by KR Alexander
“Beauty can hide great evil,” Grandma Jeannie said. “The woods are deep, and Beryl is hungry.”
“What’s Beryl? Is she a bear?”
“Beryl is a woman,” Grandma said gravely. “And if she has her way, all of us will be dead.”
I wanted to know more. But Mom opened the door at that moment and told me it was time to go to school. I hugged Grandma good-bye.
She whispered in my ear.
“Remember.”
By lunchtime I had decided that my new school was horrible, and I was going to move back to Chicago tonight whether Mom wanted to or not. I’d call a taxi. I’d get a plane ticket.
There was no way I would stay in this school.
Even though it was only the first day of class, everyone already had their friend groups, and none of them would let me in. It was like I was wearing a huge sign that said NEW CITY GIRL—kids giggled whenever I said my name or answered a question. (I stopped answering questions after second-period math class.) A couple stopped and whispered to each other when I walked by in the halls—what had they heard about me? Others crashed into me, as if they wanted to see how I’d react. I don’t think I’d ever felt my face blush so much in my life.
Running into the woods behind Grandma Jeannie’s sounded like a much better time than this.
The cafeteria was its own kind of forest. There I was, at lunch, sitting at the end of a table all by myself. I didn’t know what I’d been served. Some sort of meat loaf covered in brown gunk. Mashed potatoes that were clearly from a box. Frostbitten peas. A brownie that was as hard as a rock and probably tasted like a rock, too.
I didn’t eat meat. It made me wish I was back at my old school—at least there we could get the salad bar. I imagined if I asked the lunch staff here for a salad, they’d give me a plate of grass.
Tears formed in my eyes as I pushed the food around on my plate. I was hungry, and I was homesick, and I hated it here. Back home I’d be eating lunch with my best friends—they were doing it right now. We’d laugh about our science teacher, or talk about which kids we thought were cute. Then we’d plan to hang out later, after school. I missed them. All of them. I couldn’t even call or text because I couldn’t get reception anywhere in this backward town.
I hated this place.
“Can I sit here?” a girl’s voice above me asked.
I didn’t look up. It was probably someone just playing another joke, and I didn’t want to be the punch line again.
“Excuse me?”
That made me look. I’d been bumped into a dozen times in the hall, and no one had said excuse me. Especially not with that accent. She didn’t sound like she was from around here. Like me.
For a moment, I thought maybe she was imaginary. She was definitely not from around here—she was in really nice jeans and a simple black top, and she had a ton of bracelets on her arms and perfectly manicured nails. She also wore a vintage locket on a gold chain around her neck. Her hair was long and curly, and when she smiled she had huge dimples. And she was wearing makeup. But unlike anyone else here, she knew how to put it on.
She looked familiar somehow. But maybe that was because she looked like someone I’d see in Chicago, not someone I’d see here.
“Hi?” I asked.
She laughed. “Why was that a question?”
“Because I don’t know why you’re talking to me.” I looked around at the rest of the cafeteria. “Everyone here pretends I don’t exist. Unless they’re making fun of me.”
The girl looked around the lunchroom.
“Don’t worry about them. They’re simple.”
She said simple like it was a curse word, and it made me suddenly grateful she didn’t think that I was simple.
She set down her lunch box and held out her hand.
“I’m Vanessa.”
“Josie,” I said, taking her hand. She had a very firm shake, and her fingers were cold.
“May I sit?”
I didn’t realize she was still waiting for my permission. I nodded.
“Thank you,” she replied. She sat down, but she didn’t start eating. “So,” she said, looking at me intently. “You’re new here?”
“Yeah. My sister and I moved in with my grandma yesterday. I’m from Chicago.”
“Why would you leave Chicago for this?”
I almost answered with the truth—Mom lost her job, and Grandma was losing her memories—but then I remembered this Vanessa girl wasn’t one of my old friends. I barely knew her.
“Mom wanted a change from the city,” I said. I hoped that made us sound sophisticated, not lost.
“Definitely a big change,” Vanessa said. “Well, don’t worry, Josie. I’ll take care of you.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead I pushed around the meat loaf a bit more.
“My first job as your friend is to tell you not to eat that,” Vanessa went on. “I think it’s the same loaf they served last year.”
I told her I was vegetarian, and she said she thought she was the only one in the whole town. Or had been, until I came along. I don’t know why that made me feel better, but it did. At least I felt a little less alone.
She started telling me about which teachers were good and which were bad, and which kids I needed to avoid—which was pretty much everyone. The way she described the place, it seemed like she was the only one here who might understand me. And, looking around, I believed it. The kids who watched us stared openly. I felt like a zoo animal. I turned my attention back to Vanessa—having her there made me feel a lot less singled out.
I listened intently. I was so caught up in what she said I didn’t even notice that I’d eaten most of my peas and managed not to break my teeth on the brownie.
By the time the lunch bell rang, I still hated it here … but I hated it a little bit less than before.
Vanessa was a lifesaver.
