Out of Salem

by Hal Schrieve

  One of the lunch ladies looked over from where she was checking students into the system on a large computer. “Did someone have a spill?” she asked, her voice raised loudly enough so that everyone in the cafeteria could hear. Z was sure she did not mean it unkindly. The laughter around Tommy increased. Z saw Bethany laughing with a group of girls by the door. They turned away.

  “Someone just tripped and fell into me, that’s all,” Tommy said to the lunch lady brightly. He turned to a table of boys who had stopped their card game to snicker at him and smiled broadly.

  “We’ll get some paper towels to help you clean it all up,” the lunch lady said. She wiped her face with the back of her gloved hand.

  “He shouldn’t have to clean it up,” Z said loudly. “It isn’t his fault.”

  “Well, it isn’t mine,” the lunch lady said. She tilted herself off the stool she was perched on and marched heavily over to where the napkins were, next to the silverware. She handed a stack to Tommy. “It’s too bad.”

  Z and Tommy scrubbed the floor with the dry napkins. Behind them, someone said something; Z heard Tommy’s name, and then a laugh. They spun around and glared but could not tell who had spoken.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Tommy said quietly, touching Z’s arm. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  In the hall outside the cafeteria Aysel was carrying her lunch box and grimaced at Tommy’s spattered visage as if it was no better than could be expected.

  “We have to get you cleaned up,” she said, and Z heard the tones of Azra in her voice.

  They all went to the girls’ bathroom; Z thought it would be a good place to wash up. The strong acrid smell and graffiti would deter anyone from hanging around long enough to continue to harass them. Tommy looked over his shoulder as they went inside.

  “I’m not meant to be in here,” he said.

  “It’s fine,” Aysel responded, wetting some napkins in the sink and pressing the soggy pile into his hands. Tommy shrugged and set to work getting the ketchup out of his eyebrows and off of his shirt.

  “That was the dumbest prank in the world,” Z said, watching him. “Like, what the hell do they want to say to you by doing that?”

  “It’s better than getting beaten up. This shit is going to smell like vinegar and corn syrup and tomato paste into the next century, though.” Tommy scrubbed at the cotton with a napkin, which disintegrated from the friction.

  “Do you want me to lend you a shirt?” Aysel asked.

  Tommy lifted the hem of the stained shirt and picked a few pieces of wet napkin from the black cotton. “That would be really great,” he said.

  “I’ll go grab a sweatshirt from my locker. Be right back.” She hurried back out the door, nearly knocking over a girl who was coming in. The girl looked apprehensively at Aysel’s retreating form and then glanced with trepidation toward Z and Tommy before going into a stall. Z and Tommy stared at each other.

  Aysel came back and handed Tommy the sweatshirt. It was black and had zigzag green stripes along the chest. Tommy accepted it graciously and went into a stall to change. Aysel turned to the mirror and began to fix her makeup. She had been wearing more lately.

  “I have to decide whether I’m going to go meet Elaine or not,” she said to Z.

  “Did you ask your mom?”

  “No. She’ll just say no.”

  “Who’s Elaine?” Tommy asked, coming out of the stall and straightening Aysel’s sweatshirt.

  “Someone Aysel met this week . . . downtown,” Z said, looking over at Aysel for approval. Aysel shrugged and nodded.

  “I really want to go see her. I haven’t met any other people . . . like her, like me, before.” Aysel glanced shiftily at Tommy as she said this. Z knew she was still suspicious of him.

  “Lesbians, you mean?” Tommy asked, looking at Aysel with interest.

  Aysel and Z looked at each other and Z turned away to suppress a giggle. “Exactly,” Aysel said. “Lesbians.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be able to go? Is your mom like, homophobic?”

  “No,” Aysel said, barely containing her grin. “Or I don’t think so, anyway. It’s just that she is worried about me going anywhere on my own lately, never mind meeting new people. I got a lecture yesterday. I’m not supposed to go places on my own. She wants to keep me safe.” Aysel pulled at her eyelashes where her makeup had made them clump together.

  “I mean, at least it was only a lecture,” Tommy said.

