The Pearl Earring

by Suzanne Weyn

  Jumping from her chair, Lily hugged Amy. “Thank you for talking her into it. I know it wasn’t easy.”

  “You’ve got to have your cell phone charged and on every minute.”

  “I will.”

  “And I’m going to drop you off in the morning.”

  “Okay.”

  “And you can’t go out without letting me know.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And for goodness sake — no more sleepwalking!”

  “I won’t!” Lily said. “I promise. Thank you for not telling Mom.”

  “I didn’t want to scare her or make her come get you,” Amy said. “What was going on in your head? Were you dreaming?”

  “I guess so,” Lily replied. She glanced at the portrait of Julia on the dresser. It looked exactly as it had when she received it.

  Or did it?

  Had there always been that hint of concern in the girl’s eyes?

  “I was dreaming about the portrait,” Lily said. “Amy, does it look any different to you than it did before?”

  Amy studied the painting quickly and then shook her head. “No. Does it look different to you?”

  “No,” Lily said quickly, but she wasn’t sure.

  That night, Amy slept with Lily on the pull-out bed. “I’m tying this string between my ankle and yours,” Amy said as she unwound a ball of yarn. “You won’t be able to get up without me knowing about it.”

  “We’re going to get tangled up,” Lily objected.

  “I don’t move much once I’m asleep,” Amy replied firmly. “It’ll be fine.”

  Almost as soon as she turned out the lamp, Amy was snoring lightly. Lily lay beside her, eyes wide open, thinking of the day’s events. Tomorrow she’d start modeling. It was so exciting!

  An unexpected cool breeze wafted in the window and drew Lily’s attention to the fluttering curtains, lit by the streetlamp outside the window. She’d been trying not to look at them because they drew her eye out the window. And she didn’t want to think about that because it scared her. She had almost jumped out the window. But why?

  Lily glanced once more at the portrait of Julia. She could see that new worried look in the eyes. Lily blinked hard, trying to return the girl’s expression to what it had been. This had to be a trick of the fan blades scattering the streetlight’s glow around the room.

  Lily shut her eyes and then checked again. Julia’s painted eyes bore into her. Dark circles had begun to form underneath them. The edges of her mouth drooped, and lines formed across her forehead.

  It’s melting. That had to be the answer. The paint was sliding down off the canvas. Daniella had said her art materials didn’t do well in the heat, but Lily had never imagined this.

  Lily turned to shake Amy awake — she had to see this — but Amy only sputtered and turned to her side.

  When Lily glanced back at the painting, Julia’s black hair had become streaked with wide bands of gray.

  And then the frame began to move, growing and expanding until the figure inside was life-size.

  Lily clutched Amy’s arm, terrified, as Julia began to rise. Her gnarled, veiny hands clutched the sides of the frame, pulling herself forward.

  A shriek of terror froze in Lily’s throat. She was too shocked to make a sound.

  Julia continued rising, climbing out of the frame until she was kneeling on the dresser. Her long white hair danced around her haggard face, tossed by the fan. Her lacy white dress was now so old and shredded that she seemed to be clothed in cobwebs.

  Spreading her arms wide, the ancient figure rose from the dresser and floated to the middle of the room, hovering above Lily.

  Lily trembled as any icy cold enveloped her, her teeth clacking together violently.

  The haggish figure gazed down at Lily and grinned. Rotted teeth began to fall onto Lily, hundreds of them, as if it were raining teeth.

  Shielding herself with her arm, Lily was deafened by the sound of her own screams.

  THE NEXT thing Lily knew, she was surrounded by light. It blinded her.

  “Are you all right, Lily?” Amy was on the floor beside her, their ankles still tied.

  Where was the floating figure? The teeth? What was happening?

  “Why are we on the floor?” Lily asked.

  “You screamed, fell out of bed, and dragged me with you.” Amy pushed her bright red hair out of her eyes. “That must have been some dream you had.”

