost.

  “Soup’s on!” Mom said, slinging her coat over the back of the chair and leaving our dinner on the table. She ducked from the kitchen to inspect the bathroom. Anna had done a great job cleaning it, so there wasn’t much for her to see. “Damn. I guess we’ll get another mirror this weekend.”

  “The glass is in the garbage,” I said, abandoning the couch to grab plates from the cabinet. The girls followed me, both of them familiar enough with my apartment that Kitty went for the silverware and Anna poured us drinks.

  “Soda, Mrs. O’Brien?” Anna offered.

  “No, thanks. I’ll grab a water,” Mom said, coming out to join us. She paused by the refrigerator to get her own drink. “How’s everyone doing?” Our silence spoke for us. “That good, huh?”

  “Drama. Stupid girl drama,” I said, piling three tacos onto my plate and loading up on hot sauce.

  Mom motioned to the three of us to eat without her; she was unpacking her bag from work. “You’re short a body. I take it Jessica’s the girl drama?”

  “Jess is channeling her demon side again,” I replied.

  “It’ll work out. It always does,” she said, sliding into the seat across from me. Her shoes flew out from under the table to thud against the opposite wall. The sound made me, Kitty, and Anna flinch. Mom rubbed her nylon-clad toes. “Today was a real bi—bear. At least we get to watch some quality TV tonight, huh? End the day the right way.”

  “What movie did you get?” Kitty asked, and the conversation drifted from Mom’s movie to romantic comedies to what we last saw in the theaters. I tried to concentrate on the chatter instead of my looming dread, but it was hard. Especially when I picked up my chicken taco and saw Mary’s face on my white dinner plate.

  It was fleeting—a glimpse of black eyes and stringy hair—but it was enough to make me choke. Chicken taco flew down the wrong pipe, and I coughed and wheezed for air. Mom jumped up from her seat to whack me on the back, her hand striking my new cuts. It hurt so much, I spit guacamole at Kitty, accidentally blasting her cheek with green goop.

  “Shauna, are you okay? Honey?”

  I pointed at my throat and gurgled, though it wasn’t a breathing problem so much as I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. In my plate. All that panic and worry about Mary being everywhere returned twofold. I dropped the remains of my taco and reached for my soda to swallow past the choking sensation.

  I stopped. The glass. If Mary wa
s in my plate, what would stop her from being in my glass?

  Desperate and miserable, I went to the sink and turned on the water. I could feel my mom watching me as I splashed my face, cupping water in my palms to drink. Yes, the sink was chrome, but there was distance between the faucet and the base. I could keep my hands midway without touching anything.

  Was this how it had to be from now on?

  “Are you okay?” my mom repeated.

  Another splash of water and I nodded. “Be fine. Just a long day. Sorry about the guac, Kitty.”

  “It’s okay,” Kitty said in a slightly disgusted tone.

  “It’s been a crappy day. Seems appropriate,” Anna said.

  Face soaked, cheeks so warm they felt like they were on fire, I retook my seat. I nudged my plate away and grabbed another taco, holding it over a napkin. In a way, I hoped Mary would pop up somewhere my mom could see. The group had agreed to keep it quiet, but if Mom had a good, hard look at Mary by no fault of mine, it’d be hard to refute my rampaging ghost claims.

  It was like Kitty psychically caught my vibe, because I felt her hand brush my leg under the table. It was a small pat, but I knew what it meant, and my eyes flicked her way. We shared a look before going back to our food, much quieter now, my mom’s gaze ping-ponging around the table.

  “I’m not getting something,” she said.

  “Jess is a jerk,” I said, though my voice was ragged from choking. It reminded me a little of Cordelia’s voice, all grizzled and hoarse. If Cordelia looked anything like she sounded, she was one terrifying woman.

  “She’s always been a little difficult, but you’ve smoothed it out before. I’m sure this will be fine,” Mom said.

  I had to wonder if Mom would say that if she knew what Kitty, Anna, and I knew.

  “You okay over there? You’re off tonight,” Mom asked after we drove Kitty and Anna home.

  “Yeah. Just stressed,” I said.

  Mom pulled the car into our parking lot right as the peepers started screaming, a telltale sign summer was around the corner. She stifled a yawn behind her hand before rooting through her purse for the house key. I saved her by producing mine from my pocket, and she took it with a grateful smile. “Movie time! Hope I don’t pass out on you. Your old lady is feeling pretty old right now.”

  “It’s okay if you do. Just don’t snore.”

  We walked into the house side by side, Mom looping an arm through mine. We walked up the stairs like that, and strangely, it was the only time I’d felt even slightly relaxed since Mary came into my life. Mom made me feel safe despite the things I’d seen and done, and I desperately hoped whatever Mary wanted from me, she kept my mom out of it. She shouldn’t be my collateral damage.

  Mom opened the front door and stepped aside to let me in. Every light was off in the apartment. I expected a corpse to lunge at me from the darkness, but it was still. Then I felt a soft brush of lips across my temple. My hand swung up on instinct to knock away whatever it was. Except it was Mom. I’d just thwacked her upside the head.

  “Oh. Oh, crap. Mom, I’m so sorry. I—”

  “Shauna! I was just going to kiss you! What in God’s name is wrong with you?”

  She flicked on a light so I could see her death glare, and I melted into the floor. “I’m s-sorry. You startled me.”

  “Apparently. You’re awfully jumpy tonight. Is something going on? Between this and doing the tango in your seat at dinner, you’re worrying me.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m sorry I hit you.”

  “Spill it,” she demanded, arms folding over her chest.

