October Girls: Crystal & Bone

by L C Glazebrook

  Royce stopped his goofy, arrogant dance. “Whoa, Dollface. I knew you dug me. Just like all the rest.”

  “I dig you, all right,” Bone said, raising the fistful of Spirit Rust. “I dig your grave.”

  “Great line,” Dempsey said from somewhere beneath the fog. “Can I steal it?”

  “Do it,” Crystal implored, as Tweety gave out his twelfth chirp and the zombies rumbled and Pettigrew gave out a blissful sigh of “Royce.”

  Bone tossed the potion at Royce, who blinked as if expecting a loving rain of confetti for his coming-out party.

  “Your turn,” Bone shouted to Crystal.

  Chapter 29

  As Royce blinked against the Spirit Rust, Crystal recited the spell, shouting to be heard over the zombie teens and the slithering and clicking inside the Orifice.

  “Ashes, ashes, dust to dust,

  Wash your face in Spirit Rust,

  When midnight starts the day anew,

  Send the unborn—Pettigrew?”

  Pettigrew had roused from his stupor, startled by the encroaching zombies in costume and the disorienting fog. When he lurched forward and grabbed her, Crystal had lost her train of thought.

  Crystal recovered and blurted out the correct final words. “’Halfway through.’ That’s what I meant to say. Halfway through.”

  But it was too late. Royce wiped the grit from his face. He was angry, which made his smile all the more reptilian.

  “My turn,” Royce said. “Lurken, Spooge, and all that junk, get over here and eat this punk.”

  Tentacles protruded from the hole, flailing at the air, making wet noises. The twitching leg of some beetle-creature clambered out and skritched against the wall, grappling for purchase. The Underlings roiled to the surface of the fog like sharks smelling blood, their gray forms barely distinguishable in the gray mist. Dempsey squealed from somewhere beneath them, emitting a “Mon dieu“ as if only a French God could help him now.

  “Jeez, Crystal, you screwed it up,” Bone said, invisible and somewhere to her left. “And I used my last solid.”

  “I’m sorry,” Crystal said, almost glad she was going to be Lurken bait and wouldn’t have to explain her failure to Momma.

  “Crystal, what’s that stuff coming out of the wall?” Pettigrew said, scooting away from the edge of the bed to avoid the swimming Underlings. “And whose voice is that?”

  Pettigrew’s fault. Yeah. Because he interrupted.

  Or Bone’s. If she hadn’t died, none of this would have ever happened.

  One of the slimy, black tentacles swatted at her face, its cupped pink suckers flexing on the underside. Another tentacle undulated over the camera, then gripped it and raised it. The red light was on, meaning the film was rolling.

  “Royce,” moaned the teens, spilling into the room and navigating through the fog toward the bed. An Edward Scissorhands, a Sunshine Care Bear, and an Oompah Loompah led the shambling charge, and then there was Maynard Hodge, the janitor’s kid, who was dressed as a janitor’s kid.

  Crystal was about to go ahead and hurl herself into the Orifice and be done with it. But Bone whispered in her ear. “I have an idea.”

  Crystal ducked as the camera-bearing tentacle swung wildly in the air. Royce tried to stay in front of the lens so he’d get his face time, but the frantic maneuvering nearly caused him to fall off the bed.

  “He’s such a ham, he’ll fall for it,” Bone said.

  “Hurry up, because Halloween is over,” Crystal said.

  Upon mention of the word, the zombie teens quit their repetitive “Royce” chant and started mumbling “Halloween.”

  “Hey,” Royce said to his fan base, wearing a pained expression and forgetting the camera. “It’s me, remember?”

  “When I tickle that tentacle, grab the camera,” Bone said.

  Crystal couldn’t see her, but a moment later, the tentacle quivered and shook, uncurling and dropping the camera. It bounced onto the bed and then into the fog, thunking against the shag carpet.

  “Get it,” Crystal shouted at Pettigrew.

  Confused but well-trained to obey, Pettigrew scrambled off the bed, diving into the fog where the camera had disappeared. He bobbed to the surface a moment later, delivering the camera while yelling “Ouch” as an Underling nipped at some hidden spare part.

  At that same moment, Dempsey rose up on the other side of the bed like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. “My camera!” he screamed.

  “Welcome to development hell,” Crystal said, tossing the camera into the Orifice.