  Lily quickly stood, looking around the room. The portrait of Julia sat on the dresser, returned to its normal size. She was nearly smiling, and her expression had returned to the way it was when Lily had first opened the package. Almost. That hint of worry still played in her eyes.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Amy asked, untying the string that connected them.

  “It wasn’t a dream,” Lily said, pointing to the portrait. “Amy, she grew old right in front of me, and climbed out of the frame.”

  “Out of the picture frame?” Amy asked doubtfully.

  “Yes!” Lily said. “She floated in the air, and her rotten teeth were falling out. But there were so many teeth!”

  Amy bent to pick something off the floor. “Do you mean a tooth like this?” she asked, holding up a brownish, pronged tooth.

  “Yes!” Lily shouted, cringing back in horror. “Do you see? It was real.”

  Amy shook her head and smiled gently. “Sorry, hon. My cat, Jinx, died just last week. She was twenty, which is ancient for a cat. At the end she was losing teeth like crazy. I’ve vacuumed a ton of them, but I’m still finding them around.”

  Lily stared at the pointed tooth, unconvinced.

  “It really happened, Aunt Amy,” she said. “At first I thought the paint was melting but then I saw she was growing older — right in front of me!”

  “You had a nightmare, kiddo. It happens,” Amy said. “I think you must have seen some of these teeth lying around and they worked themselves into your dream, like the fan did the other night when you thought you heard crying.”

  “No,” Lily sputtered, dismayed. “These things are really happening. They’re not like dreams at all.”

  “I know one thing,” Amy said, getting up and sitting on the bed. “Tomorrow when we go to Daniella’s place, we’re returning that portrait to her. It’s giving you nightmares.”

  “But we’ll insult her if we do that,” Lily said.

  “She’d probably want it back rather than have me throw it in the trash — because that’s where I’m putting it if she doesn’t take it back.”

  “All right. Okay,” Lily agreed. Even though the portrait was frightening, she couldn’t bear the idea of something so beautiful being thrown away.

  Amy went to the recycling pile out in the hall near the garbage chute and came back with a pile of last week’s newspapers. She used them to wrap the portrait, tying it up with the yarn she’d used to connect their ankles. “There,” she said, satisfied. “In the morning this is out of here.”

  Amy retied their ankles before shutting off the light to go back to sleep. “Sweet dreams this time,” she said to Lily as she made herself comfortable on the pillow.

  “Thanks. You, too.”

  But even though Lily tried to sleep, her mind raced. She remembered the sorrowful sobbing and pictured the lovely, young Julia floating out the window, leached of all color except for the orange light of the sunset behind her. The images of the paint melting down the canvas, the rapid aging Julia had undergone, and the terrible rain of rotting teeth played again and again in her mind.

  Lily’s imagination had never played tricks on her like this before. So why was it happening now?

  AT EIGHT the next morning, Amy and Lily were on the subway headed for Daniella’s apartment. Lily clutched the overhead bar as the tightly packed crowd swayed in unison every time the subway car went around a curve. The air conditioner blasted at full roar but the crush of commuting bodies overpowered it, making Lily feel almost dizzy with heat.

  “Welc
ome to rush hour on the subway,” Amy said with a smile, placing her hand on Lily’s back.

  “Why are so many people dressed in black in this heat?” Lily asked. Back home, pastels and bright colors were more common summer wear.

  “Black is New York chic,” Amy replied. She pointed to her own black cotton shirt.

  Lily suddenly felt out of place in her orange T-shirt and denim shorts. Amy caught her expression and smiled. “Don’t worry. Not everyone wears black.”

  Looking around, Lily saw that there was still a mix of colors despite the multitude of black.

  With a squeal of brakes, the subway stopped and the doors whooshed open. “This is our stop, kiddo,” Amy told her.

  When they came up from the subway onto the sidewalk, Amy tucked the wrapped portrait of Julia under her arm.

