All The Pretty Dead Girls

by John Manning

  “I mean it, man.”

  “Okay!”

  They ate their food in silence. When they were finished, Mike pulled a ten out of his wallet. “Man, I got to get going. Dad’s going to be home from the hospital at any minute, and I got to be at work at seven.” Mike worked as a stock boy three nights a week at the A&P. He slapped the money down on the table. “Not a word to anyone, you understand?”

  “Dude…I told you.”

  “Okay. See you at school tomorrow.”

  Billy’s eyes followed Mike as he walked out of the diner, sidestepping to avoid a young woman who was just walking in as he was going out.

  Now that is one hot babe, Billy thought.

  She wasn’t conventionally pretty like Heidi. Her nose had a little bump in it, and her face was a little narrow, but she had a great ass, showcased in a pair of tight black jeans. Her ash blond hair hung down to her shoulders. Billy watched as she took a seat at the counter and leaned forward to get a menu. Her sweater crept up a bit, showing smooth white skin just above the waistband of her jeans. Damn.

  He didn’t recognize her from Lebanon High, which could only mean one thing. She’s one of the Wilbourne girls. Billy popped a french fry into his mouth as she glanced over at him. He smiled at her. She gave him a half smile in return and opened her menu.

  He tossed a ten down on the table, finished his Coke, wiped his mouth, and stood up. One quick glance in the mirror on the wall confirmed his hair looked good and no ketchup smeared his chin. He strutted over to the counter.

  Marjorie was watching him and gave him a crooked grin. She’d seen Billy make his moves before.

  “Hey,” he said, sliding onto the stool next to the knockout chick. “I’m Billy.”

  “Hi,” the girl replied, not looking at him, keeping her eyes on her menu.

  “Billy Honeycutt.” He put his hand out. “And I don’t recognize you, so my mental calculations tell me you must be a Wilbourne student.”

  Finally, the girl looked up at him. She didn’t take his hand right away.

  “Well,” she said, “with all that mental calculation going on in your head, you might be a little exhausted. Why don’t you have a seat?”

  “I think I will, thank you.” He grinned. “I suppose I should have asked first if it was all right to sit down.’

  “And here I supposed all you country boys were perfectly mannered.” Finally, she accepted his outstretched hand and shook it. “I’m Sue Barlow.”

  “Hello, Sue Barlow,” Billy said. “And am I correct about you being a Wilbournian?”

  “Your calculations were indeed correct. And where do you go?”

  “L-High. I’m a senior—but don’t hold it against me.”

  “Why would I do that?” Sue shrugged, raising her shoulders a bit and then dropping them, which briefly deepened the cleavage slightly exposed by the V-neck of the sweater. A gold heart with a solitary diamond hung there on a chain of gold links. A rich girl, Billy thought. Most Wilbournians were. “I’m a freshmen, so we’re probably close to the same age,” she said.

  “I’ll be eighteen in December.” Billy tried to keep his eyes away from her cleavage. “But most college girls won’t have anything to do with a high school boy.”

  “I just turned eighteen in June.” Sue smiled, lighting up her entire face. “So there’s really not that big of an age difference between us, is there?”

  “Not at all, not at all.” He waved Marjorie down. “Another supersize for me, please, and the lady here will have…”

  Sue ordered a grilled cheese and a cup of coffee. Marjorie shook her head at Billy. He’d have to remember to get her to swear not to say anything about this to Heidi.

  “So, Sue,” he asked, sitting up as tall as he could on his stool, “how do you like it here in our quaint little burg so far?” He could smell her perfume. It was driving him nuts.

  “I don’t know. “Sue shrugged, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee from Marjorie and taking a sip. Billy noted she was drinking it black. “I mean, Lebanon seems like a nice place, but in truth this is my first trip off campus.” She rolled her eyes. “I snuck out. Thought I’d take a drive and look around. Curfew will be on us soon, and I felt the need to get out for a while.”

  “They must be cracking down since that girl disappeared.”

