Crossed Out (2 page)

What were they doing?

First, Allison had appeared in my garage – which I knew wasn’t good – now this? Part of me wanted to explain.
But look where that got me.

“Are you okay?” Cura’s   concern was obvious. “Do you need water or something?”

No, I need to be out of here.

“Uh, no. I’m fine.”

“Well, look who decided to come,” Hillary waltzed over with a Diet Coke in her hand. “Didn’t think you’d show.”

Her jeans hugged her size 0 frame. A tight “Rock” t-shirt emphasized her chest.

“Didn’t want to miss it,” I said. I shoved my hands in my pockets, hoping she wouldn’t see how nervous I was. The whole Tarot card business could easily open the door to another visit from Allison, here.

Hillary smiled but her eyes showed something else. My heart raced. She was up to something, but what?

A knock at the door startled me. “You girls okay?”

“Yeah, Mom. We’re fine,” Hillary said, rolling her eyes.

“Okay. Let me know if you girls need anything,” Mrs. Swanson said.

“Sure, Mom,” Hillary added.

Her mom’s footsteps retreated into the background. I almost wished she’d come inside to see what was really going on. But I knew better.

Hillary’s act of being the perfect angel quickly changed once her mother left.

“Jeez,” Hillary said, motioning us closer. “I thought she’d never leave us alone.”

“I know,” Megan snickered, while reaching into her bag. She took out a cigarette and lit it. “Want one?”

Oh, great, Tarot cards and smoking
,
my idea of a perfect evening.

“Nah, later.” A sly smile crept over Hillary’s face. “Forget the boring stuff. Let’s do something really fun.”

“Do what?” Cura whispered. “What’s going on?”

“Whatever it is it can’t be good,” I muttered to Cura.

“Since it’s almost Halloween, let’s play a game. Anyone up for it?” Hillary asked, knowing that no one would say otherwise if they wanted to hang with her.

“Play what?” Megan, a Hillary-wannabe asked. Her stomach did its own version of a Slinky, hanging over her low rider pants.

Ashley turned pale. “Hillary, you know my mom doesn’t like those Ouija Board things.”

“Be real,” Hillary snorted. “As if I’d play anything so
fifth grade
. No, I saw this game on TV the other night. You know, the one with those hottie guys who track urban legends?”

“Oh, yeah. I saw that,” Megan said. “Luke Mitchell is such a babe.”

Hillary moved closer to me. “Well, the chicks in the show were playing this game, ‘Bloody Mary’.” She glanced at me. “You ever heard of it?”

I couldn’t believe this! I came for a so-called sleepover and they wanted to summon the dead? The backs of my legs itched in agreement, warning me that the dead were close by.

Crap.
Had the danger followed me here?

“Come off it,” Megan said. “That’s a baby game.”

Hillary glared at Megan.

“Uh, maybe I’m thinking of something else.” Megan looked away.

“Didn’t that one girl get her eyes gouged out?” Ashley asked. “
Ew
, talk about nasty.”

“Yeah, right,” Hillary said with a laugh. “As if that really happens.”

“I d-don’t … uh … know,” Megan said. “That’s too creepy for me.”

“What’s the big deal, anyway?” Hillary shrugged her shoulders. “You go into the bathroom, turn the light out, and say a lame chant three times.”

I glanced around, almost expecting to see Allison in the room.

“Hey, Steph, why don’t you start?” Hillary asked, innocently batting her lashes.

Bitch
.

“Why don’t we finish the fortune thing?” I pointed to Ashley, who nodded in agreement.

“No,” Hillary said. “Let’s see if this really works.” She leaned closer. “How badly do you want in?”

Great!
I should have known better. No way would Hillary accept me back into her group. Like a spider, she’d been waiting to cast her string on me, to pull me into her web for others to devour.

I couldn’t believe I’d been stupid enough to believe she might actually want me to be her friend … again.

I blinked back the tears that threatened to erupt.

She scowled at my expression. “You do want to be a part of us again, right?”

Cura grabbed my elbow. “Steph, you don’t have to do this.”

“What’s wrong, Steph?” Hillary taunted. “Scared you might actually
see
something?” She folded her arms and smiled.

