For Better or Cursed

by Kate M. Williams

  “So you gave her one?”

  Janis nodded. “Tangerine,” she said for clarification. “I just dumped it in the ice bucket.” I glanced over. So that was why the ice bucket was on the floor by the bathroom door.

  I sighed. “Okay, girl, come on,” I said, opening the bathroom door and motioning Pig in, and then I shut the door behind us. A minute later, we were back out, and Cassandra and Janis were both staring at us.

  “Um, what just happened?” Cassandra said.

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I said. “But if either of you were thinking about taking a bath, I would suggest you reconsider.”

  Pig took the other half of Janis’s bed, and Cassandra took the other half of mine, and we watched reality TV for a while. Cassandra, of course, had no idea what any of the shows were. “I just don’t understand why any of these people are important,” she kept saying.

  “That’s the whole point,” Janis would always reply. “They’re not.”

  Pig fell asleep first, of course, and then Janis. They both snored, and together they made an off-kilter cadence that sounded like a bagpipe with postnasal drip. So what if I was breaking every rule? I was very happy they were here.

  * * *

  —

  The thing about blackout curtains is that they really black things out, and I wasn’t sure how long my eyes had been open before I looked at the clock: 1:32 a.m. glowed red in the darkness. By 1:34, I was out of bed and sliding into my shoes.

  I crept to the door and opened it slowly. Pig grunted and shifted in her sleep and I froze for a second, then slipped out and eased the door shut with a small click. The hallway was quiet, the only sound the air blowing through the vents. The carpet muffled my footsteps, and I wondered if this was what it felt like to be a jewel thief.

  I opted for the stairs, sure the ding of the elevator would ring out like a gong at this time of night. I walked down the four flights, and when I stepped out onto the ground floor, it was as quiet as the fourth. My feet were moving of their own accord, and I couldn’t remember making an actual decision to do what I was about to do, and I had no internal debate about what I was about to do.

  I had fully expected the Mary Anne Spier Library to be locked, which my kinesis could have taken care of immediately. But when I got there and grabbed the door handle, the door swung wide open. I guess physical locks weren’t that important in a hotel where everyone was either under a mind control spell or in possession of superpowers.

  I stepped into the room and could feel it, just like I had this afternoon: the sense that I wasn’t alone, and that it was crowded in here. I stood very still, not even breathing, and listened. The books had not been packed back into their boxes for the night, and there was the faintest pulse in the room, not audible to my ears, but to my Sitter sense—that spot on the back of my neck—that told me the books were alive and watching me. I didn’t want to turn on any lights, because I didn’t want to draw attention to the fact I was here, on the off chance someone was walking by outside. It also seemed rude. I wouldn’t like it if someone came into my room in the middle of the night and turned on all the lights.

  Carefully, I made my way to the corner where I had seen the Red Magic book earlier. I figured I could take the book up to my room, read it, and then have it back before anyone noticed it was gone.

  Except, it was already gone.

  Well, crap.

  I strained to make out the titles of the books, hoping it wasn’t actually gone, just moved. But as I crept up and down the rows of books, I grew more and more uncomfortable. I’d made them scream earlier today, and I wasn’t sure they liked me. They might not just be watching me, they might know exactly why I was here….

  I walked quickly back to the door and let myself out. My heart was pounding and I felt super jumpy. I took the stairs back up to the fourth floor and couldn’t help but note how weird it was—the very book that I had gone to the library planning to steal wasn’t there anymore. Maybe Deirdre packed the more valuable ones up at night? I’d check again in the morning.

  I let myself back into the room and crawled into bed. I was readjusting my pillows when Cassandra shifted next to me.

  “Where’d you just go?” she asked, making me almost leap out of my skin.

  I let out a breath. “To see if I could find something,” I said.

  “Did you?”

  “No.”

  “Well,” she said, “good night.”

