For Better or Cursed

by Kate M. Williams

  We could hear the screams as soon as the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor. And they sounded like they were coming from…our room. I started sprinting—or walking as fast as I could carrying a plate of marinara—and fumbled with the lock and then threw open the door to 402. The screams were coming from Amirah, who had a pillow in one hand and was swinging it wildly at the chicken, who was either trying to attack her or trying to escape. Pig was sitting on a bed, watching the whole thing like it was lucha libre. When the chicken finally landed on a desk chair and sat down in a puff, ruffling its feathers, Amirah spun around to face us.

  “You’re not sick!” she said. “You just wanted me out of this room so that you could fill it with animals!”

  “Amirah,” I started, setting the plate of food down on the table near the bathroom. “I can explain. It’s my dog, and she couldn’t stay at my house, and I had no place else for her to go.” As I spoke, I covertly scanned the room. Janis had to be in here somewhere.

  The chicken squawked, which made Amirah jump. It stood up and started to turn in a circle. “Oh my G-G-God,” she stuttered. “It’s not going to lay an egg, is it?”

  “Of course not,” I said, with much more surety than I felt. “It’s not a real chicken.”

  Amirah glared at me and plucked a feather out of her hair. “It looks pretty freaking real to me.” We all watched the chicken as it flew to the floor and walked into the bathroom. I had to agree: it looked pretty freaking real to me, too.

  “It was a mistake,” I said. “I conjured it when I was trying to get something for Pig to eat.”

  “There’s a pig in there too?” Amirah’s voice was a helium squeak.

  “No, there’s no pig!” I said. “It’s the dog. Her name is Pig.”

  Amirah was looking at me like I was something she’d accidentally sat in. “If you get caught I’m not going to cover for you,” she said. “I don’t even like dogs.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “How can you not like dogs?” I asked. But Amirah didn’t answer me and instead started screaming as she ran toward the bathroom. “Shoo! Shoo! You filthy fowl! That’s prescription!” She had spilled her weed on the bathroom floor, and the chicken was pecking away at it. At least now I knew what chickens ate.

  Amirah scooped the weed that remained un-fouled by the fowl back into its canister and then left the room in a huff. I waited a bit to make sure she wasn’t coming back, then called to Janis, “You can come out now.” She didn’t answer, and when I opened the closet door, it was empty. I was starting to worry when I heard a grunt and looked over to see Janis pulling herself out from underneath a bed.

  “She’s a trip,” she said, pushing herself up to her feet. “How can she babysit when she smokes so much weed?”

  “Well, apparently it’s medicinal,” Cassandra said, smiling. Then she turned to me. “So, now we know what you were doing in the bathroom last night. But what do you plan to do about it?” She gestured toward the bathroom, where the chicken was sprawled on the floor.

  “It looks dead,” Janis said.

  “I doubt it can die,” I said. “Since it was never born.” As if it had been listening to me, the chicken clucked itself back up to its wiry bird feet and then sprinted directly toward Pig. Pig scrambled to get away from it and backed herself into a corner with the chicken pecking at her paws.

  “Okay,” I said, walking over to the chicken. “Back in the cabinet you go.” I meant to pick it up, but when I was standing next to it, I realized I had no idea how. It started flapping its wings as soon as I bent down, and I managed to just grab a handful of tail feathers, which seemed to really make it mad. Pig whimpered.

  “Oh God,” Cassandra said. In two strides, she was standing next to me. “I can’t believe you’re from Kansas and don’t know how to pick up a chicken.”

  “Excuse me,” Janis said, “Esme and I hang out at the mall, not the barnyard.”

  Cassandra shot her a look. “Spring River doesn’t have a mall, remember?”

  Janis sat down on the bed. “I know,” she said, totally unoffended. “It just sounded good. Where do we hang out? The thrift store? The coffee shop?”