  They walked, and Lily looked around, watching the city come to life — so many people already heading to work. The traffic was heavy on the streets. The crowds walking in both directions forced Lily and Amy to bob and weave through them.

  Lily wondered if she would move to Manhattan if she became a model. She’d probably have to, and she decided that was fine. Despite the constant noise and the crowds, she liked it here. The activity and excitement of it all appealed to her.

  “This has really worked out great, hasn’t it?” Amy said. “Now you have something interesting to do while I’m at work. You don’t have to be cooped up in my apartment all alone. Plus, Daniella keeps her air-conditioning at full blast. What could be better than that?”

  Lily hoped Audreen Santos would be home and could see her. Well, sort of. The idea of talking about the spirit world had tied her stomach into a knot. But the thought of falling out a window or having more terrifying dreams was worse, and this was the only hope she had of understanding what was happening.

  “Come on, Lily, smile,” Amy urged. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  Lily forced a fake smile but then relaxed into a real one. Amy was right. It would be fine. Modeling for Daniella Artel was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She should be happy, not worried.

  They turned right onto Leonard Street and found Daniella’s apartment. “Good luck today, Lily,” Amy said.

  “Thanks.” Lily headed to the front door and pushed it open with a wave to her aunt. Then she abruptly turned back. “I almost forgot the painting.”

  “Oh! Right! The …” Amy looked all around but she had no painting. “Where could it have gone?” she remarked. “I was sure I had it.”

  “You did. It was under your arm,” Lily said. “What happened?”

  “This is impossible. How could it just disappear?” Amy said.

  “It must have slipped out from under your arm.”

  Amy and Lily retraced their path back to the subway station. “I know I had it when we came above ground,” Amy recalled.

  They checked in corners, near trash bins, and under cars parked on the street, but the painting wasn’t there. Lily and Amy stared at each other, both of them baffled.

  “I guess we wanted to get rid of the painting anyway,” Amy said.

  “What if someone finds it and returns it to Daniella?” Lily asked, worried.

  “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

  Lily nodded. That would definitely be awkward.

  “We’d better get going,” Amy told Lily.

  With a nod, Lily waved good-bye to Amy again as she descended down the subway stairs.

  Lily walked back to Daniella’s apartment and was in front of the building when her phone buzzed inside her bag. Lily took it out and clicked the message icon.

  Instead of opening a message from Amy like she’d expected, a video came on.

  It was video from the night before. The ancient hag Julia floated in the air. She screamed, and teeth flew from her mouth. There were hundreds of teeth, brown and rotten and impossible, more teeth than one human could possibly have. Lily held the phone at arm’s length, as far from her eyes as she possibly could.

  But under the terrible scream, Lily heard the spirit saying something — or attempting to speak, anyway. Her words were a garbled roar.

  Lily held the phone closer to her ear, listening. It sounded as though several people were talking at once, and their words overlapped so that there was no way for them to be heard clearly.

  Why hadn’t she noticed the voices last night? Probably because she’d been too terrified by what she was seeing.

  Lily’s hand shook but she didn’t want to drop her phone. This was her proof. She hadn’t imagined anything.

  But who could have taken this?

  Who had sent it?

  Her hand was trembling so hard that Lily couldn’t read the name of the sender when she tried to check it.

  Finally she steadied herself enough to see what the phone said.

  Nothing! There was no sender.

  Lily stood on the sidewalk, her heart racing.

  “Are you ready to start working?”

  Startled by the unexpected voice, Lily yelped and jumped back. Daniella Artel stood in the shade of her apartment building, holding the door open. “Daniella, you scared me!”

  “Sorry, dear,” Daniella apologized. Her blond hair was tied back in a colorful silk scarf and she wore a plain white sundress. “You seem distressed. Is everything all right?”

  “I … I just got a very strange video from someone,” Lily replied. “It was a text message, but with no sender!”

  “I don’t understand,” Daniella said. “These new gadgets are a mystery to me; I don’t have a cellular phone.”

