Scary Mary (12 page)

She shrugged. “Nothing happened.”

“
Don’t shut me out on this. We’re a
team.”

“
There’s nothing to tell.” Rachel glared
at her. She hunched her shoulders and put her hands up. “I didn’t
hear anything. Believe me, I tried to find him. Ricky didn’t want
to talk.”

“
He talked to you plenty when we sneaked
over. He practically hauled you into the basement to ‘talk’ to
you.”

“
He didn’t make a peep this time, even
after I called him a piece of feces.”

"A piece of feces?"

"I like the way it sounds, so?"

“
Where’s the anchor?”

“
I have no clue. If it’s down there, it’s
hidden.”

“
So why’d you tear out of
there?”

Mary scowled. “Because Kyle is a jerk.”

“
We knew that already.”

“
Yeah, well, he really, really
is.”

“
So what’d Ricky say?”

“
He didn’t say anything!”

Rachel gave her a hard look. “You’re not going
to go over there without me, are you?”

She didn’t have an immediate answer. The truth
was that she hadn’t thought about going over again, or what her
next move would be if she had a next move. “No, of course not,” she
finally stammered.

Rachel hadn’t liked her pause. “Whatever you
say, Mary,” she said in a flat tone. She turned back toward the
steering wheel and pulled back onto the street. Mary could see her
jaw was clenched. What was with people not believing her today? He
didn’t believe his house was haunted, and now Rachel didn’t believe
her when she told her that the spook hadn’t spoken to her or that
she wouldn’t do anything without her.

When they pulled up to her house, Mary opened
her door, but she couldn’t get out without trying to convince
Rachel one more time that she was telling the truth. “I really
didn’t hear Ricky. I don’t know why. Maybe he knew I was up to
something. I’ll have to come up with a new plan to get rid of
him.”

“
Look, if you don’t want to tell me, fine,
but don’t think you’re going to shut me out on this,” Rachel
said.

She raised her hands again. “I’m not shutting
you out. I swear.” Rachel looked at her for a long moment and then
nodded her head once. “Are we cool?”

It hurt a little that Rachel had to think about
it before answering. They were usually always in sync. “Yeah. So
what’s our next move?”

She shrugged. “I’ll talk to Gran. See if we can
make up some charms or something to put in the house.”

“
Okay,” she said. Mary could tell that
Rachel still thought she was holding back on what had happened, but
nothing had happened, except Kyle had majorly pissed her off, and
she could admit, at least to herself, that he’d freaked her out a
little too. If she never saw him again, she wouldn’t miss him. She
shook her head. She got out and went into the house. She needed to
discuss the situation with Gran. She hoped she’d believe
her.

Chapter 11

Help

Gran was in her office or ‘nexus of
spirituality’ as she told some of her more gullible clients. Mary
pushed the beads aside and stuck her head in. Gran was between
clients and using her time by polishing her crystals.

She looked up and smiled. “Mary, I didn’t hear
you come in. Where were you this afternoon?”

She hung back at the doorway. She knew Gran
wouldn’t like her answer. “Over at Cy’s.”

Gran frowned. “What were you doing there?”

“
I was trying to find Ricky’s
anchor.”

“
You know that’s dangerous.”

“
Yeah, but I’m trying to help
Cy.”

Gran shook her head. “What happened?”

“
Nothing,” she replied and shifted her
weight back and forth.

“
Nothing?” Gran set down the amethyst that
she’d been polishing to give her full attention.

She looked down at her shoes. She really wasn’t
going to like this. “He played dumb when I tried drawing him
out.”

Gran looked over her glasses at her. “You goaded
him? Mary, that was very foolish. I know I taught you better than
that. There’s no telling what an angry spirit would do to you or
anyone else.”

Mary nodded. “I know, but he didn’t respond to
me at all. It was so weird, but I’m still worried he’ll bother Cy
and his family. I thought maybe that you could make up something to
protect them. You know with some of your hocus pocus.”

