Read It and Weep! Page 2

Now she was running barefoot through cold, muddy, slimy stuff. Her pajamas were soaked from the mist. She sloshed through the swampy marsh. Who knew what lurked in that sucking mud? Her legs could hardly move. Every leaden step was a huge effort. Her bare feet squelched unpleasantly.

  The thing—her pursuer—was gaining on her. She could hear it just behind her, running through the mud in big, sucking gulps. Now she could feel its hot, stifling breath on the back of her neck. She smelled something foul: putrid and rotten and sickly sweet all at the same time. And then it grabbed her, an icy hand on her shoulder, just like what had happened so many years ago on her cousins’ basement steps.

  She fell down, face-first, into the stinking, slimy mud. She couldn’t breathe. Something was holding her face down in the muck. She was going to drown, to suffocate. She tried to scream.

  And woke up with her head buried in the pillow.

  It was morning.

  She could smell coffee brewing. Her mother was up, of course. Charlotte glanced at the clock. Six forty-five. The alarm wasn’t due to go off for fifteen more minutes. She groaned and swung her feet out of bed. That was the last time she was going to read a scary story before bed. In fact it was the last time she would read a scary story, period.

  She dressed quickly, pausing to frown at herself in the mirror. Her brown hair spiraled down past her shoulders in a wildly unkempt way. She gathered it up and tied it back with a hair elastic. Her braces glinted at her in the mirror. Why had she inherited each of her parents’ flaws and none of their good traits? She’d gotten her father’s unruly hair, but not his startling blue eyes or his ramrod-straight military posture. She’d inherited her mom’s crooked teeth, but not her glossy hair or her graceful, willowy figure. It wasn’t fair. Her twin brothers had gotten good teeth and perfect, shiny hair. She sighed as she adjusted her father’s framed photo on her dresser. He looked so handsome in his air force uniform. It had been a month since he’d been deployed to the Middle East. She felt the usual pang of worry in the pit of her stomach that she always did when she thought about her dad, which was often.

  At least she’d inherited her parents’ intelligence, she had to admit. It was nice not to have to struggle to understand everything, the way her friend Alicia, at her last school, had. She wondered how Alicia was doing. She hadn’t heard from her in a while. Well. That was normal. It wasn’t easy to maintain long-term friendships when you moved eight times in twelve years. She felt lucky to have met Lauren at her new school. And to have access to such an awesome public library.

  Her eyes fell on the red book next to her bed. Not that she was superstitious, but the last thing she needed was to worry about bad luck. She picked the book up and slipped the card from its pages. She’d return the book to the library after school today. Then she tucked the card into a pocket of her backpack.

  In the hallway outside her room she could hear her eight-year-old brothers running full speed toward the stairs. A herd of elephants would sound quieter, she thought, rolling her eyes. Where did they get all this energy so early in the morning? They were always having contests, racing each other to be the first one to get to the breakfast table, or arguing about who got the last cookie or whose turn it was to sit next to the window on the bus. It must be exhausting to be a twin, Charlotte thought, not for the first time. After all, it was exhausting to live with them.

  She was halfway down the stairs when she heard her mother call to her from her bedroom.

  “Charlotte, did you put the boys’ soccer uniforms in the wash last night like I asked you?”

  “Yep!” she called back.

  “Thanks, honey! Can you run them in the dryer so they’ll be ready for the twins’ game tonight?”

  “Yep!” Charlotte called back, and ran downstairs to the laundry room. She liked being a help to her mom, who’d gone back to work for the first time since the twins were born. With her dad gone, Charlotte knew her mom was counting on her for a lot of help. Especially with the twins’ math homework. Her mom was really smart, just not at math—even third-grade math.

  When she opened the washer to transfer the load to the dryer, she froze, staring into the washing machine.

  The mostly white load she’d put in the night before had turned pink.

  Then she remembered throwing her new red sweatshirt in with the rest of the load. She began pulling out the damp, wrinkled clothes. She tugged a soccer jersey from the clump and held it up.

