Possessions

by Nancy Holder

  Their interest in me totally peaked when they found out I was going to Jessel to watch a movie. Julie was especially wide-eyed, and I wanted to tell her so many things that I had learned the hard way. Such as: avoid the home of the cool girl. Avoid it like the plague.

  “I’ll steal you a souvenir,” I promised her, and she blinked, looking a tad hurt.

  Before I knew it, we had left the commons and my dorm mates were forking right, toward Grose, while I started down the hill, toward Jessel. Elvis was singing “Blue Hawaii” at the top of her lungs. Marica’s emeralds glittered in the light.

  I walked alone through the falling darkness and the blowsy white, past more silent horse heads, to Jessel’s front porch. I could see myself in the leaded glass windowpanes of the door as I knocked and folded my arms, trying to look casual. But in the dark, with only moonlight shining on my skin, my reflection looked like a ghost.

  I was about to knock again when the door creaked open. Mandy, not Kiyoko, stood in the doorway, in her ebony sweater and trousers. She had swapped out her more stylish city boots for hiking boots.

  As for the rest of her, if she’d had to make an effort to look gorgeous, it didn’t show. Her white-blonde hair had been rearranged into a sleek ponytail held in place with a jet clasp; and her skin was flawless. Mandy was the kind of girl who would become a beautiful woman and stop aging at some point. She would always look great, and she would moisturize with stuff that cost a thousand dollars for a quarter ounce and make sure she got plenty of sleep by hiring other people to run her errands and organize her fabulous life.

  “Oh, hi,” she said, as if we knew each other.

  Surrounded by shadows, her head seemed to float by itself. She took in my appearance; the right half of her mouth drew up in a smile as she cocked her head, gazing at me as if there were something wrong, like I had food caught between my teeth or something.

  “Hi,” I replied, since it was such a startlingly original thing to say.

  “You have amazing eyelashes. We’re opening wine. Are you good with red?”

  “Sure,” I said, even though wine was forbidden. Maybe they were bribing their housemother to keep quiet, or maybe they were really good at sneaking around. But more likely, the rules just didn’t apply.

  “A girl after my own heart,” Mandy approved. “You’ve got potential.”

  I really don’t, I wanted to tell her. I don’t care about coming to your dorm. I don’t care if you notice me, or if you can change my life with all your money and your connections.

  But my cheeks warmed at the compliment.

  Then she opened the door wide. Beyond her, the room was pitch-black, and for a second, I had a strange feeling that I shouldn’t go in there. Into Jessel, the most haunted dorm at Marlwood.

  But I didn’t put much stock in strange feelings.

  So I ignored it and walked on in.

  five

  Jessel.

  For a moment, I just stopped and stared at the interior. This was a dorm? The foyer was enormous, with a cathedral ceiling that rose at least twenty feet straight up, to a larger, fancier chandelier than the one in Grose. Swags of black-and-silver bat decorations were wrapped around the varnished oak banister of a staircase that ran along the far right side of the room, a balcony jutting out into the space, overhanging the back of the room.

  The dimly lit living room was crowded with Victorian antiques—ornate sofas upholstered in burgundy velvet with black fringes, overstuffed chairs in black and gold, elegant ferns splayed from ceramic pots, and ivory columns. I saw a half-opened cardboard box revealing what appeared to be bloody hands and feet. There were more boxes, all marked M. WINTERS, JESSEL HOUSE, MARLWOOD ACADEMY. Dozens, actually.

  “We’re the haunted house,” Mandy explained. “For the Halloween carnival. What are you guys doing?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I just got here.

  “Well, the haunted house is the centerpiece of the whole carnival,” Mandy declared. “My dad gave me a budget of fifty but I said, ‘Hello? What can we do with that?’” Without missing a beat, she added, “You’re Lindsay Cavanaugh.”

  “Yes.” Fifty thousand? Dollars?

  Kiyoko, in black pants and a sweater, was placing candles in white ceramic candleholders arranged on a grainy carved fireplace mantel. Black oil lamps flickered, etched with red roses.

  “Well, it’s looking good,” I admitted.

  “Oh, please. We haven’t even started,” Mandy replied, with a patronizing toss of her blonde head.

