I followed Lucy to the far wall, where she began pulling multiple books from the shelves and placing them onto the small, wooden table next to it. I was scanning the books she'd selected, searching for the information we needed, when I came across a section in a reference book that caught my eye.
"Lucy, listen to this," I said, and began to paraphrase the text: "In 1692, a little girl became ill, suffering convulsions and other strange symptoms. The illness spread to other little girls, and doctors diagnosed witchcraft. This is what launched the Puritan inquisition, leading to twenty-five innocent victims being accused and murdered for being witches."
Lucy listened intently, scribbling notes as I read.
In another book, I came across a reference to Tituba. It was a familiar name, as I'd read The Crucible last year in my Language Arts class, and I had to stop and read.
"Lucy, listen to this." I turned, holding the book in my hands, and pacing the floor as I read. "'Tituba was a slave originally from Barbados who believed she was a witch.
"'A group of little girls found her and began listening to her stories of evil and witchcraft. In February, in the middle of an exceptionally cold winter, the girls started having fits. The girls accused many women of being witches, one including a woman named Sarah Good and also Tituba. Tituba claimed the devil had come to her and she spoke of strange animals, and the Puritans set out on a crusade to hunt witches and restore the religious right in Salem.
"'From June through September of 1692, nineteen men and women were convicted of witchcraft and sent to the gallows for hanging. Another man was crushed to death.'" I stopped reading. I remembered Elizabeth’s journal entry where she'd discovered her sisters at a strange woman’s house. Could the woman have been Tituba herself? Could one of the girls who'd suffered those strange convulsions have been one of Elizabeth’s sisters?
The suspense was agonizing. I needed more answers, but the lights had flickered, indicating they were closing down, and an elderly woman at the reference desk told us to gather our things and go home. She also invited us to return the next day.
Lucy took proficient notes while I'd read from the text. She was playing the maternal role in our relationship, something I needed and desperately missed. I took a moment to think about Amber and Lia back home, and a pang of guilt enveloped me. I'd known them my whole life and had become nothing more than a stranger to them. They knew nothing of my double life, and how I'd been lying to them for so long.
What a horrible friend I must have been, always distant and lost in some crazy world where I was off somewhere playing with the dead.
I hadn't realized how long I'd been daydreaming, when Lucy said, "Sadie? Hello? Are you listening?" She shook my shoulder, desperately trying to bring me back to earth.
I shook my head as if to clear my thoughts. "Yes. Sorry. I got distracted there for a moment."
That night I planned the outline for the research I needed to do to complete my paper. Whatever I did, it had to be something historically accurate and enticing.
I tried to focus on my other homework as well. As alluring as geometry was, I couldn’t help but stare at the journal lying on my bed. It seemed to speak to me, calling out for me to touch it, to open its precious pages.
In the end, there was nothing I could do. The power behind the journal was stronger than I'd ever anticipated. It was like a drug, and I was already hooked, too far gone to quit cold turkey. If I could just have another taste, a quick hit of Elizabeth’s words as a fix, I was sure I'd be able to get back on task and finish studying.
I tossed my geometry book onto my dresser, jumped into bed, lay back, and propped my head up against two pillows. I crossed my legs at the ankles and gave in to temptation, found the spot where I'd left off, and continued to read.
That night after returning to my home, I lay in my bed, still damp. Shivering from cold and fear, I awaited morning and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I was awoken by the sound of my mother’s voice, saying, "Elizabeth, wake up." She was sitting on the edge of my bed when I opened my eyes.
"Elizabeth, today we must go to your sister’s trial. Your father had to wake early, as the horses were found running through the pasture, though he cannot understand how that might have happened."
I had almost forgotten about the horses. The violence that had taken place, the chase, flooded back into my mind, voiding everything else. I looked at my mother, about to confess to knowing the horses were loose, but when I looked at her, I saw tears in her eyes. She seemed more tired and frail than I had remembered.
