Into the Pit

by Scott Cawthon

  “I’m glad,” Eleanor said, cocking her head. “All I want is for you to be happy, Sarah.”

  “Well, I’m loads happier than I was before I found you,” Sarah said. “Today it was like I could feel all these people seeing me. And they liked what they saw. The guy I’ve had a crush on for months even noticed me and talked to me.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Eleanor said. “I’m glad I’ve been able to make all your wishes come true, Sarah.”

  A dark cloud suddenly passed over the brightness of Sarah’s mood. “Well,” she said, “not all of them.” She reached up and touched her potato-y nose.

  “Really?” Eleanor sounded surprised. “What is it that you still wish, Sarah?”

  Sarah took a deep breath. “I love my new body,” she said. “I really do. But I’m kind of what some guys call pretty from afar, but far from pretty.”

  Eleanor cocked her head again. “Pretty from afar? I don’t understand, Sarah.”

  “Well, you know, guys will say, ‘She looks great from far away, but don’t get too close to her face.’ ”

  “Oh! Far from pretty!” Eleanor said. “I understand now.” She laughed, a metallic tinkling. “It is very amusing.”

  “It’s not if someone’s using it to describe you,” Sarah said.

  “I suppose it isn’t,” Eleanor said. She reached up and touched Sarah’s cheek. “Sarah, do you really want me to change all this? Do you want a new face?”

  “I do,” Sarah said. “I want a tiny nose and full lips and high cheekbones. I want long, dark eyelashes and nice eyebrows. I don’t want to look like Mrs. Mix-and-Match anymore.”

  Eleanor laughed her tinkly laugh again. “I can do this for you, Sarah, but you have to understand, it’s a big change. You can look in the mirror and see longer legs or a curvier figure, and they just look like you’ve grown. Faster than expected, maybe, but still, growth is normal for a child. It is something you know will happen. All your life, though, you’ve looked in the mirror, seen your face, and said, ‘That’s me.’ It is true that your face changes some as you grow, but it is still recognizable as you. To see a totally different face as your reflection can be quite a shock.”

  “It’s a shock I want,” Sarah said. “I hate my face the way it is.”

  “Very well, Sarah,” Eleanor said, looking into her eyes. “As long as you’re sure.”

  * * *

  After Sarah ate dinner with her mom and did her homework, she showered and got ready for Eleanor to put her to sleep one more time. But as she snuggled under the covers, a disturbing thought occurred to her. “Eleanor?”

  “Yes, Sarah?” She was already standing beside Sarah’s bed.

  “What will my mom think if I sit down to eat breakfast in the morning and I have a totally different face?”

  Eleanor sat down on the bed. “It is a good question, Sarah, but she won’t notice, not really. She may think you look especially rested or well, but she won’t notice that your plain face has been replaced by a beautiful one. Mothers always think their children are beautiful, so when your mother looks at you, she has always seen great beauty.”

  “Oh, okay,” Sarah said, feeling relaxed again. No wonder her mother didn’t understand her problems. She thought her daughter was already beautiful. “I’m ready, then.”

  Eleanor touched Sarah’s heart pendant. “And you remember—”

  “That I always have to wear it and can never, ever take it off. Yes, I remember.”

  “Good.” Eleanor stroked Sarah’s hair and sang one more time,

  Go to sleep, go to sleep,

  Go to sleep, my sweet Sarah,

  When you wake, when you wake,

  All your dreams will come true.

  * * *

  Just like before, Sarah felt the changes before she saw them. As soon as she woke, she reached up and touched her nose. She felt not a potato-like bulb, but a pert little point. She ran her hands over the sides of her face and felt clearly defined cheekbones. She touched her lips and found them plumper than before. She hopped out of bed to take a look.

  It was amazing. The person looking back at Sarah was a totally different person than before. Eleanor was right: It was shocking. But it was a good kind of shock. Everything she had hated about her appearance was gone and had been replaced by absolute perfection. Her eyes were wide and a deeper blue and fringed with long, sooty lashes. Her eyebrows were delicate arches. Her nose was tiny and perfectly straight, and her lips were a pink Cupid’s bow. Her hair, while still brown, was fuller and shinier and fell into pretty, soft waves. She looked herself up and down. She smiled at herself with her straight, white teeth. Beautiful. She was the total package.