  It was decidedly pink.

  Maybe the pink will drain out somehow in the drying process, she thought, although deep down she knew that wasn’t really possible. This day had not started out well.

  Her mom was in her nurse’s scrubs when Charlotte dragged her feet into the kitchen a few minutes later. Her brothers were noisily arguing about which of two European soccer teams was better. Charlotte was pretty sure neither boy had ever even watched these teams play. But while they were busy arguing, she took the opportunity to speak quietly to her mother over near the stove.

  “Mom, I kind of turned the twins’ uniforms a little bit pink. With my new sweatshirt,” she murmured into her mother’s ear, casting her eyes downward.

  Her mother let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, Char. I thought we went over all that when I showed you how to do laundry. How to separate the whites.”

  Charlotte mumbled “sorry” under her breath.

  “I’ll try to bleach them later. But I’m working a double shift. I’m only home for an hour or so this afternoon, and then I have to go back to the hospital. Your brothers are not going to be happy about this,” said her mother wearily.

  “Not going to be happy about what?” asked Jon. He and Thomas had suddenly gone quiet.

  “Nothing,” said Charlotte quickly.

  “What did she do, Mom?” demanded Thomas suspiciously.

  “Nothing!” said Charlotte again. “I just messed up on the laundry a little, but Mom can fix it. Right, Mom?”

  Her mother glared at her. “Help them make sure they’re all packed up for the bus,” she said. “I’ll make sure the dryer’s off before I leave for the hospital.”

  “What happened to the laundry?” asked Thomas suspiciously. “Did something shrink or something?”

  “No. Everything’s fine. Now go get packed up,” said Charlotte, hustling them toward the front hallway.

  Later that morning, in homeroom, Charlotte slid into her desk next to her new friend, Lauren Kowalski. Lauren had been new the year before, in sixth grade. She wasn’t a military kid, though. Her dad was a science professor at the university. Lauren’s mom had died a long time ago. Charlotte had met Lauren on the first day of school, in math class.

  “Everyone sit tight,” called Mrs. Benedict. “I have to run to the copier for a few minutes. Work on your homework. You must have something you didn’t finish.”

  “Actually, I finished mine,” Charlotte said to Lauren in a low voice.

  “Yeah, I finished all mine, too,” said Lauren.

  “So,” Charlotte began, thinking of something to talk about to pass the time, “I had the weirdest dream last night.” She told Lauren about her nightmare.

  “Sounds freaky. All those shadows and fog and stuff. Are you scared of the dark?” asked Lauren, perceptive as usual.

  Charlotte was caught off guard. “Me? No! I—well, yeah I guess a little. How did you know?”

  “Dreams are your hopes and fears, or that’s what my aunt Marina tells me,” said Lauren. “If it was that scary, it sounds like your subconscious mind went straight to the place it prefers to avoid.”

  Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She’d never told anyone about her fear of the dark. And she didn’t really know Lauren all that well. School had only started a few weeks ago. But she really liked her so far. Lauren seemed so confident. And smart. No-nonsense. Lauren was tall and angular. She dressed in offbeat, retro attire tha
t wasn’t especially trendy but always looked cool. Charlotte had noticed that Lauren did well in school, hung out with the smart kids, and wasn’t afraid to say what was on her mind. She also didn’t seem to care about where she stood on the popularity scale. It was kind of refreshing. “So, um, are you afraid of anything?” Charlotte asked her.

  “Spiders,” said Lauren immediately. “Hate ’em. I know it’s irrational. My dad’s an arachnologist, and—”

  “What’s that?”

  “A scientist who studies spiders and stuff,” she said. “And he’s always telling me how great spiders are, and how they’re really beneficial in the food web and all that, but I just can’t stand all those legs and the creepy-crawly way they walk, and the way they survive, sucking the guts out of living insects.” She shuddered, and her short, shiny hair bounced around her shoulders. “When I was little, I was at this camp called Playland Camp, and we were hanging around in this meadow on a field trip to a farm. I climbed a tree and collided with a huge web of newly hatched baby spiders. They crawled all over me. I was so freaked out I actually fell out of the tree. I didn’t hurt myself, but I still haven’t recovered from the trauma.”

