She Read online

  Her face was grave and serious, with wrinkles marking it like the ridges in wood. Her long, white hair seemed to have once been black, but nearly all traces of that color were gone. She stood, hunched in a way, but still menacing. One gnarled, shaky finger pointed up at them from the street, and her eyes seemed to glow, but not in the hopeful, kind sort of way.

  “What... what is that?” Crystal asked, leaning on Michael for support, who willingly held her up.

  Christian tried to answer, but could not. Words would not form in his mouth. Michael stood stiff and still, afraid that if he moved, she also would. There was no means to tell which way she would go; away or towards them.

  Brandon was undaunted and steady, as if he had been expecting this all along. Indeed, he had.

  He answered, “She.”

  5. Moments

  When they woke up that next morning, full of disbelief and yet certain of what they saw, she -whoever “she” was- had gone. Where? Well, that is a question that cannot quite be answered, not now and certainly not then.

  “I can’t believe that was real; it felt like a dream,” said Christian, propping himself up on his elbows.

  “More like a nightmare,” Michael added.

  “I go through it every night; you get used to it.” Brandon yawned and fell back onto his sleeping bag. The morning sun was just shining through the open window, warming and blinding them.

  Crystal, of course, got the bed, despite protests that she did not need it and would be just fine sleeping on the carpeted floor. That was earlier in the evening, though, and after they saw the lady outside sleeping lower on the floor felt safer. If you were on the floor, there was no chance of anything, or anyone, seeing you from outside the window. In some ways, sleeping on the bed became an act of bravery, rolling over and seeing the curtains loosely hanging, behind which the night terror waited and leered.

  Needless to say, she slept with her back towards that side of the room.

  Besides the window, she decided to face the other side because a certain somebody slept over there; Michael, that is. She was not sure why, but noticing him, how peaceful he was while he slept, did a great deal to comfort her. Assuring herself there was nothing behind the momentary feelings, she had turned around towards the window, unconsciously, but rolled back over away from it, the bed springs creaking angrily. Just the sight of it made her heart race with anxiety.

  “You alright up there?” Brandon had asked groggily.

  “Yeah, yeah; I’m good,” she answered, a little sheepish. Looking at Michael, she thought, Yeah, now I’m alright.

  This morning, the voice of that same boy awakened her from a dreamless slumber. Michael was saying something, much too loudly for the morning. She was about to comment, telling him to quiet down, but realized who the voice belonged and decided otherwise. Even if it was too loud for her at this time of morning, it was Michael talking and she liked his voice.

  What? she thought abruptly before her thoughts got carried away. No, no, no; I’m just too lazy to answer. I don’t like his voice; I’m not in love with him.

  “You awake?” he asked her, interrupting the argument in her mind.

  Sitting up and pulling the blankets up to her chin -Why’s it so cold?- she answered, “Yeah.”

  “We were just talking about... what’d you call her, Brandon?” Michael looked at the foot of the bed, towards him.

  “She. I called her She.”

  “She? That’s a weird name,” Christian commented from the left side of the bed. “And it’s not grammatically correct.”

  “Well, I don’t know her real name, obviously,” Brandon said with a hint of annoyance.

  “Not sure I want to,” remarked Michael.

  “When’s breakfast?” Crystal voiced the question her stomach had been growling since she woke up. “I haven’t eaten since after school yesterday.”

  “Changing the subject, much?” Brandon questioned with a sly grin.

  “I don’t mind,” Christian mumbled to himself.

  “Seriously, though,” Crystal demanded. “I’m hungry.”

  Brandon stood up and stretched his aching back, feeling better about the situation. “I wouldn’t say no to a waffle, either. Lemme go ask Mom.” With that, he trudged out of the room, nearly falling when Michael tried to trip him. The others laughed when he made a remark about “that not being funny” as he made his way slowly out of the door.

  “I can’t get that face out of my head... and that finger …” muttered Christian.