  She surveyed the clothes in her closet. None of them seemed worthy of her new beauty. Maybe when Mom took her shopping for bras, they could also pick out a few outfits. After a lot of deliberation, she finally chose a red dress she’d bought on a whim but could never find the courage to wear. Now, though, she deserved to be the center of attention.

  School was a totally new experience. She could feel everybody’s eyes on her, guys and girls alike. When she looked at the Beautifuls, who also happened to be wearing red today, they looked back at her, not with disdain, but with interest.

  At lunch, she mouthed hi at Abby, then walked straight to where the Beautifuls were sitting. This time she didn’t sit right down at their table but made a show of casually wandering past it.

  “Hey, New Girl,” Lydia called. “You want to sit with us?”

  She wasn’t remotely a New Girl to the school, but she was a New Girl in her looks. “Sure, thanks,” she said. She tried to sound casual, like it didn’t make any difference to her whether she sat with them or with somebody else, but inside she was so excited she was turning cartwheels.

  All the Beautifuls were eating salads just like she was.

  “So,” Lydia said, “what’s your name?”

  “Sarah.” She had hoped Sarah was a name they found acceptable. It wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t like Hilda or Bertha or anything.

  “I’m Lydia.” Lydia tossed her lustrous blonde hair. She was so pretty—pretty enough to be a model. She would fit right in with the pictures on the walls of Sarah’s room. “And this is Jillian, Tabitha, and Emma.”

  They needed no introduction, of course, but Sarah said “hi” like she had never seen them before.

  “So,” Lydia said, “who’s your dress by?”

  Sarah had watched enough fashion shows on TV to know Lydia was asking about the designer. “It’s from Saks Fifth Avenue,” she said. It was true. The label of the dress did read SAKS FIFTH AVENUE. However, Sarah and her mom had bought it at a local thrift store. Her mom was so excited when they found it. She loved thrifting.

  “How often do you get to New York?” Lydia asked.

  “Once or twice a year,” Sarah lied. She had been to New York once when she was eleven. She and her mom had seen a Broadway show, ridden a ferry to the Statue of Liberty, and gone up in the Empire State Building. They had done no shopping in fancy stores. The only clothing Sarah had bought was an I LOVE NEW YORK T-shirt at a souvenir shop. A few washings had worn it as thin as tissue paper, but she still slept in it sometimes.

  “So, Sarah,” Emma said, regarding her with doe-like brown eyes, “what do your mom and dad do for a living?”

  Sarah tried not to bristle visibly at the word dad. “Mom’s a social worker, and Dad—” Before her dad had left Sarah and her mom, he had been a long-distance truck driver. Now she wasn’t even sure what he did or where he lived. He moved a lot, changed girlfriends a lot. He called her on Christmas and her birthday. “He’s … he’s a lawyer.”

  The Beautifuls nodded their approval. “One more question”—this came from Jillian, the redhead with the catlike green eyes. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  Sarah felt her face heat up. “No, not at the moment.”

  “Well,” Jillian said, leaning forward. “Is there a boy you like?”

  Sarah
knew her face had to be as red as her dress. “Yes.”

  Jillian smiled. “And his name is … ?”

  Sarah looked around to make sure he wasn’t nearby. “Mason Blair,” she half whispered.

  “Ooh, he’s hot,” Jillian said.

  “Definitely hot,” Lydia echoed.

  “Hot,” the other girls repeated like a chorus.

  “So,” Lydia said, looking Sarah over. “Don’t follow us around like a puppy dog or anything, but if you want to sit with us at lunch, then sit. On Sunday afternoons we go to the mall and try on clothes and makeup, maybe get a froyo. It’s lame, but it’s something to do. This town’s sooo boring.” She yawned theatrically.

  “So boring,” Sarah agreed, but inside she was buzzing with excitement.

  Lydia nodded. “We’ll hang out a little and see how things go. If it works out, maybe you can go out for cheerleader next year. Consider this a trial period.”

  Sarah left the cafeteria smiling to herself. Abby caught up to her.