  Charlotte laughed sympathetically, relieved that Lauren hadn’t made fun of her for her phobia, and wishing she could be as frank and unembarrassed as her new friend. Then she remembered the card. She pulled it out of the pocket of her backpack.

  “Can I show you something weird? I found it yesterday. In a book. Do you have any idea what this is?” she asked Lauren.

  Lauren took the card and peered at it, frowning. Her wide-set eyes and pouty lips didn’t quite fit her face, but Charlotte suspected her features would all come together by the time she was a teenager. Braces and a gawky frame and unevenly proportioned features on a twelve-year-old looked like they might easily translate to supermodel good looks on a teenager. Now, though, she was a misfit like Charlotte. Smart, nerdy, awkwardly angular.

  “Where’d you get this?” asked Lauren, turning it over and reading the message scrawled across the back.

  “Inside a library book,” said Charlotte. “Weird, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yes and no,” said Lauren matter-of-factly. “It’s weird because it looks really old, like, from the middle ages or something. But I think it’s just a tarot card, actually.”

  “What’s a tarot card?”

  “People use them to tell fortunes,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know much about them, but I have seen them before. At my aunt’s house. And I don’t know what this particular card means. Of course I don’t believe in any of that mumbo jumbo stuff, but I can show it to my aunt Marina if you want. She lives right near here.”

  “You mean you are actually related to someone who can tell fortunes? I thought everyone in your family was into science like you,” said Charlotte.

  Lauren grinned. “They are, but it’s not like I’m from a huge family. My dad’s a scientist, and his brother Jack, the one who died in a car accident a few years ago, was a scientist too. Marina is my aunt by marriage. She was married to Uncle Jack. She still lives in the house the two of them used to live in when they were married.”

  “Does she have any kids?”

  “Never wanted any. But I think she feels like she needs to mother me because she knows it’s just my dad and me, and I guess my dad is a lot like Jack. Sort of an absentminded professor type, and she knows that. And also because I have an artsy side.”

  Charlotte nodded, and Lauren went back to studying the card and shrugged. “I’ll ask Aunt Marina,” she said.

  Suddenly someone behind Lauren snatched the card from her hand.

  “Hey!” said Lauren.

  Charlotte wheeled around.

  “What’s this? You two geeks into fortune telling now?”

  It was Stacy Matthews, the most popular and stuck-up girl in seventh grade. Behind her stood Ava and Maddy, giggling as usual.

  “It’s nothing,” said Charlotte and Lauren simultaneously.

  Stacy raised her eyebrow. Then she looked down at the card. “Looks like some weird Goth thing,” she said. She tossed the card back down on the desk, having evidently lost interest.

  Charlotte picked it up and shoved it into her bag.

  “So did you guys finish the math homework for today or what?”

  Lauren and Charlotte darted a look at each other.

  “Yeah,” said Charlotte warily.

  Stacy waited, hands on hips. “So can I borrow yours to check my answers?”

  “I don’t have mine on me right now,” said Lauren.

  “Me neither,” said Charlotte, giving Stacy a little smile. Which was only a partial untruth. It wasn’t on her exactly. It was inside her backpack, under the desk.

  Stacy’s eyes narrowed. “Well thanks anyway,” she said in a voice that meant she felt the exact opposite. “Hey, have you ever thought about closing your mouth when you smile, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte could feel her cheeks turn red. She shook her head.

  “Whatever. Listen. We need to help each other,” Stacy continued. “This accelerated math class we’re in together is super ridiculous. I’m going to be a singer, so what do I need math for, right? So why don’t we make a deal? You can help me with the math homework, and I’ll give you some fashion advice, which you are badly in need of—no offense.”

