by P. J. Night
And promptly dropped the phone.
She heard it clatter and skitter across the floor. Its dim light vanished, and now she was back in the dark. She dropped to her hands and knees, still wearing her heavy backpack, which shifted around and almost made her fall over. She readjusted it and then felt around, patting every inch of the floor in search of the phone. Her breathing was shallow, her heart pounding in her ears. She tried not to think of that day, so many years ago, when she’d felt the hand on her shoulder. But of course, she did think of it. Why did her mind go directly to the memories she most wanted to forget? Like when you have a sore inside your mouth and your tongue insists on prodding that sore place.
Her hand closed around the phone. With a surge of relief, she clicked it on.
Nothing happened.
Had she broken it when she’d dropped it? That ruled out any possibility of calling someone to come rescue her. But that was silly anyway. All she had to do was get to the door without having a full-blown panic attack. She kept moving forward on hands and knees, negotiating her way around rolling carts and tangles of heavy wires. And then she could see light shining underneath the heavy door.
She stood up, moved toward the door, and felt where the doorknob was.
It didn’t budge.
She was locked in.
A new wave of panic surged through her, all the way down to her toes. She pounded on the door with the heel of her hand.
“Help!” she yelled. “Someone let me out of here! Hello? Anyone there?”
The janitor must have come by and locked up, she reasoned. What if she was here all night? What if Mrs. Barber didn’t return to the library after her bus duty? What if this room was completely soundproof? Then she remembered it was Friday. What if she was stuck here all weekend?
She pounded harder, trying not to cry.
“Someone! Help!” More pounding. Rattling of the knob. “I’m locked in here! Help! Hello?”
More pounding. More frantic rattling. The lump in her throat felt like a golf ball. Her pulse was racing. She pounded until her hands went numb, expecting at any second to feel the hand on her shoulder.
And that’s when she could have sworn she felt something brush through her hair. Fingers? Spiders?
She yelled for another half a minute, although in her terror it felt like hours.
And then she heard the doorknob turn. The door swung open.
She slung herself out of the door and into the library, blinking at the sudden brightness, and bent over and shook her hair out. Thankfully there were no bugs in it, although that begged the question of what had brushed through it.
She righted herself and scanned the room. There was no one in the library. How had the door come unlocked? She turned and looked at the lock. The doorknob could only be locked or unlocked with a key. Could it have come unstuck somehow, when she’d been rattling the knob?
It seemed unlikely. Something very strange and very scary was going on.
Outside the library windows she could see just a few stragglers rushing by, heading for their buses. She hadn’t been in the closet very long. Should she try to make her bus? The clock told her it was too late. She’d never make it. Anyway, maybe it was better to walk home. It might calm her down.
Then she remembered the text she’d gotten. She pulled out her phone and clicked the power button.
Now her phone was working again.
She checked the mysterious text. Why would the texter think she still had the card? She’d given it to Lauren. And Lauren had thrown it out.
She thought back to the way Lauren had behaved at lunch today. She’d been almost more upset about Charlotte dropping her tray than Charlotte had been. And her whole demeanor had been odd. Not really looking her in the eye. Furtive darting eyes. A thought struck Charlotte.
“Could Lauren have slipped it back to me?” she asked herself out loud. She set her backpack down on a library table and began rummaging through it.
In the outside pocket her fingers closed on a thick piece of cardboard. She drew out the card.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered, staring at the card in horror. “After all that talk about not being superstitious. Not believing all the mumbo jumbo. And then she passed it back to me. Without telling me.”
Her phone vibrated on the table. Almost afraid to look, she picked it up and checked the text.
Pass it along or your dad won’t be coming home.
Charlotte walked home slowly, lost in thought, on the verge of tears. Her best friend had treacherously slipped the card into her backpack, and now she’d gotten the scariest text message she could imagine and she was terrified for her dad. The question now was, what to do next? What would she do with this stupid card? Could she bring herself to pass it along to some unsuspecting person, just to get it out of her possession? She thought about Stacy. Stacy would be the perfect person to pass the card along to. She was so mean. She almost deserved bad luck.
Charlotte stopped in her tracks. What was she thinking? She was horrified with herself. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t intentionally bring bad luck to someone, even someone she didn’t like. But she had to do something before the worst happened. She resumed walking, even more slowly than before.
She heard footsteps approaching. Running footsteps. She turned around and was surprised to see Lauren nearly upon her, her long legs moving with surprising speed, her backpack bouncing on her shoulders. She skidded to a stop in front of Charlotte.
“Char,” she panted, doubling over and putting her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. “I—I—have to tell you something.”
“I already know,” said Charlotte coldly. “You gave it back to me. I just found it.”
“I’m so sorry!” cried Lauren, standing back up and looking at her friend pleadingly. “I didn’t want to do it. I feel awful about it. I just sort of panicked. After all that stuff I said about not believing in it. And then all these terrible things started happening to me, and then Teddy got hurt last night. He broke his leg!”
Charlotte’s eyes widened in horror.