  “I don’t think she has too many other tools,” Aysel said. “There isn’t that much you can do if you ground your kid and they just keep going out, right? You just say that they’re grounded again.”

  “I guess,” Z said. They noticed Aysel seemed to be talking herself into going to meet Elaine. “It is still good to be careful, though.”

  “We’re just going to the movies,” Aysel said dismissively. “It won’t be dangerous.”

  “That’s cute. You should go,” Tommy said. He grinned at the floor. His shirt was soaking.

  Aysel looked at him and smiled. “Thanks, Tommy.”

  Tommy walked Z to the bus stop after school. He had pulled his hair—still a little sticky—into a ponytail. The sun had come out during the afternoon, and illuminated the puddles on the street left over from the rains of the night before. The bus was late, and they sat together on the bench waiting for it. There were moments when the clouds covered the sun, but then they would draw back and everything would flash into brightness again.

  “I’m worried about you,” Tommy said suddenly.

  Z looked at him. “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

  “I’m still worried,” he said, turning his face away. There was a group of girls approaching the bus stop. Z didn’t want to look at them too closely in case one of them was Bethany. They stared at their hands, and at the wet pavement.

  “I can take care of myself,” Z said. “You’ve already helped me a lot, and Aysel too. Besides, Mrs. Dunnigan is looking after me too.”

  “I really care about you, for some reason,” Tommy said in a confidential way. He looked profoundly embarrassed, his ears reddening. “Not in a weird way,” he added, looking up at Z. “Just . . . you know. Like you’re someone who is important, and I’m lucky to know you.”

  The bus arrived, and the doors flung themselves open. “Thank you, Tommy,” Z said, feeling like they should add something. “You’re a good friend. Take care of yourself, too.”

  Tommy smiled, and then turned quickly and hurried away.

  12

  Aysel walked to town from her house in the morning, hours before the time she and Elaine had agreed on. Azra was still asleep, and Aysel knew if she woke up she would absolutely refuse to let Aysel go out alone when the police were everywhere. Aysel knew there would be a fight when she came home; her mother would be worried sick, and would shout. Aysel pulled a sweatshirt on and shoved Elaine’s clothes into a paper bag from under the counter, to return to her. She tripped over the doormat, sprawling loudly on the floor, and then stood up and set out into the cold day.

  The first sign that things in town were still on edge appeared when three police cars in a row drove past Aysel on the sidewalk. They did not flash their lights at her or slow; none of them looked at what to them would seem to be an ordinary young girl with a shopping bag. Aysel still felt her palms start to sweat. What if Elaine had already been arrested?

  She knew she couldn’t go straight to the theater because she would be waiting there for hours, so she walked instead to the library and sat down on the curb outside. Police cars drove by one after another. Aysel shivered and went inside the library. The man who sat behind the front desk looked up at her sharply with steely eyes and then waved brusquely. Aysel sat down in a chair. After a few minutes staring at the wall with nothing much going on in her head, she figured it might be a good idea to pick up a book, to make it look as if she was doing something.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a policeman come into the library. He walke
d up to the desk and spoke quietly to the librarian. The librarian spoke quietly back. Aysel strained her eyes trying to look at them around the corner of her glasses without turning her head. She could not hear what they were saying. The librarian shrugged and pointed in Aysel’s direction, and Aysel felt a coldness creep from the base of her neck all the way down her spine as the policeman turned and stared at her. She chanced turning her head to look back at him, trying to put on an innocent expression. The policeman was tall and white and young and oval-faced. Aysel glanced only quickly at his face and then looked determinedly at his torso. She was worried her eyes might give something away—some sign, which policemen would surely be trained to recognize even from a distance, that marked the werewolf. The cop looked at her with a blank, neutral expression, nodded at her, turned back to the librarian, said something, and then left by the front door.

  After reading cookbooks for a while, Aysel got hungry. She didn’t have enough money in her pocket for lunch after the movie ticket, but she thought she might have enough to get a snack. She wandered up the street in search of options, carrying the grocery bag of clothes.