  Before Charlotte had time to respond, Mrs. Benedict returned to class and flicked the lights on and off, which the kids knew meant it was time to get back to their seats for announcements. Stacy flounced back to her chair.

  “Why is she like that?” whispered Charlotte, staring at Stacy in disbelief.

  “I guess she really thinks she’s above everyone,” whispered Lauren. “And why wouldn’t she? She is star of the girls’ basketball team. Actress. Singer. And she’s going out with Julian Wilson. But whatever. She despises me now because I got the role of Adelaide in Guys and Dolls, which she really wanted. She’s got a great role in the school musical too, but she really wanted to be Adelaide.”

  Charlotte frowned. “I don’t like the idea of her copying off me,” she said. “But she looks like somebody to watch out for.” Charlotte had been at enough schools to learn to recognize these people.

  Announcements droned on, but finally the bell rang, and everyone filed out and headed for their next class.

  It wasn’t until after they’d parted that Charlotte realized she’d forgotten to pass the card to Lauren.

  Chapter 4

  Charlotte didn’t take the bus home after school. She decided to walk so she could stop by the library to return that awful book.

  She peered in through the window as she approached the library.

  Nice Mrs. Lazer was still not at her desk in the reference room. The same grumpy librarian from yesterday was there.

  The book return bin was located just outside the front door. Just as Charlotte had clanged the bin closed, the library door opened, and Mrs. Drayton came out. She was the mother of one of Charlotte’s new acquaintances at school.

  “Oh, hello, Charlotte,” she said. “Awful thing about Mrs. Lazer, isn’t it?”

  “Mrs. Lazer? The librarian? I didn’t hear. What happened?” asked Charlotte.

  “She slipped off a stool two days ago when she was reshelving a book on one of the high shelves,” said Mrs. Drayton. “I think she’ll be all right, but they want her off her feet for a while. See you soon, I hope!”

  No wonder she hadn’t seen Mrs. Lazer lately. Charlotte considered going inside to look for a new book, but then decided she didn’t feel like it. Not today. Not with the grumpy substitute librarian in there. Maybe she’d get ahead on her English homework tonight instead. They were reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the play by Shakespeare.

  As she stood there, ready to head home, she realized she didn’t have her copy of the play. She’d left
it in her locker in her haste to get going.

  “Aw, man,” she said out loud. She knew her mom wanted her home soon, because she was working at the hospital tonight, and she wanted Charlotte to help the twins with their homework. Charlotte decided to take the shortcut back to school to get her book, which meant going back through the patch of woods behind the library. On the other side of the woods were the baseball field and the back of the middle school.

  Charlotte trotted down the front steps and then headed around to the back, behind the library, toward the woods. She found the narrow path, but the footing was uneven and not very well maintained. It was only a short distance—about half the size of the school’s football field—through the little patch of trees, but Charlotte was surprised at how quickly the woods closed around her, as though she were in the middle of the wilderness. She picked up the pace.

  The wan, late-afternoon sun glinted through the branches overhead, but rather suddenly the sun seemed to go behind a cloud, and a chilly gloom slipped in. The woods grew dark and shadowy. A wind sprang up, whipping her hair around her face, across her eyes, into her mouth.

  Suddenly she heard her name.

  Charlotte.

  It was whispered and seemed to be coming from all around her. Maybe it was only the wind. Her mind was playing tricks on her. Yes. Definitely the wind.

  Charlotte!

  “Who’s there?” she called, slowing to a stop.

  There was no answer.

  A cold stab of fear struck her. She knew she was closer to the other side of the wooded area than where she’d entered, so she proceeded straight, beginning to run, her backpack bouncing on her back.

  I’m coming for youuuuu!

  Now she was sprinting full speed and praying she wouldn’t trip over the uneven terrain and the many roots and brambles in her path. It was so dark in this wood. At any minute she expected the same cold hand to land on her shoulder, just like in her cousins’ basement.

  The path curved slightly to the left, and she saw a dimly-lit patch of grass ahead. The baseball field. Don’t trip. Don’t trip. Don’t trip.