No one was there. The music and the voices had stopped. I crept forward and stood on my tiptoes to ring the bell on the front desk. It tinged loudly, and the echo fluttered all around the room.
I waited. No one came.
A shuffling sound from the top of the stairs caught my attention. I climbed the staircase to investigate. At the top, a long hallway extended off to the right, lit with rows of old-fashioned gas lamps.
Somewhere at the far end of the hallway, the shuffling sound started again, then abruptly stopped.
“Hello?” I said. No answer. I hesitated, then entered the hall.
As I crept along, I turned the door handles of each room I passed. All were locked. Sometimes I heard whispering behind the doors. When I pressed my ear against one, the whispering stopped. Then, from somewhere far away—I couldn’t tell where—I heard a voice singing.
Hush-a-bye and good night
Till the bright morning light
Takes the sleep from your eyes
Hush-a-bye, baby bright
The last room at the end of the hallway was prettied up with a pair of white French doors with frosted glass panels. I couldn’t see anything through the panels, but I knew someone in there was waiting for me. I reached out my hand, but the doors swung open all on their own with a faint, silky hush. I stepped inside.
The room was bare and colorless, with a shiny parquet floor and a large bay window at one end. But it wasn’t empty. A thin girl knelt in the center with her back to me. She had long, curly blond hair and wore a dress like Hush-a-bye’s with frills at the arms and the bottom. And just like Hush-a-bye’s dress, the sash was missing.
“She’s hungry,” the girl said in voice that seemed to echo out of a deep pit. I walked to her, and she turned her head.
I drew back a little. Her face was covered with a mask—all white except for two red dots for cheeks and small red butterfly lips. Some kind of thick gauze covered the eyeholes.
The French doors clicked shut behind me. I whipped about and yanked at the handles, but the doors wouldn’t budge.
“You shouldn’t have kept me waiting so long,” the masked girl said.
“I can’t get out,” I said between gulps of breath.
“Never mind about that. First things first. You know what to do.”
“What to do?”
The masked girl clamped cold hands on my shoulders and spun me a quarter turn. I saw a massive iron door built into the wall. I wondered how I hadn’t noticed it before. It was crusted over with gray fish bones and thick vines.
The girl shoved me hard toward the door. I slammed into it, then dropped to the floor with a whimper and drew my knees up to my chest. A shower of bones and dead leaves fell all around me.
“Open the door,” she said.
“I can’t . . . I can’t,” I pleaded.
“You will,” she hissed. “Think you can back out now after letting that nasty girl steal my sash and not expect to pay? Think you’re something special? You’re nothing without me.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” I whispered.
“Too late.” Something cold and damp swept over my feet. I stood up quickly. Rust-colored water leaked from the bottom and sides of the iron door. A crash of waves boomed from the other side.
“Open the door,” the masked girl commanded.
I shook my head. “I want to wake up now.”
The masked girl laughed. “You think this is a dream? You think you can escape by opening your eyes?” She came closer. I tried to move off to the side, but something held my feet in place. I couldn’t move.
“It’s all real, Lucy,” the masked girl said in a familiar voice, like someone trying to talk through a mouthful of mud. “This hotel. This room. What’s waiting for you on the other side of the door. And me. We’re all as real as the bed you’re sleeping on right now. And there’s no one you can tell who’ll believe you. You’re all alone. Poor Lucy. All alone like you’ll always be.”
“I want it to end,” I said, sobbing.
“It will. Very soon. It’s all going to end. But first I want to show you something. I want to show you my real face.”
She gripped her mask with one hand and with the other undid the string at the back of her head.
Outside the bay window, a slash of lightning cut across the sky. I clutched my hands to my chest while the freezing water rose up around my ankles, and then to my knees, to my hips, and to my shoulders.
“Good night, Lucy, sleep tight,” the girl said.
And then she took off her mask.
20
I OPENED MY eyes in the darkness of my bedroom and clamped both hands over my mouth to hold back the scream.
For several minutes, I lay there in my bed, shaking as if my mattress were a huge block of ice. I hardly dared to blink.
It’s all going to end. The words played over and over in my mind as the rain drummed down on the aluminum roof of our trailer. I didn’t want to imagine what she meant.
It was all too, too much. Why was this happening? What did I ever do to ask for this?
I bit my bottom lip. The answer to that was obvious.
I asked for Hush-a-bye’s help.
I thought back to the beginning of the year and how the scariest thing in my life was getting through seventh grade. It seemed like such a small thing now. What I wouldn’t have given to go back in a time machine to that day by the river. I’d warn myself to not kick away the willow branch or pick up that doll’s head. I still would have been just as miserable and friendless, but at least I’d be the only one who got hurt.
But I couldn’t go back. No sense in even thinking about it. And I couldn’t hide my head in the sand and pretend it would all blow over. This time, the Rules wouldn’t work.
I had to do something. For me. For Antonia. Even for Madison. I couldn’t let someone else tell me how my story was going to end.
I flipped out my legs and crept across the room to the closet. I pressed my ear against the door and listened. Antonia was still snoring loudly on her bed, but no sound came from inside the closet.
