Scary Mary

by S. A. Hunter

  “There’s nothing to tell.” Rachel glared at her. She hunched her shoulders and put her hands up. “I didn’t hear anything. Believe me, I tried to find him. Ricky didn’t want to talk.”

  “He talked to you plenty when we sneaked over. He practically hauled you into the basement to ‘talk’ to you.”

  “He didn’t make a peep this time, even after I called him a piece of feces.”

  "A piece of feces?"

  "I like the way it sounds, so?"

  “Where’s the anchor?”

  “I have no clue. If it’s down there, it’s hidden.”

  “So why’d you tear out of there?”

  Mary scowled. “Because Kyle is a jerk.”

  “We knew that already.”

  “Yeah, well, he really, really is.”

  “So what’d Ricky say?”

  “He didn’t say anything!”

  Rachel gave her a hard look. “You’re not going to go over there without me, are you?”

  She didn’t have an immediate answer. The truth was that she hadn’t thought about going over again, or what her next move would be if she had a next move. “No, of course not,” she finally stammered.

  Rachel hadn’t liked her pause. “Whatever you say, Mary,” she said in a flat tone. She turned back toward the steering wheel and pulled back onto the street. Mary could see her jaw was clenched. What was with people not believing her today? He didn’t believe his house was haunted, and now Rachel didn’t believe her when she told her that the spook hadn’t spoken to her or that she wouldn’t do anything without her.

  When they pulled up to her house, Mary opened her door, but she couldn’t get out without trying to convince Rachel one more time that she was telling the truth. “I really didn’t hear Ricky. I don’t know why. Maybe he knew I was up to something. I’ll have to come up with a new plan to get rid of him.”

  “Look, if you don’t want to tell me, fine, but don’t think you’re going to shut me out on this,” Rachel said.

  She raised her hands again. “I’m not shutting you out. I swear.” Rachel looked at her for a long moment and then nodded her head once. “Are we cool?”

  It hurt a little that Rachel had to think about it before answering. They were usually always in sync. “Yeah. So what’s our next move?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll talk to Gran. See if we can make up some charms or something to put in the house.”

  “Okay,” she said. Mary could tell that Rachel still thought she was holding back on what had happened, but nothing had happened, except Kyle had majorly pissed her off, and she could admit, at least to herself, that he’d freaked her out a little too. If she never saw him again, she wouldn’t miss him. She shook her head. She got out and went into the house. She needed to discuss the situation with Gran. She hoped she’d believe her.

  Chapter 11

  Help

  Gran was in her office or ‘nexus of spirituality’ as she told some of her more gullible clients. Mary pushed the beads aside and stuck her head in. Gran was between clients and using her time by polishing her crystals.

  She looked up and smiled. “Mary, I didn’t hear you come in. Where were you this afternoon?”

  She hung back at the doorway. She knew Gran wouldn’t like her answer. “Over at Cy’s.”

  Gran frowned. “What were you doing there?”

  “I was trying to find Ricky’s anchor.”

  “You know that’s dangerous.”

  “Yeah, but I’m trying to help Cy.”

  Gran shook her head. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” she replied and shifted her weight back and forth.

  “Nothing?” Gran set down the amethyst that she’d been polishing to give her full attention.

  She looked down at her shoes. She really wasn’t going to like this. “He played dumb when I tried drawing him out.”

  Gran looked over her glasses at her. “You goaded him? Mary, that was very foolish. I know I taught you better than that. There’s no telling what an angry spirit would do to you or anyone else.”

  Mary nodded. “I know, but he didn’t respond to me at all. It was so weird, but I’m still worried he’ll bother Cy and his family. I thought maybe that you could make up something to protect them. You know with some of your hocus pocus.”

  Gran sighed and picked up the amethyst again. “One day, you will respect your grandmother and her meager abilities.”

  She moved to Gran’s side and knelt on the floor. She set the amethyst aside and took both her hands in hers. “I do respect you, Gran, and your abilities aren’t meager. You’re the most awesome fortuneteller this side of the Mississippi, and you should put that on your business cards. Could you help me make some charms for their house? Please?”

