by Kat Shepherd
Tanya climbed out of her twin bed, grimacing at the sweaty dent she had left in the mattress. She pulled off her clammy shirt and tossed it on top of the still-damp one she had changed out of after her last nightmare, just a few hours ago. She picked out another shirt from her closet and slipped it on. It was one of her brother’s old tees, with a bicycle on the front and a hole near the hem. The fabric was soft and cool, and she immediately felt a little better.
The dreams had left Tanya rattled. She had heard her friends talk about the nightmares they got sometimes, especially after they all started tangling with the supernatural beings that seemed to crop up all over their small town. But Tanya had never really had many bad dreams until recently.
She opened the notebook she kept beside her bed and used one hand to search absently for the mechanical pencil she always had next to it. She heard the pencil roll behind the headboard, so she grabbed another one from the cup near the microscope on top of her desk. A sliver of cloudy mirror was clamped to the microscope’s stage, and Tanya scowled at it and shook her injured finger. She could still see a tiny bit of rust-colored blood from where she had cut herself on the sharp edge. She wrote down what she could remember of the dream, noting the date and time: Same dream again. Old woman spoon-feeding a doll. I think it’s blood? Painted eyes, but doll blinks. Moves. It can see me.
She leafed back through the other entries in the notebook. Many of them were about the paranormal encounters she had experienced with her friends, and the notes included diagrams, charts, and tables she had drawn and filled out in her tiny, cramped handwriting. Some were organized as formal lab reports, but others were just notes, observations, and impressions. Tanya wasn’t sure why she had decided to include the dreams in the notebook; they didn’t seem particularly scientific, and they weren’t supernatural, either. They were just weird. And scary.
When Maggie and Rebecca mentioned their nightmares, they always seemed related to things that had already happened: a rotting arm pulling them into a hole; a feast turning to worms in their hands. In every one of their nightmares, the Night Queen was present, her deep blue face twisted into a cruel smile, spider-leg hair sprouting from her crown like a mane. Clio was quieter, but when she did talk about her bad dreams, they were always about the Night Queen, too. Tanya recorded those into the notebook because they were linked to all of the other supernatural events in town. But Tanya’s dreams didn’t seem to be related to anything at all.
She looked at the clock on her nightstand. By now it was almost morning, so there was no point in going back to sleep. She might as well get some work done in the meantime. She switched on her microscope and flipped to a clean page in her notebook before collecting her chemistry set from the bookshelf. When she moved it aside, she found two unblinking eyes staring back at her. She jumped, stifling a scream and barely avoiding dropping the box in her hands. It was a doll. Her grandparents in Oaxaca, Mexico, used to send her one each birthday when she was little, but it had been years since she had played with them, and she had forgotten she still had them. Tanya carried the chemistry set back to her desk, making a mental note to video chat with her grandparents later in the week. They had talked a lot over the holidays, but things had gotten busy now that the winter break was over and school had started again.
Tanya repositioned the mirror shard on the microscope’s stage, careful not to cut her hand again. She looked through the eyepiece and adjusted the focus. The flecks in the silvery glass were crisp, their outlines sharp. Tanya felt the familiar thrill she always got when working on a scientific problem, and she was especially interested in this one. The shard was part of an antique mirror the Night Queen had used to communicate with her minions in Piper; Tanya thought of it as a kind of supernatural version of a video chat. She wondered if there might be something special about the mirror’s chemical composition that would reveal how the queen was able to use it.
She had just used a dropper to place a tiny amount of hydrochloric acid on the sliver of glass when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Someone was watching her. Tanya was in no mood to deal with interruptions from her older brother. She kept her eye trained on the bubbling glass of her experiment. “Knock it off, Bryce. I’m working.” There was no answer. Tanya turned around. The room was empty.
Tanya tried to refocus on the microscope, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She turned around again. Where was it coming from?