I turned the knob and opened the closet door as quietly as possible. My hands trembled. I felt about in the dark space until my fingers brushed against lacy fabric. Swallowing hard, I wrapped my fingers around the dress and pulled out Hush-a-bye.
Her green eyes glinted in the darkness. I quickly placed my hand over them and closed the door. Then I grabbed the doll arms from under my bed and carried all of Hush-a-bye out of the bedroom.
In the kitchen, I wrapped the doll parts in a trash bag, then put on my cheap plastic poncho and snuck outside in my bare feet.
The rain beat down just as hard as ever, as if every bit of water from every part of world had decided to flow to Oneega Valley that night. With every step I had to yank my feet out of cold, slimy mud. It was slow going.
With every step, I expected tree branches to reach out and grab me, or a wave of mud to rise up and bury me alive. I’d seen what Hush-a-bye could do. There was no way I could stop her if she put her mind to it.
None of that kept me from doing what I knew had to be done. I was betting Hush-a-bye wouldn’t harm me or Antonia. We were the ones who’d rescued her, after all. She owed us that much, I figured. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I sloshed around to the back of the trailer.
I finally made it to the trash can. I moved aside some empty frozen corn bags and pushed Hush-a-bye deep into the can.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I covered her with the bags and set the lid back. “Don’t blame Antonia. This is all my idea.”
I wondered if she knew I was going to throw her into the river the next day after school. I knew it wouldn’t destroy her, but it had taken her over a hundred years to claw her way back the last time. Another hundred years sunk in the river mud was
good enough for now.
I’d have done it that night, but I could barely find my way to the rear of our trailer through all that black rain. At least it would be lighter tomorrow, even if it was still raining. I’d find a plastic grocery bag to stuff her in so I wouldn’t have to look at those scary green eyes and pale arms and—
I froze with my hand still on the lid. The sash. Hush-a-bye’s shiny red sash. I’d almost forgotten. Madison had stolen it and put it in her pocket before the stone giant had attacked her. The girl in the dream had remembered it being stolen from her. Madison still had a piece of Hush-a-bye.
Maybe it was nothing more than a plain old red ribbon, but I couldn’t take anything for granted. No, I had to get that sash back and throw it in the water with the rest of Hush-a-bye. I wanted every part of that doll deep underwater. I wasn’t taking any chances.
But that meant I’d have to get it back from Madison. Icy fingers drummed on my head when I considered it, and it wasn’t just the rain.
It was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life. Harder than getting on the bus in the morning with the whole awful day ahead of me, harder even than facing down some demon doll from hell. Nothing else even came close.
I was going to have to break every single one of the Rules.
21
“SHE’S GONE!”
Antonia burst out of our bedroom closet in a wild-eyed panic. I was still rubbing sleepiness and morning crud from my eyes.
I pulled my feet out from under my blanket and was puzzled for a moment by my mud-caked toes. But then the rat-a-tat of the rain on the trailer roof jogged my memory. Right. Hush-a-bye. Make an excuse.
“Shh,” I said, and waved Antonia over to me. “Not so loud. I have to tell you something about Hush-a-bye.”
Antonia bounced over her bed and slammed next to me. “What? What?”
“I overheard Mom talking to a friend on the phone last night,” I whispered. “She said she was going to clean out our closet before she went to work, so I hid Hush-a-bye in my bottom drawer.”
Antonia let out a long breath and fell backward on the bed. “Thank goodness,” she said. “I thought she’d run away for good. You know she hasn’t said a word to me all week.”
“I know,” I said. “Give her time.”
“Time? Time for what?” Antonia pulled on my arm. “Do you know something, Lucy? Did she tell you something about me? Did I do something wrong?” She dug her nails hard into my arm. Her eyes were wild. “Tell her I didn’t mean it, whatever it was. I didn’t mean it!”
I yanked Antonia’s fingers out and pushed her away. “Stop it, Antonia. You didn’t do anything. And no, she didn’t talk to me. Sometimes dolls don’t feel like talking.”
I felt lower than a worm lying to my sister so much. But I didn’t have a choice. I still had to take care of too many things, and it would be too hard to try and explain it all, especially about Hush-a-bye. When it was all finished, with Hush-a-bye sunk to the bottom of the river, I promised myself I’d come clean with Antonia. She might hate me at first, but she’d get over it. Eventually.
“Can I at least say goodbye to Hush-a-bye before I go to school?” Antonia asked, biting her fingers. “I don’t want her to think I forgot her.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ve tucked her under some sweaters, so you can’t take her out. Mom might walk in. Just say goodbye through the closed drawer.”
Antonia said her goodbyes in a half-choked voice and kissed the drawer knobs for good measure. Once we got on the bus, she was so distracted with thoughts about that horrible doll she started lifting her hand to wave at Gus when he walked down the bus aisle offering her a shy half smile. But partway up she remembered she was still supposed to be mad at him and quickly dropped her hand back down. Her red cheeks told another story.