  “It looked like you were having some kind of intense job interview back there,” Abby said. She was wearing gray sweatpants with a bulky purple sweater that did nothing to show off her shape.

  “Yeah, kind of. They invited me to hang out, though, so I guess I passed the test.” She couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

  Abby raised an eyebrow. “And those are the kind of friends you want? The kind that make you pass a test?”

  “They’re cool, Abby. They know all about fashion and makeup and guys.”

  “They’re shallow, Sarah. They’re as shallow as a rain puddle. No, I take that back. They’re so shallow they make a rain puddle look like the ocean.”

  Sarah shook her head. She loved Abby, she really did, but why did she have to be so judgmental? “But they rule the school. That’s how it works. It’s the beautiful people who get what they want.” She looked at Abby’s gorgeous brown complexion, at her striking hazel eyes. “You could be beautiful, too, Abby. You’d be the prettiest girl in the school if you lost the glasses and braids and bought some clothes that weren’t so baggy.”

  “If I didn’t wear my glasses, I’d be walking into walls,” Abby said, with a little edge in her voice. “And I like my braids and my baggy clothes. Especially this sweater. It’s cozy.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I just like myself the way I am. Sorry if I’m not fancy or fashionable enough for you. I’m not like the cheerleaders or all those models and pop stars whose pictures you have plastered all over your room. But you know what? I’m a nice person, and I don’t judge people on how they look or how much money they have, and I don’t have to give a person a pop quiz to decide if I’ll let them hang out with me or not!” Abby looked at Sarah’s face searchingly. “You have changed, Sarah. And not for the better.” Abby turned her back on Sarah and marched down the hall.

  Sarah knew Abby was a little mad at her. But she also knew an apology and a hug would fix things once she’d had time to cool down.

  After the bell, walking toward the school bus, Sarah became suddenly aware of a presence beside her.

  “Hi,” a male voice said.

  She turned to see Mason Blair, looking perfect in a blue shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. “Oh … hi.”

  “So Lydia said you guys were talking about me in the cafeteria today.”

  “Well, I … uh …” Sarah fought the urge to run.

  “Say, if you don’t have anything else to do, do you want to go over to the Brown Cow and have a cone with me?”

  Sarah smiled. She could hardly believe her good luck today. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

  The Brown Cow was basically a little concrete block shed that sold soft-serve ice cream and milkshakes. It was right across the street from school, but Sarah usually resisted the temptation of stopping there since she had always been worried about her weight.

  She stood next to Mason at the counter where the same bored-seeming old lady always took orders. “Chocolate, vanilla, or swirl?” he asked her.

  “Swirl,” she said, making a move to open her purse.

  “No,” Mason said, putting up his hand. “I got it. It’s a cheap date. I can handle it.”

  “Thanks.” He had said date. It was a real date. Sarah’s first.

  They sat across from each other at a picnic table. Mason attacked his cone with gusto, but Sarah took tiny licks. She didn’t want to eat like a pig in front of Mason, and she was afraid of the ice cream dripping on her dress and making her look like a slob. Even with her self-consciousness, though, she had to admit the cold, creamy treat was delicious. “I haven’t had ice cream in ages,” she said.

  “Why’s that?” Mason said. “Watching your weight?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “No need to worry about that,” Mason said. “You look great. It’s funny. You’ve been going to this school a long time, right? I don’t know how I only just noticed you.”

  Sarah felt herself blushing. “You noticed me when I ran into you with that salad, right?”

  Mason looked at her with his dark-lashed, ocean-blue eyes. “I didn’t notice you then the way I should have. I clearly need to pay better attention.”

  “Me too,” Sarah said, “so I don’t keep plowing into people with trays of salad.”

  Mason laughed, showing those gorgeous white teeth.

  Sarah was amazed by how confident her new looks made her feel. She could eat ice cream with a cute guy and make jokes with him. The old Sarah would’ve been much too shy. Not that a cute guy would’ve asked the old Mrs. Mix-and-Match Sarah out for ice cream in the first place.

  Once they’d finished their cones, Mason said, “Hey, is your house pretty close? I could walk you back if you like.”