  “Don’t worry about it, man. She’s gone.”

  “Yeah, Chris. Long gone.”

  Crystal was the only one who called his brother that. Everyone else called him Christian, except for maybe Brandon. He occasionally came up with some wackadoo nickname, and Christian was his favorite person to use them on.

  They heard Brandon holler up the stairs, “Ya’ll can come down; we got some pancakes, some bacon, some-” but they were already dashing out of the room and down the yellow-painted hallway. “Quite an ugly color, but cheap,” Mrs. Gray had said when they moved into the house.

  When all four of them were sat down and nibbling away on the bacon or scarfing down the eggs, Mr. Gray came walking into the room, whistling a joyful hymn sung at church last Sunday, though Brandon never payed attention to or remembered the songs. He just sang the words, going through the motions, sometimes literally, and then sat down, wishing he could sleep.

  Seeing all of the teenagers sitting around his table, Mr. Gray stopped whistling and a sour, forced smile began to smear on his face, like concrete that has started to dry but the workers still attempt to spread it around. Grabbing a few of the largely-untouched pancakes, he pulled out a plate, layered on the syrup, and walked out of the kitchen.

  “I don’t think your dad likes us,” Christian chuckled to the others in a whispered voice, so that the grumpy old man would not hear him.

  “It’s fine,” Brandon assured him with an amused smile. “He’s always like that in the mornings, but by lunch he cheers up a bit.”

  “Is he going to work today?” Michael asked. “It’s a weekday.”

  “Yeah, he’ll go into town later. Working third shift this week.”

  Michael nodded and returned to his food. Why bother yourself with other’s lives when you could enjoy some good eggs?

  “So... about last night …”

  They all looked at Brandon with apprehension, worried he might say something and break the silence of the last ten or fifteen minutes. They were a good few handfuls of minutes, where there was no talk about the lady, and one could almost pretend that everything was normal and right with the world. Now, Brandon was testing that barrier, and opening the door to something nobody wanted to mention, or talk about, or even think about.

  “What did you all think?”

  There it was; the question. What did they think? Well, they thought, for one, that whatever had happened was insane, crazy, bonkers, bananas. It should not have happened; it could not have happened! And yet it did, didn’t it? They had seen her, she had seen them. The better question was not “what” did you all think, but “who” do you all think, as in, “Who do you all think she is?” That, however, was the next question that rolled off Brandon’s lips.

  “Who is she?”

  “I have no clue,” Michael answered. “What do I think? Well, I think the whole thing is just not right, and that’s because I don’t know who she is. Why is she watching us? Why is she watching us? Of all people? I mean…”

  “Yeah,” Christian spoke up, surprising them. He was the last person you would expect to answer, or say anything except for “yeah.” Instead, he kept going. “I agree with Michael; whatever she wants, we could answer a lot of questions by knowing who she is.”

  “What about you, Crystal?” Brandon asked, meeting her fear.

  She hoped he would not call on her; she prayed dearly he would not call on her. All this business of talking over breakfast about such important
matters made her feel grown up; too grown up. Adults were supposed to worry from the time they woke up to the time they went to sleep, and sometimes even in their dreams, but kids were not. Of course, none of them were kids in their own heads; they were teenagers, which was a big difference to them. Even still...

  “I feel like this is serious; too serious for me.”

  Christian stared, expecting her to say more, while Michael nodded as if he knew what she meant. Brandon, however, needed more clarification.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean… it’s like this is something adults should deal with. I guess not this exactly, but things like this. Stressing about something over breakfast? Isn’t that what grown ups do? We’re teens! We’re supposed to laugh, joke, have fun, throw eggs at Brandon; things like that!”

  Brandon did not laugh, despite her feeble attempt at humor. “I agree with you,” he said, “but sometimes teenagers have to make adult decisions. We’re all growing up, believe it or not, and this is a grown up situation. We gave the ‘grown-ups’ a chance. My parents didn’t believe me. Now it’s-”

  “Some wacko stalker is not just a grown up situation! It’s for the police to handle,” Crystal exclaimed, leaning in close to diminish the chances of being overheard.