  Sue nodded. “Yes. Though I was pretty good getting past the gate. Put on a cap so I’d look like a driver for some big shot.” She winked. “I drive a Lexus.”

  Billy laughed.

  “The quiet was getting to me today. I mean, I grew up in Manhattan, and so—”

  “Manhattan?” Billy asked. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” Sue laughed, a light musical sound like tinkling chimes. “So, it’s a little different here.”

  “I’ve never been to Manhattan,” Billy confessed.

  “Never?” Sue’s eyes widened.

  “No. I’ve always wanted to, though.” He smirked. “Maybe you could show me around there sometime.”

  “Are you asking me for a date?” Sue grinned, tilting her head to one side.

  “Yeah, I guess I am”

  “Well.” Sue fell silent, sipping her coffee, seeming to think about it. “I would enjoy getting off campus more. It’s been feeling…confining.”

  “Well, cool.”

  “How about this Saturday then?” Sue asked. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small notepad. Billy watched her. She was moving fast—faster than he expected. How had a flirtation evolved into a date—on Saturday night yet? What would he tell Heidi? That’s what happened, he supposed, when you hit on college girls.

  Sue was scribbling something down on a piece of paper, then tore it out of the pad and handed it to him.

  “That’s my cell number,” she said. “If I don’t hear from you by Thursday, I’ll assume you chickened out.” She flashed a smile at him. “Like a high school boy.”

  “Oh, I’ll call.” Billy folded the paper and put it in his wallet, not wanting her to see that his hands had started to tremble a little. “I’ll definitely call.”

  “Hey, Romeo,” Marjorie said. “Your mother just called. She wants you home.”

  Sue smiled, looking down at her coffee. Billy felt his face burn.

  Marjorie loomed over him. “She said pronto. She sounded pretty worked up. So skeedaddle. The Coke’s on the house.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered, sliding off the stool.

  “Nice meeting you, Billy,” Sue said.

  “Yeah, you, too.” He composed himself. “I will call.”

  She just smiled.

  Billy dashed out of the café. How embarrassing was that? But he knew when his mother was “worked up,” it meant he had better get there fast—or risk some major drama from her later.

  He sped home, stepping on the brake when he saw Perry Holland sitting in his cruiser near the intersection of Elm and East Main. Billy waved a cheery hello, and Perry gave him a “slow down” sign with his hands. But as soon as he’d passed Perry, Billy’s foot was again on the gas.

  His mother was waiting for him in the living room.

  “What’s so urgent?” he asked. “Me and Mike were just hanging out…”

  “Sit down, Billy,” Gayle Honeycutt said in her no-nonsense voice. “That’s precisely what I want to talk to you about.” She gestured for him to sit on the couch.

  Billy obeyed. “We didn’t do anything. I swear. We were just at the Bird having a cheeseburger and—”

  “Did I say you had?” His mother sat opposite him in a chair and crossed her legs and leaned forward. “I want to talk to you about Bernadette deSalis. I want you to tell me everything you know. And don’t you dare lie to me, or I’ll ground you for the rest of the school year.”

  Billy gulped.

  22

  Joelle Bartlett had come looking for Sue Barlow, but Malika told her she’d gone for a drive.

  “Poor kid,” Malika said. “She’s from New York, you know? And I think a
ll this confinement on campus has left her a bit stir-crazy. She went into town.”

  Joelle nodded. “Yeah. I wouldn’t mind getting away from here for a while myself.”

  She’d headed back upstairs. Tish was gone, too—who knows where Tish was, probably off smoking some weed somewhere—and Joelle had really wanted to talk with someone.

  Someone who’d understand.

  Someone who’d believe.

  Because, for the first time, Joelle had heard the screams Tish and Sue had talked about coming from Room 323.

  At first, she wasn’t even sure if it was a scream. Maybe some girls were just carrying on. But it was dinnertime—most of the girls on the floor were over at the caf—and Joelle had poked her head out into the hallway to listen.

  A scream.

  A scream of terror.

  And from right across the hall.