  Cassandra ignored her. “When you pick up a chicken,” she said, “you want to pin its wings to its sides.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But how the heck do you know that?” Cassandra didn’t answer. Instead she bent down, but right as she was about to grab the chicken, it screeched and took off, flapping its wings like its life depended on it until it landed on the bed that Janis wasn’t sitting on.

  “That easy?” Janis said with a smirk.

  “I thought these things aren’t supposed to be able to fly,” I said. Cassandra was creeping up behind the chicken for round two, and again, it managed to avoid her, making a hop just out of reach and landing on my pillow.

  “This one seems to be an exceptionally tricky chicken,” Cassandra said.

  “That’s probably because it’s made from magic,” I said. The bird was now trying to tear a hole in the pillow with its beak. “Stop that,” I pleaded, swiping at it. “Please don’t do that. If you ruin that pillow, we’ll have to pay.” Cassandra swooped in again, and this time she grabbed the chicken, but no sooner had she lifted it off the pillow, than it started hard-core pecking at her hand.

  “Ow!” she said, dropping it again. “It bit me.” She held out her hand, and sure enough, it was bleeding. “I will turn you into soup,” she snarled at the chicken.

  “No offense,” Janis said, “but you two have superpowers and you are literally getting owned by a bird right now.”

  At the same time, Cassandra and I both raised our hands at the chicken and said, “Avikinesis.” I was about to say “jinx” when I realized what had happened. I said, “Oh no,” instead. Getting hit with double bird manipulation had indeed manipulated the chicken. There were now two of them.

  “Frick,” Cassandra said, then looked at me. “How did you conjure this thing in the first place?”

  “Meat manipulation gone wrong,” I said.

  “Maybe no more magic?” Cassandra said. “We’ll just keep them in the bathroom and go in there only when necessary.”

  “Well, let me use it first,” Janis said, walking in and turning on the shower.

  “You’re going to shower now?” I called to her in disbelief.

  She stepped into the doorway to answer me. “Yes, I’m going to shower. What are you, the hygiene police? I smell like dog.”

  Then, before she could shut the door, one of the chickens—either the real fake thing or the replica of the real fake thing—launched itself at her. It made a sound like a broken kazoo and its wings flapped furiously. The other chicken started to run in circles, and Pig began to bark. “No,” I hissed. “No barking. Bad dog! Bad dog!”

  Faced with a flying chicken coming right at her nose, Janis screamed and grabbed the handheld showerhead, squirting a stream of hot water at the bird. Then she dropped the showerhead and ran out of the bathroom. Through the door, I could see water shooting at the walls and the toilet and puddling on the floor.

  “Janis! You’re flooding the bathroom!” I yelled. “It’s just a bird.” Then one of the chickens came at me, and I dove out of its way. Pig barked again and the other chicken took off. I think it was aiming for the TV, but it flew close to Cassandra, who reached out and managed to catch it by one of its feet. It flapped like crazy as Cassandra tried to keep ahold of it. She and the chicken were locked in a vicious battle, and the bird became a blur as it flapped its wings trying to get away. Cassandra closed her eyes as one of its wings hit her in the face. As she carried it toward the bathroom, she stepped in the ice bucket right outside the bathroom door. Cassandra knocked into the table, upsetting the lunch plates and sending ravioli hailing down on the floor.

  Cassandra crashed into the bathroom door, which sent the chic
ken slamming into the side of the bathtub. Cassandra then fell through the spraying water, hitting the floor with a splash followed a millisecond later by the sickening crack of her head making contact with the base of the toilet before it joined the rest of her body on the floor. Thinking it had won, the chicken twisted away and then jumped onto Cassandra. It squawked triumphantly.

  “Cass?” I said, but she didn’t move. In an instant, I was in the bathroom. With one hand, I swept the chicken off her and then turned off the spraying showerhead before kneeling next to Cassandra. The water that had pooled on the floor soaked through my jeans.

  She was out.

  “Cassandra?” I said. “Cassandra? Can you hear me?” I was just about to panic and run screaming for Mallory when Cass’s eyelids fluttered. She groaned as she started to shake her head from side to side.