  Immediately, she found herself looking across the table straight into Michael’s curious, compassionate eyes. There was emotion in them, alright, but she could not tell what. Fear? No, certainly not that; he looked too confident, too certain in what he wanted to say. Whatever he was thinking, he mulled over it carefully, choosing his words like individual sprinkles on a nightmarish ice cream.

  “We’re all worried,” he spoke up at last, “but this is serious business. I don’t want to grow up anymore or any less than the rest of you; I want to enjoy being a teenager, and not have to deal with things like this. But it seems we don’t have a choice. If this thing is just watching us, then I guess that’s alright; we could learn to ignore it like Brandon already has. But if it does something else, if it comes at us, I want to be ready. I want us to be ready. Like Brandon said, his parents already had their chance. We’re the last stand.”

  “What are you saying?” Christian wondered aloud in amazement.

  “I’m saying we get ready. If anything comes crashing down on us, I want to have protection. I want to have you all with me. I agree with Crystal; this feels like a grown up decision, a grown up situation. But now, in this situation, that’s what we are. You all know that if we tell our parents, they won’t believe us, or won’t care, or won’t have time. The police, well, I’ve read enough stories to know they want proof, something we can’t give them. So it’s up to us.”

  Crystal looked in admiration at the teenage boy, the youngest in their group, who was taking the lead and making plans. Christian felt a similar sense of amazement, admiration, and the overwhelming presence of tension. Brandon just nodded, thinking it all through, and agreeing with every word.

  When nobody said anything, Michael added, “I really hope I’m wrong, but I’ve got a feeling something’s about to happen. Something big. Something... well, bad.”

  Christian, inspired by him, broke the silence afterwards and said, “And I’ve got a feeling we can stop her.”

  “She,” Brandon corrected, not unkindly.

  “She,” they all said at the same time.

  Michael nodded, keeping his eyes on the empty plate in front of him. Nobody knew what he was thinking. In some ways, he did not even know himself.

  She.

  6. Complications

  “If you take the square root of twelve and multiply it by the dividend, and then multiply that by one-third of twenty-four…”

  Ms. Boarding continued to scratch on the chalkboard, droning in a voice so dull it seemed inhuman. All of the students gazed with nodding heads and half-closed eyes at her, the room’s continued warmness seeping into them over the fifty-minute period, prodding them towards sleep. A few of them were bent over their desks with pencils in hand, pretending to scribble notes or correct mistakes in their math problems.

  Brandon’s head began to lull sideways, until it sprang back up, alert. He heard a snigger beside him and turned his neck to see Crystal containing a wide grin behind her hand, pressed against her mouth. For a second, she glanced his way and imitated falling asleep, as he had done. Shaking his head but smiling all the same, he turned to the other side and saw Christian a few desks away, hurriedly copying whatever the teacher had been saying.

  “Now we move on to the next problem and this one is harder. First, you go and divide the numerator by the denominator to simplify the fraction…”

  “I’m not even sure this is right,” Crystal whispered to Brandon. Ms. Boarding, enraptured by the problem she was now solving, took no notice, both because of her poor hearing and because they were sitting in the last row of the class, farthest away from the old, crow-like teacher.

  “Who cares? We’ve only got…”

  “Five minutes,” Crystal finished, craning her neck to see the clock. “I think I’m gonna take a nap once I get home. I’m exhausted.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Brandon chuckled, jerking a thumb towards the other side of the room.

  A few desks closer than Christian, who was still enthralled by Ms. Boarding’s monotone lecture, Michael had his face planted in the crease of his math book, arms hanging limply from the sides of his chair. Crystal giggled and watched as one-by-one the others in their class noticed and began to whisper among themselves about it. Michael’s sleeping in class was not unusual, but it still caused amusement in them all.