Gran sighed and picked up the amethyst again.
“One day, you will respect your grandmother and her meager
abilities.”

She moved to Gran’s side and knelt on the floor.
She set the amethyst aside and took both her hands in hers. “I do
respect you, Gran, and your abilities aren’t meager. You’re the
most awesome fortuneteller this side of the Mississippi, and you
should put that on your business cards. Could you help me make some
charms for their house? Please?”

She could tell by her smile that Gran wasn’t
really upset with her. “I have to go to the store to get supplies,
but it’s too late to go now. It’ll have to be tomorrow.”

“
All right.” She was relieved that Gran
was on board with this. “Rachel might come over to help
out.”

Gran pushed her glasses back onto her nose. “I
doubt this is what Mr. Landa meant when he advised extracurricular
activities.”

Mary smirked. “It keeps me off the streets.”

Gran chuckled a moment, but then she looked down
at her and a soft smile spread across her face. “Fiona would be so
proud of you if she could see you right now.”

Mary froze at the mention of her mother. “Proud
of what?”

Gran smoothed back Mary’s hair. “She’d be proud
of how you’re dealing with your gift and using it to help
others.”

“
But Mom didn’t have the gift.” Her throat
was getting tight. It always did on the subject of her
parents.

“
No, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t
know how the gift made others pull away and hide.”

“
What?” She’d never heard anything about
this.

“
There are those with the gift that
consider it a curse. I know that you’ve resented your gift, but
you’ve never seen yourself as evil for having it.”

“
Of course not,” she said, a little
affronted by the idea.

“
Of course not,” Gran repeated softly.
“But your mother knew people who did feel that way, and it upset
her greatly. She tried to convince them that they were not evil,
but she couldn’t reach them. She knew that you could have the gift.
It’s prevalent in our family, but she hoped that you would not end
up like those sad souls who punished themselves simply for being
the way they were.”

“
Gran, who was it that Mom was trying to
help?” Mary was curious because she’d only ever known of Gran and
herself as having the gift.

Gran shook her head. “They’re distant cousins. I
doubt you’ll ever meet them.”

“
But if Mom knew them--”

“
Your mother sought them out, and they
made their desire not to be contacted ever again very clear.
They’re melancholy souls who are content with their
unhappiness.”

Car tires crunched on the gravel drive. Gran
looked out the window. “That’s Mrs. Polk. She made an urgent
appointment about Chowder.”

“
How urgent can a dead dog be?”

She shrugged her shoulders and began putting her
crystals away. “We’ll just have to see.”

Mary slipped out of Gran’s office and went up to
her room to do homework. Half an hour later, She was lying on the
floor doing Latin homework when a familiar red bouncy ball fell
onto her textbook.

“
Huh?” She picked up the ball.

“
Arf!”

She sat up with a jerk. “Chowder?”

“
Arf!”

Her bedroom door opened, and Gran came in.
Tucked under her arm was Chowder. “What are you doing with
him?”

Gran gave her a guilty smile and stroked the
stuffed dog’s head. “We seem to have a new addition to the
family.”

“
WHAT?”

“
Chowder and Mrs. Polk’s new Dachshund
Tipsy aren’t getting along. Tipsy barks at Chowder’s body day and
night. Mrs. Polk thought that we would be a better home for
him.”

“
She couldn’t do the sensible thing—like
bury him?”

Chowder whined. Mary looked in his general
direction with a frown. “Do you want to put him to rest?” Gran
asked. She didn’t sound happy.

“
You’re suggesting we keep a dead dog as a
pet.”

“
He’s sweet.”

“
He’s dead.”

Gran held the Scottish Terrier up to her face
and looked into its glass eyes. “I suppose you’re right. We should
let him go.”

She stared at her grandmother’s unhappy face.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe
what she was about to say. “Well…he would be easier to keep than a
live dog. I mean he doesn’t eat, poop, or shed.”

“
That’s true,” Gran replied. The corners
of her mouth tilted up a fraction.

