I backed away. “Who are you?” I didn’t trust new servants, especially this one. Her nose was flat, and her eyes were plain. She was ugly. Ugly was bad. Pretty was good.
Princess patted the new servant on the arm. “This is Yolanda. You met her this morning, remember? Yolanda is one of our nurse’s assistants.”
“A servant’s servant?”
Squeaky Shoes looked bewildered.
Pretty Princess laughed. She pointed to the man next to her. “She’s a CNA. Just like Michael.”
I was glad she reminded me his name was Michael. I always called him the Black Bear because he had so much hair—especially on his arms. The Black Bear didn’t act like a servant. He used charm as an excuse to be completely unwilling to submit. Something about him made me distrust him, possibly his dark piercing eyes. They were just as dark as his hair that he kept pulled back with a black band. The Black Bear saw too much, and he refused to cower. Servants who refused to cower were dangerous.
I stared through a nearby window at the night sky. The moon was wrong. It was only half a circle. I needed it to be a full circle. “I only get one more,” I mumbled.
“One more what?”
I pointed at the moon. “One more circle. Then it’s over.”
The squeaky shoes servant gaped at me in confusion.
“You’ll get used to it,” said my Pretty Princess. “Michael, can you get that axe before someone else tries to use it?” She gave me a stern look. “That’s the third painting you’ve ruined. How do you keep finding that axe?”
I laughed and then coughed. It almost sounded like a cackle. “I watch when it gets put back.” Sometimes the servants ask the silliest questions.
Black Bear stepped up to the painting and grabbed the axe. “So why Pinkie this time?”
“Because it needs to be the prettiest.” Pretty was good. Ugly was bad. For it to work it had to be the prettiest.
Michael grunted as he tried to remove the axe. “You’ve managed to get this thing in there good and tight.” He jiggled the axe a bit and finally loosened it. “And what picture do you plan to destroy next time?”
“The prettiest.” I didn’t quite understand why the Bear had such a difficult time understanding what I was saying. He usually was the smartest.
Black Bear’s eyes twinkled. “That means you won’t be coming after me.”
“Not you.” I looked away, back outside the window at the moon that was wrong. “You aren’t necessary. A mere servant.” I needed the moon to be a circle, and I needed to concentrate. Time was short.
Michael placed one arm across his stomach, threw the other in the air with dramatic flair, and bowed. “And I serve only you, my lady.” He was charming, that one. Something about him jogged my memory. I saw flashes of a face in the woods with determined, defiant eyes. And I kept picturing a dark wooden box.
A door down the hall swung open, and a woman ran out stark naked. Her white hair flew about, and her lips curved in around her toothless gums. With each step, her wrinkled skin flopped and flapped in all the wrong directions. “The night is young!” She raised her arms over her head, and all the loose skin fell to her shoulders. “Come get me!” She passed without noticing us.
I stared at her backside, which had just as many floppy folds as the front. For a moment, I remembered why I called her Bags. “She is definitely not the prettiest.”
I must have said something funny because the Black Bear closed his eyes so tight that his cheeks looked like they would touch his forehead, and Squeaky Shoes leaned against the wall, covering her mouth and trying not to laugh.
Nurse Princess sighed. “And that is Violet,” she told Squeaky. “Violet doesn’t like clothes.”
“And she bites,” added the Bear.
This, I already knew, but Bags only bit me once, and I had made sure she knew never to bite me again.
“They’re here!” yelled a loud voice from the Colonel’s quarters next to us. “It’s Charlie! It’s Charlie! Down everyone! Down!”
I didn’t like the Colonel that much. He was always yelling at or about two imaginary people named Nam and Charlie, and they didn’t seem very nice. Other people’s pretend friends were nice. I always wondered why this man had such mean un-real friends.
Princess looked frustrated. “Michael, go calm the Colonel.”
Black Bear headed into the Colonel’s quarters. “We’ve got everything under control, sir,” I heard him say. “We’re sending out an armed platoon. You just hunker down in this bed right here, and we’ll get them. And stay real quiet. We don’t want them to find you.”