  I became aware of a clock ticking as our three shadows splashed across the brick wall fireplace, joined by a fourth that crossed over mine. I turned to see Lara’s vibrant red hair tied in an expert knot with loose strands; she was rubbing her pale, freckled arms, looking cold in a dark blue cap-sleeve blouse top over a jean miniskirt.

  “Lara, get the wine,” Mandy said, as Lara reached forward and moved one of the skull candleholders.

  “But . . . ” Lara began, glancing at me as if to say, In front of her?

  “It’s fine.” Mandy picked up the candleholder. “I liked it where Kiyoko had it. Keeks has great taste.”

  Lara huffed and sailed out of the room, disappearing through a doorway.

  “I swear, you can’t get good help these days,” Mandy said. Kiyoko only half-smiled, and I didn’t smile at all.

  As if by unspoken agreement, we moved from the mantel. Beneath the overhanging section, a huge plasma screen TV faced two of the overstuffed sofas and a couple of big chairs pushed together. Beyond, a panorama window revealed the stars, the mountains, and the inky blackness of Searle Lake. I knew that Lakewood Preparatory Academy for Young Men was located on the other side of the lake. Three things were forbidden on Marlwood soil: cheating, drugs and alcohol, and boys. I thought about the Lincoln Bedroom at the White House. I could totally believe that Mandy had stayed there. I wasn’t so sure about the part with her brother, Miles. It boggled my mind.

  I looked around the room at the beautiful furnishings. On one of the sofas, I spotted a skein of amazing yarn, soft enough to be butter, in shades that ranged from silky white streaked with crinkle-leaf brown to burnished gourd to deep burgundy. My knitter’s fingers longed to touch it.

  Lara reappeared with a silver tray bordered with silver rose-buds, containing four glasses of red wine. She set the tray down on a table kind of like the nightstand in my dorm room. She grabbed a glass. Then she walked to the panorama window and took a long, thoughtful swallow as she stared at the darkness.

  “It’s cold out,” she said. “Foggy. Maybe we should call it off.”

  Call what off? I wondered.

  Mandy didn’t respond. She handed me a glass and got one for herself. Clinking glasses with me, she said, “Cheers.” She sipped. “We have a little thing to do tonight. In fact, we should get to it.”

  I went on red alert. A little thing? I glanced at Kiyoko, who left the mantel and walked toward the hall tree, loaded with coats and jackets.

  “Lara’s right,” Mandy said. “It’s cold out. Kiyoko, get Linz a jacket, too.”

  Linz.

  Kiyoko nodded to show she’d heard, piling outerwear in her arms, including a large black leather jacket. Mandy said, “Ha ha, Kiyoko.”

  “It was the first thing I saw,” Kiyoko said. “You never wear it anyway.”

  Mandy considered. “I guess it’s okay.”

  Then Kiyoko bent down and slung on a sleek navy blue backpack with Kiyoko embroidered on the back.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, as Kiyoko handed me the black leather jacket without making eye contact. I had never felt anything so luxurious in my life—well-worn leather, lined with satin.

  “It’s going to be fun,” Mandy said.

  I stood my ground. “Tell me what we’re doing.”

  “Kiyoko has something to do,” Mandy said. Her smile was kind and reassuring.

  “I didn’t check with Mandy before I scheduled our movie. We’ll see it soon. I pr
omise,” Kiyoko told me. Her face was pale and she touched the corner of her mouth—a nervous habit, I realized.

  “Come on, Linz, we want you to be with us,” Mandy said, and I could feel the warmth radiating off her. She had charisma; I’d give her that. I tried to remind myself that she was exactly the kind of girl I should stay away from, but there was something about her . . . something I couldn’t explain, that urged me to give her a chance.

  Maybe they could get in trouble, but I was there on scholarship. I couldn’t risk getting caught doing . . . “a little thing”—at least, not if it was against school rules. So I got ready to give them a “thanks anyway” speech as we all picked up our wine-glasses—I hadn’t touched mine—and walked down a hall and into the kitchen.

  Lara grabbed the wine bottle beside a stainless steel refrigerator, unslung her mannish jacket from the back of a barstool at the white-and-green tiled breakfast bar, and slipped it on. Lara brought the bottle with us as we tiptoed out the kitchen door and down a path covered with pea gravel, Mandy and Lara first, then Kiyoko, then me. Kiyoko looked over her shoulder at me, put her index finger to her mouth, and pointed to a room jutting from beside the kitchen. Lights were on. I heard a TV.