  “My movie!“ Royce took mincing hops across the bed and stuck his arm elbow-deep into the hole.

  “Got one more up your sleeve?” Bone asked Crystal.

  Crystal pulled her wart off her face, rolled the painted rubber cement between her fingers, and flicked it like a booger at Royce. As it bounced off him, she tried her back-up spell:

  “Ashes ashes, bone to bone,

  Let this sorry Royce be gone,

  Wake the walking sleepyheads

  And let the unborn join the dead.”

  One of the Lurken tentacles grabbed Royce around the chest and yanked him deeper into the portal. “No,” he screamed. “Help, help. Come on, kids. Say it. ‘Royce.’ Let’s hear if for old Royce. You know. You gotta know. Royce Dean, the star, the household name. Bigger than James.”

  But Crystal’s spell had pulled the teens from their trance, and they stood in the diminishing fog and looked at each other as if wondering what they were doing in Cindy Summerhill’s bedroom.

  Except Maynard Hodge. He looked like he had been there before.

  Pettigrew scrambled onto the bed and gave Royce a giant shove, and Royce’s handsome, wavy-haired head disappeared as if he were being born in reverse. The Orifice spasmed and flexed, drawing him deeper, and another tentacle wrapped around his waist.

  The ensuing yank pulled his blue jeans tight around his bottom.

  Bet Bone would love to give him a spanking, Crystal thought, expecting him to slide the rest of the way through.

  “Come back, Royce,” Dempsey shouted.

  “Say ‘Au revoir,’” Crystal said, trying to impress Pettigrew.

  “Do what?” he said.

  But Royce didn’t slide inside the Orifice and disappear. His lower torso and legs dangled out from the wall, the Orifice shrinking around him as he kicked and thumped.

  “Hmm,” Bone said. “Must have been that ‘halfway through’ thing.”

  “Yeah. I can never get that right.”

  “Maybe Cindy will have some use for her new wall decoration.”

  “Too much information.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Pettigrew asked Crystal.

  “Hey, it’s a game of Halloween Twister,” said Edward Scissorhands, who sounded a lot like Webb Wilson, the guy who’d sat behind Crystal in sophomore algebra.

  Dempsey had climbed onto the bed and was desperately trying to tug Royce out of the wall, or else join him on the other side where the camera was.

  “One more time,” Crystal said.

  “Ashes, ashes, bone to bone,

  Let the sorry Royce be gone,

  No more October left to play,

  Now all dead things must go away.”

  “Gee, thanks,” whispered Bone’s disembodied, fading voice, as Royce’s legs and feet shot through the Orifice with a final slorrrp.

  “What just happened?” Pettigrew asked, a question that most of the students at Parson’s Ford High School would be asking until New Year’s.

  “I think I just killed my best friend a second time,” Crystal said.

  Chapter 30

  November.

  The video store was slow, in the lull before the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, and summer wasn’t yet long enough gone to make the tanning booths alluring. There was only one customer, Madame Fingers, who’d become a big fan of the tanning booth.

  A Pixar movie was playing on the corner TV, but Crystal’s attentio
n was glued to her history textbook. The GED’s were coming up, and presidents Andrew Jackson and James Monroe were all mixed up in her mind.

  People had such dull, ordinary names back then, it was a wonder anyone could ever tell them apart.

  The bell over the door rang, and Crystal barely glanced that way. Probably someone returning a DVD.

  The tape slid onto the counter beside her book. She looked up. Momma grinned, her mouth firmly back in place.

  “Found this in the trailer,” she said. “It’s probably overdue.”

  The Bloodening.

  Only a handful of the Dempsey’s movies had been returned to Fatback Bob’s, and she carefully collected them in a plastic bag, took them out back, stripped the magnetic tape from them, and bashed in the cases with a chunk of cinder block.

  Dempsey’s test audience had voiced its opinion, and the result meant he’d had to move back to California, where people were a lot easier to fool.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Want to talk about it yet?”

  “Please. Between you and Miss McMarkus, I’ll never have any decent secrets.”

  “Bet you didn’t tell her about the dead boy stuck in your bedroom wall.”

  Crystal glanced at the far wall in the video store. The first Orifice had narrowed so that it now looked like a nail hole. The gateways between dimensions never really vanished, Momma had explained. They just tended to shrivel up until October rolled around and things got juicy again.