“I hate it when he eggs them on like that,” said Princess. “But it works, and they calm down.”
I think she was just talking to Squeaky Shoes and not to me. The servants did that a lot.
Princess pointed to the axe on the ground. “Make sure to put that away. Especially before the Colonel mistakes someone for Viet Cong.”
Squeaky Shoes picked up the axe. “Sure thing.”
I tried to keep my eyes on Squeaky Shoes. The axe was important, just like the moon.
Princess lifted my arm and traced the letters I had written. Her touch was tender. She would have made a good daughter. “You’ve been writing on yourself again.” She patted my robe’s pocket. “Do I need to stop giving you Sharpies?”
I reached down and felt two markers in my pocket, but I didn’t remember putting them there. Tonight was a bad night, and the halls weren’t made of stone. I needed my stone walls back.
Pretty Princess examined my arm. “Beware of Michael,” she read aloud.
Michael! That was the word I couldn’t read. I had to beware of Michael, but I couldn’t remember why.
“Are you still hating on that boy? He’s nothing but nice to you.”
“Who’s Michael?” I asked. I couldn’t remember anyone named Michael, but it was a bad night. Maybe the Black Bear would know.
Nurse Princess took me by the shoulders and helped me up. “Come on, sweetie.” She handed me my walker. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
Scuff-scuff. Scuff-scuff. I liked to listen to my red slippers scrape against the carpet two steps at a time. Scuff-scuff. Scuff-scuff. I liked the rhythm; the rhythm was right. The servants and the others walked wrong. I turned around and watched Squeaky Shoes place the axe in the supply closet. The axe was important.
***
Pretty Princess led me to the door of my chambers. A sign next to the door read Helena Gretchen Walker.
“Let’s get you back to bed, Miss Helena,” said the Princess.
“That’s not my name,” I insisted.
“Then what is your name?”
I hated it when the servants asked me that question. They knew I couldn’t remember it, but I knew my name wasn’t Helena.
She led me into the room.
I liked my chambers. The gray-blue walls reminded me of a foggy day in autumn. The servants put bars on my bed, I guess to keep me from escaping, but they never worked.
“I need to look at my reminders,” I told Nurse Princess. I headed to the bathroom and turned on the light.
Princess leaned up against the door jamb near the mirror and pointed to black shaky letters and doodles scrawled all over the wall surrounding the bathroom mirror.
“I really need to stop giving you Sharpies,” she said.
I gazed into the mirror, but the face that stared back at me wasn’t mine. The face was ugly and withered and leathery, just like my arms and hands. The hair was white, and I knew my hair should not be white. The skin under my eyes was baggy. My earlobes were longer than I remembered them being. “Am I pretty?”
The mirror said nothing, just like always. The mirror had refused to talk to me, and that often made me angry.
I turned to my Pretty Princess. “Why don’t the mirrors talk here?”<
br />
“I don’t think they talk anywhere, Miss Helena.”
“You’re wrong. Mirrors do talk.” I repeated the things I knew. “Mirrors talk. Pretty is good. Time is short. I need to beware of something. And I only have one more circle.” I turned to Nurse Princess. “You may go now. And tell Michael that I know what he is up to.”
The Pretty Princess smiled. She had such a nice smile, and she still had all of her teeth. Bags didn’t have any teeth left. I rubbed my tongue across my gums. I only had seven, but that seemed wrong.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Helena.”
“That’s not my name.”
I waited for her to leave with impatience. I wanted to read my reminders in private.
I glanced at the reminders that I had written myself around the mirror. Some of them were barely legible—when I had bad days. And it wasn’t just words. I saw apples—lots of apples. I liked apples, but only the red ones. I also saw stars and lots of arrows. Sometimes the arrows worked; sometimes they didn’t. I decided to see if the arrows would work tonight. I touched one arrow and followed it. I used my finger this time instead of just my eyes. The arrows didn’t always work if I used only my eyes. I reached another arrow and felt excitement.