  The next time I woke up it was morning. Everyone else was still sleeping as I dug through my luggage and made an attempt at an outfit: my chartreuse ankle-zip jeans under my blue slip dress, which was over a black T-shirt and under my bleach-dyed denim shirt and my bomber jacket. Thinking about Outkast, I dubbed it “Layers Ball,” which was essentially a sad attempt to spin the fact that I’d packed poorly and was now wearing two outfits at once to try to stay warm.

  Cassandra and I decided to go down to breakfast, get whatever we could, and then bring it back up to share with Janis and Pig. Rather than taking the elevator, we walked, a path that took us back by the Mary Anne Spier Library. As we passed the room, I slowed down to try to see in, and Cassandra seemed to pick up on my slowed steps.

  “So, where’d you go last night?” she asked, casually.

  I had to hand it to her, she knew me pretty well. “I came here, to the library,” I said. “There was a book that I was pretty sure was about Red Magic. I mean, it was red, so I just assumed…”

  “And you snuck out to steal it?” she said.

  “No, of course not,” I said quickly. “I didn’t want to steal it. I just wanted to see what was in it.”

  “So, what was in it?” she asked.

  “I have no idea,” I said. “It was gone.”

  “So you went to steal a book someone had already stolen?”

  I sighed. “I wasn’t going to steal anything, Cassandra,” I said.

  As we walked through the lobby, Cassandra slowed. She chewed her nails as she scanned the room. “It’s Sunday,” she said. “But where’s the continental breakfast?”

  I nodded. True, this was when, and that was where, Cybill had told us to meet her, but there wasn’t a bagel or a box of cornflakes in sight. With Cassandra following, I walked up to the desk.

  “Excuse me,” I said, speaking to the man behind the counter. “I’m looking for the continental breakfast.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” said George, whose eyes were as black as his hair. “But there is no continental breakfast this morning, as the hotel is entirely booked for a private event.”

  “We’re supposed to meet someone there,” I said. “One of your employees.”

  George looked at me blankly, like he had no idea who I was talking about. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but there is no continental breakfast this weekend. However, I do think you will find our buffet more than satisfactory, and with many more options.”

  “But someone who works here told me there was,” I said. “A blond woman. Her name is Cybill.”

  George shook his head. “I apologize, ma’am, but we do not have any employees by that name,” he said.

  “Her hair is kind of shaped like a helmet, and she’s wearing a lot of makeup and her clothes don’t totally fit.” I realized that everything I was saying to describe the woman was awful.

  “Is there anyone else who can help you?” George asked.

  “We were supposed to meet Cybill at the continental breakfast,” Cassandra said, stepping up to the counter from behind me.

  “She checked us in,” I said. “And then I ran into her in the bathroom Friday. I know she’s here.”

  George beckoned someone over, a short, wide man named Julio who also had onyx orbs for eyes. “This young woman is looking for someone named…” George stopped and turned back to me.

  “Cyb
ill,” I said.

  “Right,” he said. “She is looking for someone named Cybill, who she says checked her in and who told her to meet her at the continental breakfast.”

  “We don’t have a continental breakfast,” Julio said.

  “That’s what I just told her,” George said.

  “When did you arrive?” Julio asked.

  “Friday evening,” I said, and Julio smiled.

  “You must be thinking of Suzanne,” he said. “She was on duty Friday night.”

  I shook my head. “Not Suzanne,” I said, firmly. “I’m looking for Cybill.” Even with their black eyes, I could tell George and Julio were exchanging a look, like I was one of those customers.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Julio said. He must have been the manager, because something in his voice said this conversation was finished. “But we have no Cybill, and we have no continental breakfast.”

  “Try the hash browns from the buffet,” George said.

  I gave up. “I will,” I said. “Thank you for your time.” Cassandra and I turned and started walking toward the fabled hash browns. “What do you think all that was about?” I asked Cassandra.

  “They weren’t lying,” she said. “They clearly had no idea who Cybill was.”