My parents had chosen not to discuss the fact that my sisters had been charged with witchcraft, and were most likely about to be murdered, choosing instead to hold in their pain and suffering, silenced by their pride. Honestly, I believe them unable to handle the truth of what their lives had become. I tried not to think about my sisters, locked in a jail, for I do not think I would be able to live if it were me.
I met my parents in the foyer. Mother and I clasped hands and we walked to the church for the trial as a family. People whispered to one another as we traversed the town, watching our every step. We held our heads high, knowing our family had been honest and faithful, and that my sisters would ultimately be forgiven.
We entered the church and sat in the first row. It seemed as if the entire town had crowded into the small church. The Governor, the priest, and a group of elders stood in front of the congregation. The crowd made quite a din until Governor Bradford knocked his fist loudly against the wooden pulpit signaling the trial was about to begin, and everyone quieted.
"Ladies and gentleman, we are here today to speak of two girls who have allowed the Devil to overtake their bodies. They have been accused by those in our community of practicing witchcraft." The double doors leading into the church swung violently open, and some men came in, dragging the gray-haired, older woman I had witnessed in the woods, chanting in a language I could not understand. The congregation gasped. Some women fainted in their seats while others clutched their Bibles tightly.
"Who are you?" Governor Bradford asked, once she had been dropped in front of him.
"I am Esmeralda," she announced in a scratchy voice. "Tell me: why hurt these innocent souls?"
"I do not hurt anyone; I am doing the work of my leader. These girls came to me wanting to learn how I tell fortunes. They saw my spells and were curious. I am not at fault."
"Tell me, who is your leader?" Governor Bradford asked, stepping back.
"Satan!" she said, a wicked grin on her face. She crossed her hand over her heart.
A loud gasp went up in the room. My mother squeezed my hand, the flowing down her cheeks.
"Bring the young girls to me," Governor Bradford shouted.
Once more, the doors at the back of the church as the doors flew open as two burly men entered, dragging my sisters, their arms and legs in shackles, behind them.
My mother stood up and shouted, "Let my babies go." She lunged forward, reaching for my sisters, but pushed away. She fell against me as she landed back into her seat.
My sisters stood before the town, staring at my parents, pleading with their eyes for help. I sat there, afraid to speak, watching as the nightmare unfolded before my eyes.
"Tell me, Esmeralda: have you seen these young girls before?" Governor Bradford inquired, pointing at my sisters.
"Yes, they have visited me before," she answered.
"Ladies and Gentleman, I declare we have heard enough. These two girls have been seen visiting this witch, and she, too, admits to her actions.
"Throw them in jail, to be hanged Tuesday at dusk." Governor Bradford lifted his arms high into the air as he shouted to the crowd.
"No," my mother screamed. She jumped up, ran to my sisters, and fell to the ground before them. "Please," she begged the governor, "they are innocent! They have done nothing wrong! They are only children!"
At the sight of my mother having thrown herself to the floor at their fee
t, my sisters broke down and began to sob. "Mother, no! Mother, no!" they screamed.
"Throw her in jail along with them; she knows what evil things her daughters have done." Governor Bradford motioned to the jailers who grabbed my mother, pinned her arms behind her, and carried her through the church, kicking and screaming. Behind her, my sisters and Esmeralda were carried in.
I turned to my father to see a single tear as it crept down his cheek.
"Father, help them!" I cried.
He did not speak, but stood and ran from the room building, chased by three of the governor's men.
I sunk down into my seat, wishing to become invisible.
"You, sitting there‒come here," Governor Bradford said, pointing at me, motioning for me to come to him. My body shook in fear at the realization that I was next to succumb.
I stood and began to walk toward him, but at the last minute, turned to dart towards the door, and run into the street.
The crowd dispersed from the church behind me, coming after me, and I ran until my legs could no longer carry my body.
I closed the book. My heart was racing, my pulse had quickened. I had so many questions and no one to answer them. What might I have done if I were Elizabeth? Though I was an only child, the thought of losing my family was almost unbearable. Even through my mother’s constant criticism, I knew she loved me. My mom would most likely have reacted in the same way as Elizabeth’s mother, had she been placed in the same situation, I just knew it.
