When Steven came over, I led him into the kitchen. “I was studying,” I said, clearing my stuff off of the table. “Can I get you anything?”
Steven stretched. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m starving. Got anything to eat?”
I burst out laughing.
“What?” Steven cocked his head to the side and gave me a funny look. “What’s going on?”
I blushed. “Nothing,” I said. After a pause, I added, “My mom just made a joke the other day about my little brother, after he ate a whole bag of clementines in one sitting. She said teenage boys are like vacuums.”
Steven snickered. “I ate three sandwiches and two pieces of pizza at lunch,” he said. “And I’m already hungry again.”
I rolled my eyes. Pulling open the fridge, I grabbed a container of brownies and some leftover chicken salad. When I set the boxes down on the table, Steven ripped the lid off the brownies and immediately ate four, rubbing his stomach and groaning. I felt both slightly embarrassed and intrigued – watching someone eat felt intimate and strange. Goosebumps broke out over my body, and eventually, I took a fork and picked at the chicken salad, too afraid that Steven would ask me something as soon as my mouth was full.
“So, what’s up?” Steven belched, covering his mouth. “What did you wanna talk about?”
For a moment, the horrible text I’d seen on Steven’s phone came rushing back to the front of my memory. Closing my eyes, I forced it away.
“Monica,” I said. “Ever since she got back, she’s…she’s been acting really weird, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh yeah?” Steven raised an eyebrow. “Like what? What did she say?”
I blushed. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him everything, although I could practically hear Monica’s words of ‘how to win Steven for good’ echoing in my head.
“Well, that’s the funny thing,” I said slowly, nibbling at a forkful of chicken. “It was kind of about you. Well, not you. I mean, yeah, you, but more about Andrea.”
Steven narrowed his eyes. “Not this séance shit again,” he muttered under his breath. “God, Mom was about ready to kill Monica when that happened last year. Andrea slept with the lights on for six months after that.”
I bit my lip. “No, not about that, exactly…” I trailed off. “She just thinks Andrea is reincarnated.”
“What?”
“Like, she lived another life in another time,” I explained, feeling stupider by the second.
“That’s crazy,” Steven said. He snorted. “Everyone knows that’s bullshit.”
“I know,” I said quickly, suddenly worried that Steven would lump me into Monica’s newfound lunacy. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it.”
“Well, what exactly did she say? And why does she care about my sister?”
I blushed. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that.
“I don’t really know,” I lied. “She was just really on this bender about Andrea, and how Andrea is crazy and needs to be locked up or something.”
Steven narrowed his eyes. “My sister definitely isn’t crazy,” he said slowly.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Yeah, of course not,” I agreed. “It’s not really about her, though. It’s Monica I’m worried about. Like, why the fuck does she care about this all of a sudden?”
Steven sighed. “Look, I know she’s your best friend,” he said slowly, “but she’s always been kind of weird, you know? It’s probably because of her parents.” He rolled his eyes. “They’re total idiots.”
“They’re not idiots,” I replied. “They’re just kind of unconventional.”
“Whatever,” Steven said. “My dad says it’s basically the same thing. I mean, why the hell did people like that even choose to have a kid in the first place?”
I frowned. This wasn’t going the way I’d thought – not at all.
“So, is that all that’s bothering you?”
I sighed and bit my lip. “Not really,” I said. “I mean, when I told Monica that she sounded kind of delusional, she got really mad at me and stormed out. And, oh yeah, when she first came over, she totally denied that she’d been in school.”
“Whoa,” Steven said. He lifted a finger to his ear and spun it in circles. “She’s totally losing her mind.”
I slumped down in my chair. “I know,” I said morosely. “I have no idea what to do. It’s not like I could talk to her parents or anyone behind her back, really. She’d be furious with me.”
“Sometimes, being a good friend is hard,” Steven said slowly. “Monica really sounds like she needs help, Elizabeth.”
“Yeah,” I said glumly. “I know.”