  When the buzzing of voices became too loud and annoying to ignore, Ms. Boarding turned to face her class and said in a much louder, colorful voice, “Just because it is the last week of school does not mean you have the right to jabber continually throughout my lessons! Even though we will have no more tests this year, all of this information will be very useful next year in your tests.”

  “Do you seriously think we’ll remember any of this?” said a rude boy in the front row.

  “I think you especially, Malcolm, would do well to at least attempt a passing grade. Or would you like me to tell the class how absolutely horrible your final exam was? I’m surprised you’re not being held back.”

  “As if you’d want me in your class another year,” Malcolm answered, propping his feet up on the desk.

  Ignoring him, she shouted, “Mr. Walker!”

  Michael’s head snapped up as he jumped out of his seat, while everyone contained giggles. He peered around groggily at the surrounding room, where every face looked at the single student not seated. Cheeks flustering to a light shade of red, he sat back in his seat, not meeting Ms. Boarding’s eyes.

  “Yes ma'am?” he said hoarsely.

  “Mr. Walker, how many times must I remind you that this is my classroom?” she asked, strolling up the aisle where students cringed away in their seats, not daring to glance upwards at her.

  “I know it is.”

  “Then why do you continue to sleep during my lessons? Does this look like a bed to you?” she asked, slamming a hand onto his desk.

  “No.”

  “Does this look like a bedroom or a sitting room to rest in?” She gestured around at the classroom.

  Before he could answer, Malcolm spoke up. “In this millennium, they call it a living room. Did’ja know?”

  She rounded on him quicker than a viper, and simultaneously the bell rang. Slamming the folds of his math book shut, Michael hopped over his desk onto the next aisle and sprinted out of the room before she could give him any punishment.

  When he reached his locker, his hand twirled the combination in a flash. Ripping his bag out of the small space, he threw everything into it, hoisted it onto his back, and took off out the doors. Making his way to a stone bench, he sat his bag down beside it and sat. After waiting for a few minutes, he saw the other three coming. As the same front doors opened, he stood up from the ben
ch, still glancing about for Ms. Boarding.

  “Did you hear?” Brandon asked, grinning widely as Michael joined them on the brick path. “Malcolm got two detentions. I heard she was gonna give you one, but you ran away.”

  “Suits me. Maybe she’ll forget tomorrow.”

  “Not if you fall asleep again,” said Christian. “You really shouldn’t. This stuff will be important next year.”

  “You sound like Ms. Boarding,” Michael responded.

  They walked along the brick path to the main road, where they crossed and began heading in the direction of their usual, after-school restaurant where Mrs. Moore worked. Walking in silence, Christian thought over the math lessons and ignored his friend’s jeers towards Ms. Boarding, whom he quite liked.

  “You realize if any of you had a different math teacher you wouldn’t scrape a passing grade?” he spoke up at last.

  “Speak for yourself,” Brandon said. “I already fail in her class.”

  “Yeah,” said Michael pointedly. “At least we’d have fun failing in somebody else’s.”

  As he opened the door, they all quietly passed inside of the restaurant and went to sit down at their typical booth.

  “Crystal, come help me with dinner!” Mr. Moore shouted up the stairs of their homey, pleasant dwelling.

  “ ‘K!” she called, grudgingly standing up from her bed. She had been staring at the ceiling in silence, thinking back on the past few days.

  Although none of them spoke of it now, there was no denying the tension felt any time they were together as a group. Tension gnawed at them every moment. It was a clock ticking down in their minds, merely counting the minutes until something terrible happened. Nobody could quite understand or even hazard a guess at what was to come; nor, it seemed, would they want to.

  Trudging down the steps, she walked down a short hallway and into the kitchen. Her father looked up from the table, where he sat with a newspaper raised in front of his face. She gazed curiously around the kitchen, and then back at her father.