The Magic Half (13 page)

They grinned at each other.

Then Miri said, “I heard Horst say he caught you running away.”

Molly made a face. “Yeah, he caught me. Look.” She pulled up the short sleeve of her dress, and Miri saw five fat bruises on her arm.

“I hate that guy,” said Miri. “I really, really hate him.”

“Me too,” said Molly. “I was hiding in the woods, and he found me and drug me back here and locked me in my room. I fought, but he’s a lot bigger than I am, and I was scared to get him too mad. I was just fixing to run away again, now they’re at dinner. That’s why I came in here.” She smiled. “But I guess I won’t bother.”

“I heard your aunt say she was going to take you to some home. She was trying to tell your grandma that you were a thief or something and that your grandma shouldn’t leave you anything in her will.”

“You heard that?” Molly’s eyes blazed. “All they care about is money! Grandma May didn’t say anything, did she?”

“No. Nothing. Can she talk?” asked Miri curiously.

After a moment, Molly said, “She ain’t talked in a while.”

Miri saw the shadows on Molly’s face and changed the subject. “I’ve got to say, your grandma looks like a fairy,” she began. “I didn’t really believe you before, but when I saw her, I could see what you meant. She looked at me like she knew me.”

“She is a fairy,” Molly said firmly. “They pretend they don’t believe in it, but they know it’s true. Back when she could talk, they were sweet as pie to her, ’cause they were afraid she’d do something to them. You should have seen Horst, acting like Sunday school whenever she was nearby. Almost killed him.” She paused. “Wish it had.”

Once again, there was the sound of chairs on the floor in the dining room below.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Miri nervously. “We’re right above Horst’s room.”

Without a word, Molly lifted the flap that led to the secret bench in her closet. She beckoned to Miri, who followed. They tiptoed from the closet into Molly’s room.

“My mom is putting up wallpaper just like this right now,” whispered Miri, looking at the pink-flowered walls.

“Your mom is?” Molly looked at her shyly. “What’s she like?”

“My mom?” Miri paused. It was hard to say what her mom was like. “She has brown hair and brown eyes. She teaches English at Thomason College. She’s—she’s—” Miri had never thought about what her mother was like before. “She says funny things. Or maybe she just says regular things in a funny way. She makes French toast for breakfast. She likes old movies.” Miri realized as she said it that they wouldn’t be old movies to Molly. “You guys will love each other.”

“We will?” Molly still looked shy. “Tell me about the rest of them. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Strange—usually it was the first thing anyone knew about her. “We’re a one-in-eight-million family because we have two sets of twins. There are my older brothers—Ray and Robbie—they’re twelve and totally annoying, but also funny sometimes. And there are my little sisters, Nell and Nora, who are pretty cute but do a lot of bad things like eating ice cream for breakfast and making paste in the bathtub. They’re four. And then there’s my dad, who goes around lecturing about geothermal energy, which I sort of understand, but not really. He likes math and science and stuff.”

“Ray and Robbie. Nell and Nora,” repeated Molly. “Molly and Miri.”

Hey. Miri had never thought of that.

They heard Sissy’s voice in the hallway below. “. . . over to Lottie’s, but I can’t find my gloves.”

“Well, get a move on and I’ll drive you over there. I got to get out to Beeton’s this afternoon. She says the whole flock are sickening from the heat, but I reckon she ain’t . . .” Flo’s voice faded as she moved away down the hall.

“Just let me find
my gloves,
” Sissy said irritably.

“Don’t know why you gotta wear gloves over to Lottie’s. Y’all playing Mrs. Roosevelt?” It was Horst’s voice.

“Oh Horst, shut up.” Sissy’s voice was muffled. “It’s a tea party. You got to wear gloves to a tea party.”

“Ooh, a
tea party,
” Horst snickered. “Bunch of snot-nose girls. Would you care for a
biscuit
?”

Flo said, “And what’re you doing this afternoon, son?”

“Watching the prisoner.” Horst slapped his chest in a satisfied way.

“You could go sit with Mama. She might appreciate your company.”

“Pah!” Horst snorted. “She don’t care who’s there. She don’t even know.”

“And besides,” said Sissy sweetly, “Horst’s scared of her.”

“I ain’t! Shut up your mouth!”

“Don’t you lay a finger on me! Ma!” Sissy squealed.

“All right, stop it now! Horst, leave your sister alone. You got your gloves, girl? Let’s get a move on. I want to get back by five.”

“I suppose I’ll have to walk home in the dust.” Sissy sniffed.