I couldn’t let myself focus on that drama. I was too busy rehearsing for Mr. Capp. Mr. Capp, can I ask you a question? Excuse me, Mr. Capp? Would it be all right if I asked you a quick question? Pardon me, Mr. Capp, but do you have a minute to answer a question?
None of it sounded right. At least, coming out of my mouth it didn’t. I’d already tried a hundred different variations all morning before the bus pulled up. It wasn’t getting any better.
Once I got off the bus, I marched past my homeroom and headed straight for Mr. Capp’s art room. Here we go, I thought, and I walked through the door.
Mr. Capp was erasing the whiteboard with his back to me. I took a step toward him, and my legs instantly turned to jelly. I’m not ready for this. Maybe next week would be better.
I grabbed my bag and made for the door, and then I stopped myself.
No. Today. I spun about and faced Mr. Capp once more.
I opened my mouth, then shut it. Forget it, I thought. He should have been looking at me. Some other time when he’s facing the right way. I took a short backward step, then stopped again.
No, no, no. No more excuses. Stop being ridiculous. I clutched my bag tight in my hand and cleared my throat.
“M-Mr. Capp?” I stuttered.
Mr. Capp looked over his shoulder. He stared across the room with a puzzled look, like he couldn’t figure out who’d spoken to him, even though I was the only one standing there.
“Mr. Capp?” I said again, not feeling any better about it than the first time. “Can . . . can I ask you something?”
Mr. Capp’s mouth dropped open a smidge. For one brief, horrible second, I pictured him hoisting me up on his shoulders and parading me about the school while I performed my miraculous talking trick. But he only smoothed the sides of his mustache with one hand and smiled.
“Of course, Lucy,” he said. “You can and you may ask me anything at all.”
I took a breath. “Do you know Madison? I mean Maddie Underwood? She’s a seventh grader like me.”
Mr. Capp scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Second period. Yes, I know her. Smart girl. Good color sense. Why do you ask?”
“I was . . . I’ve been worried about her since she’s not been in school the last few days and I thought maybe you had some work for her I could take to her house if that’s okay please thank you.” I gulped after saying all those words in one breath, not really sure if I was making any sense.
Mr. Capp looked at me for a while without saying anything. I wondered if he was considering calling the police on the lunatic girl talking nonsense in his classroom. But then he folded his arms and smiled.
“Well, I don’t really do homework, as you know, but I suppose I could throw something together to keep her busy,” he said. “Do you have a way of getting to her house?”
I swallowed hard. “Getting to her house?”
“Yes. Can you get to Maddie’s house after school?”
“Oh . . . yes. Yes, I can. She’s on my bus route. So . . . yes. And I can walk home from there.”
Mr. Capp smiled. “Perfect.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a brown compact umbrella. “First, take this.”
I stared at the umbrella but didn’t move.
“It’s all right, you can have it,” he said, motioning me to come closer. “I bought myself a new one last week, and I’ve been meaning to rid of this one. There’s nothing wrong with it—except for being god-awful ugly.”
I giggled and took the umbrella.
“Tell you what. I’ll also call the office to see if they have any other teachers’ homework lying about. I’ll tell them you’ve volunteered to take it all to Maddie’s home,” Mr. Capp said. “Does that work for you?”
“Uh, sure,” I said, nodding my head like an eager cocker spaniel.
Mr. Capp clapped his hands together and smiled again. “Good! Make sure you stop by the office before you leave today. Right now you better hurry on to your homeroom.” Mr. Capp sat down and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.
I nodded again, thinking I’d already used up all my words, but a few more I hadn’t planned to say suddenly popped into my head. I wasn’t really sure how to get them out unprompted, so I cleared my throat again.
Mr. Capp propped his neon green sneakers on his desk. “Was there something else?”
“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “Would . . . would it be okay if I drew something else besides dogs?”
He smiled so big his mustache almost banged against his eyeballs. “You may draw whatever your dear heart desires. We’ll talk more about exactly what that might be during art class, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Of course. And thank you, Lucy.”
I left the art room with my heart racing a million miles a minute. I felt like I’d run a marathon and had finally crossed the finish line.
It was exhausting. But it felt good.
Then again, it was easy being with Mr. Capp. He said all the right things, didn’t prod me when I was silent, and never once asked me why I’d started talking to him in the first place.
I knew the good feeling wouldn’t last long. I may have succeeded with the first part of my plan, but the second part was going to be a thousand times harder.
I was going to have to ask Madison to return the red sash she’d stolen.
Madison. Who thought I was garbage. Who’d rather see me covered in honey and dropped headfirst into a hill of fire ants than talk to me. That Madison.
But I knew I had to do it anyway, and not just because of the sash. I had to make sure she was okay.
Nasty as she was, she didn’t deserve to be hurt so badly. No one deserved that. And it was my fault it happened in the first place. After all, it was me who’d brought that demon doll on the field trip, begging her to stop Madison from tearing me down. And even before that, it was me who’d told Antonia we could bring the doll’s head home.
I remembered what the masked girl in the dream had said to me. There’s no one you can tell who’ll believe you. You’re all alone. It stung me because it was true. I imagined Madison must be feeling the same way. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not even Madison.
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