The arrows might work tonight!
I followed that one, and I passed twelve circles. Eleven of them had been crossed out. I only had one circle left.
Under the sink, I found the final arrow. I traced it to a crack in the wall. I touched the crack and realized that a piece of the drywall was loose. I pulled out a chunk and looked inside. I found a thin strip of paper lying on a wooden box. I felt too exhausted to try to remove the box. My arms ached for some reason, but I couldn’t remember why. I did, however, pull out the paper. It was a clipping from an old newspaper, but it was yellow instead of gray. The words, Don’t tell Michael, were scrawled across it in pencil. I turned the clipping over. It was some kind of article, and it featured a picture of a woman who looked just like the face I kept seeing in all the mirrors. I guessed it was me, but I didn’t remember looking like that. I squinted and held it far away so I could read it. Funny, I didn’t remember having to ever do that.
Obituary: Helena Gretchen Walker, died December 20th of complications from Alzheimer’s Disease.
I folded the clipping and stuffed it back into the hole in the wall. I definitely could not tell Michael.
I pulled a marker out of my pocket and wrote everything I had learned tonight on the mirror, including the obituary listing that indicated I had been dead for almost a year.
***
I woke up with sore arms the next morning. Sunlight poured through my window. I liked mornings. My thoughts were less foggy. I stared at the walls for a while. I liked the color but they should have been made of stone. These walls crumbled too easily. You could hide things in them.
I washed up, staring in the mirror at a face that wasn’t mine. “Am I pretty?” I asked.
The mirror said nothing. I decided I didn’t like the mirrors today. They refused to talk to me, and they made me look ugly. I couldn’t be ugly because ugly was bad.
I looked at the wall at my reminders.
Time is short.
Find the box. That’s right, I needed a box, but I only remembered I needed a box on the good days.
Beware of Michael. I had written that one a lot.
The key is in the apples. I smiled. Apples were good. I liked apples—especially red ones. Green and yellow ones were wrong. I suspected apples were important, just like the axe.
I discovered some new reminders I must have written last night—right on the mirror. Usually I wrote them on the wall. These must have been really important.
Squeaky Shoes is ugly.
The axe is in the closet.
Follow the arrows to the box.
You are dead.
I sighed. The arrows didn’t always work, and I had to find the box. I wrote a few reminders on my arm in case I needed them later today.
I hobbled to the closet to dress for breakfast. I chose a purple shirt. I liked deep purple. I also took out a pair of Kelly green pants. I preferred dresses, but I didn’t have any. I think the servants liked them too much and stole them. I knew I was forgetting something. Stockings. The girls these days didn’t wear stockings, and I thought that wasn’t very lady-like. I walked to the drawer. Scuff-scuff. Scuff-scuff. I chose black stockings because those were fancy, and I felt fancy today. I pulled them on over my pants. Then I put on my red slippers. I looked around. I was missing one more thing: my crown, which was round and gold. The servants were always hiding it from me. I thought they were playing a game, but I would find it.
I rummaged through my drawers, throwing all the clothes onto the floor. I moved to the bathroom and searched. I noticed a crack in the wall. I pulled out a piece of the drywall and looked inside. A yellowed piece of paper and a wooden box were tucked away inside the hole.
My reminders say I need a box.
This made me happy. I didn’t want to rely on faulty arrows.
I pulled the deep mahogany box out and set it on my bathroom counter. A circle surrounding a five-pointed star was carved in the center of the lid. Each point of the star had a hole bored into it. The sides of the box were carved with apples. I smiled. I liked apples, but only the red ones. I tried to open it, but it was locked. My reminders said apples had a key inside. I would search for an apple later. Right now, I needed to find my crown.
I finally located it in my closet. The servants lost this round. I placed it on my head and headed to breakfast. I felt like quite the lady. I was wearing fancy black stockings and my crown.
