by Melissa Haag
Finally, the lights clicked off, leaving only the glow of the candle that burned near Aunt Danielle. I blinked my eyes slowly as the flickering light played tricks with me. For a second, I thought I saw the outline of the chair handle through her hand.
Everyone gathered around me, and the familiar words filled the space. Comforting. My eyes drifted shut before their first touch.
The next day, my legs stayed attached even though they hurt. By nine, we all piled in the car. I sat in front with Mom while Aunt Grace, Aunt Danielle, and Gran rode in the back. Everything we’d kept with us, including Aunt Danielle’s chair, fit into the twine-tied trunk.
Unable to help myself, I looked back as we pulled away. Something told me that moving wouldn’t be enough this time.
It took about forty-five minutes to reach our new home. The updated ranch, with a paved driveway and a garage, was located in a quiet neighborhood of a small town. The light grey siding and professional landscaping looked established. The dark grey shutters on the windows appeared new though. The house was a definite upgrade for us, and I sent my mom a puzzled look.
“My boss,” she said by way of explanation. “When I told him why I needed a few days off and what happened at school, he offered this place. I couldn’t say no. The rent is reasonable, and it’s still close to work. Plus, being in town will be an advantage. You can walk places easily and won’t have to spend so much time on the bus.”
“And the shutters?”
“A special request that he didn’t mind. I said it was a religious thing.”
Aunt Grace took me on a tour of the house while Mom and Gran helped Aunt Danielle inside.
No old planks covered the floors in this house. We’d been upgraded to tiles in the kitchen and carpet in the living room. It continued down the hall to the left of the kitchen and in all three bedrooms.
The master suite, which Mom and Grace would claim, had its own bathroom. Gran, Aunt Danielle, and I would share the one in the hall. While the rest were sharing bedrooms, I’d get my own. They always made sure I had a room to myself.
In every room, light, welcoming colors coated the walls.
Even in an obvious state of disarray with boxes everywhere, the place felt homey.
Wasting no time, we began unpacking. The pile of empty boxes on the curb began to grow by lunch.
Over lunch, Mom and I debated whether I should go to school that afternoon.
“I have enough going against me. Do I need to add a bad first impression to the list?”
She eyed my purple cheek and grudgingly agreed.
We used the weekend to finish settling in, and by the third day in the new house, everything was back to business as usual, except for school. Though I appreciated the decreased swelling around my eye, the coloring remained so vivid in one small area that concealer did nothing to hide it.
With nothing better to do, I lay on the couch with one of my legs hooked over the arm and studied Belinda’s book. It worried me that the creature seemed to have taken an interest in me, and I hoped I might find a clue somewhere in the worn pages.
However, the familiar words didn’t tell me anything new, so I started studying the book as a whole. On the first page, scrawled in shaky penmanship, Belinda wrote the date August 17, 1798. The penmanship varied in several areas of the book, but none of it was dated as the original pages had been. Obviously, Belinda’s descendants had added to it at some point.
Despite its age and all the evidence of its use, the book had held together remarkably well with only a few signs of repair.
The list of descendants in the back of the book didn’t note any dates of births or deaths. That missing information, along with no last names, made doing research very difficult. All the moving around everyone had done didn’t help either.
The book never said, “Don’t write a last name,” or, “Don’t enter any dates,” so why didn’t we put them in there? My thoughts went to the possibility of someone reading it. Given the odd rules and ambiguous reasons for them, who would take any of it seriously? Even if they did take it seriously, who would be able to gain any information from it to track down any of us?
Studying the family tree, I noticed a pattern. I knew we only bore daughters and that not all daughters branched out.
Now, I noticed that only one daughter out of each generation went on to have children. If Aunt Danielle had a baby, that child’s name had never been entered. And, I knew from talking to Aunt Grace that she’d purposely chosen a match where there wouldn’t be children. Was that what had been happening for over two hundred years? I counted generations. I was the fifteenth. I cringed at how young some of the women had to have been when they gave birth.
“If you keep frowning at that book, it’ll burst into flames,” Gran said as she walked into the living room.
“I can’t believe there’s so little information to go by. If it weren’t for the chant and me sleeping until sunup every day, I’d think this whole thing a fake.”
Gran made an agreeing noise.
“You should go for a walk. It’s not bad outside, and the fresh air will clear your head.”
“Our ideas of cold are very different,” I said, already going to bundle up.
Armed with a button-up grey woolen coat, thick cream-colored mittens, and a cute knit earflap hat with a tassel, I stepped outside. The bright sun fought to warm my face, despite the chill. Gran, as usual, was right. It wasn’t bad out.
I mentally let go of Belinda’s puzzle and just enjoyed my freedom as I walked toward the downtown area.
A little coffee shop set in the lower half of a narrow, two-story brick building caught my eye. The door and two picture windows took up the front of the shop. The right window sported a white, painted outline of an old-fashioned coffee cup complete with wisps of steam. Above the cup, the words “Coffee Shop” clearly identified the type of establishment within.