That’s when she noticed the doll on her shelf again. The eyes were dark brown, and it looked nothing like the doll in her dream. But still, it was unsettling to feel those lifeless eyes staring at her like that. Creepy. That’s silly. Tanya shook her head. It’s just a doll. She turned back to her experiment, but now she had missed the full reaction. She would have to start over. She ran her hands over her face and sighed. She was tired.
As Tanya started to prep the new sample, a thought popped into her mind, unbidden. What if right now, behind me, that doll just blinked and I couldn’t see it? Tanya almost dropped the bottle in her hand. Stop it, Tanya told herself. It didn’t. It can’t. “It can’t,” she repeated out loud to reassure herself. “Dreams aren’t real. Dolls don’t move.” She bent over the microscope again, the nape of her neck suddenly feeling bare and exposed. How do you know dolls don’t move? her treacherous brain asked her, suddenly. How do you know that doll isn’t sneaking up on you right this second? Tanya’s chest tightened, and she whirled around. The doll sat unmoving on her shelf, just as the rational part of her brain knew it would be.
But she didn’t want to turn around again. She didn’t like the feeling of standing with her back to the doll. Tanya stood frozen in place. “This is ridiculous,” she said, her voice sounding loud in her ears. “I’m not in danger. There’s literally no reason to be scared.” Another thought snuck into her brain. Yeah, but you’re scared anyway. She tried to push the thought away, but she knew that it was true.
She stood still for another minute, and then she walked over to her closet and yanked open the door. She dragged out a green plastic bin and dumped its contents on the floor. Swiftly, and without thinking, she grabbed the doll and tossed it in the bin. With shaking hands, she quickly rummaged through the rest of her shelves until all her other dolls were gone. She jammed them down and snapped on the lid tightly. Then she got a roll of duct tape from her desk drawer and wrapped it several times around before she was satisfied. She used a marker to write FOR CHARITY on a piece of scrap paper and taped the paper to the lid.
Careful not to wake anyone, she carried the bin downstairs and tucked it next to the door to the garage. Problem solved, she thought. Now I can get back to work. She went back upstairs and sat at her desk, forcing herself to concentrate on her notes. Again she set up the sample on the microscope, and again she prepared the eyedropper of acid. But all the while, she couldn’t help thinking about the bin downstairs and the pile of dolls lying quietly inside it like corpses in a coffin.
CHAPTER
3
MRS. FOGELMAN WAS already standing in the front doorway by the time Tanya had closed the gate behind her and started up the walk to the porch of the red clapboard house. Tanya checked her watch. She was ten minutes early. How long had the woman been waiting for her? Tanya waved and smiled, expecting to see Kira beside her great-aunt, but the little girl was nowhere to be seen.
“Hi, Mrs. Fogelman,” Tanya said. “I’m excited to meet Kira. Is she inside?”
“Oh, who knows?” Mrs. Fogelman said. “I needed a break. Honestly, she’s been here two days and all she’s done is complain about everything.” She waved one hand, and the stack of Bakelite bracelets on her wrist rattled. “You’d think the world would end without Wi-Fi.”
Tanya didn’t know Mrs. Fogelman well, but it seemed like a strange way to talk about a great-niece, especially one who had a sick mother back home. Tanya studied the woman in front of her. Her dark hair was streaked with gray and framed her face in wild tendrils that fell to her should
ers. She had olive skin and strong cheekbones with heavy eyebrows above large, hazel eyes. Draped over her sturdy frame was a long, embroidered caftan in rich jewel tones that matched her dark berry lipstick. Tanya had heard the neighbors describe Mrs. Fogelman as “eccentric,” but Tanya’s parents just said that artists couldn’t be expected to act like everyone else.
“Let me introduce you to Kira, and then I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be working in my studio behind the house. I’m in the midst of a very important sculpture, and I absolutely must get back to it!” Tanya followed the woman down the hall, catching glimpses of brightly painted rooms that were filled with bookshelves, interesting collections, and art of all kinds. It seemed like the kind of house Kawanna would like, and it made Tanya feel a little warmer toward Mrs. Fogelman than she had before.