The question remained: what might I have done? Would I be able to sit helplessly by and watch my family disappear one by one, accused of something they were not?
No, I would have run, just like Elizabeth. It was in that moment of realization that I knew what I had to do: Elizabeth needed me to clear her family name, that was the message she needed me to deliver. Unlike my previous experience, this message would forever change how some people viewed the Salem Witch Trials.
This could change history!
Just then my cell phone rang‒it was Noah. He and I had been inseparable since our midnight rendezvous. He was more than just a friend to me, and I felt great anguish imagining what my life in Salem would be like without him. He alone had the power to have freed me from my angry shell. I was a new person because of him, and the people around me were beginning to notice.
"Hey, Sadie," he said, his voice sounding sweet and cheerful. The sound of his voice satisfied me, like a sweet, decadent treat.
"Hey, Noah," I responded similarly.
"I um…wanted to call and see what you were doing for Halloween. Everyone around here makes such a spectacle of it, I swear the adults get into it more than the kids do. Well, anyway, I thought we could get together and rent some scary movies, or something. It sounds cliché, I know, but it could be fun. I mean, your first Halloween in Salem has to be celebrated. Besides, it'll give me an excuse to spend an evening with you wrapped in my arms."
I couldn't help but smile. Lucy had already made plans to take her little sister trick-or-treating while her parents went to a work party, and the thought of spending the evening in Noah's arms watching horror films was hard to resist.
"Sure," I said wistfully. "Sounds like a plan."
The next day at school I tried to avoid as much hysteria over the upcoming holiday as I could. It was only three days until Halloween and the town was preparing for haunted houses, plays, and thousands of eager trick-or-treaters. The school was abuzz over the holiday and the local traditions surrounding it. Ghosts and goblins had been plastered on the walls and some evil-minded male students were already perpetrating horrifying pranks, leaving girls running and screaming frantically down the halls. I rolled my eyes at the antics, anxious to finish my day at school and get back to my new obsession‒researching Elizabeth’s journal.
I stopped by my locker to grab my biology book before heading to class. My locker was next to Melinda’s whom I always tried to avoid all costs. Her plastic personality and charming good looks perturbed me. I'd almost managed my maneuver when I heard a velvet voice speak my name.
"Sadie, hey, wait up." It was Melinda, walking swiftly down the hall. I cringed at the thought of actually having to have a conversation with her, but I managed to conjure a smile from deep within my soul. My teeth clenched as I struggled to keep the fake expression alive.
"Hi, Melinda," I spoke through clenched teeth, fearing the horrific expression I might deliver if I didn’t concentrate.
"Sadie, I know you're new and don’t have many new friends." She nonchalantly examined my outfit, her eyes pausing on my Converse high-tops.
Her appearance was immaculate. Her golden- blonde hair was perfectly parted to one side, without a single hair out of place. Her baby pink sweater clung tightly to her curvaceous body, and she filled out her jeans to perfection. "I'd like it if we could hang out sometime. I'm having a Halloween party at my house this Friday night. My parents are in Europe, so it should be epic." She smiled a devilish grin.
"Well, I already have plans, but maybe we'll be able to stop by." I stared at her porcelain face, hoping I seemed sincere in my portrayal of a fake interest in her invitation. All though it sounded nice, I couldn’t help but wonder if her intentions were honorable. From what I'd witnessed of her behavior at school, Melinda wasn't exactly the nicest person to be around.
"Oh. Well, try to come if you can. Who is we?" Her pale blue eyes squinted as she said the word.
"I'd be coming with Noah and Lucy; if that's okay, I mean."
I expected to hear sarcasm in her voice. "Sure, I guess that would be okay. I mean, I don’t usually hang out with people like Noah and Lucy, but it wouldn’t be a problem if they came with you."
Her tone irritated me. What was that supposed to mean? Of course, Melinda Carlisle didn't spend her precious time with people like Noah and Lucy. She was too busy flirting with abrasive jocks and her scatterbrained followers. I felt my blood begin to boil, my eyes widen, and my teeth re-clench. I held my books tightly against my chest, hoping it would work as a shield to keep her away from me.