She walked me to my next class after lunch. Somehow, just having her around made my life easier; no one bumped into me in the halls and no one called me any names. In fact, it almost seemed like people stepped out of the way when we passed. If they seemed to be paying me any attention, it was more out of shock than anything else.
I knew what they were thinking:
How did the new girl become friends with the coolest girl in school?
I honestly didn’t know how either. But I wasn’t about to question it, not when she seemed like the only thing that kept me from getting shoved into a locker “on accident.”
A few periods later, I stepped into my English classroom—nervous as always—and there was Vanessa. I’d spent the day having to find a seat beside people who clearly didn’t want me around, based on the snickers or the pieces of paper that got thrown at me. This time, though, Vanessa smiled like she’d been waiting for me. She moved her books from the desk beside her so I could sit there.
Had it really been that easy? Had I really just made such a good friend?
All through that class, no one giggled and no one threw anything at me. Not even when I raised my hand to answer a question.
Vanessa was even waiting for me after school. While the rest of the kids ran off to catch a bus or get a ride home, she stood outside by the flagpole. Once again, she smiled when she saw me.
Before I could walk over to her, Anna stepped beside me. The school was so small they had all the grade levels in one building.
“How was your first day of third grade?” I asked her. We started walking toward Vanessa.
“I hate it,” she replied.
“Oh no, why?”
She didn’t seem to want to answer at first. Instead, she reached into her backpack and pulled out her little teddy bear.
“Kids were mean to me,” she said. She sounded like she wanted to cry.
“They were mean to me, too,” I replied. “But look! I made a friend.”
“I’m Vanessa,” Vanessa said, shaking Anna’s hand. “You must be Anna. Josie told me so much about you!”
I couldn’t remember saying anything to her about Anna, but that wasn’t surprising—we’d talked about a lot at lunch, and I’d probably mentioned Anna at some point. Besides, Anna was smiling so hard at being noticed I didn’t want to question it.
“How was your first day?” Vanessa asked.
“Kids were mean to me,” Anna replied. She took my hand as she said it. “I want to go home.”
Vanessa looked concerned, but then her smile returned.
“You don’t want to go home! It’s only the first day. I’m sure you’ll make a new friend soon.”
“Everyone hates me,” Anna replied.
“Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure there are some great people you haven’t met yet. You just have to give it time!”
Vanessa reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of candy.
“I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers,” Anna said diligently. I could tell she really wanted to take it. She’d always had a sweet tooth.
“I’m not a stranger—I’m Josie’s new friend. Which means we’ll be friends, too. Even after you make one of your own.”
Anna smiled and took the candy. Vanessa handed me a piece.
“Do you want to come over to our house?” Anna asked.
“That’s so polite of you,” Vanessa said. It made me wish I’d asked first. I was going to, but it seemed awkward, especially since it was only our second day with Grandma Jeannie. I was partly relieved when Vanessa said next, “I’m afraid I have to go home and take care of my aunt. Maybe next time. I just wanted to make sure Josie got through the day okay.”
“I did,” I told her. “Thanks.”
Vanessa smiled like I’d given her the biggest compliment.
“Good. See you at lunch tomorrow! It was a pleasure meeting you, Anna.”
Vanessa turned and walked away. I wondered if her aunt was going to come pick her up or if she would walk home. The school was in the middle of nowhere, and town seemed like a very long way to walk—if that was where she actually lived. I hadn’t gotten around to asking her.
“She’s really cool,” Anna said, watching Vanessa go. “You’re lucky. I wish I had a friend like her.”
“You will,” I said. I pointed to the parking lot, before she could start getting sad. “But look, there’s Mom!”
Anna did a little jump and let go of my hand to run over to Mom’s car.
I felt the little bubble of happiness inside of me deflate. Meeting Vanessa had made my day, but now I remembered I had to go back to a house with no TV and no internet and barely any cell phone reception.
It made me wish Vanessa had accepted Anna’s offer to come over.
Though I was still a little worried that Grandma Jeannie would only manage to scare her away.
“What was that?”
Anna’s voice shook when she looked up from her toys. We were playing by the old swing set in the backyard. Well, she was playing. I was up in the small fort, working on my math homework. Why did teachers think it was okay to give us homework on the first day?
“What was what?” I asked. I didn’t want to climb down and see. I was too full from the spaghetti Mom had cooked to move.
“That noise.”
“I don’t—”
She yelped, and before I could finish the sentence she was scrambling up the ladder. She nearly crushed my homework when she came up.
“Careful!” I yelled, but she shushed me immediately and pointed one shaking hand toward the woods.
I went quiet.
For a while, I didn’t hear anything except my heart and Anna’s quick breathing. A few minutes passed. I was just about to tell her to go back down and keep playing, because she was being silly, and I had to finish my homework before it got dark.
Then something rustled in the woods.
My skin got goose bumps, even though it was warm and the sun was still shining above the trees.
“What—” I whispered. Another rustle cut me off.
Because it wasn’t just the sound of something creeping around and snapping bushes.
I heard a voice.
An old woman’s voice.
“Joooosieeeeeee,” it hissed. Like wind in a graveyard.