I headed to the dining hall with my walker. Scuff-scuff. Scuff-scuff. I liked that rhythm. I avoided looking at the others. They scared me. They focused straight ahead, staring at nothing. Indistinguishable words left their lips in whispers. The women wore skirts that often gathered in the wrong places, and they rarely wore stockings. They just weren’t lady-like. The men’s loose pants hung at odd angles. Some of them gnawed at nothing with their toothless smiles. I took the most issue with how the others walked. Scuff. Scuff. Scuff. Scuff. They walked wrong. They should have been stepping in twos.
Scuff-scuff. Scuff-scuff. I walked with more determination to counteract their wrong steps. The rhythm was important.
I stopped in front of the big mirror that hung on the wall in the middle of the long hallway. I almost liked this mirror, even though it didn’t talk to me either. It was much taller than me, and a gold frame surrounded it. Gold like my crown, I thought. I liked gold, but not as much as I liked red.
I started walking again. I was hungry and needed breakfast. I didn’t have time to stare at mirrors. I checked the reminders on my arm.
Apples are important.
Time is short.
Hide the crown. If I hid the crown, the servants couldn’t steal it from me, and I would win the game.
***
I hated our dining hall. It smelled funny—like urine, vinegar, and unidentified fried meat. It was also white, and white was boring.
They should make the walls stone, I thought.
I watched the others eat. One of the servants was trying to keep Bags from taking her shirt off. The Colonel was telling a story that involved planes and fire. He had wild eyes and jumped at lots of noises. The Preacher, a kind gentleman who combed half his hair over his bald head, sat quietly and listened to everyone else. He was so nice in the morning.
A few of the servants giggled at me—especially the new, ugly one with the squeaky shoes. I knew they were giggling because I found the crown they kept hiding.
Michael the Black Bear came up to me. I liked Michael, but my reminders always told me to beware of him. I had to write that down all the time because he was a charmer. “You messed up your room this morning, Miss Helena.”
“That is not my name.” Black Bear, of all the s
ervants, should have known this because I had to remind him constantly. “If the servants don’t want to pick up my chambers, then tell them not to hide my crown.”
Squeaky Shoes joined him. “Miss Helena, why are you wearing a yellow planter on your head?” She reached for my crown.
I smacked her hand. If she wanted to play, she needed to play like the other servants and hide it from me when I wasn’t looking. Taking it off my head in public was rude. Squeaky Shoes was ugly anyway, and ugly people didn’t get crowns.
Michael stepped in between me and Squeaker. “She didn’t mean it.” His twinkling eyes became stern.
I liked that. Black Bear was the only servant to challenge me, and I liked to play. “She needs to follow the rules of the game,” I said.
“I’ll let her know.” He pointed his finger at me. “Don’t hit the other servants.”
My mouth turned up in a snarl. Black Bear was only a servant. How dare he order me around?
Bear stood up straighter, stuck his chest out, and stared me in the eye.
I had seen those eyes before—somewhere. No wonder I had to remind myself to beware of him. He was headstrong, and headstrong servants were dangerous. I needed to show him who he was dealing with.
An electrical outlet next to us popped. I glanced at it and saw a basket of apples on the table. I liked apples—especially red ones. I forgot my anger at the Black Bear. I looked at my arm. My reminders said I needed an apple. I figured I would take one when the servants weren’t looking. I didn’t like answering their questions. I turned away from Bear and sat down at the table. I had finished playing his game.
***
After breakfast, I hobbled to my room with a red apple hidden in my pocket. I walked to my chambers. Scuff-scuff. Scuff-scuff. I wished I could walk faster, but too many of my parts that weren’t supposed to hurt ached. Once I reached my room, I entered the bathroom and picked up the box. It vibrated in my hands. I liked the rhythm. Pulse-pulse. Pulse-pulse. That’s how I walked. Scuff-scuff. Scuff-scuff. The box was good.
The Big Bad II Page 35