  She’d gone up to the door and pressed her ear to it. Yes, a scream—and it was coming from inside. The heavy door muffled it, but it was a scream.

  Except Joelle knew that no one was inside that room.

  She was about to step off the elevator onto the third floor when another idea came to her. She hit the CLOSE DOOR button and then pressed 1. The elevator made a jerking movement, then began descending again. Joelle prayed Mrs. Oosterhouse was in her rooms.

  She was. “Oostie!” Joelle called out in relief when the short, squat woman opened her door.

  “I’ve told you girls not to call me that,” Mrs. Oosterhouse said. “It shows a lack of respect.”

  “Oh, I respect you, I really do. I’m just so glad you’re here.”

  For the first time, Joelle admitted to herself that she was frightened. Mrs. Oosterhouse seemed to notice. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Have you let anyone into Bonnie’s room?”

  “Nobody but the police.”

  “There’s someone in there. Right now.”

  Oostie made a face, squinting up her eyes into her pudgy cheeks. “Nobody can get in there. I have the only key.”

  “I heard someone just now.”

  “You’re crazy, Joelle. That roommate of yours has finally made you as crazy as she is.”

  “No. Really. I heard someone—several times.” Joelle swallowed. “They were screaming.”

  “Okay, this kind of talk has gone on too long in this dorm for me to take it seriously anymore.”

  Oostie tried to shut the door in Joelle’s face, but Joelle put out a hand to stop her. “Please!” she cried. “I’m not making this up!”

  “Do you know how often I get girls coming to me all upset about that so-called ‘haunted’ Room 323?”

  “Please, Mrs. Oosterhouse! Please go check.”

  The older woman frowned at her. “If this is some kind of prank that you and Tish rigged up…”

  Joelle sighed. “Tish has been in enough trouble lately. You think she’d try to pull something? I tell you, I heard someone in there! Screaming!”

  Mrs. Oosterhouse gave her a dramatic sigh. She reached behind the door and Joelle could hear keys jingling. In moments, she had waddled out into the hall, a set of keys in her hand. She closed her door behind her.

  “Come on,” she said resentfully, and motioned Joelle to follow her.

  They said nothing on the ride up in the elevator. When they stepped out onto the third floor, it was quiet. As still as the inside of a church.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Oostie said, but Joelle thought she might actually be a little bit scared herself.

  She fitted the key into the lock of Room 323 and turned. Joelle kept close behind her, peering over her shoulder.

  “Nobody,” Oostie said, after taking one quick glance inside. She flung open the door and stepped inside. “You see? I told you. Nobody.”

  Joelle followed her into the room and looked around. It was small, like all of their rooms, with nowhere to hide. The closet was open. No one in there. The bathroom door was open. No one was hiding in the shower. The beds were secured to the floor with wraparound wood. No place to hide under there.

  Mrs. Oosterhouse let out another long dramatic sigh, but Joelle thought she was relieved. “I don’t know what it is that turns seemingly rational college girls into raving hysterics.”

  “I heard it,” Joelle said firmly. “I heard someone screaming in here.”

  “Maybe it was from outside.”

  “No.” Joelle was not convinced. “It came from this room.”

  “You can see that’s impossible! No one is here!”

  Joelle looked around. The place seemed to be just as Bonnie Warner had left it. Her clothes still hung in the closet. Books were still piled on the desk. The bed was made. A stuffed teddy bear was propped against the pillows. The police had been thorough, but they had left everything as it was.

  “Then someone was here earlier,” Joelle said, refusing to back down. “And they left when I went down to get you.”

  “Come on. I shouldn’t have let you in here. But I wanted to settle this thing once and for all.”

  Joelle reached out and took hold of Mrs. Oosterhouse’s arm. “You’ve been here long enough. You know this isn’t just one girl’s delusion. You know what happened in this room twenty years ago! You know there’s something bizarre going on!”

  The older woman gave her a hard face. “I know no such thing.”

  “Bonnie Warner was killed by witches. That’s the buzz around the school. There is something—unworldly—happening on this campus!”