In the sunroom at the back of the house, Tanya found a pinched-face girl with sallow skin and wavy blond hair. Her pale blue eyes stared down at the handheld screen in front of her. “Kira,” Mrs. Fogelman said a little too loudly, “your playmate, Tanya, is here. Wouldn’t you like to say hello?”
Kira’s eyes flicked up from the screen. “Oh, hi,” she said. She quickly took in Tanya’s ratty jeans, Doctor Who scarf, and old army jacket before she went back to her screen. “Nice to meet you,” she added faintly, her voice already blurry with disinterest.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Tanya answered, suddenly self-conscious about the forced cheer she could hear in her voice. “So, what would you like to do together today?” Kira didn’t answer.
Mrs. Fogelman sighed. “See what I’m up against?” she murmured under her breath. Tanya felt a surge of sympathy for the artist. Most seven-year-olds that Tanya knew were sunny kids, curious about the world and eager to please, but trying to talk to this girl felt like talking to an empty room. Tanya tucked her bag near the couch, thinking of all the fun games and activities she had planned and carefully packed into it. It seemed doubtful the bag would even get opened today.
Mrs. Fogelman looked between the two girls. “Well,” she said finally, with a brisk clap of her hands. “I’ll leave you two to it, then!” She pointed through the windows to a small detached garage behind the house. “I’ll be out in my studio if you need me, but please don’t disturb me unless you absolutely must.” She ran her hands through her wild hair. “I’m at a critical stage in my work, and when the art speaks to me like this, I am fully in its thrall. I’m sure you understand!”
Tanya didn’t, but she nodded and smiled. “You bet.”
“Kira, why don’t you take Tanya upstairs and show her the collection room? I’m sure you girls would love to play up there together!” Without waiting for an answer, she exited in a swirl of jewel tones and clattering bangles, leaving a fog of sandalwood perfume in her wake.
“Do you want to show me the collection room?” Tanya asked. “It sounds like it could be fun to check it out.”
Tanya stood in front of the couch for a moment waiting for a cue from Kira, but the little girl continued to ignore her. Usually Tanya liked to let the kids have a say in how they spent their time together, but this was clearly going to be different. She wished Mrs. Fogelman had referred to her as a babysitter instead of a playmate. How was she supposed to take charge of the situation if Kira thought she was just here to be a friend? Not that it seemed likely that Kira would be any more willing to listen to her either way.
“Okay, Kira,” Tanya said finally. “Time to put your device away.” When the little girl didn’t look up, Tanya crouched down so she was at eye level. “Kira,” she said firmly. “No more screens while I’m here.”
Kira finally looked up. “Why not? My parents let me have as much screen time as I want.” She went back to her game. “Besides, there’s nothing else to do here.”
Tanya sighed inwardly. Kira seemed determined to turn their first interaction into a battle of wills. Tanya had babysat for some tough kids before, but they didn’t usually start testing her right away like this. She decided to try a different tactic. “Okay, then. I’ll be in the kitchen, I guess, working on my experiment.” She picked up her bag and left the sunroom, making sure not to look back.
There was a pause, then Kira took the bait. “What experiment?” she called after her.
“It’s just science stuff. Nothing you’d be interested in.” Tanya put an eyedropper and a bag of pennies on the counter next to a clipboard and a pencil. She smiled to herself when she heard bare feet padding into the kitchen.
“What’s the clipboard for?” Kira asked. Tanya mentally gave herself a high five. No kid could ever resist a clipboard.
“As a scientist, I have to write down everything that happens in my experiment, so I organize it all here on this chart.” Tanya showed Kira the chart she had created and printed out with each column neatly labeled. She found a small bowl and filled it with water. “Anyway, you can get back to your game now. I’ll try to keep it down so I don’t bother you.” She slowly filled the eyedropper with water.
Kira plunked her device onto the counter, her eyes watching Tanya’s every move. “Can I help?”
Tanya acted surprised. “Oh! Sure, I guess so. But we should probably put your device away so it doesn’t get wet. My experiments get messy sometimes. Why don’t you put it back in your room while I get started?” She laid two pennies out on the counter.