  “I know,” I said. “But then, who was she?”

  “Who knows?” Cassandra said. “But now I’d really like to find her. I don’t like that…”

  Cassandra trailed off as we walked into the cafeteria and the smell of scrambled eggs hit my nose in a way that made my nostrils flare. Instead of sitting down and eating with our group, Cass and I each took a plate and piled it high from the buffet with the plan to ferry the food directly back upstairs.

  “Janis hates beans,” I whispered to Cassandra, as we worked our way down the line, “so that breakfast burrito better be for you.” I put as much meat on my plate as I could, plus a couple of waffles, because Pig really liked those. I wondered whether it was against the rules for us to not eat with our group, but I figured that between Cassandra’s odd behavior and my supposedly contagious virus, no one was going to miss us.

  As we headed out the door, I glanced back at our table. Amirah was talking, and everyone else was doubled over in laughter, Ruby collapsed on Mallory’s shoulder and Ji-A sitting there with a huge smile and a look like she’d heard it all before. I liked them, even Amirah with her name-dropping and her hatred of dogs. They were probably the people in this world whom I had the most in common with, the people who might understand me better than anyone except Cassandra and Janis. And yet somehow, even in this innermost inner circle, I still felt like I didn’t belong. They wore their Sisterhood status like bejeweled crowns. I schlepped mine around like an overstuffed backpack, or a plate of smelly sausage, like the one I was currently holding.

  Cassandra and I rode the elevator up to the fourth floor in silence and let ourselves into room 402. Janis was in the bathroom, so I put the meaty half into the ice bucket for Pig and the other half—the half with the melon and waffles and scrambled eggs—way up high, out of her reach. Then we headed to our first session of the day. Cassandra ate her breakfast burrito on the way, and since I rarely got up early enough for breakfast, I was fine with my DIY iced coffee and half a bagel.

  “I can’t believe you’re not taking advantage of this buffet,” Cassandra said when she’d finished off the burrito. She burped, and then pulled a cinnamon roll out of her pocket. “Want?” she said, holding it out to me and gesturing toward her other pocket. “I snagged two.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’m good.” As we were about to walk into the session, I stopped and whispered her name. She turned around, her mouth full of cinnamon roll. “I don’t think we can do this much longer,” I said. “No one’s going to cover for us if anything happens again.” Cassandra wiped a fleck of icing off her lip and nodded. “There’s no way we can get through the next three hours without something happening,” I said. Not finding Cybill had left me feeling deflated. What I didn’t say was that I wasn’t sure I could get through the next three hours just waiting and watching for something to happen, and by the looks of her gnawed-on fingernails, Cassandra probably couldn’t either.

  She shook her head, and then I saw an idea move across her face like a shadow. Her eyes lit up. “For the next three hours, no,” she said. “But I bet I can make it fifteen minutes.”

  I looked at her. Through the open door to the Jill Johnson Room I could see that, as per usual, we were the last to arrive. “What does that mean?”

  She followed my gaze, then turned back and spoke hurriedly. “If she asks for volunteers, you go first,” she said. “Insist. Don’t let anyone else go, and then as soon as you can, pick up the heaviest thing in the room and throw it right at me.” She stopped and clapped me on the arm. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

  * * *

  —

  The Cats in Hats were also in this session, and everyone had already partnered off, leaving one empty table with two open chairs in the back for Cassandra and me. Mallory caught my eye and gave a little wave as we sat down, but nobody else seemed to even notice us. This session was taught by Ana, who wore all black and looked like the kind of person who could intimidate someone into buying a really expensive piece of art they didn’t understand. She made her entrance by suddenly appearing at the front of the room without even a pop, sizzle, or wisp of smoke, and her entrance made several people, including Amirah, jump.

