Mary, Will I Die?

by Shawn Sarles

  “So, is it everything you hoped it would be?” Steph asked as they waited, blushing when Mary turned her full attention on her, her stare almost turning Steph to stone. “I mean the carnival …”

  “It’s better,” Mary said. “The carnival and my guide. I’m glad I convinced you to show me around.”

  And then Mary hit her with that smile, sweet and big and white, the corners of her eyes crinkling adorably. Irresistible. The face she’d fallen for in all her dreams. Not the face of a demon at all.

  What had Steph been thinking? She didn’t know how to do this. She had no clue how to tell this girl that she liked her. How to figure out if Mary might like her back. Did she need to come out to her first? Or find out if Mary even liked girls like that?

  “Make sure you hold on tight.”

  Steph blinked, thinking she’d heard wrong. Then she realized it was their turn on the ride.

  “Sit close to me.”

  As if Steph needed the invitation. She hurried to beat the rest of the riders and strapped herself into a chair right next to Mary. She wrapped her hands around the swing’s cold chains and looked across at the girl next to her. Her feet were already dangling off the ground, her tiptoes skimming the dirt as the carnival workers checked everyone’s harnesses. Mary looked back at Steph and gave her a thumbs-up, causing Steph’s stomach to flip before the ride had even started. An alarm bell rang and the chains clanked to life. The swings rose up off the ground, slowly. They started to spin. And then they were flying.

  Steph felt like she was caught in a tornado, the wind whipping her around in a circle as she hung on for dear life. Her legs flew into the night sky and the centripetal force pressed her up into the air. A scream leapt out of Steph, and she could see Mary returning the call, the glee ripped from both of their mouths. Steph had never felt this light. This free. Like anything was possible. She wanted to hold on to that sensation. She wanted to defy gravity for as long as she could.

  Up here she didn’t have to think about demons trying to kill her or her classmates finding out she was gay. She didn’t have to worry that Elena would turn the volleyball team against her. Steph could leave all of those worries behind and just enjoy the moment. Enjoy the high—

  A loud clank rang through the air.

  The ride shuddered suddenly, throwing everyone to one side. The swings lurched with an unimaginable violence, and all of a sudden, Steph really was hanging on for dear life.

  The vibration shook through the chains. Through Steph’s fingers and up her arms.

  She lost her grip as the swing juddered right and then left, sending them all careening toward one another, inches from a midair collision. Steph heard Mary’s shriek and tried to reach her. Tried to pull her close, keep her safe. But the swings wouldn’t let her.

  They were going to die. They were careening at sixty miles an hour. Out of control. Their swings were going to detach, cannonballs flying out over the carnival to wreak even more damage.

  And then, mercifully, the ride began to slow. The swings dipped and dove in crazy curlicues, but none of the chains snapped or threw their riders in the air. The machinery righted itself and ground to a halt, its passengers breathing hard, tears on most of their faces. A few knuckles flashed red as people grappled to get loose. One person moaned on the ground, gripping an ankle. And another must have hit their head on one of the chains, as blood dripped down into their eye. The ride attendant hurried over to call for a medic, but Steph had stopped paying attention. She fumbled to unfasten her harness and leapt out of the seat, rushing to Mary, pulling her close in one sweep of her long arms.

  “Are you okay?” Steph whispered into the girl’s reptilian tendrils. “Are you hurt?”

  The girl quivered in Steph’s grip, tears spotting her cheeks, smearing her carefully drawn-on scales. But Steph didn’t see any cuts or broken bones. There weren’t any outward signs of trauma.

  “You’re okay. We’ve got our feet back on solid ground.”

  Steph repeated the mantra, hoping it’d soothe Mary, even out her ragged breaths.

  “I’m here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. We’re safe now.”

  Steph hoped that Mary believed it. Because she certainly didn’t.

  “You.”

  The word skewered the air, an accusation lodging in Steph’s back, right between her vertebrae as she recognized Elena’s voice. She hadn’t realized she was on the ride.

  “I’ll be back in just a second,” Steph said, because Mary didn’t need to hear this.