  The way she looked at me, I knew I wasn’t wriggling out of it. I was so tired from the day and so annoyed with Jess and scared of Mary that I shrugged and walked toward my room. When Mom protested my leaving midconversation, I lifted my hand for her to follow. Fine. She wanted to know? I’d show her. Jess had told me we couldn’t tell our parents because no one would believe us. Well, if Mom saw it, how was she going to dispute it?

  I went straight for the vanity and tugged off the robe. There was no hesitation because I had a point to prove. My reflection looked back at me. Mom stood at my side, looking between me and the mirror like one of us would sprout wings. I backed onto my bed and sat, waiting for the horrible face to appear.

  “Yes?” Mom pressed.

  “Just give me a minute,” I said.

  And she did, but nothing happened. Either Mary was off mauling other unsuspecting girls or she was toying with me. Of course the one time I wanted her here, she played coy. I raked my fingers over my scalp.

  “Jess walked away from us today. Not, like, permanently, but it’s hard. She’s still hanging out with Bronx because of Marc and there’s drama. Kitty’s upset and blah, blah. It’s all super dumb. I’m not sure she’s going to be our friend for much longer,” I said. It was all true so I didn’t feel totally awful saying it, but it didn’t come close to the snarling, hissing, blood-hungry bulk of my problem.

  Mom peered at me. She knew it wasn’t that simple. I must have looked suitably forlorn, though, because she came to sit beside me, her hand rubbing over my thigh. “You guys have been friends for a long time. I bet she’ll think about it and come crawling back.”

  “Sure,” I said, but really, I didn’t care if Jess fell off the face of the planet. Thinking her name was enough to make my jaw clench.

  Mom gave me a couple minutes to brood before she stood up and offered me her hand. “Let’s go. That movie was burning a hole in my bag earlier. There’s nothing you can do about Jess now, so let’s hang out. Maybe you’ll feel better by bedtime, okay?”

  I laced my fingers with hers and followed her into the living room. I didn’t care about the movie, but I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to cuddle with my mom, especially knowing what could be waiting for me on the other side of the glass.

  Mom passed out halfway through the movie. I watched the rest of it with her head propped against my arm, my eyes pointed at the TV but not really seeing it. When the credits rolled, I gently shoved her shoulder to wake her and glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven, and I hadn’t touched my homework.

  Mom yawned and shuffled her way to her bedroom with a muffled, “G’night. Love you.” I told her I loved her and ducked into my room. Normally, I’d close the door and kill the lights and sprawl into my pillows like an overtired toddler, but as I started to follow the routine, I thought better of it. I left it open. If something else happened, I wanted to be able to call for her. I was afraid of the monster in my closet for the first time since I was nine years old.

  I tossed the bathrobe over the mirror again. For good measure, I grabbed the salt from the kitchen and lined the bottom of the mirror. My hand shook as I poured. I tried not to notice.

  Behind me, my cell phone vibrated. There were two messages. The first one was from Bronx, saying I should call him. It had come in two hours ago. I didn’t respond for two reasons, the first being the hour, the second being that Kitty and Bronx’s dating drama was pretty much the last thing on my mind with my big fat Mary problem. I’d handle their boyfriend-girlfriend situation another day.

  The other text message was from Jess. So sorry. Go to this site. The link was to the Solomon’s Folly Historical Society. Despite my fatigue and the glare on my computer, I was curious. I swallowed past my trepidation and typed in the address. An old photograph loaded on the screen. A dozen people stood in front of a stone church. I could tell by the dress of the parishioners that this was taken a long time ago. It reminded me of the Civil War portraits I’d seen in my American history textbook.

  It was an imperfect photo; the background, the church, and the left half of the group were clear. The people on the right side, though, had small water spots on them that distorted their images. It reminded me of Mary Worth’s letter. Why did everything to do with her have to be so very wet?

  I studied the picture. On the far left was a handsome man with a tall hat, a hand clasped on a walking st
ick, a long black jacket hanging to his knees. The way he’d tucked his other hand beneath his coat lapel suggested pride, like these were his people. I glanced down at the picture description. From left to right, Pastor Edmond Renault, Mrs. Hannah Worth, Miss Mary Worth, Miss Constance Worth (Simpson), Mr. Thomas Adderly, Miss Elizabeth Hawthorne (Jenson), Rest Unknown. My gaze skipped from the names to the faces. Hannah Worth was as Mary described her mother in her letter—blond and perfect in a fairy-tale princess way. Her hair was wrapped around her head in a fat golden braid, her nose was long and thin over wide lips. Her arm extended to her side to loop around the shoulders of a girl.

  Mary Worth. She was holding on to Mary Worth.

  I stared. The girl in the picture looked nothing like my nightmare-come-to-life. She was pretty like her mother, but darker all around, with hair that looked black or chestnut. Her eyes were big and dark against her pale skin. She was not overly thin, but not big, either. She was healthy, robust, so at odds with the skeletal ghost from the mirror. The most startling thing about her, though, was how young she looked. She was my age in this picture. How could a girl like Mary end up so monstrous?

  One by one, I studied the rest of the faces. Constance resembled her mother with her flaxen hair, though she had a rounder face like her sister. She clasped Mary’s hand, the gesture telegraphing their affection. Thomas Adderly was somewhat goofy-looking, with a too-serious face and slumping shoulders on a wide, heavy frame. The picture was enough to make me believe he had warts and onion breath as Mary described. As for Elizabeth, she was plain, with dark hair and dark eyes. Her cheekbones were a little too high, her face a little too angular to be traditionally pretty. Her expression was flinty, too, and cold.

  I e-mailed the link to myself so I could print a copy at the school library tomorrow. A squealing noise from under my feet seized my muscles. It took a moment to recognize the sound of the toilet flushing in the downstairs apartment, the pipes shuddering in the walls.