Mary, Will I Die?

by Shawn Sarles

  “You don’t have to—” Calvin tried one last time to keep her from going, but she didn’t listen.

  “Thanks for the save.”

  And she was gone, carefully picking her way down the bleachers. When she got to the floor she hurried off, but before disappearing, she took one last moment to glare at the court, at the back of Elena’s head.

  Grace couldn’t hide the skip in her step or the smile that kept appearing on her lips. She was practically floating as she made her way through the hallways, her eyes darting, searching everywhere for Calvin. She’d taken her time getting ready that morning, picking out her favorite dress—the autumn-orange one with miniature witches, black cats, broomsticks, and cauldrons sprinkled all over it. And she’d even broken out her silver jack-o’-lantern earrings. The ones she only wore on super special occasions. But this definitely qualified. It was finally happening. Her soulmate fantasy was coming true, and she wasn’t going to let it slip away.

  Grace got to her locker and threw her books inside, daydreaming all the while. They’d actually hung out the day before. Her and Calvin. He’d noticed her. Had called her out of a crowd. She’d been so shocked that she’d had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t imagining it.

  And then when they talked, he hadn’t made fun of her. He hadn’t called her a ghoul or a freak. He’d liked her movie, her T-shirts. He’d even volunteered to go with her to the opening night of the Harvest Halloween Carnival.

  That was like a date. An actual date with the boy Grace had been crushing on for five years. She swooned and had to grab on to the edges of her locker to keep herself upright. Because that wasn’t all.

  He’d saved her. He’d knocked her out of harm’s way when that volleyball had come flying right at her face. She didn’t know how he’d seen it coming, but he’d stuck his neck out for her. That had to mean something. Even if Elena had tried to ruin it.

  Grace leaned back and glared down the hallway. She could just make out Elena standing at her own locker, applying a fresh layer of lip gloss.

  Elena with her perfect, popular life. Her adoring best friends. Her gorgeous boyfriend. And as if that weren’t enough, she had some shirtless dude on standby. Right under Henry’s nose. Grace stuck her head back in her locker, afraid steam might come pouring out of her ears.

  But what did she care about Elena anymore? Grace had Calvin.

  She flipped open her notebook and stared at Calvin’s picture there. The drawing of the demon she’d found. She still hadn’t asked him about it, but she would next time she saw him. Maybe it could even be a Halloween costume. He could go as the Wolf Man and she could go as his own creation. Wouldn’t that be romantic? They’d for sure win best couples costume.

  Picking out her books for English, Grace shut her locker and started down the hall, heading past where Elena was still primping for her next class. But right as she was about to pass Elena, someone slid in front of her and cut her off.

  Grace lurched back and narrowly missed running into him. Her curiosity piqued as she recognized the boy’s dark hair and sloped shoulders. As she noticed his shaking fists, the angry tilt of his chin.

  Henry. But what had happened to him?

  “How could you?” Henry’s question seethed through his clenched jaw as Elena looked at him dumbly.

  “How could I what?”

  “Don’t lie to me.” His fist slammed into the lockers, the bang of a firecracker. Everyone who hadn’t noticed the fight brewing turned to watch, a semicircle forming around the couple as their relationship took its last breaths.

  “Three years and this is how—”

  “Henry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Elena’s shout carried down the hallway and she looked to have the upper hand. But then Henry whipped out his phone and started reading.

  “Are you ever going to tell me who you are? The flowers were beautiful, but when can I meet you?”

  Elena gaped, her cheeks turning bright red as Henry continued to read.

  “I keep imagining what it’d be like to kiss you.”

  “Those are private,” Elena shouted desperately as she lunged forward and snatched at the phone. “How’d you even get them? Were you going through my messages?”

  “Please,” Henry spat. “I trusted you. I thought we’d be together forever. Which I guess makes me an idiot.”

  His voice broke then, and a sob hiccuped out of him. Grace’s heart ached in her chest. She could barely breathe herself and didn’t know how he could keep going. But Elena didn’t leave any time for sympathy as she launched into her own interrogation, unmoved by his tears.

