In Nightmares We're Alone (8 page)

“Uh… If we both say fuck then there’s no point in telling?”

“Fuck no there isn’t. Here’s the thing. She told me to make sure you behave and go to bed on time. But as long as you’ve got big sis babysitting, I say there’s no reason we can’t have a little fun. So I was thinking maybe I bring my boyfriend over and you bring yours and I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Well, your whatever-he-is then. Or another friend, I don’t care. Have a party as long as you don’t mess the house up. You do what you want, I’ll do what I want, and I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Badass. I’m gonna ditch seventh period to go pick him up so I’ll probably be back before you’re home.” Sissy goes back to the door, hesitates, and turns. “Any chance you’re gonna tell me what happened with the chicks at school who you beat up? I won’t tell Mom. Did they get in your face or push you around or what?”

I shake my head. “They were just being stupid cunts.”

Sissy puts a finger to her chuckling lips. “Keep your voice down. Jesus.”

“You asked.”

She shakes her head. “Yeah, well, they’ll do that sometimes. If something like that goes down again today, will you do me a favor and try your hardest just to not let it get to you? Cause if Mom’s gotta cancel her date our whole awesome night gets shot to hell.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it. And totally for selfish reasons so I’m not even lecturing you at all. Just for today, you don’t do shit unless you absolutely positively have to. And if it gets really bad and you still hold back and it eats at you all weekend I’ll go over there at lunch on Monday and we’ll fuck ‘em up together.”

I laugh. “You got it, Sissy.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

“No fighting. No matter how stupid the cunts get.” The way she lowers her voice for that c-word, it makes me think maybe it’s worse than I even realized. I wonder what it means.

“No matter how stupid.”

“Rock on, goon.” She heads out the door.

“Sissy,” I say.

She turns.

“When you get home can you lock Buster outside? Martin’s allergic.”

She nods a little, looking thoughtful. Maybe she considers asking me about Buster being locked in the doll room the other day. I suddenly realize what a good lie I’ve just come up with. I wish all my lies were that good.

“Gotcha,” says Sissy. Then she’s gone.

I look at my clock. It’s about time to dress for school. I get up and put my uniform on.

Get ready, Beth. You have eight hours. I’ve got to go to school, but I’m coming back with a friend. It’s judgment day, bitch. This house is a battlefield and at 1600 hours we’re going to war.

* * * * *

It’s after I get to school that it finally dawns on me how much stronger she’s getting. A week ago it was just weird eyes that made me feel uncomfortable. Next thing I know she’s in other dolls, and then Buster, and then she’s talking in my head, and even that bitch girl with the jump rope had the eyes for a second when I had to smack her.

Only when I’m sitting in class and I start hearing that sweet old lady’s voice in my head do I finally take a moment to realize this.

I don’t like this, Macie. Not one bit.

If she’s already talking to me a mile across town, how much stronger is she going to get? I already saw her move her hand once, or thought I did. How long until she can walk or run or jump? How long until she can carry a knife or explode my head with her mind?

First it was just staring at me and cursing at me. Then it was burning me. Now you’re involving your sister and your friend. When does it end, Macie?

Tonight. That’s when it ends. One way or the other. You already told me tonight’s the night you get rid of Mommy. But Mommy’s out late. That gives me a window to get rid of you.

Macie, Macie… What am I going to do with you? And your friend? And your sister?

You won’t get the chance.

“Macie?” asks Mrs. Coughlin, subbing for Mrs. Harris again. “Would you like to give it a try?”

On the board there are numbers. Some kind of math problem, I guess, but it just looks like one number trapped outside another number’s house. I think she said something about division earlier.

Forty-five divided by three, maybe. I think that’s the question.

“I don’t know. Like… twelve…-ish?”

The class laughs. Mrs. Coughlin gives me a look like I’m being smart with her. “Have you been watching anything I’m doing up here?”

“I have. I just can’t concentrate.”

What if they call your mother again? What if she comes home before you? I could be your new Mommy by the time you’re home from school.

I won’t let you.

Martin raises his hand.

“Martin? Can you solve the problem?”

“I think so.” He heads to the front of the class.

“You pay close attention to him, Macie. This is very important. You’ll use it a lot in the future.”