  “None of the kids remember,” Crystal said. “I guess that whole zombie thing washed Royce right out of their minds. They just think it was the best party of all time.”

  “Maybe it was.”

  Momma tapped the videotape. “I watched it. That Dempsey fella ain’t too bad. But I’m glad you didn’t throw over Pettigrew for him.”

  “Who wants to talk French and ride around in a stretch limo, anyway?”

  “I raised you to never stop dreaming.”

  Crystal closed the history book. “You also taught me that I’m an Aldridge and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  Momma nodded and touched her lips, as if to reassure herself they were still there. “It’s not easy to get them spells right. We’re lucky I got rid of that boy in your wall.”

  It had taken three days for Momma to get her mouth back. Tim was curious about all that had happened since he’d died, and he also pestered Crystal about Bone. Crystal suspected a major crush, and she’d had to put a towel over his head whenever she changed clothes or went to sleep.

  Still, Tim took it all with good cheer, and Crystal was almost used to him by the time Momma got her mojo back enough to spell him to Darkmeet.

  Crystal glanced down the aisle where Madame Fingers was slipping a martial arts movie into her oversized handbag. “Say, you got any love potions?” she said to Momma.

  Momma’s glittering gray eyes narrowed. “That’s not something you need to be messing with. If you can’t nab Pettigrew fair and square—”

  “I was thinking about somebody else. Fatback Bob has been looking mighty lonely lately.”

  “Hmm. Pass your GED’s, and maybe I’ll teach you a mild one. Along the lines of kissing on the cheek, that sort of thing. We’ll have to catch a graveyard possum at midnight, though.”

  “Sounds like a job for Pettigrew”

  “My, my, you sure got him tamed, don’t you?”

  “You saw how easy he was to brainwash. He was worse than any of them.”

  “Good thing he forgot about Bonnie.”

  Crystal’s heart felt like a slag of ice in her chest. “I turned my back on her, Momma.”

  Momma reached across the counter and grabbed Crystal’s hand, giving it a fierce squeeze. “Listen, honey. We don’t decide who goes through what door. All we do is keep the hinges oiled and the door swinging the right way. We ain’t got the power of life and death. It’s just the way of things.”

  “Bone’s my best friend.”

  Momma’s face showed her age and loneliness, but a fierce spark glinted in her eyes. “That’s why we don’t go consorting with the dead. If you do, both you and the dead thing end up unhappy.”

  Crystal nodded. Maybe there was a lesson in all of this. “I guess it’s selfish to use my power to keep Bone here when she belongs somewhere else now.”

  “They’re back where they ought to be. That’s what we do: Keep things right. It hurts some, but it comes with the blood.”

  Crystal blinked the tears from her eyes. “Gee, Momma, sounds like an idea for a cheesy horror movie.”

  “Just don’t go putting no Royces in it.”

  They shared a laugh, causing the old woman to glance at them. Crystal would probably give her some more tokens for the tanning booth.

  “Gotta get home,” Momma said. “Got some Beanie Weenies in the oven.”

  “See you this evening.”

  After Momma left, Crystal tried to study but her mind kept traveling to that last little pinhole of an Orifice. She slipped from behind the counter and went to the wall, pretending to check on the Shrek inventory.

  The hole glistened as if weeping. When Crystal was close, she whispered, “Bone? Are you in there?”

  She spied something on the floor, behind the big bags of stale popcorn. It glinted dully in the dim light and she reached for it.

  A silver cross.

  What? Is this a gift or a curse?

  A brown spider crawled out of the hole and descended the wall, leaving one shiny thread of silk behind it.

  Crystal tried to catch it but it disappeared behind the candy rack. She could have sworn she heard a tiny, tinkling giggle.

  “Bone,” Crystal said.

  Best friends.

  Forever.

  THE END

  About the Author

  L.C. Glazebrook is an artist and writer in Batesville, Indiana, a city renowned for its casket factory. Lousy at the piano, she was kicked out of Catholic school for mild misbehavior. After attending Butler University, L.C. became an elementary school art teacher. Her blog is at http://lcglazebrook.blogspot.com and you can email her at lcglazebrook@gmail.com.

  Look for the next book in the October Girls series, Dead & Unfriended, in early 2011.