---
The next day at school, Monica seemed her usual, serious self. There was no more talk of Andrea being a witch, or anything ludicrous like that. Instead of going to the cafeteria for lunch, I followed Monica to the library because she said she needed to do some research for an upcoming paper. She really seemed truly normal again, and I definitely wasn’t going to bring up our conversation from earlier in the week.
‘Maybe she had kind of an adjustment period,’ I thought as I settled into a chair across the table from Monica, who already had her nose plunged deep in a book about seventeenth-century Americans. ‘Maybe she felt weird about being gone, and she thought lying would distract everyone from asking what really happened.’
“I just want you to know that I’m really glad you’re back,” I whispered, pulling a notebook out of my bag and setting it down on the table. “I missed you.”
Monica looked up and nodded. Her glasses were at the very edge of her nose, and she looked at me over the rims, unsmiling.
“Yeah,” Monica whispered back. “I’m glad, too.”
There was a pause as the librarian shuffled past us, pushing a metal cart loaded with books and DVDs.
“Have you talked to David?”
Monica nodded. She leaned in closer. “We talked on the phone last night,” she said. She sniffed. “He might be coming up this weekend.”
I nodded. “That could be fun,” I said. “Maybe we could all go out and get pizza or something.”
Monica snickered quietly. “Elizabeth, you don’t have treat me with kid gloves,” she said softly. “I know you don’t like him.”
I almost sighed out of pure relief. It felt so good to have my best friend back, especially after all of this craziness.
“Yeah, but I don’t really know him that well yet,” I whispered. “Maybe he’s just shy and we’ll wind up being good friends.”
I thought Monica was going to rebuff me, but she nodded seriously. “I’d like that,” she whispered. “You two are the most important people in my life right now.”
I smiled. “I’m glad.”
Silence fell over us as Monica started scribbling down notes in a blank book, her pen scritching and scratching across the page. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander. Maybe now that things were relatively normal again, everything would be fine. I was still dying to know what had happened to my best friend while she was gone, but I was starting to realize that maybe she’d have to tell me in her own time.
“Monica.”
I jumped and spun around to see Andrea standing there, holding a leather-bound book and hugging it to her chest. She looked even younger than normal; her cheeks were as round as a chipmunk’s, and her eyes were big and vacant.
Monica groaned. “I’m busy right now,” she said. “Whatever this is, can it wait?”
Andrea’s eyes flashed, and she smiled coldly. I felt a sinking feeling wash over me, and suddenly, I wished I hadn’t told Steven anything. ‘Idiot,’ I thought. ‘He probably went home and told Andrea everything! Why the heck did I have to say all of that stuff?!’
“Monica, I’m trying to help you,” Andrea simpered sweetly. I stood up and looked around in alarm, searching for the librarian. But everyone else in the library had vanished. Monica, Andrea, and I were completely alone.
“Well
, I’m trying to do research for a paper,” Monica said. She yawned, sounding bored. “And this is a library, remember? No talking.” She smirked at Andrea.
Andrea glared. “I’m here to bless you,” she said. She set the leather-bound book on the table, and I groaned when I realized it was a bible. Closing her eyes, Andrea lifted her hands and held them over Monica’s head.
“I command you, unclean spirit,” Andrea said in a low voice, “to–”
“Hey, enough!” I snapped. I leapt up from my chair and grabbed Andrea’s hands, pulling her away from Monica. “Look, we’re busy, okay?” I forced a smile. “Whatever this is, it’s not a good idea right now.”
“Oh, please,” Andrea said. She rolled her eyes and yanked her hand free with surprising strength. “Elizabeth, you’re just as wicked as Monica! You should be begging me to bless you!”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, god,” I said dramatically. “What does that even mean?”
Monica was glaring at Andrea with intense hatred in her brown eyes. “Andrea, leave,” Monica said darkly. “You’re not wanted here.” She raised her eyebrows, smirking.
