“I thought our meeting wasn’t until Monday.” I don’t really have time for this.
“Just the same. I’ve had a few calls. Not all of them pleasant.” She straightens her duck brooch. “Parents worry. As we all do. Some of us more than others.”
Great. This is only going to make things worse. What happens next time Vivian is called to the principal’s office? If Vivian was telling the truth, they could expel me. And with the way our relationship has been going lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if she lets them.
The bell rings. “Okay, well, I gotta go to class.”
I open the heavy door and walk the long center aisle to Mr. Wardwell.
“You’re late,” he says, and hands me what looks like a play.
Everyone is on stage already. And with Ms. Edelson’s class, there are twice as many people to watch me stutter through my lines. My mouth goes dry.
I’m getting some pretty nasty looks. Except from Jaxon, of course. I walk up the stairs and stand near him on the stage. He smiles.
“The packets I gave you contain the entire performance with stage directions. I’d like us to read it all out loud. That way if there are any questions we can address them immediately,” says Mr. Wardwell in an overly enthusiastic voice that suggests he’s likely the playwright.
Ms. Edelson joins him. Not far from me and Jaxon, Alice, Mary, and Susannah stand with Lizzie and John. I didn’t know they were in Ms. Edelson’s class, but I’m willing to bet they knew I was in Wardwell’s. Is that why they left homeroom without a word, because they didn’t want to walk with me? I chew on my lip. Alice and Lizzie appear to be arguing about something, but their voices are too quiet for me to make out their words.
“Everyone not directly involved in a given scene will stand against the curtains and wait their turn,” Ms. Edelson says in a voice that’s gratingly high-pitched. “The restrooms are in the back. If anyone needs to use them, feel free, just don’t hold up a scene you’re in.”
My hands shake as I flip through the first few pages, looking for Cotton’s name. It’s not there. “Who are you again?” I whisper to Jaxon.
“Reverend Parris. I’m up first,” he says with fake enthusiasm.
I sympathize even though he’s perfectly calm. We arrange ourselves against the curtain, with Jaxon and a few others center stage. There’s ten feet between me and the next person. This is so unfair. They’re treating me like I have leprosy, and I was the only one without the rash.
In my peripheral vision I see Lizzie staring at me. I can’t help it; I look at her. She holds the little Mather doll against her side and is wrapping something that looks like hair around its neck. I can only assume it’s my hair. The other girls don’t seem to notice, or maybe they don’t care. Maybe everything Susannah told me last night was to get information out of me. My stomach tenses, and I turn toward the restroom.
I slip through an opening in the curtain and into the backstage area. It’s dimly lit and smells like an attic. There are pulleys that control the curtains and large metal shelves. I head for the hallway in the back right corner.
A warm hand slips over my mouth, jerking my head back against a male chest. I struggle, but the grip is too strong.
“It’s easy to hurt you,” John’s voice says in my ear, my neck straining. “You should never have come to Salem, Mather. We know all about you. I owe you one for that rash. And for Lizzie’s—”
I slam my elbow into his ribs. He grunts and loosens his hand on my mouth enough for me to bite down, hard. There’s a moment before he reacts, and I worry he might not care. His arm tightens around my rib cage, making me gasp for breath. I keep my teeth clamped onto his hand.
All at once he releases me. I fling myself forward and away from him. In the dim lighting, I stumble into the pulleys. I get caught in the ropes and struggle to untangle my legs. I grab on to one to steady myself.
Just before I turn to face John, terrified he might be ready to pounce on me again, everything goes black. I look around frantically, but I can’t see the room at all. All I can see is the rope in my hand—every detail of it and nothing else.
Panic creeps along my skin. At the top of the rope there’s a girl’s body hanging. She rotates slowly in my direction, but her hair covers her face.
After a few seconds of forever, I release my grip on the rope. The moment I let go, the blackness dissipates and the backstage area comes back into view.
What’s in front of me is just as gruesome as the image of the girl hanging, though. One of the huge metal shelves is on the floor with its contents scattered around it. Under the shelf is John, facedown, blood oozing from his head.