“Cow,” said Horst.

“Shut up, Horst.” The noise of clattering heels faded as they walked away. There was a silence.

“You hungry in there, runt?” Horst called up the stairs.

Miri froze.

“No!” Molly called back.

“You’re lying!”

Molly said nothing.

“Answer me!” he demanded.

Molly said nothing.

“Answer me or I’ll come make you!” he shouted. Miri and Molly heard his heavy feet on the narrow stairs and looked at each other in horror.

“All right—I am hungry,” said Molly quickly. “I’m awful hungry.”

They could hear his heavy breath outside the door. “Bet you’d like some pie, huh?” he said in a low voice. “Had some of that peach pie for dinner, and it sure was tasty.”

Molly’s hand reached out to clutch Miri’s tightly, and they both stared at the door. Two inches of wood, thought Miri. The only thing standing between us and total disaster. She watched Molly take a little gulp of air and say, “Oh, Horst, can I have a piece?” Her voice was thin and sad. “Just a little piece?”

Miri closed her eyes and silently commanded him to go away. Go to the kitchen, she thought. Go anywhere but here.

“Din’t hear you say please,” he said softly. They heard his hand on the doorknob.

Please don’t come in, prayed Miri.

“Please, Horst,” Molly begged pathetically. “Please, will you go get me some pie?”

“
Please, Horst
,” he repeated mockingly. “That’s begging, runt, and you know what they say— beggars can’t be choosers. You don’t get no pie, girl, not after all the trouble you caused. Fact is, I oughta give you a whaling just for asking. But now you made me hungry. So I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do instead,” he guffawed. “I’m gonna go cut myself a nice big piece of pie. And then I’m gonna sit myself down and eat it. It’s gonna taste fine. And
then,
if I ain’t too tired after that, I’m going to go out in the yard and cut me a switch off of one of them apple trees. And then I’ll pay you a little visit. How’s that for a plan, runt?”

Molly’s knuckles were white. She tightened her jaw and said nothing.

“Mm-mm, that pie is gonna taste good!” Horst crowed. He gave one of his pig snorts and lumbered down the narrow stairs.

There was a pause, and then both girls let out a long breath.

Miri saw tears glistening in Molly’s eyes, and suddenly her heart was pounding, not with fear but with rage. Wave after wave of fury flowed over her, until she was tingling with it. “He’s a ratface, pigbag creep,” she whispered fiercely to Molly. “We’ll get him.”

Molly shook her head.

“Yes, we will,” insisted Miri. “We have to anyway.” Molly brushed roughly at her cheeks. “What do you mean? I thought we were going to your time.”

Miri patted the glasses case inside her shirt and thought longingly of home. “Not yet,” she said. “There’s a couple of things we have to do first.” She explained about putting the first lens back on the baseboard in their room and the second back in the barn. Then she told Molly what she had learned from old Mr. Guest, describing Horst’s final appearance in the drugstore, shaking and terrified. “I was scared,” she confessed. “I was scared that he’d hurt you—or something—and that’s why he ran away.”

Molly looked confused. “But—wait—if that’s the way he tells it, isn’t that the way it has to happen?”

“No.” Miri leaned forward. “No. That’s the thing. We can change what happens. We
are
changing it. But we still want Horst to run away, because if he just hangs around here for the next seventy years, he’ll probably take the glasses out of his box in the barn, and then they won’t be there for me to find in my time. And if I don’t find your glasses, then I can’t be here now. See what I mean?” She looked anxiously at Molly.

“Sort of,” said Molly slowly. “It makes my head hurt. You want Horst to run away. But not because he”—she took a breath—“kills me.”

“Right!” Miri nodded.

Molly gave a little shiver. “Okay. That makes two of us. I don’t want him to kill me either. But I don’t see how you’re going to make him run away. You got a plan?”

“Sure I’ve got a plan,” Miri said. She reached under her shirt and pulled Ray’s zombie mask out of her waistband. “My plan is to scare the heck out of him.”

Molly looked at the limp mask and her eyes began to glow. “Oh
yes,
” she whispered. “Oh yes. I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.”

CHAPTER
14

H
ORST BAINS LIKED
a quiet house. Nothing suited him better than a long afternoon without his mama nagging him about chores or Sissy sashaying about. Yessir, a man’s home was his castle when all the loudmouth womenfolk left it. Course, there was the runt, but she was in the jug. And tomorrow, she’d be gone forever! He chuckled to himself, his sides shaking like pudding. Got her out of my hair, he thought, and brushed a microscopic bit of dust off his bedspread. Suddenly he remembered that he had promised her a good switching. The pie had taken it right out of his mind. Should he go out to the orchard and cut himself a branch? Naw—too hot. He’d do it later. It would be something to look forward to.

