Into the Pit

by Scott Cawthon

  “So wear jeans and a nice shirt. You’re a beautiful girl, Sarah. You’ll look great in whatever you choose.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” She remembered what Eleanor had said about mothers always thinking their children were beautiful. She knew that her mom would’ve said the same thing to her even before she got Eleanor’s help.

  * * *

  When Sarah’s mom pulled into the parking lot of the Pizza Palazzo, Sarah’s stomach was so full of butterflies that she couldn’t imagine there would be any room for pizza. She knew she looked nice, though, so that was some comfort.

  “Text me when the movie’s over, and I’ll come get you,” Mom said. She reached over and squeezed Sarah’s hand. “And have fun.”

  “I’ll try,” Sarah said. Until recently, the idea of going out with Mason Blair would have been as realistic as the idea of her going out with a major pop star. It had been a fantasy, something she dreamed of but never imagined would come true. Why was she so nervous when this was something she’d wanted for so long? Maybe that’s what was making her nervous … the fact that she wanted it so much.

  But when she walked through the doorway of the Pizza Palazzo and saw Mason waiting for her in front of the hostess’s station, she immediately felt more at ease. He stood up and flashed his gorgeous smile. “Hi. You look great,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She did think the turquoise top she’d chosen went well with her eyes. “You do, too.” He was dressed casually in a hoodie and a T-shirt for some video game, but he would look great in anything.

  After they got settled at one of the red leather booths with matching checked tablecloths, Mason picked up a menu and said, “So what kind of pizza person are you? Thin crust? Thick crust? Any favorite toppings?”

  “I’m a flexible pizza person,” Sarah said. Despite her earlier nervousness, she was actually starting to feel hungry. “I pretty much just like pizza in general. Except for one thing. No pineapple on pizza, ever.”

  “Agreed!” Mason said, laughing. “Pineapple on pizza is an abomination. It should be illegal.”

  “I’m glad we agree on that,” Sarah said. “If we hadn’t, I probably would’ve just had to walk out of here and abandon you.”

  “And I would’ve totally deserved it,” Mason said. “People who eat pineapple on pizza deserve to be alone.”

  They agreed on a thin-crust pepperoni and mushroom pizza, and they chatted comfortably about their families and their hobbies as they ate. Mason had a lot of interests, and Sarah realized she probably didn’t have enough of them. Before Eleanor, she had spent too much of her free time worrying about her appearance. Now that that problem was solved, she needed to branch out a little—listen to more music, read more books, maybe take up yoga or swimming. As a little kid, Sarah had loved swimming, but once she hit middle school, she was too self-conscious to let anybody see her in a swimsuit.

  By the time she and Mason walked next door to the movie theater, Sarah felt like they were getting to know each other pretty well. He wasn’t just cute. He was nice and funny, too. And in the dark theater, when he reached over and took her hand in his, it was the most perfect moment of a perfect night.

  When she got back home and was putting on her nightgown, Eleanor quietly strolled up behind her and put her hand on her shoulder.

  Sarah was startled but quickly recovered. “Hi, Eleanor,” she said.

  “Hello, Sarah. How was your date?” she asked.

  Sarah felt a smile spreading on her face just from thinking about it. “It was great,” she said. “He’s gorgeous, but I also really like him as a person, you know? He asked me if I wanted to go to the basketball game with him next week. I’m not interested in basketball, but I’m definitely interested in him, so I’ll go.”

  Eleanor laughed her tinny giggle. “So tonight, was it everything you hoped it would be?”

  Sarah smiled at her robotic friend. “It was even better.”

  “I’m happy you’re happy,” Eleanor said, then moved back to her spot in the corner. “Good night, Sarah.”

  * * *

  In the morning, Sarah found her mom in the laundry room. “Can you drive me to the mall to meet my friends this afternoon?” she asked.

  Mom looked up from unloading the dryer and smiled. “You’re quite the social butterfly this weekend. What time are you supposed to meet them?” She folded a towel and set it in the laundry basket.

  “They just said in the afternoon,” Sarah said.

  “That’s pretty vague, isn’t it?” Mom said, folding another towel.