  “Here, I’ll show you,” Lily said.

  But she wasn’t quite sure how to get back to the video. She checked her video app, but the last thing there was a video of the spring play at school. Maybe it was in a text message?

  Lily hesitated. Did she really want to see this again?

  Yes — she did. She needed to show someone.

  Lily checked her texts and saw that the most recent message had come from a number marked 000000. “Here. Look at this,” Lily said, hitting the number and handing the phone to Daniella.

  A horrendous shrieking blasted from the phone.

  Daniella cringed away, stumbling backward, dropping the phone on the sidewalk and covering her ears.

  Lily jumped, too. The scream was making her ears hurt.

  “Make it stop!” Daniella cried.

  Lily bent for the phone and saw only white static crackling on the screen. But something about the screaming was familiar.

  She was reaching for the phone when she realized where she’d heard that screaming before.

  It was her own voice.

  LILY SAT on a high stool with her long hair fanned around her shoulders, one side tucked behind her ear. Daniella moved a screen to bounce some light toward Lily, then stepped back to study her. “You wore a T-shirt and shorts, very good,” she said. “But it’s too plain by itself. What else should you wear?”

  “Some kind of sweater?” Lily suggested. “I’m kind of cold.”

  Daniella crossed the room to a large black trunk and lifted the lid. It was full of colorful folds of fabric, which Daniella rummaged through before withdrawing a purple-and-blue, paisley-print shawl. “This could be striking with your dark hair and eyes,” she remarked. “Let’s try it.”

  As she draped it around Lily’s shoulders, Lily cast an anxious glance at her bag, where she’d stowed her phone. What would she find the next time she looked at it?

  “Worried about your phone?” Daniella asked.

  Lily nodded, remembering the awful screaming.

  “I’m sure it was simply a malfunction,” Daniella said. “That wasn’t a scream. I’ve heard audio equipment make a similar high-pitched sound when it starts to go bad. They probably have to fix a wire or some such nuisance.”

  But where could the video have come from?

  “You won’t have to worry about your phone while you’re with me,” Daniella added, still fussing with th
e scarf. “I don’t have any computers here.”

  “Why not?” Lily asked.

  “I hate the things. They confuse me. It took me long enough to get used to the telephone.”

  Lily looked at the old rotary-style phone on Daniella’s table. “Didn’t you grow up using a phone?” Lily asked. Daniella wasn’t a very young woman but she wasn’t ancient, either.

  “I grew up on a farm,” Daniella said, stepping back. Something dark and guarded in her tone gave Lily the impression that this wasn’t a happy memory. “We didn’t have many modern conveniences.”

  “Was that in Arkham, Massachusetts?” Lily asked.

  Daniella stared at her sharply. “How do you know that?”

  Lily regretted having spoken. Clearly Daniella wasn’t happy.

  “I read it.”

  “Where?” Daniella demanded.

  “Online. After you sent Julia’s portrait, Aunt Amy and I wanted to know more about you, so we Googled you. You’re in Wikipedia.”

  “You what? I’m in what?”

  “Wikipedia. It’s an online encyclopedia.”

  “These are all computer things I assume,” Daniella said, her distress diminishing. “You say there’s information about me available through a computer? Who would have put it there?”

  “I don’t know. Anyone can enter things into the Wikipedia website.”

  “Web? Oh, never mind,” Daniella said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “The invasion of my privacy disturbs me deeply, though. There was a time when one could bury one’s past in the past.”

  “Why would … one … want to do that?” Lily asked. “It sounds to me like you’ve had a very interesting life.”

  “Yes. But my life is my business.”

  “I suppose so,” Lily agreed. She’d never experienced a world where there was no Internet — how hard must it have been to find anything without Google?

  “No matter,” Daniella said, brightening. “There’s nothing computerish here, so your pesky phone can’t bother you.”

  “You don’t have any Wi-Fi?” Lily asked.

  “Whatever that is — I assure you I don’t have it.”