Horst yawned. He could go look for Gran’s will. It was down in her room somewhere, he knew that. He could just go right in and root around for it. She wouldn’t be able to say a word. She weren’t never going to talk again—anyone could see that. Horst pictured those bright eyes resting on him, and he cracked his neck abruptly. Naw—he was too tired. He’d let Mama do it. She shoulda done it already, but she didn’t want to upset the old bat. Mama was surely stupid sometimes. He reached out to straighten the comb and brush on his dresser. There. That was better.

• • •

Upstairs, Miri’s hands were sweating. Why had she thought this would work? She had never scared anyone in her life. She stared miserably at Molly, who seemed, on the other hand, to have complete confidence in their success.

“Now,” Molly was saying briskly. “What are you going to wear?”

Miri hadn’t thought about it. They were doomed. She could practically feel Horst’s meaty hands on her neck. She wished she didn’t have such a good imagination. “A sheet?” she suggested in a weak voice.

Molly pursed her lips critically. “A sheet seems too babyish. Also not scary enough. We’ve got to freeze his blood.”

Miri’s stomach was beginning to hurt a lot.

Molly tugged on one braid, surveying her room. “Ooh, I’ve got an idea. Flo put her mangy old fur coat in my closet.” She started giggling. “We could cut it up, and you’d look like an animal.”

“You think he’d fall for it?” Miri said doubtfully.

“Horst? He thinks Flash Gordon is real,” said Molly. “He’ll fall for it.”

“I’m scared,” blurted Miri.

“Scared of what?”

“What if he kills us both?” said Miri in a small voice. “What if that’s the new ending?”

Molly sat back on her heels, her gray eyes on Miri’s. “We have to do it, don’t we? Otherwise, he could wreck everything, right?” Miri nodded. “Okay, then. When you have to do something hard, you may as well run toward it.”

“So it will be over fast?”

“Yeah, but also because it takes your mind off how scared you are.”

She was right, Miri knew. “Okay.” Miri swallowed. “Let’s see that coat.”

Flo’s coat hung down to Miri’s ankles, and its black fur fell off in clumps when she put it on. Molly gleefully destroyed what was left of it, cutting off the collar and hacking the arms and bottom into long strips. When she was done, it hung in lumpy shreds around Miri’s arms and legs. Molly buttoned it up with the buttons inside, so it didn’t look like a coat. Miri stared at herself in the mirror on the dresser. Great, she thought. I look like a big, sick dog. Horst might think I have rabies, but he’s not going to think I’m a zombie. The whole idea was seeming stupider and stupider. Maybe they should just take the chance and go home. She looked down at Molly, who was busily yanking fur off her sleeves.

Molly glanced up and saw Miri’s face. “He’ll fall for it,” she said firmly.

• • •

Horst heaved himself onto his bed with a groan. He picked up the comic book that lay on his bedside table and inspected the bright cover. Tarzan, with his hand cupped to his mouth, dangled from a vine in front of a herd of elephants. Horst sucked in his stomach. “Ah-ahh-ahh-ah-AH!” he yodeled softly. He let his stomach sag back into pudding. He wished he had a soda pop. Sighing, he opened the comic book and began to read, his lips moving over each word. “Dawlish strained against the ropes that held him, cursing his luck . . .”

• • •

“How do I work it?” Molly asked, frowning at the CD player.

Miri knelt beside her. “See, just press this button, right here—” She pressed, and Deathbag’s howls and screams came, very quietly, from the speaker.

Molly was fascinated. “What’s that? Why are they screaming like that?”

“It’s music. Robbie and Ray think it’s supercool.” Miri rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean, cool?”

“Cool means—um—good, popular.” Molly nodded, but Miri wasn’t sure she got it. “You’ll understand when you’re there. But look, here’s the volume. When I get to the bottom of the ladder, turn it all the way up. It’s got to be
loud.
”

Molly stared at the volume dial. “Cool.”

• • •

Outside, the afternoon heat was thick and soft, and inside, Horst’s room was dim and quiet. Dim and quiet. The comic book fell forward onto Horst’s face. Naptime, he thought sleepily. He spread the comic over his stomach and closed his eyes. Ahh. Nothing like a good nap on a summer afternoon. He cleared his nose in one great, sucking sniff and swallowed noisily.