If you have a future…

Stop it. Get out of my head. Leave me alone.

I pull my hair and twist my head from side to side.

“Macie, are you paying attention to Martin?”

“I’m trying!”

You’re failing.

“You don’t look like you’re trying.”

Tell her you don’t care. Go ahead. Tell her how you feel about math right now.

I won’t. I won’t cause a scene.

“Macie, are you… okay?”

Everyone around me erupts into laughter. I turn and look at them with a feeling of horror but nobody is looking at me. They’re all looking to the front of the class. Mrs. Coughlin turns and she and I see it at the same time.

Martin has drawn a picture of an anatomically correct but proportionally absurd stick-man urinating on the math problem.

“Is that right?” he asks to guttural laughter. “I know
I
feel like it is.”

One of the boys behind me shouts, “I agree!”

Mrs. Coughlin grits her teeth and her face turns bright red. “Go back to your seat and sit there quietly.” She takes the eraser to the board as quickly as she can.

Lucky you. Saved by your boyfriend. This isn’t over.

I put my hand up. “Mrs. Coughlin, may I be excused?”

A grumpy Mrs. Coughlin, still erasing the crude drawing, says, “Lunch is in ten minutes. You can hold it.”

“Pee on the division!” that boy behind me shouts. He seems to think it’s really funny but I don’t even get what the hell it’s supposed to mean.

“I just need a drink of water,” I say. “I’m not feeling very well. I think I’m dehydrated.”

“Do you need to go to the nurse?” she asks.

Go to the nurse, dear. Dehydration is serious.

And have them call Mommy to tell her I’m sick? Fat chance.

“Macie? Do you need to go to the nurse?”

I’m so overwhelmed that without thinking I start to say ‘fuck the nurse’ and I’m really thankful I catch myself before I’ve gotten past the ‘f’ sound.

“F— Um… I think I’ll be fine if I just drink some water.”

“Take the hall pass.”

I move as fast as I can without drawing attention. As soon as I’m out of sight I duck into the janitor’s closet where Mrs. Harris yelled at me a lifetime ago. When the door is shut behind me I say a few bad words as loud as I can to try and get it out of my system. I punch and kick a steel rack of cleaning supplies until one of my hands is bleeding pretty badly and then something turns over in my stomach and I go down on my hands and knees and throw up on the floor a couple times.

Poor baby.

* * * * *

Getting a bandage for my hand is more trouble than it’s worth. They really want to get on the phone with my mother and I have to very delicately threaten Principal V to get out of it. I tell him my mother has had enough concern with all the phone calls lately and there’s no reason to bother her. Nobody is hurt. The nurse says I may need stitches and I tell the two of them that all I need is a bandage, and if they disagree and feel the need to call my mother, they’re going to find that my behavior this week was actually not so bad in comparison to my behavior next week.

They bandage it up and make me fill out an accident report where I tell them I tripped and cut it on an open locker. They send me off to eat my lunch and serve my detention sentence.

By the time I’m halfway through detention I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring the voice. In an environment where nobody speaks to me and I’m not expected to do anything it’s like getting into the hot tub. Painful at first but it’s not too long before I’m used to it and there’s nothing left she can say to get to me.

When Mr. Rolfe gets up to go wherever it is he goes, as soon as he leaves the classroom, I turn around to face Martin and say, “You have to come to my house after school. It has to be today.”

His eyebrows twitch. His face looks positive for a second before it reverts back to neutral and he says, “Yeah, I was gonna say the same thing. The sooner the better.”

“Did you hear the voices in class today?”

“Voices?”

“The witch doll.”

“No. No, you know what though, I knew I could hear something. It was sort of faint and weird, but I could totally hear something and I could tell you were freaking out.”

“Thanks for taking the focus away from me.”

He laughs. “Yeah, that dude I drew pissing on the numbers was pretty funny, huh?”

“I guess. Are you coming over after school or not? It’s really important. My mom is out of the house and the voices are getting…” I look to my left and remember there are two girls in here with us, really innocent-looking girls who got caught passing notes, and I notice they’re looking at me with really freaked-out faces. I turn back to Martin. “We just have to do it. Immediately.”

