by KR Alexander
It was a risk telling her that. She was really bad at keeping secrets, and even more so when she was told to keep them. But hopefully she understood how important this was.
“If you do, they’ll take the doll away, and we’ll never see Vanessa again.”
“I don’t want to go back there,” Anna said. She took my hand and squeezed it tight, then started walking toward the house. “It was scary.”
“Scary? You didn’t want to leave.”
She just shrugged and let go of my hand, skipping toward the house. Mom had just stepped out the front door, sun tea in her hands.
Sometimes my little sister could be so strange.
I stood there for a moment, watching the two of them talk. I felt a little silly, because I was jealous of Anna for getting a present from Vanessa. She was supposed to be my friend. But I knew the gift was, in a way, actually for me. This way I’d have the room to myself again, and my sister would be out of my hair. It was pretty genius. I was starting to realize that I had just gotten swept up in my grandmother’s stories; there wasn’t anything in the woods, there was no Beryl—if there had been, Vanessa surely would have mentioned her. It was all make-believe. It was all just a story my grandmother had made up and started to believe herself.
“Dinner’s almost ready!” my mom called. My stomach rumbled; even though I’d had a few cookies, I was starving.
Then a breeze blew across my back, carrying the sound of crackling leaves and snapped branches and the scent of old dirt.
That, and another sound. The sound of a woman hissing my name.
I didn’t look back. I jogged all the way to the front door.
Even if it was just my imagination, I felt a lot safer inside.
“How was your friend’s house?” Mom asked at dinner.
I looked at Anna, fully expecting her to talk about the dolls and how creepy it was.
But instead she said, “It was fun. Vanessa was really nice. Her aunt even made us cookies.”
Mom tried to look disapproving, but she couldn’t help but smile.
“Cookies before dinner?” she said. “That will ruin your appetite.”
Anna answered by taking a big bite of lasagna and making loud happy noises as she chewed. I rolled my eyes.
“What about you, Josie? Will you be hanging out with Vanessa more? She seemed very sweet. Maybe you could invite her over to dinner sometime.”
I knew I should have felt happy that Mom was offering, but I didn’t. I glanced at Grandma Jeannie, who was eating her food silently.
“Yeah,” I said. “I thought maybe she could come over this weekend.”
If she came over for a slumber party, there was a better chance we could just hide up in my room until Grandma went to sleep.
“That could be fun,” Mom said.
“How about you?” I asked. “Any luck on your job hunt?”
Mom smiled again, but this time I could tell she was forcing it.
“Not yet,” she said. “But that’s okay. It’s been good to catch up with your grandma.”
“Beryl LeFarge is watching,” Grandma said.
She had raised a forkful of lasagna to her lips but didn’t bite it. Her hand shook. The food fell onto the plate.
“Nobody’s watching us,” Mom assured her. “It’s just us here.”
But Grandma wasn’t having it. “Beryl is watching,” she insisted. “She’s angry. She’s hungry. She’ll attack soon.”
Mom looked at me, and then at Anna, whose eyes were wide with fear. For some reason, I thought of the doll tucked safely in Anna’s backpack.
“Mom—” my mom began.
Grandma stood up quickly, knocking over her chair and her glass, spilling sun tea all over the table.
“I have to protect you. I have to—”
Mom was there in a second. She put her hands on Grandma’s shoulders.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Can’t sleep. Beryl comes in the night. I hear her knocking against the windows. She’s after the girls. She’s mad I’m protecting them. She’ll attack soon.”
Mom led Grandma away, and Grandma muttered about Beryl the entire time. It was only when they had both left the room that I realized my own hands were shaking.
“Anna,” I whispered.
But Anna didn’t stick around—she jumped up from the table, grabbed her bookbag, and ran upstairs to her bedroom. I thought I heard her crying.
I sat there for a while. My hunger was gone and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t stop looking out the window, at the coming sunset. Beryl comes in the night.
It was all just a story Grandma made up.
It was all just made up.
So why couldn’t I stop staring out the window, for fear that someone was staring back?
Why, when I finally left the table and brought my plate into the kitchen, did I worry that tonight was the night I’d discover just how terrible this Beryl LeFarge really was?
Worse—why did I worry that, despite her assurance otherwise, Vanessa was somehow involved?
But that was ridiculous. Vanessa was my friend. She gave the doll to Anna to make her feel better.
Vanessa was on our side.
Right?
I knew I was dreaming.
I knew it, but it didn’t make me wake up. And the moment I realized that, I realized what sort of dream this was going to be.
I was in the woods. Running.
And I knew Beryl was running behind me. I could hear her footsteps in the trees. I could feel her rancid breath on my neck. I didn’t look behind me—I knew if I did, I would trip and fall, and then she would have me.
Branches scratched my face and legs and hands as I ran. Some felt like they were covered in thorns, they hurt so bad.
I didn’t focus on them.
I focused on running faster. Faster. My heart beating as fast as my footsteps, my throat as hot as Beryl’s breath on the back of my neck.