  “Ugh,” she said, wincing as she pushed herself up. “What happened? Were we doing a Return?”

  “Um, not exactly,” I said. “You fell and hit your head on the toilet trying to catch a chicken.”

  “Oh God,” she said. “Why am I all wet?”

  “Janis tried to spray the chicken with the shower and things got a little out of hand.” I helped Cassandra up and, with water dripping off her, we walked to the bed, where she sat down. The chickens and Pig, seeming to sense that things had gotten serious, had called a truce and were sitting together, silently watching us. Janis came over and squatted down in front of Cassandra, then leaned forward and pried one of her eyelids even farther open. Cassandra jerked away.

  “Your pupils are fine,” Janis said, standing back up. “And considering you were only out for a few seconds, it’s probably nothing serious. Does your head hurt?” Cassandra put one hand up and started to feel around on her skull.

  “A little tender,” she said, “but nothing too bad.” She pointed at the chickens and gave them the evil eye. “So, you’ve won for now,” she said. “But later, you are going in that fricking cabinet. Come on,” she said, standing up and turning to me, “we’d better get to this session.”

  “You’re soaked,” I said. “Do you want to change?”

  “I don’t have any other clothes,” she said, and shrugged. “I’ll dry.”

  Janis settled back onto the bed as we got ready to leave. “You know, I don’t think I need to shower after all,” she said.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” I said. “And don’t let Pig eat all the lunch.”

  “Too late,” Janis said. She was right—Pig was already scarfing ravioli off the floor.

  The party was looming in the near future, though it seemed like something we’d hardly thought about as we took the elevator downstairs for our final session of the day: Sitter history, with all groups in the Laurie Strode Auditorium and Wanda herself doing the lecturing. Cass was being her usual self, walking about ninety mph and at least five feet in front of me, and I practically had to run to keep up as I followed her into the auditorium. Suddenly she stopped, and I stumbled out of the way so I didn’t smack into her. My heart stuttered in panic. Not another episode, I thought, not right now, but then I saw she was staring at something in her hands.

  It was an old photo, one she had shown me before, one of our moms, and me and Cassandra when we were babies, proof that our moms had been present once and that Cassandra and I went in-the-womb way back. Now the photo was soaking wet, and the image was starting to peel away from the paper in some places.

  “It was in my pocket. It’s soaked,” Cassandra said, sounding as distraught as I’d ever heard her. “It’s my only copy.”

  Gently, I took the photo from her. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s not ruined, we can blow-dry it once we get back…” My words dried up in my throat as I looked at it, squinting. “Oh my God,” I said, then I turned and ran.

  Cassandra chased after me. “Esme, where are you going? Give it back!” she yelled, catching up to me just as I practically slammed into the front desk.

  Unfortunately, our good friend George was working. “Excuse me,” I said. “A woman who was working here on Friday night, her name was Cybill. I need to find her immediately.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, his lips tight around the words, “as I’ve told you before, we have no employees by that name.” Then, clearly done with me, George turned and busied himself with the printer.

  “The woman who helped us in the bathroom,” I said, turning to Cassandra. “Did you notice anything unusual about her?”

  Cass shook her head. “I was bleeding and wearing a shirt for pants at the time, so no.”

  “Something seemed off,” I said. “Her eyes were black like everyone else’s, but they were watery. She was the only one who looked like she was physically bothered by the spell. I remember it, because it made me feel bad for her because it looked like she was uncomfortable. But it’s because she wasn’t under a spell. She was wearing contacts, and they were uncomfortable!”

  “I don’t get it,” Cassandra said.

  “It was a disguise,” I said. “She wanted to look like she was under a spell without actually being under a spell.”

  “Why would a hotel employee wear a disguise to look like she was under a spell?”

  “Because she wasn’t a hotel employee,” I said. “That’s why she told us to meet her. She wanted to help us. She wanted to help you, because she’s your mom.”