  She could tell by her smile that Gran wasn’t really upset with her. “I have to go to the store to get supplies, but it’s too late to go now. It’ll have to be tomorrow.”

  “All right.” She was relieved that Gran was on board with this. “Rachel might come over to help out.”

  Gran pushed her glasses back onto her nose. “I doubt this is what Mr. Landa meant when he advised extracurricular activities.”

  Mary smirked. “It keeps me off the streets.”

  Gran chuckled a moment, but then she looked down at her and a soft smile spread across her face. “Fiona would be so proud of you if she could see you right now.”

  Mary froze at the mention of her mother. “Proud of what?”

  Gran smoothed back Mary’s hair. “She’d be proud of how you’re dealing with your gift and using it to help others.”

  “But Mom didn’t have the gift.” Her throat was getting tight. It always did on the subject of her parents.

  “No, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t know how the gift made others pull away and hide.”

  “What?” She’d never heard anything about this.

  “There are those with the gift that consider it a curse. I know that you’ve resented your gift, but you’ve never seen yourself as evil for having it.”

  “Of course not,” she said, a little affronted by the idea.

  “Of course not,” Gran repeated softly. “But your mother knew people who did feel that way, and it upset her greatly. She tried to convince them that they were not evil, but she couldn’t reach them. She knew that you could have the gift. It’s prevalent in our family, but she hoped that you would not end up like those sad souls who punished themselves simply for being the way they were.”

  “Gran, who was it that Mom was trying to help?” Mary was curious because she’d only ever known of Gran and herself as having the gift.

  Gran shook her head. “They’re distant cousins. I doubt you’ll ever meet them.”

  “But if Mom knew them--”

  “Your mother sought them out, and they made their desire not to be contacted ever again very clear. They’re melancholy souls who are content with their unhappiness.”

  Car tires crunched on the gravel drive. Gran looked out the window. “That’s Mrs. Polk. She made an urgent appointment about Chowder.”

  “How urgent can a dead dog be?”

  She shrugged her shoulders and began putting her crystals away. “We’ll just have to see.”

  Mary slipped out of Gran’s office and went up to her room to do homework. Half an hour later, She was lying on the floor doing Latin homework when a familiar red bouncy ball fell onto her textbook.

  “Huh?” She picked up the ball.

  “Arf!”

  She sat up with a jerk. “Chowder?”

  “Arf!”

  Her bedroom door opened, and Gran came in. Tucked under her arm was Chowder. “What are you doing with him?”

  Gran gave her a guilty smile and stroked the stuffed dog’s head. “We seem to have a new addition to the family.”

  “WHAT?”

  “Chowder and Mrs. Polk’s new Dachshund Tipsy aren’t getting along. Tipsy barks at Chowder’s body day and night. Mrs. Polk thought th
at we would be a better home for him.”

  “She couldn’t do the sensible thing—like bury him?”

  Chowder whined. Mary looked in his general direction with a frown. “Do you want to put him to rest?” Gran asked. She didn’t sound happy.

  “You’re suggesting we keep a dead dog as a pet.”

  “He’s sweet.”

  “He’s dead.”

  Gran held the Scottish Terrier up to her face and looked into its glass eyes. “I suppose you’re right. We should let him go.”

  She stared at her grandmother’s unhappy face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “Well…he would be easier to keep than a live dog. I mean he doesn’t eat, poop, or shed.”

  “That’s true,” Gran replied. The corners of her mouth tilted up a fraction.

  “I guess we could keep him around for a while and see how it goes.”

  “As a trial run.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, but as soon as he chews up any of my shoes, he’s getting a funeral.”

  Gran nodded and tucked Chowder back under her arm. Mary picked up the ball and tossed it into the hall. The scrabbling of tiny paws followed it. Gran grinned.

  “You are such a softy,” she groaned and flopped onto her back.

  “It runs in the family,” Gran replied with a smirk. Mary frowned in response.

  ~~ ~~ ~~

  She tapped her pencil impatiently on her desk. The clock had to be messed up. It’d been a quarter till twelve for the past five minutes, and she really had to go to the bathroom. She tapped her pencil faster.