She’s catching up.
She’s catching up.
“Josieeeeeeeee.”
Then the woods thinned out. The path led straight to where I knew it would: Vanessa’s house.
I ran past the broken mannequins and doll-covered birdbaths. Up the front steps.
But no doll opened the door. Instead, the door was slightly ajar. I ran inside and slammed it shut behind me. My heart hammered so loud I could barely hear the beast behind me. Then the creature thundered up the porch and slammed into the door. Everything shook. A picture fell to the floor with a crash.
I pressed myself to the door to keep it from opening but it crashed again. Every hit made the house shake and my teeth chatter. I closed my eyes as tears fell and I wished the monster would stop.
Slam!
“Go away,” I whispered.
Slam!
“Go away.”
Slam!
“Go away!”
Then the crashing stopped.
I gasped at the sudden silence. It had worked—I was safe.
Then I opened my eyes. Truly saw where I was.
Dolls everywhere. Dolls facing the walls.
The smell of cookies burning.
As one, every doll along the hallway slowly turned its head to stare at me.
Except they weren’t staring. Their eyes were crossed out with paint.
Their mouths were open.
They screamed—
I woke up covered in sweat. When I looked at my legs they were covered in scratches.
I blinked.
The scratches went away.
I reached down and rubbed my hands over my un-scratched legs. My heart was pounding like I really had run through the woods. I tried to calm my nerves. I hadn’t actually been scratched. It was like Anna thinking she was awake when she was really dreaming: I must have still been partly asleep when I thought I’d woken up. I put my hand to my rapidly beating heart. Was I going crazy?
Then my alarm buzzed loudly beside me. I turned
it off and flopped back on my bed.
My empty bed.
I couldn’t tell what I was feeling: relief that Anna had gone a whole night without coming into my room, or fear. Had she had a similar nightmare? Was she safe?
Beryl comes in the night, Grandma had said. She’ll attack soon.
And I hadn’t been around to protect Anna.
I pushed myself out of bed and ran to her door.
“Anna?” I asked. I knocked. She didn’t answer.
She wasn’t in her room.
I ran inside and looked around, tossed back her covers to make sure. But she wasn’t sleeping.
No. No no no no. She can’t have been taken!
“Anna?” I called, louder this time. My voice shook with panic.
Mom came in the door and looked in, sleepy and confused.
“Josie, what’s wrong?”
“Anna! She’s missing.”
“She’s downstairs having breakfast,” Mom said. “Are you feeling okay?”
I was panting. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that my face was flushed and my hair was wild.
“I …”
But I didn’t have anything to say. How could I explain that I was worried that Anna had been taken by a creature from Grandma’s stories? We looked at each other for a long time. Once, Mom and I had talked about everything. Now I had more secrets than I could count. It felt like—even though we were only standing a few feet apart—we were living in completely different cities.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Bad dreams.”
Mom stepped in and knelt in front of me. She put the back of her hand on my cheek and then my forehead.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, honey?” she asked. “You haven’t been acting like yourself since we moved here.”
My fear over Anna being gone suddenly snapped to anger.
“That’s because I didn’t want to move here!” I reminded her. “I hate it.”
Mom’s eyes tightened.
“I’m sorry, Josie. I know this is hard on you, but it was the only choice.”
“No. We could have gotten a smaller place in the city. You could have gotten another job. We didn’t have to leave Chicago. You wanted to go. But you didn’t ask us. You never ask us anything!”
“Josie, that’s not fair.”
Not fair?
Not fair was worrying about getting eaten by a monster or losing my sister when, a week ago, the only things I worried about were ignoring creepy people on my walk home or missing the bus. Now I was having nightmares about monsters and my grandma was going crazy and maybe I was, too, and everything was terrible. She had no idea what wasn’t fair.
The worst part was that I couldn’t tell her about any of it. Just like I couldn’t tell Vanessa without risking scaring her off. And I couldn’t tell any friends back home because there was no way they’d understand.
I wouldn’t understand, if I wasn’t the one living it.
It wasn’t until Mom wiped a tear from my cheek that I realized I was crying from frustration.
“I know this is hard—” she began again, but I cut her off.
“No. You don’t.” Then I stormed out of the room and downstairs.
I didn’t stop until I was out on the back porch, where Grandma Jeannie was standing again by the railing, a mug of tea forgotten in her hands.
“Beryl is hungry,” she said as a way of greeting.
“I’m sick of hearing about Beryl!” I yelled. I slammed my hands on the railing.
Grandma Jeannie looked at me for a long time. She didn’t speak. So I filled the silence.
“It’s all made up, Grandma. Mom said your brain is playing tricks on you and it’s not real. Beryl isn’t real.”
Grandma continued to look at me.
“Beryl is real,” she said, her voice terrifyingly calm. “And you will know soon enough. She’s taken another child.”
Vanessa was waiting for me at school. Well, waiting for us.