“I know it was wrong of me to pass it back to you! I’ll take it back. Figure something out.”
Charlotte’s anger toward Lauren vanished. After all, she had done almost the same thing to Lauren—she’d given her the card when she’d been almost positive that it really and truly did bring bad luck to the holder. Who was she to judge Lauren for coming to the same conclusion?
“It’s okay, Laur,” she said. “I get it. I know. I’m not going to give it back to you. I have to figure out what to do. I’m the one who found it. I’m the one who has to deal with it.”
“So you don’t think it’s a coincidence anymore either?” asked Lauren, looking worried.
“I’m convinced that it’s not,” said Charlotte. “There are too many coincidences for it to be a coincidence. Do you know what I mean?”
Lauren nodded.
“Do you have time to sit?” Charlotte asked. “Maybe it’d help to write everything down.” She gestured toward a small park off the main street, which had several empty benches.
“Good idea,” said Lauren. “We’ll make a list.”
When the girls were sitting side by side, Charlotte pulled out her notebook. “First, tell me all the bad things that happened to you when you had the card in your possession.”
“Teddy breaking his leg,” said Lauren promptly.
Charlotte wrote that down. “Poor Teddy,” she murmured. “Now what else. Didn’t you say your dad got a speeding ticket?”
“Yes, and that messed up all kinds of stuff for him about getting his grant. And then remember how I told you I got knocked down by that guy texting? And then how I almost got run over by that delivery guy in the road?” Lauren was ticking off the episodes on her finger.
“You left your planner
at school, remember?” said Charlotte. “You never do that.”
Lauren nodded. “And the fruit flies.” She buried her face in her hands, remembering that episode. “And me hitting Stacy with the rubber band from my braces.” Her words were now tumbling out in a rush. “And skipping a whole scene in rehearsal. And breaking my necklace, which made me miss the late bus, which made me late getting home.” She stared at Charlotte. “All little stuff, really. But there’s lots of little stuff.”
Charlotte nodded grimly and finished scribbling it all down. “Now me,” she said. “My dad. My dad found out he isn’t allowed to come home yet, even though he was supposed to.”
Lauren nodded. “That’s the worst one. Are there other things though?”
“I’ve been having bad dreams.”
Lauren’s eyes widened. “Me too!”
“And remember how I told you I turned the twins’ uniforms pink?”
“That happened when you first had the card, didn’t it?” mused Lauren, thinking back.
Charlotte nodded. She wrote that down, then chewed the end of her pencil eraser, thinking. “I got a bad grade on my science test. I dropped my tray at lunch. And just a little while ago, I got locked into the AV room.” She shuddered. “The door closed by itself, I swear. I was jiggling the doorknob frantically and screaming for help. And then the door just opened. I thought someone was playing a trick on me, that they’d locked me in on purpose, but there was no one in the library when the door opened.”
Lauren looked at her, her eyes round with horror.
“And I had a very weird episode in the woods behind the library on Monday.” She told Lauren about the whispering she’d heard. “And the freakiest thing of all? I’m getting texts from someone. Someone I don’t know.”
“Me too!” said Lauren. “I thought it might be Stacy.”
“That’s what I thought too,” said Charlotte. “But now I don’t think so.” She held back tears as she showed Lauren the most recent text she’d received. She felt nauseous with anxiety.
The two girls sat side by side, staring around the deserted little park. It had a small playground for little kids, but the sun was beginning to set, and the temperature had dropped rapidly. It was too cold and windy for anyone to be out there now. A pigeon flew down from a low window ledge. It strut-walked for a few paces, its head bobbing up and down with each step, and then flew off again.
Lauren turned slowly to Charlotte. “I just realized Stacy must have had the card for a while when she borrowed my notebook to copy off me.”
“I know,” said Charlotte. “I thought about that, too. While she had the card, she had bad luck. She was late for gym. And then she missed all those shots in basketball.”
“And then she had an allergic reaction to something and broke out in spots.”
Charlotte banged her notebook against her knees, still gripping it hard with white-knuckled hands. “Laur, what are we going to do?” she said, her voice climbing. “I can’t keep this card. You tried throwing it away and that didn’t work. But I can’t pass it to someone else. Not even my worst enemy!” Her eyes welled up with tears. “I’m worried. About my dad. About what might happen to him if I keep this stupid thing.”
“Maybe we can find a really, really sick person to give it to,” said Lauren. “Like someone about to die in a hospital.”
Charlotte crossed her arms and blinked at her.
“Bad idea. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just feel so desperate.”
They sat in silence again. Suddenly Lauren clutched Charlotte’s arm excitedly. “I think I just had an idea. One that might actually work and not hurt anyone.”
Charlotte looked at her questioningly. She waited.
“My aunt Marina. Duh! Why didn’t it occur to me before? I bet she can tell us what to do. She’s really knowledgeable about all this stuff. She practically does it for a living!”
“I thought she was an acupuncturist.”