  She marched over to head Elena off before she came any closer.

  “We could have been killed,” Elena whisper-shouted as she stepped out of her own harness, her face bright red, her poufy hair a vulture’s nest on top of her head. The neck of her dress fell off one shoulder, the costume now more countryside maid than French royal. She leaned to one side and shot a glance in Mary’s direction, but she didn’t go after her.

  She was afraid, Steph realized. A feeling she hadn’t even known Elena could have.

  “She didn’t have anything to do with this,” Steph snapped.

  “Are you blind?” Elena had lowered her voice to a seething whisper. “She showed up the day after I broke the mirror. She’s Bloody Mary in the flesh. What more proof do you need? She’s the one causing all of this.”

  “She’s not—” Steph hiccuped, taken aback. Surprised even though she knew she shouldn’t have been.

  “Did you talk to Calvin?” Elena demanded. “Did you see his drawings? The way she transforms? If you weren’t so head over heels you might have noticed the signs. You might have realized that she’s the enemy.”

  “Mary’s not a demon.”

  Steph didn’t think she’d ever spoken so forcefully in her life. But Elena refused to back down. The two co-captains just stared at each other, a stand-off to end all stand-offs, until Elena finally broke.

  “If you don’t do something about her, then I will.”

  Elena’s words vibrated in the air.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  And Steph let her own threat sink in before blinking away from the staring contest, turning to look for Mary.

  “I warned you,” Elena called after her. But Steph ignored her. She kept her focus on finding Mary and on the fact that they’d survived another close call that night. They’d gotten lucky. Again.

  “There you are,” Steph said, jogging to catch up to Mary. “Let’s get out of here.”

  And as they walked away, Steph wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders to keep her close and comforted. But she couldn’t shake the morbid thought. Couldn’t help wondering what would happen when her luck finally ran out.

  She’d almost died. Almost crashed and burned right there on that overgrown swing set, a tragedy the news would have called a freak accident, even though Elena knew better. Knew that there were other forces at play.

  But Elena had held on tight. She could still feel the cold chains pressing into her palms, how they’d almost cut into her skin. She hadn’t let the demon toss her into the night sky like a rag doll. She’d won. And now, standing across from the ride, watching the carnival workers rope it off and post an OUT OF ORDER sign out front, she realized that she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. All the close calls had only made her skin thicker, steeled her against fear of the end, prepared her to take on a demon, to carry on her grandmother’s legacy.

  Her head flicked to where Steph and Mary had disappeared.

  That demon.

  Elena was sure of it now. She should go after them. She could put a stop to all of this right now. And she would have, except—she didn’t know how.

  The mirror holds the key.

  Elena remembered her grandmother’s words but still hadn’t figured them out. She didn’t know how to put the demon back, what would happen if she tried and failed. Would it even work now that the mirror was broken? Was she already too late?

  Frustration burned through Elena. Her brow furrowed as she stew
ed. She hated not having the answer. She hated being stuck. But what could she do? She needed more time to figure it out, to go through her grandmother’s things again to see if she’d left any more clues. She needed to reexamine the mirror. Maybe there was another secret compartment hidden in the back. Or maybe it was like a magic mirror and she could just wish the demon away. She didn’t think it’d be that easy, but there was always a chance. It had worked in other fairy tales.

  Elena’s head hurt from thinking so hard and getting absolutely nowhere. She wasn’t going to solve this tonight. She’d just have to wait until the morning and keep her guard up in the meantime, steering clear of that girl and Steph, which wouldn’t be too hard since they appeared to be together.

  And then the thought struck her. Had Steph and Mary been on a date?

  No. That wasn’t possible. Steph wasn’t even out yet. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Not when Elena herself was still single. Still waiting on her mysterious texter to show his face.

  She fished in her purse and pulled out her phone. The screen flickered and she stared at it, willing a text to come through. He was supposed to message her. They were supposed to meet. Finally. Tonight. But she hadn’t heard from him all day. Was he ghosting her?