“Hush, evil one!” Andrea said. She lifted her hands and closed her eyes. “I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, by the descent of the Holy Spirit, by the coming of our Lord for judgment–”
Suddenly, Andrea’s eyes flew open, and her lips clamped together. A strange noise emerged from her mouth, almost like she was struggling to talk. Her body began to shake, and she lifted her hands to her mouth. When I realized she was trying to pull her lips open, I gasped.
“Monica, what the fuck?” I hissed. “What the hell is going on?”
Monica didn’t reply. She sat stiff and tall, staring at Andrea. Her brown eyes were lit with intensity, almost like a light was shining through them. She jerked her head to the side, and I gasped as Andrea’s body was flung through the air like a rag doll. Andrea finally cried out, gasping and screaming as she slammed into the painted cinderblock wall. A sickening crack filled the air, and then Andrea crumpled to the ground.
“Oh, my god!” I ran to Andrea’s prone figure and knelt down. Her eyes were glassy slits, and she was moaning through her mouth. I put my hand to her forehead. She felt cold and clammy.
“My leg,” Andrea whimpered. Tears came to her eyes, and she blinked, spilling them down her chubby cheeks. “It hurts!”
A wave of fear struck my heart as I looked down at Andrea’s limp body. Her left leg was sticking out at an odd angle.
“Monica!” I yelled. “You’d better call 9-1-1!”
But when I glanced around, Monica was leaning over her book, once again absorbed in taking notes.
Chapter Three
I was nervous as I sat in the waiting room of Manchester General Hospital, waiting for news – any news – on Andrea’s condition. After she’d fallen, everything seemed to happen in a blur. I grabbed my cell phone and ran out of the school, trying to get reception. But by the time I got on the phone with a 9-1-1 operator, the police had already been called. Soon, the school was swarmed with cop cars, ambulances, even a fire truck with the siren blaring.
Monica had refused to come with me to the hospital. “I have to get home and start writing this,” she’d said, sniffing and holding her chin high in the air. “I missed a lot of work when I wasn’t in school, and it’s not like I can let my grades slip.”
Her reaction hadn’t exactly surprised me, but I couldn’t help feeling a little sad. It was strange. I didn’t really like Andrea, especially not after how I’d seen her act around Steven, but I felt like all people deserved a basic level of compassion after getting hurt so badly. Especially, because I still wasn’t sure how it had all happened. When I thought about it, everything seemed like a blur. I could close my eyes and try to envision Andrea flying through the air, but it seemed impossible – like my mind was playing tricks on me. I knew it was impossible: people didn’t fly.
But then what the hell had happened?
Mr. and Mrs. D’Amico were in the waiting room, too, with Steven and a handful of relatives I’d never met. I was surprised that more kids from school hadn’t shown up. A couple of years before, I’d been in a minor car accident with my mom and I’d needed four stiches. I’d been shocked that practically everyone from school had shown up to see me, even though I’d never been popular. I remember thinking at the time that everything was about to change. Surely, when I went back to school, I’d have loads of new friends.
But nothing changed. People forgot, and time went on, and I stayed as unpopular as ever.
So, it shocked me then that no one was there to see Andrea, especially considering the mysterious circumstances of her accident. After the ambulance had taken her away, the principal had called Monica and me into his office and asked us questions. But Monica hadn’t been much help, and obviously, I wasn’t either. It was weird. Why had Andrea fallen like that? She landed at least ten feet away from where we’d all been standing.
It was all very strange to consider.
After an hour of waiting, a doctor poked his head into the waiting room and called for Andrea’s parents. They went in to see her, white-faced and tight-lipped, without even acknowledging me.
An older woman wearing a crocheted sweater and a large, wooden crucifix scooted close to me and smiled benignly.
“Are you one of Andrea’s little friends from school?”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “We’re in the same grade.”
“How sweet that you came to see her,” the woman said, beaming. “I’m her Aunt Claire.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said warily.
“What’s your name?”