  “Hey Mary, do you fly around on a broomstick, or have you upgraded to a Hoover?” a guy two seats from her whispered.

  “Neither. How about you? Do you still fantasize about Ariel, or have you graduated to Pamela Lee Anderson yet?” The guy scowled as his face turned red, and all of his friends snickered. Mr. Jacobs, their Latin teacher yelled at them to pay attention. She looked at the clock again, and her eyes bulged. It was now eighteen minutes until twelve. That was it. She was going. She pushed herself out of her chair and went to the front. The reason she’d hoped to wait for the bell sat beside the door. Mr. Jacobs insisted that his students carry a large wooden paddle as their bathroom pass. She suspected that it was a vestige of his fraternity days. She picked up the paddle and stalked out of the room. Some teachers were just sadistic.

  She ducked into the girls’ bathroom with a sigh. She did her business and went to the mirror to touch up her make-up. She’d been laying it on thick since the séance at Cy’s house. The palest foundation, thick black eye-liner, heavy mascara, and black lipstick put her face in such sharp contrasts that the makeup muted her emotions. Mary doubted Cover Girl intended for their foundation to hide emotional blemishes like sadness and hurt, but if applied thick enough, it could even hide anguish, and she’d need all the shielding she could get because just then Vicky came in.

  “Uh oh, the town freak’s adjusting her mask,” Vicky said.

  Mary’s eyes slid to Vicky’s reflection in the mirror. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fakest of them all? Oh never mind, I see her.” She drew a large circle around Vicky’s reflection with her black lipstick. Vicky’s mouth thinned as she glowered at her. Mary smiled brightly back through the mirror.

  “Why do they let freaks like you into this school?”

  “Because they’re EOS-Equal Opportunity Suckage. Can’t let anyone miss out on the misery.”

  Vicky shook her head and stepped up to the sink. She unzipped her purse and pulled out a tube of concealer. Mary began touching up her lipstick. She wasn’t about to leave. She was there first. She wasn’t going to scurry away because of Vicky.

  Vicky glanced over and tsked. “I will never understand the reject beauty regime. Why bother to make yourself look uglier?”

  “Not everyone thinks it’s ugly.”

  Vicky laughed. “Um, yeah, they do.”

  Mary ignored her and pulled out her mascara.

  “Give up, Mary. You’ll never get him back.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he told me that desperate story you made up to get invited back to his house. Haunted? Please. He told me that you wussed out anyway. What? Couldn’t find any chains to rattle?”

  “That’s your kink not mine. Afraid the boys might run away?”

  Vicky rolled her eyes and shoved her tube of concealer back in her purse. “You are so full of crap. Don’t expect to be invited back over. Ever.”

  “That’s what really eats you up, isn’t it? He’s invited me over, but you have to show up uninvited to get through the door. He must not like you so much.”

  Vicky’s eyes narrowed and pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “Listen you psycho-freak, Cy is too good for you. He’s nice, thoughtful, and smart. Totally out of your league.”

  “You know, psychologists have discovered this thing called projecting. You might want to look it up.”

  “I know what projecting is. You might want to look up schizophrenia.”

  “Ooh, someone’s been to therapy.”

  “I wouldn’t talk, little Miss Landa’s pet. Is he writing a book on you or something?”

  “I go because I have this nasty habit of bucking the system by righting injustices and punishing those who richly deserve it. The hegemony doesn’t like it, and what they don’t like must be wrong.”

  “Do you even know what hegemony means?”

  “Do you?”

  Vicky’s eyes darted away, and she shook her head. “You are so screwed up. That is why Cy dumped you. Oh wait, you two never went out. My mistake.”

  Her hand curled around her tube of mascara. She told herself that she wasn’t going to take a swing at Vicky. It would land her into more trouble than she wanted. But it was tempting. Very tempting.

  “Anyway, I have to go. Nice chatting with you. I hope you find some nice dead things to keep you company. Everyone deserves someone, and I’m sure there are some lovely losers for you at the cemetery. Why don’t you spare yourself any future humiliation and stick with your own kind? He may have hung with you for a second, but he knows better now.”