  No. There was still plenty of time. She was going to meet him and find out exactly which upperclassman was hiding behind that set of perfect abs. She was going to have a hot new boyfriend, and then she wouldn’t be the dateless one.

  As the phone screen went dark, Elena’s reflection flashed in the glossy black rectangle. She could have screamed. She looked terrible. Her makeup smeared. Her hair a tangled mess. Her tiara sitting crooked, barely hanging on to her head. That ride had done a number on her. She couldn’t risk meeting her future boyfriend looking like this. She had to fix it. Now.

  She scurried across the carnival grounds, her head held low, hand up to cover her face the best she could. Spotting a bathroom, she ducked inside, thankful it wasn’t a porta potty.

  Staring into the mirror, Elena realized the damage was worse than she’d thought. She looked like a monster, the zombie of Marie Antoinette who’d had her head sewn back on. It was all wrong. Luckily she’d brought her supplies. It’d been a chore to lug them around all night, but now it was paying off. She tipped her purse over and her makeup spilled across the counter. She picked up the eyeliner and got to work.

  As she redrew her eyes, added highlighter to her cheeks, and powdered her nose, Elena got lost in the routine, in the magic, as her blemishes disappeared, her skin smoothed, and she painted over her imperfections. A calm fell over her, almost like a trance, hypnotized by her own reflection.

  That’s right. Make yourself beautiful. Make yourself irresistible.

  Elena finished with her face and moved on to her hair, watching the locks fall against her shoulders as she pulled it down. She ran a brush through the tangles. Unkinked the snags. Then she swept it all back into an updo, hitting it with hair spray, teasing it out to make it big and beautiful and luxurious.

  Magnificent.

  Then Elena picked up a tube of lip liner. She twisted the top off and marveled at the deep red color, leaning close to the mirror, tilting her chin up. Carefully, she drew the brush across her throat, filling in the scar, the guillotine’s bite.

  I can make you a queen. Everyone will bow before you.

  She stared at her reflection, her nose pressed close to the glass, as if she planned on climbing through the mirror.

  I can give you everything you ever wanted.

  Elena’s pink lips smacked as she examined her face. Her perfect, beautiful face. She didn’t think she’d ever looked better.

  All you have to do is ask.

  A part of Elena knew the compliments were false. She knew that the demon was trying to trick her, like her grandmother had warned. But it was hard to resist the attention, to see through the flattery. There was something powerful in the praise. Something irresistible.

  Her phone buzzed, and Elena’s eyes flitted down to the screen, then back up to her face.

  One last look. For confidence.

  She swept all of her makeup into her purse and headed out, floating through the maze of carnival booths and rides, on her way to finally meet her dream boy.

  She passed ghost hunter dart games and bat ring tosses. Water gun wars where jack-o’-lantern balloons swelled to ginormous size before bursting. She dipped between bubbling cauldrons of cider and farm stands of candied apples. And then she spotted it. The Haunted Hall of History, a museum of silly made-up artifacts. The attraction where her mystery boy had told her to meet him. Only, no one was there.

  Elena sidled up to the front doors, glancing at her phone to make sure she hadn’t mistaken the message. She hadn’t. So she waited, watching people pass by, her heart quickening when someone appeared but then flatlining again when they passed her by. What was taking him so long? She didn’t have all night to wait.

  “Elena?”

  She jumped when she heard her name and spun around. She hadn’t even seen him come up. Then the door to the museum banged closed and she realized he must have been inside, waiting for her. Watching her.

  “Are you—”

  Elena cut off as she realized she didn’t know his name. Didn’t have anything to call him.

  “I am,” he replied, tipping his black, brimmed hat, which was pulled low over his forehead.

  He was shorter than she’d imagined. And a mask covered the majority of his face so that Elena couldn’t tell who he was. But as long as he had that six-pack hidden somewhere underneath his costume, Elena didn’t mind.

  “For you, my princess,” the boy said with a flourish, and Elena had to laugh as a rose appeared between his fingers. With the cheesy trick and his cape fluttering behind him, he looked kind of like a kid magician. But the Z on his chest gave his costume away.