  “I don’t know. The way they said it, I kind of felt like I should just know when they meant.” She was so shocked to be accepted, even on a trial period, by the Beautifuls that she was afraid to ask questions.

  “Your new friends expect you to be psychic?” Mom said.

  “You don’t like my new friends, do you?” Sarah said.

  “I don’t know your new friends, Sarah. I just know they were girls who wouldn’t give you the time of day before, and now they’re suddenly inviting you to hang out with them. It’s kind of strange. I mean, what’s changed?”

  I’ve changed, Sarah thought. Just look at me. But she said, “Maybe they just finally decided I’m a likable person.”

  “Yeah, but what took them so long?” Mom said. “You know what friend of yours I like? Abby. She’s smart and she’s kind, and she’s straightforward. You always know where you stand with a person like Abby.”

  Sarah didn’t want to tell her mom that she and Abby weren’t speaking to each other currently, so instead she said, “Two o’clock. How about you take me to the mall at two o’clock?”

  “Okay.” Mom tossed at towel at her. “Now help me fold.”

  * * *

  Once Sarah got dropped at the mall, she realized that Lydia hadn’t said anything about where to meet them, either. The mall wasn’t that large, but it was big enough to turn searching for them into a fairly difficult game of hide-and-seek. She could text Lydia, she supposed, but it kind of felt like in order to be accepted by the group, she had to figure out the way they did things without making a nuisance of herself. If she was only accepted into the group on a trial period, she didn’t want to make any missteps. One false move and she would be back to eating lunch at the loser table.

  After a few moments of thought, she decided to head to Diller’s, the mall’s most expensive department store. The Beautifuls definitely wouldn’t be hanging out somewhere cheap.

  Her intuition was good. She found them at the front of the store in the cosmetics section, trying on lipsticks. “Sarah, you made it!” Lydia said, giving her a crimson-lipped smile. As soon as Lydia smiled at her, the other girls smiled, too.

  “Hi,” Sarah said, smiling back. She really had made it, hadn’t she? And not just to the mall. She had great looks; a gorgeous, nice boyfriend; and the friendship of the most beautiful girls in the school. She could never have predicted that her life would be this good.

  “Ooh, Sarah, you should try on this lipstick,” Jillian said, holding out a golden tube. “It’s pink with sparkles. It would look perfect with your skin tone.”

  Sarah took the tube, leaned over the makeup counter mirror, and smoothed on the lipstick. It really was pretty on her. It matched the rosy nail polish that never seemed to fade from her fingers and toes. “It looks like lipstick a princess would wear,” she said, studying her reflection with pleasure.

  “It really does,” Tabitha said, opening up a tube in a different color. “Her Royal Highness, Princess Sarah.”

  “You should totally get it,” Lydia said, looking at her approvingly.

  Sarah tried to subtly check the price on the lipstick packaging. Forty dollars. She hoped her shock didn’t show. That was more than she’d paid for the outfit she was wearing. But then again, she probably couldn’t buy lipstick in a thrift store. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

  “Oh, go on,” Emma said. “Treat yourself.”

  “I want to browse aro
und a little more first,” Sarah said, “since I just got here.”

  She didn’t want to admit that the only money she had in her purse was enough to cover a frozen yogurt and a soda. The Beautifuls, however, bought lipsticks and eye shadows and blush and brow pencils, whipping out wads of cash or their parents’ credit cards.

  After they finished at the makeup counter, they went to look at formal gowns because, as Lydia put it, “Prom’s just around the corner.”

  “Isn’t it just for juniors and seniors?” Sarah asked.

  “It’s for juniors and seniors and their dates,” Lydia said. “So if you can find a junior or senior to take you, then it’s just around the corner.” She nudged Sarah. “Too bad Mason’s not older.”

  “Yeah,” Sarah said. But she didn’t mean it. She liked Mason the age he was. Besides, she wasn’t sure she was ready to date an older guy.