  Sarah felt a twinge of anxiety. Mason’s dad was a doctor, and his mom was a successful real estate agent whose face was plastered on billboards. His family probably lived in a mansion on the fancy side of town. She wasn’t ready for him to walk with her past the garbage dump to the plain little two-bedroom bungalow she shared with her living-from-paycheck-to-paycheck single mom. “Uh … I actually have to run a couple of errands this afternoon. Maybe another time?”

  “Uh, sure. Okay.” Was it Sarah’s imagination, or did he look kind of disappointed? He looked down at his shoes, then back up at Sarah. “Hey, maybe we could go out for real some time. Pizza and a movie, maybe?”

  Sarah was pretty sure her heart had just turned a backflip. “I’d like that.”

  His expression brightened. “How about this Saturday night? If you’re free, of course.”

  Sarah fought the urge to laugh. Had there ever been a Saturday night when she wasn’t free? All the same, she didn’t want to sound too eager. “I think so, yeah.”

  “Great. We’ll plan on it, then.”

  * * *

  Sarah couldn’t wait for Eleanor to wake up so she could tell her about her day. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Eleanor pivoted her waist and lifted her arms and said, “Hello, Sarah.”

  Sarah ran up to Eleanor and took both of her hands in hers. “Oh, Eleanor, I just had the best day of my life!”

  Eleanor turned her head. “Tell me about it, Sarah.”

  Sarah flopped down on the bed and propped herself up on a pillow. “I hardly know where to start. The Beautifuls let me sit at their table at lunch, and then they invited me to meet them at the mall on Sunday.”

  Eleanor nodded. “That is good news, Sarah.”

  Sarah leaned forward and hugged the old Freddy Fazbear teddy bear on her bed. “And then Mason Blair took me for ice cream after school and asked me to dinner and a movie on Saturday!”

  “That’s very exciting.” Eleanor stepped closer to Sarah, bent at the waist, and touched Sarah’s cheek. “Is he a handsome boy, Sarah?”

  Sarah nodded. She couldn’t stop smiling. “Yes. Very.”

  “Are you happy, Sarah?”

  Sarah laughed and repeated, “Yes. Very.”

  “Have I given yo
u everything you wished for?”

  Sarah couldn’t think of a single other wish. She was beautiful and perfect, and her life was beautiful and perfect to match. “Yes, you have.”

  “Then I have everything I wished for, too,” Eleanor said. “But remember, even though all your wishes are granted, the necklace still has to stay on. You can—”

  “Never, ever take it off. I remember,” Sarah said. She was always tempted to ask Eleanor what would happen if she took it off, but part of her was afraid to know the answer.

  “Making you happy makes me happy, Sarah,” Eleanor said.

  Sarah felt tears welling in her newly beautiful blue eyes. She knew she’d never have a better friend than Eleanor.

  * * *

  On Saturday, Sarah was a ball of nervous energy. From the moment she woke up, all she could think about was the date. At breakfast, she was too nervous to eat much even though Mom had made French toast, Sarah’s favorite. “You’ll drive me to the pizza place and drop me at six, right?” she said.

  “Of course,” Mom said, flipping through the newspaper.

  “And you’ll just drop me, right? You won’t walk in with me or anything?”

  Mom smiled. “I promise I will not endanger your relationship by letting your new beau catch a glimpse of my horrifying face.”

  Sarah laughed. “It’s not that, Mom. You’re really pretty, actually. It’s just that it looks kind of a little kiddish when your mom comes in with you, you know?”

  “I know,” Mom said, sipping her coffee. “I was fourteen, too, once, believe it or not.”

  “And did you ride your dinosaur when you went out on dates?” Sarah asked.

  “Sometimes,” Mom said. “But usually I’d just invite the boy over to hang out in the family cave.” She reached over and tousled Sarah’s hair. “Don’t be too much of a smart aleck, or I might decide I’m too old and decrepit to drive you tonight. Have you figured out what you’re going to wear?”

  At this question, Sarah let out a dramatic moan. “I can’t decide! I mean, it’s just pizza and a movie, so I don’t want to dress like it’s the most important event of my life. But at the same time, how I look is really important!”