  “Housemother,” she whispered.

  “We think she’s deaf,” Mandy said, her nose crinkling with pleasure as we scurried past their building.

  “I haven’t even seen mine yet—I think my dorm mates killed her,” I shot back.

  She snickered.

  Our shoes crunched over the gravel as we walked down a slope, then onto another blacktop path lined with more horse heads. Mandy’s ice-blonde hair glowed in the darkness ahead. Fog swirled around my ankles. An owl hooted, and I smelled pines.

  As wind caught at my crazy hair, I took my first sip of wine. It was very bitter, and I tried not to make a face. I was tightly wound, very nervous. These people weren’t my people. I thought about the scene at the hedge that morning. They’d called Kiyoko Number Three; my guess was that Lara was Number Two, and Mandy, of course, was the One. I knew I shouldn’t be there, and that I had succumbed, yet again, to peer pressure. I quickened my pace to catch up with Mandy, who was rounding a large boulder and a stand of trees with brittle leaves that seemed to collapse off the branches as she passed.

  “So, what’s going on?” I asked loudly.

  “It’s for fun,” Mandy said, obviously amused. “Just trust us.”

  “Why should I?” I said. I thought I heard Kiyoko gasp.

  I turned my head to look back at Jessel, and I felt a little shock because I couldn’t see it anymore. All I could see were enormous granite boulders and tall pines rising up around us, seeming to suck up the sound of my high-tops, my breathing, my heartbeat. We were cut off, alone.

  I looked back at Mandy. “Just do,” she replied, raising her chin. She looked amused.

  “God, it’s cold.” Lara wrapped her arms around herself, her very pale, exposed legs shook a little under her bulky jacket. I jerked; her voice seemed so loud in the empty woods.

  “Wait until November,” Mandy said, also in a normal tone, as if she knew we were far enough away that we wouldn’t be heard. “I heard it snows up here.”

  “I have great snow boots,” Lara crowed.

  “I’m sure you bought them at some men’s store,” Mandy said, rolling her blue eyes. Blue, not black. Normal.

  Just then, we stepped out of the trees onto a cliff over the lake. Far below us, black dots and points of light skittered beneath the moon, clumping at the water’s edge.

  “Everyone finish your wine,” Mandy ordered. I had two choices: dump it out or chugalug it. I went with number two, and it hit me, hard. Then Lara gathered up our glasses, opened the backpack on Kiyoko’s back, and wrapped them in white linen napkins. She zipped the backpack and gave it a little pat.

  Mandy walked along the lip of the cliff and grabbed onto a leafy bush. She found a foothold and grabbed an outcropping of rock. Lara followed after, and it was obvious to me they’d gone down here many times before.

  “Here,” Kiyoko said, reaching into her pocket. “She told us to bring flashlights. I—I won’t be needing mine.”

  “Why not?” I asked her.

  She tried to smile, but she didn’t make it.

  “Because it’s . . . my turn.”

  A clatter of falling rock echoed through the blackness.

  “Careful,” Mandy called back to us, “it’s slippery. Let’s not have any sacrificial offerings tonight.”

  Kiyoko started down the cliff face, giving it her full attention. I followed after, the last of four, wondering why on earth I was doing this. We had a ten o’clock curfew, and before then we were allowed to go either to another dorm or the library. We sure weren’t allowed to go down to the lake.

  But I kept going. After all, I didn’t know how to get back.

  It took us a while to climb down, but we finally stepped onto grainy earth. There was a ripple through a milling crowd of maybe ten girls as we approached, Mandy first, like the Homecoming Queen, then we three, like her royal court.

  I saw Julie with two of my new dorm mates, Ida and Claire. Ida had great highlights, and at dinner she’d told me the movie star I’d seen in lit class was Chyna Loftis. Of course. Ida’s father had something to do with the San Francisco Opera but I wasn’t sure what. Ida wanted to go Harvard Law. Claire from Hawaii was bronzed all over, even her “area” and her “chi-chis,” Julie had informed me, rather scandalized.

  Julie had stuffed her hands in the pockets of her peacoat, and she rocked back on her heels when she saw me, her eyes spinning with excitement. I had the feeling she hadn’t known about this little trip at dinner. But she was there now.