  “Then how’d you get these?”

  “Someone sent them to me last night.” Henry had lost all his fight. Admitted defeat. “I didn’t think they were real. Not at first.”

  “Henry.” Elena tried to pull him back. “This doesn’t have to be it.”

  Henry shrugged her off, though, giving her his saddest grimace. “Yes, it does. You don’t get to do whatever you want. You don’t get to toy with me and then act like it’s no big deal.”

  “Come on. We can work this out. This—it was nothing. We’re meant to be, Henry. You can’t deny it. It can’t just be over like that. You can’t just walk away from me.”

  But apparently Henry could. And he did, turning his back on a suddenly desperate Elena and wading through the crowd of stunned onlookers.

  “You’ll regret leaving me,” Elena called after her now ex-boyfriend.

  And then, when he didn’t turn back, she slammed her palm against her locker, screaming out loud before barreling through the crowd in the opposite direction. She looked ready to feast on anyone who got in her way. She looked just like a demon, Grace thought, as she watched the girl go.

  Rage coursed through her veins, consuming her, burning every inch of her body. Her hair could have been on fire, her eyebrows singed clean off as she stalked up the driveway and through her front door. She was so mad she didn’t even feel the soreness in her feet, the tiredness from her two-mile walk home. She’d faked sick to get out of volleyball practice but hadn’t wanted to call her mom. She hadn’t felt like letting anyone else see her so upset. So embarrassed. So completely dumped.

  Henry had broken up with her.

  She stomped into the kitchen and slammed her keys down on the counter. No one was home, so she could let her tantrum fly.

  She still couldn’t believe it. Didn’t Henry know how good he had it? Didn’t he realize she was the best thing going in his life? Everyone was jealous of him. Everyone wanted to be him because he was with her. So what if she’d been texting another guy? Was Henry saying that she shouldn’t talk to anyone ever? Was he really that controlling?

  He doesn’t deserve you.

  Elena turned as the whisper slipped into her ear. But it was only the dish cabinet behind her, the wineglasses glinting in the light, her reflection barely visible in each one.

  You’re so much better than him. So much better without him.

  The thought echoed through her head, each of her reflections taking its turn to speak.

  And weren’t they right? He’d only ever dragged her down. She was in high school. She should be making her mark—hanging out with upperclassmen, getting invited to their parties, going on dates with them. Kissing them.

  Henry was her middle school boyfriend. He was immature, a kid. He couldn’t keep up with her. He was holding her back and even he knew it.

  He wanted to knock you down. He wanted to mortify you.

  The fire in Elena sparked and spat. It grew teeth and then bared them. Because it was true. Henry hadn’t just dumped her. He’d embarrassed her. And he’d chosen to do it in front of everybody. Right in the middle of the hallway. In the middle of the school day. He’d wanted her to look like the bad guy, like a cheater.

  He wanted you to lose.

  Elena looked up suddenly and was caught off guard by her full-length reflection staring back at her—her eyes red with rage, her han
ds balled into fists at her sides. She startled back, hardly recognizing herself. And then she realized where she was.

  When had she left the kitchen? And why had she come up here? Into her grandmother’s old bedroom?

  She glanced around, and a tingle crawled up her spine. With the shades drawn, the room was eerily dark. But the mirror—it was like someone had thrown a spotlight on it. Its glass shined white like the full moon. And the curlicue script running all around it glittered brilliantly. Elena took a few hesitant steps forward, her reflection in the center of the mirror glowing, cool and radiant, her red eyes and clenched fists gone.

  Look at you. So young. So beautiful. You don’t deserve this.

  She didn’t.

  So what are you going to do about it?

  Elena watched as her jaw clenched, her lips pressing into a determined grimace. She was going to get even. She was going to embarrass Henry. She was going to ruin him just like he’d tried to ruin her. She was going to make him regret that he ever broke up with her. And she was going to enjoy every second of it.

  He’s not the only one who wronged you.