Anna and I hopped out of the car and waved good-bye to Mom—it had been an awkward, quiet car ride after my outburst earlier. Vanessa was at our side before Mom had even pulled out of the driveway.
“How’s it going?” Vanessa asked.
Maybe it was my imagination, but she seemed a little down. I wondered if she was sad that we’d left so quickly yesterday. Or maybe it was just the weather—the sky had grown overcast during the short drive to school, and the wind that blew was cold and hinted at secrets.
“Okay,” I lied.
“Josie got in a fight with Mom this morning,” Anna said. I glared at her.
“It wasn’t because you visited, was it?” Vanessa asked.
I shook my head.
“It’s because she doesn’t want to live here anymore,” Anna replied.
“Anna.”
But Vanessa just smiled sadly.
“I understand. I fought with my aunt a lot when I moved here. It takes a while to get used to, especially when you’re from a city.” She looked from me to Anna. “How did you sleep?”
“Great!” Anna replied. “I didn’t have nightmares at all.”
I didn’t want to admit my own nightmares. Or that I was angry at Anna for sleeping well when this was the third night I hadn’t slept.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to say anything—the first bell rang and kids started crowding into the school.
“How are you doing?” I asked Vanessa as we filed in.
She shrugged.
“My aunt wasn’t in a good mood last night,” she said.
“Because of us?”
“No,” she replied. But it came a second too late. I knew she was lying. “She was sad she didn’t get to meet you, though.”
“Well, my mom said you should come over to our place sometime. Maybe this weekend?”
Vanessa smiled, but it seemed a little sad.
“That’s really sweet of you. I’d love to.” It didn’t sound like she meant it.
I tried to tell myself that having her over would be okay, but all I could think of was Grandma Jeannie’s stories and rules. If only I could take Vanessa back to my real home in Chicago. Back with my friends and my favorite places, where I could escape whenever my family got too strange.
Now it felt like there was nowhere to run.
“What’s wrong?” Vanessa asked.
“I just … I miss home.”
“Me too,” Vanessa replied sadly. She patted my shoulder consolingly.
For some reason, she sounded sadder than I’ve ever felt in my whole life.
I knew something was wrong after lunch.
I was in class and the teacher took attendance. I wasn’t paying attention, but I started to when he repeated the name a few times and another student called out, “She’s not here!”
“Did she tell anyone she wasn’t going to be in today?” the teacher asked.
“No,” the original speaker said. I think her name was Cindy. “But she didn’t show up to social studies this morning either. Maybe she’s sick.”
That wasn’t what was strange, though—people were sick all the time. The teacher made a quick call to the office and then continued class. It wasn’t until the principal walked in, about halfway through class, that we learned something was really wrong.
“Students,” the principal said. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Everyone went quiet immediately. Even the rowdy kids paid attention—Principal Overton was known for harsh punishment.
“Has anyone seen Karen Little today?” she asked.
No one raised their hand.
“Are you sure?”
Again, no one answered.
“Because I have just gotten off the phone with her parents. They say she left for school this morning.”
The silence grew heavier with every word as we realized what she was saying.
“She was last seen walking into the woods,” Principal Overton said. “If any of you can think of anything, please come to me direc
tly. Hopefully this will all be taken care of soon.”
I was shocked when she left.
Did they think Karen Little had been taken? Or that she was skipping school? I didn’t know her at all, but from the few classes we’d had together, she didn’t seem like the rebel type. She always sat in the front and answered questions. What surprised me was how the principal was handling this. Why weren’t the cops involved? Why had she asked the class as a whole? If this had been in Chicago, we’d all have been questioned individually. I couldn’t tell if this was a big deal or if this was just another occurrence.
I remembered Grandma Jeannie’s final words: She’s taken another child.
I tried to convince myself this was ridiculous. Karen was just skipping school and hadn’t told anyone. The fact that she was last seen going into the woods … most of this town was covered by the woods. I’d seen dozens of kids cut through there for shortcuts or to hang out. It wasn’t strange.
But it did make chills rush across my skin.
No. I wasn’t going to let my grandma affect me at school, too. This was the only place her ramblings and rules didn’t apply. I wouldn’t let myself believe her wild tales.
Still, I couldn’t focus the rest of the day. And when we were finally let out, there were cop cars outside the school. Well, two cop cars. For a town this small, that felt like a lot.
The cops were questioning a few kids and some parents as well.
“I guess that means she didn’t show up,” Vanessa said.
I jumped. I hadn’t heard her come up to me.
“I guess,” I said. “Did you know her?”
Vanessa shrugged and watched the cop cars.
“Not really. We had a few classes together.”
“The principal said she was last seen in the woods.”
“That’s because the woods are everywhere.” She gestured to the school grounds, which were ringed by the forest. Then she looked at me with a little grin. “Don’t tell me you think that the monster got her.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be silly. I don’t believe in that.”
“Right.” I could tell she was giving me a hard time. Thankfully, she changed the subject. “Do you still want me to come over this weekend?”