  “Zorro?” Elena asked, taking the rose and delicately pressing it to her lips, hoping it made her look mature.

  “At your service.” He took her hand and kissed it, which sent butterflies dancing in Elena’s stomach. Something about his voice sounded familiar, but even as Elena looked close, she couldn’t figure it out.

  “So are you going to take off that mask and show me who you really are?” Elena asked, doing her best to sound sultry. “I’ve been dying to find out. And then maybe I can give you a real kiss.”

  The Zorro jerked back, his fingers picking at the hem of his cape. The bottom third of his face that Elena could see tightened, his lips pursing into a nervous seam.

  “Here, I’ll help you.” Elena leaned forward, leaving only a couple of inches between them. Her arms flowed around the back of his head, undoing the bow that kept his mask in place.

  “Fine,” the boy said, his hands snaking around her wrists. Hands that seemed too small and delicate for a junior or senior. “But promise you won’t be mad.”

  Elena didn’t have time to think about that as she lowered the mask and revealed her admirer’s face—a face that she suddenly, infuriatingly, recognized.

  “Martin,” she screamed as she pushed him away, her body shaking, her head on fire.

  “You said you wouldn’t be mad,” the boy whimpered.

  “Have you been texting me this whole time?” Elena sputtered, the fantasy crashing down around her. “Did you steal my number from your brother’s phone?”

  Martin shrank away, looking like the twelve-year-old he was, his mom catching him with his hand in the cookie jar. He was the kid brother Elena had witnessed annoying Henry for the last three years. The one Henry had told her had a crush on her. It seemed cute back then. But now—now it was just gross.

  Elena couldn’t believe it. He had fooled her. She had been texting with a seventh grader for almost a month. Flirting with him.

  “You—you—liar.”

  And before she knew it, her hand flew out and smacked him across the face.

  Tears welled up in his eyes. But she knew it couldn’t have hurt that mu
ch. Besides, he was the one in the wrong. He was the one who had tricked her. She was the victim here. She deserved to be angry. Deserved—

  She couldn’t look at him anymore. She had never been so embarrassed. She had to get out of there. Had to make sure no one saw. That no one knew. She spun on her heel and took off, making it all of five steps before spotting Grace.

  “Are you okay?” Grace asked, stopping Elena’s angry march. She was standing there with Calvin, both of them sporting big blue ribbons pinned to their chests. The happy costume-contest-winning couple. She could tell they’d been having a good night by their smiles. By the way they leaned into each other.

  “I’m fine,” Elena snapped, even though she was nothing of the sort.

  “Is that Henry’s little brother?” Grace asked, pointing over Elena’s shoulder. “Is he crying?”

  Elena sneaked a glance back to where Martin had dissolved into a pile of tears and snot.

  “What’d you do to him?”

  “What’d I do?” Elena huffed. It was the wrong thing to ask. Anger boiled right underneath her skin, scalding her insides as it bubbled. She couldn’t hold it back. “He catfished me. He tricked me into flirting with him.”

  “Wait,” Grace interrupted her, and Elena saw recognition twinkle in the girl’s eyes. She realized it was too late. “He was the guy you were texting with? He’s the reason Henry broke up with you?”

  “It’s none of your business why we broke up,” Elena shouted, happy when Grace took a step back. Happy to see the girl fishing out a necklace from underneath her dress, nervously fingering the charm. A locket that suddenly looked all too familiar.

  “That’s not yours.”

  Elena couldn’t believe it. How could Grace possibly have it? She took two steps forward and snatched the necklace out of the girl’s trembling fingers. Her grandmother’s necklace.

  “Hey,” Calvin cried. “That was Grace’s mother’s!”

  “No, it’s not.” Elena tugged the locket closer, dragging Grace’s head down with it. “It’s mine. My grandmother left it to me.”

  “Give it back.” Calvin looked ready to fight, which Elena found both surprising and pathetic. Did he like Grace that much? “It’s all Grace has left of her mother. She gave it to her before she died.”