  Mrs. Oosterhouse smiled coldly. “Now I know you’re crazy.”

  Something in the older woman’s eyes terrified Joelle. She let go of Mrs. Oosterhouse’s arm and stepped backward.

  “You’re part of it, aren’t you?” she said softly. “That’s your job…to guard this room.”

  Mrs. Oosterhouse continued to smile at her. “We have to leave now,” she said calmly.

  Joelle said nothing. She followed the older woman out of the room, anxious to get out of there. She said nothing more as Mrs. Oosterhouse relocked the door. She simply hurried back into her own room, and barricaded herself inside.

  If what she suddenly suspected were true…

  No. It’s crazy. Maybe she really was hysterical.

  But Oostie—her eyes—her smile—

  She was just laughing at me, thinking I was a lunatic…

  But when Joelle had claimed Bonnie had been killed by witches, that was when Oostie’s attitude had changed.

  Because maybe I hit on the truth.

  Or close enough to it.

  Joelle picked up her cell and pressed in Tish’s number. “Where the fuck are you?” she asked frantically when she got Tish’s voice mail. “Get back here as soon as possible. I’ve heard it. The screaming. Oostie took me into the room. I think she’s in on it—all of them maybe—”

  She heard a beep. Joelle looked down at her phone. CALL DROPPED.

  She heard something else.

  The door across the hallway opening again. There was a sound the doors made when they were unlocked and opened. It was very recognizable. And with the floor being so quiet, the sound had been unmistakable.

  Joelle peered through the little hole in her door. She saw someone—she couldn’t make out who—going back into Room 323.

  Oostie had come back. It must be her. Joelle opened her own door and stood bravely in the hallway.

  “I know you think I’m crazy,” she called into the room across the way, “but I want answers. I’m going to talk to Dean Gregory.”

  The door to Room 323 had not closed all the way. It remained ajar, and Joelle could see light from inside. It was not the electric light she had just seen when she was inside the room moments before. It was—could it be? Candlelight.

  She pulled the door open a bit more and looked inside. Indeed, someone had set a candle on the table at the far end of the room. With the overhead lights turned off and the sun having set outside, the candlelight flickered eerily, casting shadows all across the ro
om.

  “Is this what you meant, Joelle?” came a voice.

  Joelle took a step into the room, trying to discern who was speaking.

  “Is this what you meant by witchcraft?”

  Suddenly, without warning, the door in her hands surged forward, threatening to pin her in the door frame. She leapt aside to avoid it—but that meant she was now in the room, and the door clanged shut with the familiar locking sound.

  “Let me out of here!” Joelle screamed. She tried the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. She banged on the door. “Please, someone! Is someone out there?”

  “No,” came the voice from the darkness behind her. “Only in here.”

  Joelle spun around.

  “Who’s in here?” she asked, straining to see in the dark, her voice shaking uncontrollably. “Mrs. Oosterhouse—is it you?”

  No answer now. Except for the candle, all was darkness. The darkness of nightmares.

  She lunged for the window, but it was locked, too. She tried frantically to open it, to shout for help—but it was no use. She could smash the window—but with what? Her hands? But then what? She was too high to jump…

  Something stirred in the darkness.

  She was definitely not alone.

  Joelle fumbled along the wall for a light switch, but couldn’t find one. She began to cry out.

  “Don’t cry,” came the voice again, a voice she did not recognize, a voice that seemed to be both man and woman at the same time. “You’re here with us now, Joelle.”

  “Who are you?”

  “You are here…in the most important room in the most important dorm. We didn’t expect you, but we’re glad you came.”

  Something moved toward her from out of the shadows. In the glimmer of candlelight, Joelle saw something that went far, far beyond the scope of her imagination. All the nameless terrors she’d ever felt, all the creeping anxieties she’d ever experienced, all of the doubts and fears and nightmares of her life came rushing back at her now. Joelle screamed—and even as she did so, she knew if anyone heard her, they’d simply think it was the ghosts of haunted Room 323. Now, she realized, she’d be one of them.