"You know, you're right. You don’t usually hang out with people like Noah and Lucy, and it's a shame. Noah's a wonderful guy, and if you ever bothered to pay attention to someone besides yourself, you'd know that.
"As for Lucy, she's one of the sweetest, most compassionate people I've ever known." I spoke the words without a thought as to filtering out the anger in my tone.
Melinda stood there, frozen in the hallway. Her eyes glared at me, her lips pursed, and her chest began to heave as she tried to compose herself. It was obvious no one had ever spoken to her that way before‒I was pleased to have turned over a new chapter in her life.
I walked away, leaving Melinda standing behind me in the middle of the hall, stunned, without the chance to respond. I knew I'd probably pay for my honest and uncensored remarks, but I didn’t care. Noah was waiting for me for our date with chocolate pudding under cafeteria florescent lights.
Chapter Eighteen
The loud, wrathful voice came across the loudspeaker, interrupting my Geometry teacher's explanation of linear lines: "Noah Bufford to the principal’s office, immediately." I glanced up, pencil in hand, to see Noah grinning mischievously as he walked out the door. He'd slid his pencil behind his right ear, and had his black binder wedged tightly against his hip. My teacher shot him a slight smile on his way out, knowing he'd probably been caught in another of his ignoramus schemes. Students whispered and giggled as he left.
Noah didn't return to class.
I searched for him later that afternoon, wondering why he'd missed both Language Arts and lunch. Lucy met up with me and told me the latest gossip buzzing about the school. Each student, it seemed, had woven their own dramatic interpretation as to why Noah had been called to the office. I heard everything from that he'd painted his name across the football field, to the principal finding a bomb in his locker. We laughed off each scenario, as we walked together to the gym.
"There sh
e is: the loser who's dating Noah." Melinda and her Melindanites were huddled near her locker, snickering as Melinda voiced her nasty comments. The bitter hatred she conjured up for me seemed to seep through her pores and spill out to form a puddle around her spanking new Coach tennis shoes. "They really do make a cute couple, don’t they? It must be fate‒that or the ugly angel bringing those two nerds together." Her cackling laugh filled the air, leaving me with a bitter aftertaste.
I ignored her comments, watching her out of the corner of my eye. I wanted her to know that I'd heard her and that I detested her just as much as she did me but didn’t want to rip her perfectly made-up face off, at least, not that day‒I tabled it for a later agenda.
My eyes opened the next morning to a burning sun, shining directly onto my face. Irritated, I threw my hands over my eyes, trying to avoid the penetrating light. I groaned at the idea of waking. It was too warm and comfortable in my soft, cushy bed, I couldn't resist laying there a moment longer before turning to look at my alarm clock.
It was six fifteen in the morning. I could hear the clattering of dishes downstairs, in the kitchen, and hurried to get ready for school. I gathered my bathroom necessities and rushed off to take a shower. After I'd dried my hair and put on an oversized, black sweatshirt over a pair of jeans, I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen to find my dad, sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee. I walked over to him and hugged him around his neck, taking in his aftershave and hair gel. It was the same, strongly masculine smell he'd always worn.
He patted my arm and wished me good morning.
I grabbed a small mug from the cupboard and poured myself a cup of steamy, black coffee. Holding the cup in both hands, I relished the feel of the heat between my hands and took a whiff of its bittersweet aroma.
"Sadie, you really should lay off of the coffee.
Too much of that stuff is no good for you. Nancy, down at the beauty shop, told me it can stunt a person's growth. Think about that for a moment: generation after generation of our family's consuming all that coffee. We sure kept Columbia in business, now, didn’t we?" My mother sat down next to my dad, slowly shaking her head. She always listened to what her friends told her, like their words were gospel. It was always, "I heard from Cathy…" or "You should have heard what the lady at the supermarket said today." She loved to gossip, and I loved to listen, pretending I didn’t crave all the juicy details.
Wicked Cries (The Wicked Cries Series Book 1) Page 12