“She is. But she knows how to read fortunes. She knows what all the tarot cards mean. When I was little, she used to read my palm and do this thing with tea leaves. I think my uncle Jack was amused by the whole thing, but he never said anything.”
Charlotte nodded. “I think that’s a good idea, to ask your aunt. And you think she’d believe us?”
“I definitely think so. And maybe she’d know something about getting rid of a curse. I think she’d be happy to be asked. Let me text her and ask if we can go over there tonight. Maybe we can even make it a sleepover.”
“You do realize what day it is.”
“Friday?” said Lauren.
“Friday the thirteenth,” said Charlotte. “Not that I’m superstitious or anything.”
“Me neither,” said Lauren.
Neither girl could look the other in the eye. They stood up and began walking again.
“Maybe it’s a good thing,” said Lauren after they’d walked in silence for a while.
“What’s a good thing?”
“The fact that it’s Friday the thirteenth. Maybe we’re meant to try something like this on a day like this.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Charlotte thoughtfully. “But I’m still scared. About what might happen.”
“Me too. I’ll let you know timing and stuff as soon as I hear from my aunt,” said Lauren as they approached an intersection. Charlotte lived to the right, Lauren to the left.
“Sounds good,” said Charlotte.
“Are you mad?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, of course not.”
Lauren blew out a breath of relief. “Just be careful. Remember that stupid card in your backpack. Look both ways and all that.”
“I will,” said Charlotte.
Ten minutes later, when Charlotte walked into the kitchen, she found her mother sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in front of her. She was stirring the tea with a teaspoon and staring into space. She didn’t even seem to hear the door, even when Charlotte closed it pretty loudly behind her.
“What’s the matter, Mom?” asked Charlotte in a small, frightened voice. “Have you heard something? Something from Dad?”
Her mother looked up at her as though she’d only just realized that Charlotte had walked in. She stood up quickly. “No, no, honey, there’s been no news, bad or good. I haven’t heard anything. I’m sure he’ll be in touch.”
Charlotte nodded and opened her arms to hug her mother. Her mother stepped gratefully toward Charlotte and hugged her tightly.
“Is it okay if I go to a sleepover with Lauren tonight at her aunt Marina’s house?” asked Charlotte.
Her mother released her from the hug. Her eyes were glinting a little, like they might be wet. “Sure, honey,” she said. “I’m off tonight. Maybe I’ll take the boys to the arcade or something.”
A few minutes later Charlotte’s phone buzzed. With shaking hands she looked at the number. Lauren.
It’s fine with Aunt Marina for us to sleep over. She’s going to make us dinner, too. Meet around 6?
Charlotte texted her back, feeling hugely relieved.
A little while later she shouldered her small overnight bag, kissed her mom, and headed out the door. Before she’d even made it down the front steps, she got another mysterious text.
Don’t go over there tonight. You’ll be sorry.
Chapter 11
They met at the corner, halfway between their two houses. Charlotte showed Lauren the latest text.
“That settles it. It can’t be Stacy who’s texting us,” said Lauren. “There’s no way she could know we were going to my aunt’s tonight. Can I look at the other texts?”
Charlotte pulled out her phone and scrolled through her recent messages. She handed Lauren her phone. Lauren handed hers to Charlotte. Each of them read the other’s texts.
“
Char, I’m scared. This is just too weird. Maybe we should show these to the police or something. They could maybe trace them.”
“I thought so too,” said Charlotte. “But I have this really funny feeling that they won’t be able to find out where they came from. They might not ‘come’ from anywhere.”
“I hope my aunt can help us,” said Lauren.
“Me too.”
It was a ten minute walk to Aunt Marina’s house.
“Is it my imagination, or is the sky getting dark really fast this evening?” asked Charlotte, looking at the dark clouds roiling ominously above the tree line. The full moon was rising, and it looked enormous against the horizon, shrouded in gauzy gray clouds that zoomed past.
“Maybe,” said Lauren. “Come on. Let’s move faster.”
They passed by the library, which was closed up for the night. The beautiful old building looked spooky with no lights on inside. As they walked past the old, gnarled tree in the front of the library, a flock of crows that was roosting in the branches suddenly began chittering, cawing, screeching as the girls passed by.
“Did you hear that?” asked Charlotte, clutching Lauren’s arm.
“Hear what? Those crows?”
“No. Not the crows. The whispering! I heard someone whispering my name! Just like I did in the woods.”
Lauren shook her head. “I didn’t. I was focusing on not getting bird doo on me. Maybe it was the wind. It’s gotten really windy out here.”
As if to emphasize her words, a sudden gust blew across the sidewalk, sending fallen leaves twirling and dancing in a wild waltz around their ankles.
“Are we almost there?” asked Charlotte.
Lauren pointed. “It’s right here.”
“I swear I hear someone following us. Can you hear footsteps in the dry leaves? Or am I crazy?” Charlotte asked, the panic barely concealed in her voice.
“I don’t hear anything. The next house is Aunt Marina’s. Come on. Let’s run.”
Aunt Marina threw open the door to greet them before they’d even mounted the front steps.