“
I guess we could keep him around for a
while and see how it goes.”

“
As a trial run.”

She nodded. “Yeah, but as soon as he chews up
any of my shoes, he’s getting a funeral.”

Gran nodded and tucked Chowder back under her
arm. Mary picked up the ball and tossed it into the hall. The
scrabbling of tiny paws followed it. Gran grinned.

“
You are such a softy,” she groaned and
flopped onto her back.

“
It runs in the family,” Gran replied with
a smirk. Mary frowned in response.

~~ ~~ ~~

She tapped her pencil impatiently on her desk.
The clock had to be messed up. It’d been a quarter till twelve for
the past five minutes, and she really had to go to the bathroom.
She tapped her pencil faster.

“
Hey Mary, do you fly around on a
broomstick, or have you upgraded to a Hoover?” a guy two seats from
her whispered.

“
Neither. How about you? Do you still
fantasize about Ariel, or have you graduated to Pamela Lee Anderson
yet?” The guy scowled as his face turned red, and all of his
friends snickered. Mr. Jacobs, their Latin teacher yelled at them
to pay attention. She looked at the clock again, and her eyes
bulged. It was now eighteen minutes until twelve. That was it. She
was going. She pushed herself out of her chair and went to the
front. The reason she’d hoped to wait for the bell sat beside the
door. Mr. Jacobs insisted that his students carry a large wooden
paddle as their bathroom pass. She suspected that it was a vestige
of his fraternity days. She picked up the paddle and stalked out of
the room. Some teachers were just sadistic.

She ducked into the girls’ bathroom with a sigh.
She did her business and went to the mirror to touch up her
make-up. She’d been laying it on thick since the séance at Cy’s
house. The palest foundation, thick black eye-liner, heavy mascara,
and black lipstick put her face in such sharp contrasts that the
makeup muted her emotions. Mary doubted
Cover Girl
intended
for their foundation to hide emotional blemishes like sadness and
hurt, but if applied thick enough, it could even hide anguish, and
she’d need all the shielding she could get because just then Vicky
came in.

“
Uh oh, the town freak’s adjusting her
mask,” Vicky said.

Mary’s eyes slid to Vicky’s reflection in the
mirror. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fakest of them all?
Oh never mind, I see her.” She drew a large circle around Vicky’s
reflection with her black lipstick. Vicky’s mouth thinned as she
glowered at her. Mary smiled brightly back through the mirror.

“
Why do they let freaks like you into this
school?”

“
Because they’re EOS-Equal Opportunity
Suckage. Can’t let anyone miss out on the misery.”

Vicky shook her head and stepped up to the sink.
She unzipped her purse and pulled out a tube of concealer. Mary
began touching up her lipstick. She wasn’t about to leave. She was
there first. She wasn’t going to scurry away because of Vicky.

Vicky glanced over and tsked. “I will never
understand the reject beauty regime. Why bother to make yourself
look uglier?”

“
Not everyone thinks it’s
ugly.”

Vicky laughed. “Um, yeah, they do.”

Mary ignored her and pulled out her mascara.

“
Give up, Mary. You’ll never get him
back.”

“
How do you know?”

“
Because he told me that desperate story
you made up to get invited back to his house. Haunted? Please. He
told me that you wussed out anyway. What? Couldn’t find any chains
to rattle?”

“
That’s your kink not mine. Afraid the
boys might run away?”

Vicky rolled her eyes and shoved her tube of
concealer back in her purse. “You are so full of crap. Don’t expect
to be invited back over. Ever.”

“
That’s what really eats you up, isn’t it?
He’s invited me over, but you have to show up uninvited to get
through the door. He must not like you so much.”

Vicky’s eyes narrowed and pink spots appeared on
her cheeks. “Listen you psycho-freak, Cy is too good for you. He’s
nice, thoughtful, and smart. Totally out of your league.”

“
You know, psychologists have discovered
this thing called projecting. You might want to look it
up.”

“
I know what projecting is. You might want
to look up schizophrenia.”