I desperately wanted to slap her smug face. I couldn’t understand why she continued to push me into playing this retarded game.

“I’ll do it.” I stepped forward, ignoring Cura’s pleading look. “If only to show you that this is really stupid.”

“Girls, give me the flashlight.” Hillary pointed to her dresser. “You’ll need it when you summon Mary.”

Megan walked over and picked up the flashlight. She then gave it to me with a superior look on her face.

I snatched the flashlight out of her hands. I bit my bottom lip, refusing to let anyone see how I felt. If anything, I wanted to finish this so I could leave.

“Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary,” Hillary started, motioning everyone to join.

The chant started out low and grew in volume.

“Come on, you guys,” Hillary said in mock disbelief. “Keep it down, okay? Don’t want our moms downstairs to think we’re calling Satan!”

Megan leaned toward Ashley. She whispered loud enough for me to hear, “I heard Stephanie actually saw that one girl who was killed by that pervert.”

“Oh my God, really?” Ashley giggled.

I walked past them, refusing to listen any more. I’d show them. Hadn’t I faced scarier things, like real ghosts? I continued to the bathroom.

The Pepto-Bismol-colored door made my stomach roil. I hoped I wouldn’t get sick all over Hillary’s shag carpet.

My hands shook. Still, I opened the door and walked in. The chants became muffled.

The sweet citrus scent of Clinique’s Happy perfume made me gag. An assortment of make-up,
seventeen
magazines, and flavored lip-gloss covered the granite countertop.

Jeez, I could drown in that sink.

“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary. Come out to play.”

No, please go away
.

A large rectangular antique mirror filled the wall. Golden cupids hung on both sides. It reminded me of a mirror that used to hang in my grandma’s house.

Well, let’s get this over with.
I flicked the light off, took a deep breath.

I put the flashlight under my chin, turned it on, and faced the mirror.

Nothing.

Sure, the combination of darkness and artificial light played games with my features. I looked ghoulish. Even my blond hair looked auburn. But nothing unusual happened.

What had I expected? That the real Bloody Mary would appear and gouge out my eyes? Yeah, right.

I turned to leave. But then a strange sensation came over me. The same feeling I’d had before someone from the other side came for a visit. My whole body tingled. The backs of my legs itched something fierce. I could sense someone staring at me.

Oh, no, it’s happening again!

The temperature dropped in the bathroom. A cold draft chilled the room, circled my feet, then whipped up around my hips, faster and faster, until I was engulfed.

I watched in horror as my features melted away. My round chin narrowed to a pointy V, while my hair lengthened and my eyes grew smaller and closer together. No longer did I see myself in the mirror. The ghost’s features filled the space in the mirror where I should have been.

Perspiration dripped down my face.
Please no – not now.

The stranger stared back at me. Her eyes widened.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “You can see me.”

I lost my balance and fell on the tiled floor.

Oh, my gosh, Bloody Mary does exist!

The flashlight slipped from my hand. The C batteries rolled across the floor.

“Hey, Steph?” Hillary yelled through the door. “Did Mary get you?”

Though it was dark, I could still see the woman above me in the mirror.

She cocked her head. At first I thought she’d heard Hillary. But she was gesturing about something else. A line of light appeared on the upper left side of the mirror, etching out a long rectangular shape. It looked like some kind of portal or door. Then a low, guttural sound caused the mirror to vibrate.

The woman turned, took a hesitant step toward the pulsating door in the mirror. In and out, in and out; the door seemed to breathe, to have a life of its own. I swear I could hear it gasping.

“Don’t open it!” I screamed.

“What’s going on in there? Jeez, she’s weird,” Megan said.

The woman’s hand continued to reach for the handle of the strange looking door. The noise grew louder and louder.
Couldn’t she hear it?

The woman leaned over just inches away. Suddenly the door in the mirror reached up and brushed against one of her manicured hands. She jumped back.

Then the door in the mirror burst open. Gray wisps whooshed out and surrounded the woman. She tried to push them away but was overpowered.

“Help meeee!”

The mirror shattered into a million pieces. I jumped out of the way, and flung the bathroom door open, but not without stepping on some of the glass.