Kira was already running toward the stairs. “Wait! Don’t start without me!” she cried over her shoulder, and Tanya grinned.
“Just another reason why science is so awesome,” she said, pulling the second eyedropper out of her bag.
Kira’s cheeks were flushed when she got back to the kitchen. “Did I miss anything?” she asked breathlessly.
“No, I waited for you,” Tanya answered. “I wanted to give you a chance to form a hypothesis before we start. A hypothesis is a sort of prediction. In this case, we’re trying to predict how many drops of water will fit on top of a penny. What do you think?”
Kira thought for a moment. “One,” she said finally. “A penny’s not very big.”
“I like how you thought about the size of the penny when you made your prediction,” Tanya said. “Scientists try to look at all the data before they make a hypothesis, just like you did.” The corners of Kira’s mouth turned up in a shy smile.
Tanya slid a penny in front of her and handed her an eyedropper. “Okay, are you ready to test it out? Let’s count each drop out loud.”
Kira squirted out one drop. “One,” they said together. “Two. Three…” Kira’s eyes grew wide as the number continued to climb, and the bead of liquid on top of the penny ballooned larger and larger. The surface tension of the water finally broke and spilled across the counter. Tanya wiped it up with a rag and showed Kira where on the chart to record the number of drops.
“I want to see if we can fit more!” Kira said. “Can we try it again?”
* * *
Kira was soon chattering away, and the rest of the afternoon passed easily. Tanya learned that Kira had a best friend named Arthur back in LA, that her favorite food was tacos, and that she missed her parents back home.
“My mom has cancer,” Kira said. “My parents said the doctors think the surgery will get rid of it, but that it’s going to take time for her to heal.”
“Are you worried about her?” Tanya asked. She remembered when Rebecca’s grandmother got sick a few years ago and how hard it was for the family to see their lively matriarch grow frail and quiet.
“I’m mostly mad,” Kira answered. “They made me come up here to stay with Auntie Dot until Mom feels better. I wanted to stay home and help, but they wouldn’t let me. They act like I’m a baby or something!”
Tanya put away the eye droppers and wiped up the last of the water from the counter. “I get it; I would want to help, too. But I bet your parents don’t mean to treat you like a baby; sometimes people just need a quiet place to get better.” She held up the two pennies. “One for you, and one for me. A souvenir of our day t
ogether.”
Kira took the shinier one and put it in her pocket. “What should we do now?”
“Do you want to give me a tour of the house? I’ve never been here before, and your great-aunt said something about a room where she keeps all of her collections.”
Kira waved her hand. “Auntie Dot has a lot of collections; there’s no way she could keep them all in one room. See? Look at this.” She pointed at a shelf that wound above the cabinets near the kitchen ceiling. “That’s her teapot collection.” Teapots of every shape and color marched along the shelves in perfect precision. Tanya spied a purple one shaped like a dragon. Another looked like an elephant with the spout as its trunk. “And wait ’til you see the dining room. She calls it her ‘green room.’”
Tanya followed her into a cozy dining room with gleaming wood floors and bottle-green silk wallpaper. A gilded china cabinet dominated one wall, and it was crammed with glasses and dishes in every shade of green. A green glass chandelier hung from the gold-painted ceiling over the mirrored gold dining table and green velvet chairs. “Whoa,” Tanya said.
“Auntie Dot says green’s her favorite color,” Kira said.
“Obviously,” Tanya said. “I mean, it’s my favorite color, too, but this is, like, green on steroids.”
Kira shrugged. “She says it grows on you.”
“I guess,” Tanya said skeptically. “Is every room like this?”
“Kind of,” Kira answered. As she led Tanya through the rest of the first floor, Tanya could see what the neighbors meant when they called Mrs. Fogelman eccentric. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the house; it was just decorated unlike any other home Tanya had ever seen. The stairwell ceiling was painted bright blue with fluffy white clouds, and the walls were lined with mirrors, reflecting infinite Tanyas back at one another as they climbed up to the second floor.