Like the voice that chased me in my nightmare.
“You can hear that?” I asked Anna.
She nodded solemnly.
I didn’t even bother grabbing all my homework. I took Anna by the hand and bolted.
I didn’t get mad at Anna when she asked to sleep in my room that night. Honestly, if she hadn’t asked first, I might have asked her. I didn’t want to be alone in the too-big room, with its too-big windows overlooking the too-dark forest. It felt like the shadows could attack me in there. Even with the night-light on. (I had to ask Anna to bring hers in, because I was supposed to be too old to sleep with a night-light.)
I’d had to ask Mom to bring in my homework earlier. There was no way I was going outside again. I made up some excuse about feeling dizzy when I climbed the ladder. I didn’t think she believed me, but she still owed me for moving us out here, so she went and got it. When she returned, I studied her reaction to figure out if she’d heard anything. It didn’t look like she had. Had I just been imagining things? Maybe I was letting Anna’s overactive imagination influence my own.
Even with the night-light and the closed windows and Anna beside me, I didn’t get much sleep. And not because Anna was hogging the covers.
Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered my nightmare. Being chased through the woods, and the creature calling out my name.
“Josie?” Anna whispered. Her voice caught me off guard—I’d thought she was asleep.
“Yes, Anna?” I whispered back.
“Do you think she’s after us?”
“Who?”
“Beryl.”
I shivered again. I still had no idea who Beryl was, or why we should be afraid of her. Or why Anna would think the mysterious woman Grandma warned us about was the voice we heard in the woods. Though I couldn’t think what else it could be.
“You know what Mom told us about Grandma Jeannie,” I said. I tried to keep my voice down, but I also tried to keep it strong. I had to convince myself, too. “Sometimes she doesn’t remember things right. Like who or where she is. I bet this is part of that.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do.”
I didn’t.
I went on. “Whatever we heard was just our imagination. The wind or something.”
Anna went quiet for a few moments.
“I dreamed about it last night,” she said. “That I was being chased. Through the woods.”
I shivered. “Did you find an old house?”
I shouldn’t have asked it. I didn’t want her to know I’d had a similar dream.
“Yes,” she said. Her voice was even more scared now. “But I woke up before I went inside.”
I couldn’t stop—I had to know.
“Did you find a doll?”
She didn’t answer. At first, I thought she had fallen back asleep. I tried to relax and closed my eyes. Then, right when I started to feel myself go heavy, she whispered:
“The doll found me.”
If Anna had another nightmare, she didn’t mention it when she woke up the next morning. She seemed to be perfectly rested, even though she’d spent the whole night tossing and turning and keeping me awake.
I couldn’t stop yawning at breakfast.
“Couldn’t sleep again?” Mom asked.
I shook my head. She knew that Anna had slept in my bedroom, but I didn’t want her to think Anna was the reason I’d been up all night. Otherwise Mom might force Anna to sleep in her own room, and that seemed worse than missing sleep. I wished Mom would let me drink coffee. At least in emergencies like this.
Before she could ask me any more questions, I excused myself from the table and went out to sit with Grandma Jeannie on the porch. I had orange juice. I’d heard vitamin C helped give you ener
gy.
“Grandma?” I asked.
“Yes, dear?” she replied. She was at the edge of the porch, watching the trees with a serious look on her face. She didn’t look away.
Feeders hung from the eaves of the porch, and hummingbirds were dancing about. It was beautiful and calm, but I couldn’t stare at the woods without feeling scared.
“Who’s Beryl?”
Just like that, Grandma’s attention snapped back. She looked at me.
“Who told you that name?” she asked. She no longer sounded like my grandma. She sounded angry. And mean.
“Y-you did.”
Her eyes narrowed and I worried she was going to start yelling—something that I’d only seen happen once, when Mom was trying to convince her Grandpa Tom wasn’t coming back from the store.
Then she brought a hand to her forehead like she had a headache.
“I … I did …”
“Grandma—”
“You must stay out of the woods!”
“I know, Grandma. I am. But who is Beryl?”
“Never say her name!”
“But who—”
“She’s after you.” Grandma brought down her hand. She sounded very tired, but very serious. “I’ve heard her, in the woods. You must never go in there. You must promise me you’ll never go in there. I can’t protect you there, but I can protect you here. If she ever catches you, she’ll gobble you up.”
“Mother.” My mom opened the porch door and stepped out. “What are you two talking about?”
“You should never have brought them here,” Grandma Jeannie said, turning to Mom. “It’s not safe. It’s not safe.”
My mom came over and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder.
“What are you talking about, Mom?”
“Must tell Tom,” Grandma Jeannie said. “Beryl is awake. Beryl is coming. Tom … Tom will know what to do.”
A hurt expression crossed my mom’s face. She studied Grandma for a moment, then me.
“Go get ready for school, Josie,” Mom said firmly.
I opened my mouth. I wanted to ask more questions. I wanted to know who Beryl was, and why my grandma thought she needed to keep us safe. But I knew Mom’s look—the time for questions was over. I’d have to ask Grandma tonight.