  She gasped, her anger exploding when the fresh oxygen hit her lungs. How could she not have realized it until now? Her text messages hadn’t just magically appeared on Henry’s phone. Someone had sent them.

  But who? No one knew about her anonymous admirer. She hadn’t told a single one of her girlfriends. And even if someone had found out, they wouldn’t have been able to grab her phone. Not without her seeing.

  You know who.

  Elena’s gaze snapped back up to her reflection, getting lost in her own eyes as she thought. And then, suddenly, it came to her. Someone had seen her messages. And that person had access to her phone. To her gym locker.

  Steph.

  The name scorched through every muscle in Elena’s body. It all made sense. Steph hated her. She wanted to be her. She was jealous that Coach Lee had named them co-captains. She would do anything to take that spot for herself.

  The thoughts jumbled in Elena’s mind, spreading like wildfire.

  Steph is a liar. Steph wants to ruin you. Steph is the enemy.

  Her anger—it burned so hot. So brightly. It pulsed through her, spreading out of her control. Elena screamed and her fist flew forward. Connected with the glass.

  A sharp crack filled the air as Elena pulled her trembling fist back. Shards of glass fell to the floor and a drop of blood dripped from her knuckles.

  She gaped at the broken glass, the mirror that was now missing a chunk. A network of cracks spiderwebbed out across the whole surface of it, her reflection broken into a hundred disjointed pieces.

  What had she done?

  Fear squeezed Elena’s lungs so that she could barely breathe. She was going to get in so much trouble when her parents found out—

  But they wouldn’t. Not unless she told them. No one ever came in here. She just had to hide the evidence.

  Elena scurried to pick up the bigger shards of glass that had fallen on the floor. Then, after throwing them into a garbage bag that she’d take out to the dumpster later, she picked up the white sheet that had been covering the mirror. She held the fabric tightly between her fingers and snapped it, watching the dust billow out like a cloud of smoke. She snapped it again and again before throwing the sheet over the mirror and covering up the damage.

  As she hurried out of the bedroom, Elena took one last look over her shoulder, her eyes sweeping the floor, making sure she hadn’t missed any large pieces of glass. Satisfied, she closed the door behind her, leaving before she could notice the sheet move. A clawed hand thrust forward, grasping for a way out.

  She’d dreamed about her again last night.

  That dark swoop of short hair. That cute nose scrunched in concentration, eyes turned up in thought. The tip of a pencil tap, tap, tapping against the blank page. Tapping and then finally writing, the words a steady stream of short strokes. They were bold, yet indecipherable no matter how hard Steph squinted, no matter how close she tried to get. She could only watch the girl write and imagine what worlds the words were creating as they filled the page.

  Maybe one where the two of them actually found each other. Maybe one where they could be together.

  A locker clanged next to Steph and she jolted forward, nearly banging her head. She looked down at the books in her hands and realized she’d grabbed the wrong ones. What had gotten into her?

  Steph sighed. She’d been stuck in this daze all morning. She’d dreamed about the girl from the mirror before, but last night had felt different. It’d felt like a premonition. Like the girl had been real. Like she was waiting for Steph to find her.

  But why would today be any different than the last five years? And hadn’t she already decided that this wasn’t something she could let herself be? Not now, at least. And maybe not ever.

  Still, Steph couldn’t help but hold on to the hope that something miraculous could happen. That there was someone out there waiting for her, someone who’d accept her, Bigfoot frame and all. Someone who’d find her beautiful.

  A soulmate.

  “Sasquatch!”

  Steph jerked back as her locker door slammed shut in front of her face, nearly taking her nose off. Shell-shocked, she turned and found Elena, a head shorter, glaring up at her.

  “We need to talk,” Elena said, her voice clipped and to the point.

  Steph rolled her eyes and relaxed a bit. “And how have I offended you today?”

  Elena she could deal with. She’d dealt with her all year. But Steph did find it odd that she hadn’t brought her friends along as backup.