  I smelled the lake water—mossy, with a slight undercurrent of rot. The moon glittered on the vast, black surface. Flashlights bobbed as the girls stood beneath starlight and moonlight, waiting, like me, to see what was going to happen next.

  Then, at the very edge of the shoreline, Shayna from our lit class shifted her weight. She was dressed in gray sweats and a navy hoodie, holding a folded blanket in her arms.

  Kiyoko saw her, stopped, and said, “I brought a towel, Shayna.”

  “This is stupid,” Shayna hissed. “I can’t believe you’re doing it. That you didn’t tell me.”

  “This is why, Shay,” Lara said. “You’re embarrassing her.”

  Lara took hold of the backpack and slung it off Kiyoko’s back. She unzipped it and pulled out a coil of white nylon rope. She dropped it to the sand and showed the end to Kiyoko. Kiyoko took a deep breath and took off her jacket. Then she pushed her skinny pants down over her ankles and stepped out of them. She was wearing a red-and-black bikini bottom that was practically a thong. On her, it wasn’t very sexy—she was skin and bones.

  I had a feeling I knew what was going to happen, and I didn’t like it. As Kiyoko snaked her sweater over her head, the top of her bikini stretched over her almost-flat chest confirmed it. She was going to swim in the freezing cold lake.

  Lara handed the coil to Mandy as Kiyoko wrapped the other end around her waist. I could see Kiyoko’s breath as she looked out at the lake. Her shoulder blades looked sharp enough to cut steak.

  “It’s good and strong,” Mandy confirmed, testing the rope between her hands. “But the ghost of the lake is very lonely. She will try to untie it, and keep Kiyoko with her.”

  Nervous laughter greeted her announcement. I puffed air out of my cheeks and shifted my weight. I couldn’t believe Kiyoko was going to willingly jump in the lake. Correction: I could. I would have done it, if Jane had told me to.

  “Just more one thing before you go in,” Mandy went on, giving Kiyoko a once-over. “No suit, sweetie.”

  Kiyoko blanched; beside her, Shayna shook her head disapprovingly. “You didn’t say anything about that,” Kiyoko murmured.

  Mandy tsk-tsked like some melodrama villain. “I said ‘no clothes.’ That means . . . no clothes.”

  “It’s fr
eezing in there, Mandy,” Shayna protested.

  “Then it won’t matter if she’s wearing a bathing suit or not, Shayna,” Mandy said. She turned back to Kiyoko. “You don’t have to do it.”

  I knew then that Kiyoko’s fate was sealed.

  “All right,” Kiyoko half-shouted. She grabbed the blanket out of Shayna’s hands and wrapped it around herself. Then she snaked her left hand up and grabbed her suit strap, giving it a tug down her arm. Some of the girls closest to her began to hoot and applaud.

  “Take it off, baby!”

  “Go, Ki-yo-ko!”

  She moved and shifted inside her blanket; about ten seconds later, her suit dropped to her ankles.

  Mandy lifted a brow. “Check the rope. We want you to be safe. Lara?”

  Lara pulled some plastic glow-in-the-dark necklaces out of the backpack. She broke the liquid inside and they started to glow green, pink, yellow. She looped a few over Kiyoko’s neck. They rattled on her collarbones.

  “Her ankles and wrists, too,” Mandy said.

  “This is stupid,” Shayna hissed, as Kiyoko stuck out her right arm and Mandy wrapped one of the glow-necklaces around it.

  “No one is forcing her,” Mandy reminded her. She smiled at Kiyoko, whose blanket began to undrape; Kiyoko turned her back, holding the blanket between her teeth as she tried to maintain her modesty. Her rounded shoulders and back looked bluish-white beneath the alien green and pink of the glowing necklaces.

  Then she walked to the edge of the lake, black and deep. I couldn’t imagine how cold it was. Despite the heavy leather jacket I was wearing, my teeth had begun to chatter.

  “Drop it!” Lara called.

  A few took up the chant. “Drop it! Drop it!”

  And she did. She dropped the blanket, revealing her scrawny, naked backside to all of us, and placed one bare foot in the water. I saw her jerk to a stop, as if she were shocked by icy pain. Then she took another step, and another. Girls were laughing, cheering. They didn’t care how loud they were. They didn’t have to. We were a long way from our housemothers.