Hillary fell on the carpet. “Hey, what’s your problem? Omigod, bitch! You broke my mirror.”

“Steph, what’s going on?” Cura asked. But I didn’t stop to answer.

I ran into the bedroom, knocking over a bowl of popcorn and a can of Diet Coke.

The others shouted, but I didn’t stop. I took two and three steps at a time down the stairs, and felt my left ankle twist to the right. I tried to grab onto the staircase railing, but missed. Instead I fell down to the bottom.

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Swanson ran into the hallway, concern etched on her face. The other moms jumped up, my own mother’s frantic voice in the background.

Mom was going to be so pissed
.

I didn’t wait to find out. The palms of my hands slammed into the front door. The sound couldn’t muffle the catcalls of the girls upstairs.

“I told you she’s a freak!”

But I didn’t care. I had to get out of there! I bolted from the house only to see my own home dark and foreboding. I couldn’t help but wonder if the ghost was already waiting for me in a mirror at home.

Chapter 2

Mom slammed the door shut and glared at me. I could feel her anger from across the room.

“What were you thinking running out of Mrs. Swanson’s house like that?”

I looked away, refusing to acknowledge my mother’s concern. Instead, I leafed through my latest s
eventeen
magazine. I tried to act like it didn’t matter, though inside, my stomach felt like mush. My heart was still racing.

Mom had just returned from the failed auxiliary meeting. To say she wasn’t happy that I’d ruined her social hour was an understatement. I’d pissed her off royally. It would have been nice if she’d been concerned about what caused me to run out of Hillary’s house. But no.

“Well?” Mom didn’t wait for an answer. She stormed across the room and ripped the magazine out of my hands. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“It was lame.” I avoided eye contact. “It wasn’t as if we were really doing anything, anyway.”

That got Mom’s attention. She turned back around, her eyes bugging out. “What were you doing then?”

Figures, she’d blame the whole thing on me. But could I really blame her? I mean, I didn’t exactly leave on good terms.

“Uh … nothing much.” I sank deeper into the La-Z-Boy. The memory of fleeing the Swanson’s home stuck to me like a bad nightmare.

“Well, it couldn’t have been nothing the way you ran out of there.” Mom shook her head. “Thank goodness I scheduled a meeting for you with a counselor tomorrow. Maybe he can talk some sense into you because I sure as heck can’t.”

Meeting with a counselor?
Wasn’t it bad enough that I’d seen a psychologist? Now a counselor?

“What? Mom, why do I have to go? I already went to see Dr.
—
”

“I can’t deal with your behavior. The crosses in the garage are bad enough. But now you’re destroying property. I think you need to see someone. Apparently the last specialist didn’t help.”

I cringed at the mention of seeing yet another doctor. She must really be concerned if she’d called a counselor considering how much it had embarrassed her the first time.

OMG. I’ll probably have to take drugs again.
I couldn’t do that. I had to have my wits together to help Allison. I couldn’t go. I just couldn’t.

“Mom—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Mom’s eyes blazed. “While you’re at it, I think you should go back to Mrs. Swanson and apologize for your rude behavior.”

As if I’d do that in a bazillion years!

“
Mooom!
Come on. I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want out of me?”

“Well, for one, start showing some manners. Harrumph!”

My perfect mother actually harrumphed.

“I taught you better than that.”

Yeah, right. I knew the drill by heart – never question the authorities, or tell them you see dead people.

“Right.” I nodded my head, tuning her out.

“First off, you are paying for that mirror you broke.” Mom stomped away, then swung back around. “What were you thinking? I can’t believe you did that.”

“Mom, it wasn’t like that. It was an accident. I’ll pay for it, okay?”

“Well.” My mother glared at me, waiting for me to argue. When I didn’t she folded her arms. “You are going to the counselor tomorrow.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Mom smoothed the front of her designer pants. “End of discussion.”

She turned from me. “I never had this problem with your brother,” she muttered as she walked away.

Of course not. Perfect Ricky. He could do no wrong.
Well, not in Mom’s eyes. I knew about his secret stash of
Playboys
that he kept under a loose part of the carpet in his closet. He tossed those nasty magazines before leaving to do his stint with the Peace Corps, in Peru.