A handwritten sign was taped to the inside of the window. In black marker, it stated, “Weekend Help Needed.” Normally, I wouldn’t pay attention to a job posting, but the hours held my attention. Seven-thirty in the morning until one.
The bell above the door jingled as I let myself in, and coffee-scented heat enveloped me. Pulling off my hat and mittens, I closed my eyes in bliss. The taste of coffee didn’t do much for me without a lot of cream and sugar, but I loved the smell of it. I exhaled slowly and looked around.
Seven small, glass-topped tables crowded the dining area. The top half of the interior walls matched the brick outside while taupe paneling capped with a chair rail covered the bottom half. Someone had managed to hang a few pictures and decorations in the mortar. The space felt cozy and welcomed people to sit and read a paper while they drank.
The L-shaped service counter quartered off the back of the room. On the longer stretch of the L sat a register along with a variety of coffee-making equipment.
At the sound of the bell, a middle-aged woman leaned against the counter. She wore a printed t-shirt tucked into jeans and had a fluff of orange hair that haloed her head.
“You can order up here and sit anywhere you like,” she said with a friendly smile.
Thankful for the change in my pocket, I ordered then asked about the sign while I watched her make my drink. She explained she just needed help during the weekends because that was when she served sandwiches. While the food was delicious, making it slowed her down. So she needed someone to take orders at the counter and deliver them to the tables.
“I have to be honest. The pay will suck. It’d be server wages because of the tables and tips. I’ve had a few kids try it, but they usually leave for something that pays minimum wage.” She handed me the application. “Bring it back if you’re interested.”
I smiled my thanks and took the sheet and my coffee.
“I’m Mona, by the way,” she said, introducing herself.
I offered my hand.
“Tessa.”
“I have to ask. What happened to your eye?”
>
“I’m probably one of the few people that can honestly say I ran into a door.”
“Clumsy?” she asked, her gaze flicking to the application.
I laughed.
“Not usually.” Hiring a clumsy person in a coffee shop wouldn’t do much for the already slow business. “If I can borrow a pen, I’ll fill this out now.”
Thankfully, the simple form didn’t ask for any prior employment references. When I handed it back to her along with my empty cup, she looked over the application.
“First job?” she asked.
“Yeah. I don’t own a car, and you’re within walking distance from my house.”
She nodded while reading.
“This looks good. If you’re up for it, let’s give it a try this Saturday. Be here by seven-thirty. Wear comfortable shoes, jeans, and a t-shirt. Nothing freaky. We’ll see how that goes.”
I agreed, said goodbye, and left with a smile. Mom would flip and probably not in a good way. Outside, a bus drove past, and I realized I’d stayed longer than I thought. I set out at a brisk pace and made it home in seven minutes.
Gran was quietly talking to Aunt Danielle when I opened the front door. The book lay in Gran’s hands. When they saw me, Gran smiled widely and stood.
“You look much better. Happy. What happened?” She took my hat and mittens and put them in the hanging basket under my coat hook.
“I got a job,” I said with a small smile as I hung my jacket.
I moved to the fridge and started to pull out dinner ingredients. The growing silence wasn’t unexpected.
Spontaneity wasn’t our thing. We were careful people. We talked, planned, and then decided together if the plan would work.
Setting everything on the counter, I grinned at Gran.
“Seriously. It was as if it was meant to be. It’s only on the weekends from seven-thirty until one. The owner, Mona, admitted the pay sucks, but it seems like it’d be a good first job. And it sounds like a few kids left the job already, so if it doesn’t work out, I doubt she’ll be surprised if I quit.”
Gran nodded and helped me put a salad together for dinner. When Mom came home, she wasn’t as surprised about the job as I’d thought. She smiled and said she knew moving was the right thing.
My bruise had faded enough by the next morning that I could hide its remnants with the heavy concealer. Having done my fair share of first days, I wasn’t nervous. Since Mom had already stopped by the school to get me registered, I walked through the doors with my schedule in hand, ready to try again.
The main entrance opened to a modest lobby that smelled like wet sneakers. Two primary hallways branched from the lobby. I spotted the office to the right and went to check in.
Another student dressed in a red, black, and grey plaid, pleated skirt and solid grey sweater layered over a white collared button-up already stood in the office. She leaned comfortably against the counter as she talked to the secretary. I wondered if this school encouraged uniforms.
The secretary looked up at me, and I gave my name. She smiled in welcome, asked the girl to give me a brief tour, and handed us both late slips. Popping a tutti-frutti scented bubble between her teeth, the girl nodded her mostly blonde head and motioned for me to follow. The pink and purple dyed strips of her hair contrasted her otherwise school-girl look.
With a welcoming smile, she introduced herself as Beatriz. After showing me my locker, we went down my list of scheduled classes, finding each room in relation to my locker.
Beatriz’s relaxed manner and easy monologue about the school had me wishing for a friend. Oh, I knew how to make friends. I just knew that I couldn’t keep them. Friends eventually wanted to come over or go out at night. They also eventually asked hard questions I couldn’t answer. At least, not without sounding crazy.
So, when she concluded the tour, I smiled and thanked her but didn’t start up any additional conversation. Instead, I turned and began to put my things into my locker. The tactic usually drove people away from me. Not Beatriz.