I freeze. It’s the vision I had in the woods with the Descendants.
Students rush back to where we are. Screams erupt. Mr. Wardwell pushes through the crowd. “Ms. Edelson, call nine-one-one!” he yells. Then, to a couple of the frightened students, “Help me pick up this shelf!”
It takes five of them to lift it. Jaxon’s one of them. Meanwhile, the blood around John’s head forms a pool. Lizzie screams, and rushes to him. Susannah, Mary, and Alice comfort her. I can’t make out their words.
“Everyone, move!” yells Ms. Edelson. Some of the students back away, and the Descendants pull Lizzie from John.
“Sam. Samantha!” Jaxon walks up to me.
Ms. Edelson tries to remove the traumatized students from backstage. My vision blurs in and out. Time passes, but I couldn’t say how much. Someone is sobbing. More teachers show up, and Brennan is with them.
Then come the EMTs. “No pulse,” one says. Jaxon steps between me and John’s body, breaking my view of the blood for the first time. I blink.
Jaxon grabs my hand and pulls me gently. My feet move. He asks me if I’m okay, but my mouth refuses to answer. I just keep thinking about my vision in the woods. I didn’t even try to figure out who was in that vision. Now it’s too late.
How many seconds did I miss while having that vision of the hanging girl? I didn’t hear the shelf fall. I don’t understand how a shelf falls by itself. The only things I’m sure of are that I have to figure out who was hanging and I need to tell the Descendants about what I saw.
I snap my head up and scan the room for them, seeing the chaos for the first time. I’m sitting in a chair in the front of the auditorium. When did I sit down?
“I think she’s in shock,” Jaxon explains to a policeman with a bushy gray mustache who takes the seat next to me.
“Can ya hear me, Sam?” says the policeman with a husky voice.
I meet his eyes. “Yes.” Jaxon seems relieved.
“Do you feel up to answering a few questions about what happened back there?”
“I guess so,” I respond.
“I’m Captain Bradbury. I’ll go nice and slow. You let me know if you need a break,” he says, and Jaxon sits down on the other side of me.
“Okay.” The room’s full of policemen, and other students are being questioned, too.
“As I understand it, you were the only person backstage with John when the shelf fell. You wanna tell me what you remember?” He licks his thumb and flips the page of his notepad.
“I went backstage to go to the bathroom.” My voice shakes. “I felt a hand over my mouth and another one holding my stomach.” Jaxon tenses. “He whispered in my ear, ‘It’s easy to hurt you.’ I managed to get my elbow into his ribs and I bit his hand. He let go and I went flying forward into the ropes. I got tangled in them.”
Bradbury furrows his brow. “You’re saying this young man attacked you?”
“In a way.”
“Have you had any altercations with him before?” Bradbury asks.
I hesitate. “Well, not exactly. He doesn’t like me.”
“Had he ever physically assaulted you before today?”
“No.” I can’t tell him about the locker or the rock because I can’t prove those.
“And how did the shelf fall?” Bradbury asks.
“I’m not
sure. I blacked out when I hit the ropes.” Hanging girl. “And then he was just lying there.”
“It’s not likely you’re strong enough to knock over one of them shelves….It would take two of my bigger officers to push one of those over. I’d imagine something else musta happened. Did you hear anything or see anyone?”
He already checked out the shelves? I must’ve been sitting here for a while. “No. I blacked out.”
“Shock, most likely. It’s common.” He really is trying to be nice. “If you remember anything more, even in a few days, I want you to give me a call.” He hands me a business card. “We might have you down to the station to give a more formal statement.”
“Okay,” I say, examining the card with a witch logo on it and tucking it into my wallet.
Bradbury stands and pats me on the shoulder.
“Sam, he attacked you?” Jaxon seems conflicted.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” I already know the answer, and the weight of it is more than I can bear.
Jaxon nods. “I’ll call my mother to pick us up.”