  She stared at Vicky and kept her eyes trained on her. She had to keep from blinking or tears might spill. She wished she didn’t let her words cut her like they did, but the cuts were bleeding. Vicky took one last look in the mirror and fluffed her hair. When Vicky finally left, Mary turned back to the mirror, and from her new angle, the black circle was around her reflection, and her reflection stared at her, and she stared back it. There wasn’t anything more to say.

  She trudged back to class. The paddle hung at her side. She wasn’t watching where she was going so when she turned a corner, she ran face first into someone. She stumbled back. When she saw that the someone was Kyle, she raised the paddle up defensively. He was the last person she’d wanted to see.

  “Watch where you’re going, freak.”

  She rolled her eyes and moved to step around him. Kyle mirrored her move and blocked her. Mary let out a huff. “Sorry, Kyle.”

  “Yeah, you should be.” She rolled her eyes again. She didn’t need this. Not right after her encounter with Vicky. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll make you sorry.”

  Mary’s eyes narrowed, and she purposefully rolled her eyes again. Kyle lashed out and grabbed the paddle, shocking her. She hadn’t expected him to get physical. She held on tight to the paddle. She had a feeling that letting him have it would be a very bad idea. “Let it go, Kyle,” she said through clenched teeth.

  He sneered. “Or what?”

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble, but if you don’t let go, I’ll give you some.” It was big talk, but she wasn’t going to back down.

  He smirked and pulled the paddle and subsequently her closer. They were nose-to-nose or rather nose-to-neck since Kyle was taller. She could read the inscription on the gold locket pee
king out of Kyle’s button collar: ‘Together Forever’ She briefly wondered who would’ve given that to him and hoped that the girl had reneged on the offer.

  Kyle leaned over her and said into her ear, “Let me tell you something, Mary. I can do whatever I want to whomever I want. I can do anything that I want.”

  “Boy, do you need a reality check.”

  He looked her up and down contemptuously. “And who’s going to give it to me?”

  “Well, if you’re looking for volunteers.” She shoved him with the paddle, but he’d anticipated the move. He took a step back and swung her around, so that her back hit the wall and pinned her. She was trapped between a wall and a jerkface. Not what she’d planned.

  “Face it Mary, I’m better than you. You might not accept it, but you’ll always be nothing,” he said.

  Her eyes narrowed. In a low voice, she spat out, “Listen you egotistical, testosterone deluded, wanna-be big man: I am NOT nothing. I don’t care what you think or what anyone else thinks and that’s what makes me special. You, on the other hand, pander to anyone or anything if you think that will make you more accepted. It’s so pathetic and stupid. They should make people like you ride the short bus.”

  Kyle’s face twisted in anger. He opened his mouth to say something back, but voices coming down the hall stopped him. She saw her chance. She jerked the paddle from his grasp and slipped a couple of safe steps away. Two guys walked by them. They gave Kyle and her curious glances but kept going. She fell into step behind them, leaving Kyle behind. The paddle shook in her hands.

  The lunch bell rang as she reentered class. She collected her books to go outside and meet up with Rachel. She slung her bag onto her shoulder and lowered her head for her usual foray into the halls, but for once, all of the stares and whispers were comforting because if they were watching her then maniacal, fat-headed bullies, otherwise known as Kyle, couldn’t trap her alone and make nasty threats.

  Rachel was sitting in their usual spot outside. She was already eating and had a textbook open in front of her. She flopped down across from her. “Hey,” she greeted. Rachel gave her a flick of the eyes and returned to her book. She didn’t notice Rachel’s silence. She was still off center after her run-ins with Vicky and Kyle. Vicky said Cy didn’t believe her at all. No, he didn’t just not believe her, he was laughing at her. Well, she hadn’t expected him to call a priest for an exorcism just on her claims, but his total rejection of her abilities rattled her. He’d seen the Ouija board. She’d shown him the newspaper articles. What more could she do to prove his house was haunted? Then there was Kyle...She didn’t know what his problem was. She was used to people antagonizing her, but Kyle seemed to want to do more than antagonize her. Frankly, he was starting to scare her, and Mary didn’t scare easily.