  There were not many people out on the street shopping on a Saturday morning in March. Aysel looked around for someplace warm. None of the lunch restaurants were open yet. She paused and dug one of her mother’s cigarettes out of her pocket and contemplated it. She held a lighter to it and looked around. Two officers in blue walked in the opposite direction on the other side of the street. Aysel hurriedly stuffed the cigarette and lighter back in her pocket. She picked up her bag and walked on quickly. The officers across the street spoke to each other in low voices. Aysel set her mouth in a firm line. She would not be afraid. She went into a café full of yellow light and bright people and bought a doughnut. She ate it standing inside the café, watching the barista behind the counter pour hot foaming milk into people’s coffee. Then she returned to the counter and ordered another doughnut to eat while she was walking.

  The pavement outside the movie theater was disgusting with layers of dropped gum, so Aysel couldn’t sit on it. She stood awkwardly waiting for half an hour, eating slowly toward the middle of the doughnut with tiny bites. She cast her eyes round uncomfortably through the parking lot. There were, fortunately, more people walking toward the movie theater than there had been walking around town. Going to the movies on a Saturday was a perfectly ordinary thing to do. A large family of thin blond children and a mother passed Aysel and watched her reproachfully as she filled her mouth with the sweet.

  Elaine was late. It wasn’t easy for Aysel to figure out the time, but she would look over her shoulder periodically at the clock on the front of the ticket box. Elaine was twenty minutes late.

  Part of Aysel was eager to conclude that Elaine had either been arrested or stood her up. Elaine was not her problem, this part of her told her. Aysel did not have to worry about what had happened to her; she should go home, face her mother, have the necessary argument, and then hide in her room until the whole thing blew over. The police would soon leave the streets. There was a larger part of Aysel, though, which was determined to wait for Elaine. This bit of Aysel, admittedly, couldn’t figure out exactly how long a wait this course necessitated. Two hours? An hour? She looked at the clock again. Thirty minutes late. She decided she would wait for another half hour. Aysel leaned back against the cold outer wall of the theater and crossed her arms across her chest.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Aysel saw someone approaching her. She resisted turning her head until the last second, in case it wasn’t Elaine, but then the person spoke.

  “Aysel!” Elaine exclaimed.

  “Hi,” Aysel said, feeling her hair fluff out around her. There was a warm crackling in her stomach and heart and she felt static electricity in her toes and fingers. The air around her did not feel as cold suddenly. How stupid, Aysel thought. “How are you?”

  Elaine laughed. “Not dead yet,” she said loudly, and lowered her voice. “The cops are crawling all over the forest. We had to move camp really quick last week after the moon. We’re staying at a safe house right now—it’s what we came to Salem for. Chad and I thought it’d be a good place to stay for a while; we have friends here. Practically every werewolf within a forty-mile radius is at the safe house right now. How have you been?”

  “I’m fine,” Aysel said. “Nothing’s been too bad yet. There were people downtown last night, and that looked scary, but the police made everyone go home.”

  “The police don’t want anyone to do their work for them.” Elaine smiled grimly. Without warning she bent and hugged Aysel tightly. Aysel was too surprised to hug back. She inhaled against Elaine‘s warm shoulder. “I hope you stay safe,” Elaine said.

  “I will. Here are your clothes back,” Aysel said, pushing her hair out of her face. She thrust the grocery bag at Elaine. “I washed them.”

  “Thanks,” Elaine said. She looked inside the bag. “I’m running out of clean clothes. I smell like a garbage dump.”

  “No,” Aysel said.

  Elaine laughed. “Sure I do. Even Chad says so.”

  “You don’t,” Aysel said. “Trust me.” She wondered suddenly if she was saying this because she had been spending so much time with Z. Z literally smelled like something dead, through the layers of clove oil; the smell was imperceptible to most people but strong to Aysel, with her doglike nose. It could be that anything smelled nice compared to that. Aysel didn’t think that was all of it, though. There was something that smelled downright nice about Elaine, despite the body odor that hung around her. It was a friendly smell, salty and fragrant.