I scan the room again. “Where are the Descendants? I have to tell them something.”
“They left. Lizzie was pretty hysterical.”
I can’t let this vision, or whatever it was, go. The last time I did that, someone died. Next it’ll be a girl, possibly someone I know. I need to find Elijah. I stand, and Jaxon stands with me. My legs feel weak and my head spins. I reach out for Jaxon. I feel his hand on my arm before the room blurs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
* * *
I Saw His Death
“There she is,” says Mrs. Meriwether, placing a cool towel on my forehead.
I squint at her. Judging by the blue-and-white-striped couch and the ships on the walls, I realize I’m in her living room. Jaxon paces next to her.
“What happened?” I ask before the events of the afternoon come barreling back. I sit straight up, and the wet towel plops onto my lap. I remember coming over here after school, but I have no memory of falling asleep. How long have I been out? “I gotta go.”
“Calm yourself.” Mrs. Meriwether takes the towel. “Vivian knows you’re here. You’ve been out for quite a while. You must be starving. I’ve got soup all ready for you.”
I want to argue, but I feel dizzy. I haven’t eaten anything all day.
Mrs. Meriwether heads to the kitchen, and Jaxon sits next to me. He touches my forehead. “How do you feel?”
“Okay, I think. Sorry I fainted. I feel stupid.”
His eyes are gentle. “No way. It was like a movie. You fell into my arms, and I carried you to the nurse’s office.”
“Yeah, that’s how all romantic movies end. The dude carries the girl to the school nurse.”
He laughs, and Mrs. Meriwether comes in with a tray of delicious-smelling food. She places it on my lap. Corn chowder, warm corn bread with butter, freshly squeezed orange juice, and an éclair.
“Vivian won’t be home for some time.” I can tell by her delivery, she disapproves. “So please, stay as long as you like.”
I smile as she leaves. “Any update on what happened today?” I ask between spoonfuls of chowder.
“Not really.” He looks uncomfortable, and I can guess why.
“They’re blaming me, aren’t they?” He doesn’t answer. “I feel sick over it. I feel like I should have prevented it.”
He shakes his head. “There’s no way you could’ve prevented that. He attacked you.”
“You don’t know the whole story.”
The muscles around his eyes tense. “What do you mean?”
I pause, considering how I would even explain it. “You’ll think I’m nuts.”
“Sam, try and trust me. Even a little. I’m not the enemy.” He’s incredibly hard to resist when he’s not being pompous.
I sigh. “Well…” How do I start? “I saw his death a few days ago. I just didn’t see his face.”
Jaxon looks confused. “What do you mean saw?”
I study my corn bread for answers. “Like in a vision.”
“As in a dream?” He’s skeptical.
I should never have opened my mouth. “A vision. Everything went black, and I saw a guy crushed under a piece of metal. Wait. What’s the date?”
Jaxon thinks for a second. “September nineteenth.”
I drop my spoon. “Today’s the day Giles Corey was pressed to death.” I read about it right after Jaxon took me to that jail. My thoughts move a mile a minute. I need to find Elijah.
“Sam, maybe you should lie back down.”
I lift the tray off my lap. “I’m fine. I’m just trying to tell you that I saw John die in a vision. You can choose not to believe me. But I gotta go right now.”
“You sound, well…really stressed. I think you might still be in shock.” By “stressed,” he means crazy.
I scoop up my bag and walk past him. He reaches out and grabs my arm. “Jaxon, I can’t let someone else die.” I’m angry at myself for letting my guard down. He thinks I’m nuts.
“You didn’t let anyone die. It was an accident. You heard Bradbury. There’s no way you could’ve knocked that shelf over.”
“I don’t mean like that. I can’t explain it. You wouldn’t believe me if I did.” I remove Jaxon’s hand from my arm, trying to escape his questioning eyes.
“Just ’cause I don’t believe in visions doesn’t mean I don’t believe you. I’d be freaked out, too, if I saw someone get crushed in front of me.” Jaxon follows me to the door.