  “You know what you did.” Elena shot forward, standing on her tiptoes to get right in Steph’s face. Steph could feel Elena’s breath on her cheek, her nostrils streaming steam.

  “Look,” Steph sighed, fed up with having this argument. “I don’t want to co-captain with you either. But Coach made the call. And now we have to work together. Unless you plan on quitting.”

  Elena shuddered back as if Steph had smacked her across the face. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Honestly?” Steph could hear the exasperation in her own voice. “I’d like to quit having this fight. I’d like us to just get along. Or at least agree to leave each other alone.”

  Elena laughed—one short, humorless sound, like a balloon popping.

  “It’s too late for that,” Elena whispered, her words a threat.

  And something in Steph stirred.

  Usually she would have ignored Elena, let the girl think she’d won. But a boldness leapt into her throat. Why should she back down? What was it she was so afraid of? What did she have to lose by fighting back?

  “Look, I don’t know what your problem is.” Steph’s voice held firm, didn’t quiver one bit. “But you need to get over it. I’ve tried being nice to you. I’ve tried ignoring your insults. But I’m sick of it. I’m not playing along with your games anymore. I’m done.”

  “My games?” Elena spat back. “You know what my problem is with you? It’s that you’re trying to ruin my life. You’re trying to make me look bad in front of Coach. Trying to take my team away from me. And now you’re trying to break up me and Henry.”

  Steph’s brow furrowed in confusion, but Elena plowed on, running over any words Steph might have thrown back at her.

  “It’s not going to work. I’m onto you. I know what you did, and I’m not going to let you win. I won’t lose. Not to you!”

  Elena banged her fist against Steph’s locker, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the hallway. And then, before Steph could get out another word, before she could even try to make sense of all the accusations that had just been thrown at her, Elena stalked away.

  But Steph wasn’t going to let her have it. Not this time.

  That same boldness churned in her gut. Anger mixed with courage, and her adrenaline spiked. She wheeled around and took off after Elena, weaving between classmates, her long legs making up g
round quickly. She reached out, ready to yank Elena back by the shoulder—by her hair if she had to—and then she froze.

  Her rage left her. It evaporated right there on the spot.

  Wonder took its place, disbelief emptying her mind. She stared across the hallway, blinking, sure her eyes were playing tricks on her, sure her dreams were spilling over.

  Because it was her. The girl from the mirror. In the flesh. Pencil tucked behind one ear. Backpack hanging off one shoulder. Her face scrunched up, studying the piece of paper in her hands.

  It was really her.

  A sharp ache throbbed at the back of Calvin’s head. He tried to rub it away, but he knew it was already too late. The migraine would take hold in no time. Unless he gave in.

  But it was too soon for that. It’d only been an hour since his last sketch, when he’d drawn Vice Principal Matthis skidding in the hallway, careening down the stairwell and landing in a pile on the floor, his foot bent at an unnatural angle.

  And then the vice principal had actually slipped. Luckily, he’d only fallen one step down before catching himself. He’d only twisted his ankle. But still—

  Calvin’s drawings, as disturbing as they were, had never come true. Grace had been a close call in the gym the other day, but no one had ever actually gotten hurt. And his visions had never gotten this bad this quickly. They’d never felt so insistent. It was like someone had his head in a nutcracker, squeezing harder little by little until his skull might burst.

  Calvin squirmed in his seat. He tried to focus on his teacher and follow along with the lesson, anything to keep his mind busy. He picked up his pencil to take notes but then quickly dropped it.

  He couldn’t trust himself. Not with lead or ink. An errant doodle and the images would come pouring out. They’d reveal disaster. A tragedy that would only be more horrible because now, he was afraid it might actually come true.

  Above the board, the clock ticked, and Calvin latched onto that. He counted along, passing thirty and then sixty. At 120, he thought he could do it. At 180, he started to sweat. As he hit 300 and 360, he couldn’t help but grimace. His whole body felt tight, every muscle clenched. His fingers twisted into gnarled knots, waiting for the doomsday clock to tick down.