  Cassandra’s face twisted and she took a step away from me. “Esme, don’t joke about this. It’s not funny.”

  “I’m not joking,” I said. “She was there when you had an episode in the bathroom, and she didn’t act like someone under a spell, and I thought she looked familiar, but I didn’t place her until I looked at the photo.”

  Cass turned and stared at the desk.

  “They have to tell us where she is, then,” she said, but before she could walk away I grabbed her arm.

  “They don’t know,” I said. “They’re under a spell that makes them not notice anything unusual. Your mom was unusual, so they wouldn’t have blinked a black eye at her presence.”

  Cassandra looked shocked. Her eyes were wide, and her hair was still wet and plastered to her neck. “If she’s here, this close, then where is she? Why would she leave before she talked to me?”

  “There must be some reason why she’s hiding,” I said. “It must not be safe for her or…”

  The look on Cassandra’s face changed, like some switch had just been flipped. Her eyes and mouth turned into ovals of surprise. “Oh my God,” she said. “I remember.”

  “Your mom?” I asked, and she shook her head.

  “No, not that,” she said. “But everything else. Everything I learned in the Negative. Everything I wasn’t supposed to.”

  “Holy crap,” I said. We both just stood there, silent, and I could tell from the glint in Cassandra’s eyes that her brain was working at light speed.

  “Esme,” she said, “I think this means the curse is gone.”

  “W-w-wait, what?” I stuttered. “What do you mean? How?”

  Cassandra’s eyes darted around the room and settled on the hotel entrance. “I have no idea,” she said. “What happened back in our room?”

  “You hit your head and lost consciousness for a second,” I said. “But that couldn’t be all it takes to remove a curse. That’d be too easy.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “What else was going on?”

  “Well,” I started, “there were two fake chickens flying around, and Pig was barking, and Janis was spraying water everywhere, and then you put your foot in an ice bucket and spilled the tomato sauce and—”

  Cassandra held her hand up to stop me. “We’ll have to figure it out later,” she said. “We don’t have time now, because we have to go talk to my dad.” She started toward the elevator, then paused. “Do you think Janis will let us borrow her car?”
/>
  But her question barely registered with me, because I was standing there, rooted to the floor, my mouth open in disbelief. “W-w-wait,” I stammered. “We have to go talk to who?”

  * * *

  —

  Yes, I had heard her right. Her dad. I chased Cassandra into the elevator, and we rode in silence up to our room, where we interrupted Janis, who appeared to be in the middle of a photo shoot, trying to get the chickens to balance on top of Pig’s head.

  “Look,” she said, “they’re friends now!”

  “Janis, Cassandra remembers!” I gasped as the chickens tumbled off Pig.

  “Remembers what?” Janis asked, momentarily giving up.

  “Everything!” Cassandra said. “Look, I’ll explain later. Janis, we need to use your car.”

  “Oh, heck no,” she said. “Isn’t this the same crap you pulled on Halloween?”

  “Not exactly,” Cassandra said. “That time, we were chasing down a kidnapped kid. This time, the stakes are much higher.”

  Janis nodded slowly. “And what am I supposed to do while you two go crashing around in my Honda?”

  “Stay here, and stay out of sight,” Cassandra said.

  “No way,” Janis said. “I’ve had enough of that. You can borrow my car, but I’m coming with.”

  Cassandra and I exchanged a look. “Fine,” she said. “But we have to go now.”

  “Do you think we can just leave?” I asked.

  “Of course not,” Cassandra said. “But right now is our best chance to sneak out. Everyone’s in the auditorium, so there’s a greater chance no one will notice we’re gone.”

  Janis sighed. “Okay,” she said. “Let me get my keys.” Pig was keeping a close eye on us, sensing she might be about to get left behind.

  “We should take her,” Janis said, noticing Pig’s jumpiness also. “She doesn’t like being cooped up in here any more than I do. I tried to get her to pee in the tub again, but she’s freaked out by the bathroom now that it’s all wet. She won’t even go inside it.”