The sun is almost down when I step outside. The word “crushed” grates on my nerves. Giles Corey and John were crushed. Who’s next? “Tell your mom I say thanks.”
Jaxon still follows me. “Can I help?”
I want help. But if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of a vision, there is no way I could tell him the other stuff. There’s a piece of me that hoped he’d believe me.
“Why don’t you come back in and lie down and we can talk about all of this when you’re fully rested.”
“No,” I snap. “I don’t need to be patronized. People are dying.”
He looks hurt. “That’s so not fair, Sam.”
“Nothing’s fair right now. Everything’s a mess.”
I walk to my house and close the door behind me. “Elijah!” I yell.
“Samantha,” he says in a worried tone of voice in the foyer. I must look as frazzled as I feel.
“How’s my dad?”
“Well.”
I nod. “Did you see what happened? To John, I mean?”
“No, I was doing research. I heard some of the aftermath while you were resting.”
I pace in the foyer. “John is the guy I saw in my vision. And when he got crushed in front of me today, I had another vision, or whatever. Am I going crazy?”
“You had a vision without performing a ritual?”
“Yeah, well…” I remember my dream. “I dozed off in homeroom and dreamed of a guy giving a sermon about witchcraft. He made some analogy, saying how people assume there are no witches because they’ve never seen one. And would you think there are no robbers just because nothing was ever stolen from you? Or something—”
Elijah cuts me off. “Where is your copy of Cotton Mather’s Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcrafts and Possessions?”
“Here.” I reach into my shoulder bag. “What is it?”
Elijah skims through the pages and points to a paragraph. I read the words and a chill runs through me. “These are the exact words from my dream. But I didn’t read this far. I never saw this paragraph.” It was a young Cotton in my dream. I just didn’t recognize him. “That means it wasn’t exactly a dream, was it?”
“I would guess not. Tell me what happened.”
“We were in a church, sort of a plain room with wooden pews. I was scared and walking backward. A rope touched my shoulder. I looked up and saw a noose hanging above my head. Then I woke up.” Knowing that it wasn’t some fantasy my brai
n invented makes retelling it awful.
“And how did that relate to John’s death?”
“John grabbed me and I fell into the ropes behind the stage.” Elijah’s face hardens. It’s obvious he didn’t know that part. “My vision went black and I couldn’t see anything but the rope I grabbed on to. Then I saw a noose over my head, like I did in my dream, only now there was a girl hanging from it. I don’t know who, because her hair was in her face.”
“We need to find out.” Elijah’s tone confirms my fear.
“If we can prevent it, maybe that’s a step in the direction of breaking the curse.”
Elijah nods.
“Is Cotton trying to warn me or scare me?” The thought of sleeping is now perfectly horrifying. “If only I could talk to him like I do with you, without it being so awful.”
“I am confident his spirit is not here the way mine is. There is no scenario where my face would blend with someone’s the way his did with yours. He is part of you or bound to you.”
I want to puke. “So what? Try to sleep and hope he…Shit, I have to call him, don’t I.” It’s not a question. How have I come to a point in my life where I see things that aren’t there while I’m awake and I see things that might be there while I’m asleep?
“I do not believe the Descendants will assist you this time. The town is in an uproar over John’s death. There have been too many fatal accidents since you arrived, and the townspeople are searching for an explanation. The word ‘murder’ is being used liberally, and the Descendants’ families are suspicious of you. They are not letting their children out of sight.”
The truth of that sinks in. I wouldn’t let my kids out of my sight, either. I show up in a prominent and unexplainable way in relation to the rash and John’s death and, now that I think about it, to the nooses in the coffee shop, too. “Okay. I guess I have to try without them. Do you think I can do it somewhere other than those woods?”
Elijah’s thoughtful. “Is it fair to say that every time he appeared, you were afraid?”
I don’t like where this is going. “Yeah.”
“You were also in the woods where the witches hanged, a place that related to him personally,” Elijah continues.
How to Hang a Witch Page 18