“You know, I’m going to like you,” she said from just behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder at her, trying to figure out why she was still there.
“Simple things. Nothing pretentious.” She nodded at the stuff in my locker.
I studied my school supplies. Cheap and bought in bulk, the supplies hadn’t ever warranted much thought. I did my homework with them and moved on to other things. There and gone again.
“You can tell a lot about a person by their locker,” she said. “I’m taking a guess here, but you keep to yourself and don’t really care what people think about you.” She didn’t give me a chance to answer. “Come on. We have first hour together. We can catch the last few minutes.”
It turned out that we had several classes together. Beatriz talked to me in the hall when she had a chance and introduced me to a few other students. Overall, it easily ranked as the best first day ever. I didn’t have to touch a boy once.
That night when my mom got home, she asked if I met anyone interesting. I mentioned Beatriz even though I knew she meant boys. She gave me a level look and told me I needed to put more effort into choosing a boy. I didn’t need the reminder. I knew my seventeenth birthday loomed on the horizon, making my time left to decide short.
I nodded in agreement while I wondered again what would happen to me if I just didn’t choose.
Chapter Four
The second day of school didn’t go as well.
After lunch, Jess, a boy in my geometry class, stopped me outside of the cafeteria. While the majority of students still milled around us in the hallway, he awkwardly asked if I had plans on Saturday.
I wanted to lie and say I did, but I knew I was running out of time to make my choice. In a friendly and hopefully non-suggestive manner, I touched his arm, briefly letting the vision wash over me before giving my regrets.
His face fell slightly, and a flush started to creep up his neck. I thought my rejection had hurt his feelings, but then he stood straighter, and his previously downcast gaze met mine directly.
“Tell me. What did you see?”
The echo in Jess’s voice stole my breath and lights danced before my eyes as nausea rose. The thing was back.
“You don’t look well. Come. Sit.” The thing that wore Jess motioned me into the quieter lunchroom, where the lunch-ladies were already starting to wash tables, and waited expectantly for me to move.
I hesitated to do anything he suggested but knew I didn’t really have much of a choice. After all, he could jump bodies, follow me, and possibly hurt the person he controlled. A thought struck me. If I didn’t listen, could he control me?
I woodenly moved into the large space then faced him. “Who—what are you? What do you want?” My voice came out strong, surprising me since my insides felt like jelly.
“Don’t you know?” he asked. For the first time, an expression leaked through the face of the person he controlled. He appeared puzzled. “Did you lose the book?”
My mouth popped open. How could he know about the book? He watched me patiently, his observant gaze never wavering.
When I didn’t speak, he answered my last question.
“I am here to collect on the bargain Belinda’s father made.”
“What bargain? What are you collecting?” My voice rose in fear.
“Excuse me, you two,” one of the lunch ladies boldly interrupted. I swung my shocked gaze in her direction. “You’ll have to take your drama somewhere else. The bell rang, and we need to clean up.”
I barely managed a nod. When I turned back to Jess, he frowned at me in confusion.
“How did we get here?” he asked without an echo to his voice.
It had left. Relief flooded me along with a healthy dose of frustration. Whatever that thing was, it had answers my family needed. Answers I needed. I had to speak to it again. The thought made my stomach dip dangerously.
Jess blinked at me, waiting for an answer, and not wanting
to ruin a potentially good school, I lied like a pro. “Are you okay, Jess? You asked me if I had plans on Saturday and kinda blanked on me for a minute. Want me to walk you to the nurse’s office?”
It took effort to sound concerned and caring when bigger problems floated around in my head, but I managed. Jess shook his head, and I watched him slowly walk off before I hurried to my next class. I’d been right about the move. Nothing had changed except for maybe keeping me safe from bullies.
For the rest of the day, I debated whether I should keep what had happened in the cafeteria to myself as I had with Clavin’s visit and the note. I knew it hurt to keep secrets, but I knew what my family would want to do when they found out. And I didn’t think another move was the answer. If the thing had followed us from the other house, what would keep it from doing so again? But I worried that staying might mean that it could find a way to hurt my family like it had Clavin. I had to trust that the precautions we used—locking up the house at night and the chant—would be enough to keep us safe.
When the final bell rang, I put my books in my locker with relief. There had been no sign of any possessions since lunch. Then again, I didn’t have much of an idea of what I was looking for. I thought about checking out the school’s library. There wasn’t much hope that this library would have more than the last school, but I figured I’d try. Besides, asking for books about demon possession would cause less suspicion at this school. My reputation hadn’t yet had time to grow. Plus, I could easily walk home now. Easily, but maybe not comfortably, I thought as I recalled the brisk walk home from the Coffee Shop.
Walking home from school would be just as chilly. If I saved what I made working, I would need to talk Mom into taking me to the thrift store. The image of a thick, fluffy jacket popped into my head, but I hesitated to get excited over it. My current jacket had been a gift from everyone at home. Would purchasing a new one hurt their feelings?
“Doesn’t that hurt?”
I spun around, recognizing both the voices that spoke.