A flash of panic went through me. Obviously, this woman had no idea who I was, but she was nosy enough to keep prying. I felt embarrassed to admit it, but I didn’t want her to know that I’d been in the room when Andrea had gotten hurt.
Thankfully, at that moment, Mrs. D’Amico called for me.
“Sorry,” I lied, jumping up from the uncomfortably hard, plastic bucket seat and racing into the hall.
“She’s very heavily sedated,” Mrs. D’Amico told me. Her forehead was creased with worry. “I think you can go in, but just for a few minutes.”
“Thanks,” I said nervously. As quietly as I could, I slipped into the hospital room and shut the door behind me. I could hear Mr. and Mrs. D’Amico whispering in the hall, and I prayed under my breath that Andrea would stay calm.
Andrea looked terrible. Her leg was up in traction and there was a bulky, pink cast stretching from her hip to her foot. Her face was pale, and her hair clung to her forehead in greasy strands. When she saw me, she narrowed her eyes.
“Andrea, I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry,” I said quickly. “I won’t stay long, but I wanted you to know that I feel really bad.”
Andrea sniffed. Under the florescent lighting of the hospital, she looked almost green.
“Get out, Elizabeth,” Andrea said quietly. “I don’t want to see you right now.”
“Just hear me out,” I begged. “Andrea, Monica’s really, really sorry. She never wanted anything like this to happen, and it’s not like she caused it–”
“Get out!” Andrea shrieked. Her voice was so loud that it pierced my eardrums. She glared at me, narrowing her eyes and crying out. “Get out! Get out!” Andrea’s rage dissolved into a fit of sobs, and after just a second, she was crying so hard that I could tell she was having trouble breathing. My heart was beating a rapid staccato in my chest, and my hand was shaking as I reached for the box of tissues at her bedside table.
“Andrea, please,” I begged. “You have to know sorry we are, both of us–”
“Shut up!” Andrea screeched. “Get out!”
The door opened, and Mrs. D’Amico gazed at her daughter and then at me with clear alarm. She grabbed my
shoulder and yanked me into the hall.
“What did you say to her?” Mrs. D’Amico demanded. “What the H is going on, Elizabeth?”
Angrily, I pulled free of her grip and ran down the hall until my lungs ached. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t think. My mind was spinning, and I had absolutely no idea what to do. Fear and anger welled up inside of me, and I stood for a moment, panting and resting with my hand against the hospital doors.
I had to find out what was really going on.
I had to go talk to Monica.
On the bus home from Manchester, my mind was swirling and reeling. I tried calling Monica to ask if she was home, but she didn’t answer. For the first time that day, I felt a flash of anger toward my friend. ‘She’s being a coward,’ I thought. ‘She should’ve come with me to the hospital, and she knows it. She knows it!’ And yet, at the same time, I couldn’t explain it. I knew rationally that Monica couldn’t have had anything to do with Andrea breaking her leg. I never saw Monica even lift a finger toward Andrea, and besides, someone as small as Monica couldn’t have even thrown a baseball ten feet, let alone another teenager.
Andrea had broken her leg in two places, and the doctor had mentioned that she was going to be in a cast for months. I shuddered when I thought about her lying helpless and small in that dull hospital room. I hadn’t felt very warm toward Andrea since the séance incident, but I couldn’t help but pity her now. It wasn’t her fault that she was so…devout. And sooner or later, Monica was going to have to apologize.
The confusion was killing me.
By the time I got back to Jaffrey, it was dark and cold. I ran all the way from the bus stop to Monica’s house on the outskirts of town. The lights were on and music was blaring loudly from the living room. I had to knock three times before the door opened.
Jamie was standing there in a casual sweater and jeans. She smiled when she saw me, and I couldn’t help flinching.
“Hi,” I said quickly. “I really need to talk to Monica.”
“Come in, Elizabeth,” Jamie said. She opened the door widely and smiled. “You hungry?”
The Coven Series: Books 1-5 Page 19