  The dresses really were beautiful. They were the color of jewels: amethyst, sapphire, ruby, emerald. Some were sparkly, others were satin smooth and shiny, and others were translucent with lace and tulle. They took turns trying on dresses and modeling them in front of the mirror and taking pictures of one another with their phones. After half an hour of watching them with a sour expression on her face, a saleslady came over and asked, “Were you girls actually interested in buying anything, or are you just playing dress-up?”

  They ditched the dresses and fled the formal wear department, giggling.

  “I don’t think that saleslady liked us very much,” Jillian said as they walked out of the store.

  “Who cares?” Lydia said, laughing. “She doesn’t get to judge me. She just works in a store. She makes minimum wage if she’s lucky. I bet she can’t even afford to buy the clothes she sells.”

  They went to the food court and ate frozen yogurts and laughed about how naughty they’d been. “Do you girls intend to buy anything, or are you just playing dress-up?” Lydia said over and over again, mimicking the saleslady.

  They all laughed, and Sarah laughed right along with them, even though she thought they might have been a little hard on the saleslady, who was just trying to do her job. Jillian and Emma had left the dresses they’d tried on in crumpled piles on the dressing room floor. Now the saleslady probably had to clean up after them.

  But who was she to criticize the Beautifuls? It was an honor that they invited her out with them. It was glamorous and exciting, like she was a guest on a reality TV show. No matter what they said or did, she was happy just to be included. Yesterday her date with Mason had been perfect, and now she got to be out with the Beautifuls. How could she ever express her gratitude to Eleanor? Nothing she could say would ever be enough.

  That night, when Eleanor sprang to life, Sarah jumped up and hugged the robot’s hard little body. “Thank you, Eleanor. Thank you for a perfect weekend.”

  “You’re welcome, Sarah.” Eleanor hugged her back, and as always, the sensation was odd. There was no softness in her hug. “It’s the least I could do. You have given me so much.”

  Sarah settled down happily to sleep, but her rest was disturbed by a strange dream. She was on a date with Mason, sitting in the movie theater, but when he reached over to hold her hand, it was not his hand she grasped but Eleanor’s—tiny, white, metallic, and cold, the same hand she had grabbed to pull the robot girl out of the car trunk. When she turned to look at Mason in the seat next to her, he had changed into Eleanor. Eleanor smiled, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth.

  In the dream, Sarah screamed.

  She opened her eyes to find Eleanor standing over her bed, her head lowered, staring at her with her blank green eyes.

  Sarah gasped. “Did I make a noise in my sleep?”

  “No, Sarah.”

  Sarah looked at Eleanor, who was standing so close to her bed that she was touching it. “Then what are you doing standing over my bed?”

  “Didn’t you know, Sarah?” Eleanor said, reaching out to brush back Sarah’s hair. “I do this every night. I watch over you. I keep you safe.”

  Maybe it was because of the dream, but for some reason, Sarah didn’t feel like letting Eleanor touch her. “Safe from what?” Sarah asked.

  “Safe from danger. Any danger. I want to protect you, Sarah.”

  “Uh, okay. Thanks, I guess.” She appreciated Eleanor’s concern, appreciated everything Eleanor had done for her, but still, it was creepy for someone to watch you when you didn’t know you were being watched … even if they were doing so with the best of intentions.

  “I can stand by the door if it makes you more comfortable, Sarah,” Eleanor said.

  “Yeah, that would be great.” Sarah was pretty sure she couldn’t fall back asleep with Eleanor standing right over her like that.

  Eleanor strolled over to the door and stood guard there. “Good night, Sarah. Sleep well.”

  “Good night, Eleanor.”

  Sarah didn’t sleep well. She didn’t know what, but something was wrong.

  * * *

  In the cafeteria, Sarah stood in line with the other Beautifuls as they waited to empty their trays. Lydia had texted the night before saying they’d all be wearing their skinny jeans today, so Sarah was wearing hers, too. She’d bought the jeans and a few tops and a couple of pairs of cute shoes when her mom had taken her shopping the other week. They’d also bought a few bras that did her new figure justice.

  “Can you believe what she’s wearing? She dresses like a preschooler,” Lydia said.

  “Like a preschooler from a poor family,” Tabitha added.