“Hm…” Martin taps his pencil on his desk a few times. “You gonna finally take your clothes off in front of—?”

“Shhh!” I can’t believe he’d ask that question with other girls in the room. Disgusting.

“Well are you?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“I want to know now.”

I shake my head. “Okay, fine, I will. Are you gonna help me burn the bitch then?” As I hear myself say this, I have to look over at the girls sharing the room with us. They look just as uncomfortable as I’d expect them to be.

“What are you guys talking about?” one of them asks.

Martin and I stare ahead and shut up.

* * * * *

Everything almost goes okay the rest of the day. I don’t get called on in class anymore and I’m able to sit there and do my best to ignore Beth’s voice and stare ahead and pretend to be a good dog. Nobody pays much attention to me and at the end of what feels like fifteen hours, the bell finally rings and we all get up to leave.

I walk out of the school with Martin and we cut into the woods to head back toward my house and a minute later somebody behind us says, “Hey, witch-girl!”

It’s two of the girls who like to sing their jump rope chant, one of whom has two black eyes and a huge bandage over her nose. With them they have an older boy, bigger than Martin. Fifth grade, I bet. Maybe even sixth.

“That’s her?” asks the boy. “That tiny little bitch?”

“She’s tiny but she’s strong,” says the healthy girl.

“I just wasn’t ready,” says the one with the broken nose.

“You still think you’re tough when there’s no grown ups around?” asks the boy.

“I think you all should turn around and go home,” says Martin, putting himself between us.

“Back off, kid,” says the older boy. “You can get your ass kicked if you want, but that’s up to you. This is between me and the bitch who attacked my sister.”

“Your sister should stop threatening people or learn to take a punch,” I say. “That’s common sense.”

I don’t know why I’m not more scared. Maybe the fact that I’m planning on a life-threatening battle with a doll when I get home has put me in a place where a few kids who might give me a black eye or knock out one of my baby teeth doesn’t feel like it’s the end of the world.

“I didn’t threaten her,” says the bandaged girl. “She’s a little lying butthead.”

I laugh. Butthead. Doesn’t matter if we’re fighting with words or fists, this girl’s in a lower weight division.

“Good little dolly, eyes of red,” I say. “How many days till Macie’s dead?”

“Yeah? So?” says the girl.

“I don’t know anything about a doll,” says the boy, “but I wonder about that second part myself.”

Martin pulls a knife out of his pocket and flips the blade open. “What I wonder is how many
seconds
before the three of you are dead?”

The girls step back wide-eyed, even though there’s plenty of distance between them. The boy holds his ground but you can tell his comfort level drops. It’s not a huge knife, maybe three inches long, but the way it changes the mood, I’ve never seen anything like it.

“Put that thing down. You don’t know how to use it.”

“Sure I do,” says Martin. “This part goes in your neck and you go in the ground.”

“Kevin, let’s go,” says one of the girls.

Kevin looks back at them and then over at us. He takes a step toward Martin and Martin thrusts the blade forward in a stabbing motion. I can’t tell if he makes contact or not but Kevin jumps back and looks terrified and one of his hands goes to his stomach.

“This isn’t over, kid,” he says to Martin. “You’re fucking dead. You’re
both
dead.”

He seems to back off a little so Martin and I walk away, still facing them. As we do, Martin flips them off so I do it too. Something about it feels good, puts a smile on my face. It’s a nice feeling. There won’t be much room for smiles the rest of the night.

* * * * *

It’s pretty easy to tell when we go into the house that Sissy and Calvin were totally making out on the couch right before we walked in. Maybe even other gross stuff. You can just tell from the way they’re sitting together and how they’re trying too hard to look casual.

“Hey, goon,” she says. “Hey, Mar-tin.” She talks to Martin in that flirty, ‘I know something I’m not supposed to know’ voice and it drives me nuts.

I wanted Sissy and Calvin to be in her room. That’s usually where they are whenever he comes over. But the TV in the living room is bigger and nicer so I guess that’s why they’re out here. That and the fact that they’ve probably been here for the past hour and since they were the only ones home and they could do all the same stuff in the living room they normally do in their bedroom. G-R-O-S-S, gross.