  They went and bought tickets for the movie. Elaine stepped up to the window first and paid with a credit card. Aysel pulled out her wallet and was preparing to count coins onto the counter when Elaine stopped her and handed her a ticket.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Aysel said, spluttering. “I have money. And you should use your money to buy things like—” She stopped. She was going to say “like food,” but that sounded too patronizing.

  Elaine laughed again. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. Aysel stared at her, disconcerted.

  They walked toward the theater and went through the doors. Inside, Elaine used the credit card again and bought a huge container of popcorn and a thirty-two-ounce cola, which was almost too much for her skinny arms to hold. She slurped at the straw, her lips curled around the purple plastic. Aysel tried not to watch, as it made the heat in her stomach grow.

  “Can you afford all that?” Aysel asked. Movie snacks were expensive. Aysel realized she sounded like a jerk.

  “I can right now,” Elaine said, smiling.

  “Right now?” Aysel repeated dumbly.

  “I got the card from a dude I met in California. He hasn’t canceled it yet. Do you want anything?”

  Aysel looked at Elaine, skinny and tall and eating so much food, and thought of the doughnuts she had eaten sitting in her stomach. “No,” she said.

  “That’s fine,” Elaine said. She ate a handful of popcorn and grinned.

  Aysel decided not to ask any more questions. She had a feeling Elaine was making fun of her. Why, she wasn‘t sure. “Right,” she said.

  They went into the theater. They had had to pick a later time because Elaine had been so late, so they were early for this showing. The theater was empty and the lights were on. Elaine and Aysel sat down in seats near the screen. Elaine clambered over each row of seats to get to the next, somehow balancing popcorn and cola in her hands as she went. Her long legs under her spindly body reminded Aysel of storks which strode through deep water. Suddenly Aysel realized she had doughnut crumbs down her shirt. She dusted them off hastily.

  “So how’s school?” Elaine asked with a mouthful of popcorn. “Did you make it back on time on Tuesday?”

  “Not on time, but I made it,” Aysel said.

  “Good.”

  “People are all acting really weird,” Aysel said. “There’s one teacher at my s
chool who used to be really great to me, but he’s avoiding me now. He knows I’m . . . you know. He’s the only one besides my mom and my best friend. I trusted him enough to tell him, and I don’t think he’d tell the police, but I’m worried.”

  “Never trust anyone, is what I say,” Elaine said dryly. “I mean, it’s more stressful to do that, but you’re never disappointed.”

  “Yeah,” Aysel said uncomfortably. “I just . . . he seems like a good person, is why it’s worrying. He’s afraid, I think. I thought he was braver than that. Maybe it’s just that I’ve been so protected until now. Nothing’s happened recently to remind me that . . . what I am . . . means anything. But it does, really. It makes a lot of difference when something like this happens.” She looked at her hands, her face grim.

  “You’re lucky it’s only one guy who knows,” Elaine said. “Only one bomb to go off.”

  Aysel shrugged. “Well, I mean, if I don’t trust anyone, there’s three bombs to go off. My friend and him and my mother.” Aysel wrinkled her brow. “My friend Z and my mom wouldn’t tell anyone unless they were being tortured, but still.”

  “That’s true. You’re beginning to think like a real werewolf now.” Elaine picked up a piece of popcorn between her forefinger and thumb. “Want a piece of popcorn?”

  “Sure,” Aysel said miserably. She was suddenly thinking of all the ways she might not be as safe as she thought she was. Z and her mother would never willingly betray her, she knew— but if they messed up and somehow accidentally revealed her, she would be in for it. Danger suddenly felt very close.

  “Open up and I’ll toss it,” Elaine said.

  Aysel looked up, alarmed.

  “Open up your mouth,” Elaine repeated.

  “That’s stupid, just hand me the popcorn,” Aysel said. Elaine looked at her, smiled, and then put the bag of popcorn behind her back. Aysel glared at her, blood rushing to her face in embarrassment. Aysel looked at Elaine and realized that the older girl was not going to move until Aysel allowed her to throw the popcorn. Grumpily, after a small pause, she opened her mouth. She felt like the stupidest person in the world. Elaine threw the popcorn kernel at her and it hit her on the nose. It left a small buttery spot on Aysel’s skin. She wiped at it with her sleeve.