  With horror, Sarah realized the girl they were criticizing was Abby, who was emptying her tray ahead of them. True, Abby was wearing pink overalls, so the preschooler comment wasn’t too far off the mark. But it seemed mean to reduce somebody’s whole value as a person to the clothes she wore. “That’s Abby,” Sarah heard herself saying. “She’s really nice. She’s been my friend since kindergarten.” She almost found herself saying best friend, but she stopped herself in time.

  “Yeah,” Lydia said, laughing. “But you’ve bought new clothes since kindergarten and she hasn’t.”

  The Beautifuls all laughed, too. Sarah tried for a smile, but she couldn’t quite manage it.

  When it was Sarah’s turn to dump her tray, she stepped on something slippery near the trash can. Her new shoes were cute, but they didn’t have much traction. The fall felt like it took forever, but she was sure it was only a matter of seconds. Then she was flat on her back, right in front of the whole school.

  “Sarah, that was hilarious!” Lydia said. “What a klutz!” She was doubled over, laughing.

  All the Beautifuls were laughing along with her, saying, “Did you see her go down?” and “She hit the floor like a ton of bricks” and “How embarrassing.”

  In Sarah’s dazed state, she couldn’t really tell which girl was saying what. Their voices sounded distant and distorted, almost as if Sarah was trying to hear them underwater.

  Sarah tried to pull herself up, but something strange was happening to her body. She heard weird clashing and clanging sounds and couldn’t figure out where they were coming from. It didn’t make any sense, but they felt like they were coming from inside of her.

  She was shaking and jerking, and she couldn’t make her body move the way it usually did. Her body was no longer under her control. She was scared. Had she hurt herself badly? Should somebody call her mom? Call an ambulance?

  And why were her new friends not helping her? They were still laughing, still joking about how stupid she looked and how funny it was.

  Then the Beautifuls’ laughter was replaced by screams.

  As if from a great distance, Sarah heard Lydia saying, “What’s happening to her? I don’t understand!”

  “I don’t know!” one of the other girls said. “Somebody needs to do something!”

  “Get a teacher, quick!” another one said.

  A terrible thought occurred to Sarah. She put her hand to her throat. The necklace Eleanor gave
her—the necklace that was never, ever to be taken off—was gone. She must have knocked it off during the fall. She turned her head and saw it on the floor just a little more than arm’s length away. She had to get it back.

  A hand reached down to help her. Sarah looked up to see that the hand belonged to Abby. She took it and allowed herself to be pulled up into an awkward standing position.

  When Sarah looked down at her body, she saw the reason for the girls’ screams. Her body was changing. From the waist down, she was no longer a flesh-and-blood girl, but a jumbled collection of gears and bicycle spokes and hubcaps, rusted metal odds and ends. Cast-off, useless parts that belonged in a wrecking yard.

  She locked eyes with Abby and saw her friend’s horror at what she was, at what she had become.

  “I—I’ve got to go,” Sarah said. Her voice sounded different, metallic and harsh.

  Abby held out the necklace. “You dropped this,” she said. Tears sparkled in her eyes.

  “Thank you, Abby. You’re a good friend,” Sarah said. She didn’t say anything to the Beautifuls, who had all backed away from her and were whispering among themselves.

  Sarah grabbed the pendant and ran as fast as her new, shambling, makeshift metal legs would carry her out of the cafeteria and out of the school. Home. She had to get home. Eleanor would know what to do, would know how to help her.

  Sarah was still changing. Her torso was hardening, and when she ran she made squeaking noises like a door with hinges that needed oiling. She tried to fasten the necklace around her neck again, but her fingers had grown too stiff to manage the clasp.

  As she hurried down the sidewalk with a clattering, shambling gait, people stopped to stare at her. Drivers slowed down their cars to gawk. People didn’t look sympathetic or even just confused. They looked scared. She was a monster, like something that had been created by a mad scientist in a lab. It was only a matter of time until villagers started chasing her with pitchforks and torches. She felt like crying, but apparently the kind of thing she was becoming was incapable of producing tears. Maybe tears would make her rust even worse.