  Ana’s voice made everyone sit up straighter in their chairs. “Kinesis,” she said. “It is something you are born with, but it will take a lifetime to hone. Kinesis is diverse, and in this room alone, we have telekinesis, pyrokinesis, psychic propinquity, intangibility, astrological prowess, and curakinesis, among others. Now, would any of you like to demonstrate and explain how yours works?”

  It was like we had laid a trap and Ana had walked right into it. It was so clear and obvious that there was no way I could have missed my opportunity, even if Cassandra hadn’t kicked me, way harder than she needed to, under the table. Still, I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, and I’d barely had time to think about what Cassandra had told me to do. “I’m Esme, and I’m tele—” As I spoke, I picked up the nearest large object—which happened to be an empty chair—let my body be racked by a string of sneezes so that I looked like someone who had momentarily lost control as opposed to someone who never had control in the first place, and flung the chair at Cassandra.

  She had told me to throw the heaviest thing I could at her, and the chair couldn’t have weighed more than a few pounds, but when it hit her, it looked like they were wrestling. Somehow she got one of her arms wrapped in its legs, and then the chair was clattering to the floor, and Cassandra was standing up, cursing at me while covering one of her eyes with her hand. I heard a snicker that I was pretty sure came from Amirah. Ana was saying something about how that was a perfect demonstration of how not to use kinesis, but I couldn’t hear her over Cassandra, who was still cursing as she dragged me to my feet. “I think you tore my contact,” she snarled. “Walk me back to the room so I can get my glasses.” I didn’t look back as we left, and she kept up the act until we got to the end of the hall and turned the corner.

  “Wow,” Cassandra said, happily. “That was easy.”

  “Too easy,” I said. “So easy it makes me nervous.”

  “Don’t be,” she said. “You messing up like that was totally believable.”

  “Wait, is that supposed to be a compliment?” I said. “Because it sure doesn’t sound like one.”

  “Chill,” she said. “I just mean you played your part well.”

  “Come on,” I told her, “let’s go kill time in our room so that getting hit in the eye with a chair is the worst thing that happens to you this session.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Lots of time to kill, because my glasses are going to be r
eally hard to find.”

  * * *

  —

  Back in our room, I found myself pacing with nothing to distract myself. I had planned for a weekend of educational, community-building mind expansion, and instead I was trapped in a hotel room, spinning my wheels and trying to keep myself from spiraling out.

  “Shouldn’t we go back?” I asked. “I think I should go back, at least.”

  “Sure,” Cassandra said, “if you want to, go.” But as soon as she said it, I realized I didn’t want to go back. It felt like a dream I’d had a million times before, where it’s the end of the semester and I have a test in a class I haven’t been to once. It was disorienting.

  Janis kept peering out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of her car and freaking out about her Depop orders, which were sitting in the back of the Honda, unsent. “People want this stuff by Christmas!” she whined. “My rating is going to drop to subzero.”

  “Tell them you’re Jewish,” Cassandra said. She was sitting on our bed and flipping through the room service menu for the twenty billionth time. At this, Janis turned and gave her a look like Cass had ramen for brains, but Cassandra didn’t even notice. Finally, it was time for lunch.

  “Let’s go get something to eat,” Cassandra said, tossing the menu on the bed. “I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” Janis said, “and Pig definitely wants her lunch.”

  “Dogs don’t get lunch,” I said.

  “You’re kidding,” Janis said.

  “Nope,” I said. “Only breakfast and dinner.”

  “How unfair is that?” Janis said, scratching Pig’s ears and mushing her face. “Well, bring some extra meat stuff, then.”

  I promised to grab meat stuff and other food and come right back. It seemed safest, and by now, we’d missed breakfast and most of our morning session, so Cassandra and I figured we might as well miss lunch too. The Runaway Bunnies would have been shocked if we had shown up. We did our usual cruise through the buffet, where I opted for spinach ravioli for Janis and a burger, no bun. To count as “extra meat stuff.” I’d eat the fries. Cassandra, having recovered from her eye injury, piled her plate twice as high as she had at breakfast.