by Melissa Haag
“It was an accident, Mrs. Wrightly. We opened the door to let her out of the closet but then heard someone coming down the hall. That’s why we closed the door again.”
For the first time, the older woman looked away from me. Her gaze fell on Clavin.
“You?” Her voice echoed oddly.
My heart picked up speed at the proof that Mrs. Wrightly was no longer herself, and I glanced at Clavin. He didn’t seem any more disturbed than he had before, so I doubted he’d heard the echo in her voice.
I prudently took another step back.
Clavin, thinking I meant to leave, reached out to stop me. At the same time, Mrs. Wrightly pivoted and moved between us. Clavin’s hand met with Mrs. Wrightly’s chest instead of my arm. I continued to back away while watching them.
Clavin stared at his hand in absolute horror and started to stammer an apology. While Clavin looked ready to pass out, Mrs. Wrightly’s focus didn’t shift. She appeared completely unconcerned with the fact Clavin had yet to remove his hand.
“Did you bruise her?” she asked in a deceptively calm manner.
The thing possessing Mrs. Wrightly had asked just about the same question at lunch.
“It was an accident,” Clavin said.
Like before, I saw the change as it jumped bodies. Mrs. Wrightly relaxed slightly as Clavin tensed. They were like two balloons deflating and inflating simultaneously. Clavin immediately focused on me.
Confused by the reason for the switch, I stopped backing up.
“Clavin? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wrightly demanded as she looked for me.
She frowned when she spotted me ten steps behind her. I barely paid her any attention because Clavin had yet to look away.
When he answered, his words rang with double voices.
“Making amends. Atoning for misdeeds.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. I waited for the thing to come for me but it surprised me by turning and walking outside. Through the glass doors, I saw the first bus pull away. The rest followed in slow procession.
Clavin kept a steady pace as he crossed the large, cement quad that separated the school’s entrance from the parking lane. The final bus departed, and student cars started to drive past. He didn’t turn to walk on the sidewalk but walked straight toward the line of traffic.
Alarm pooled and solidified in my stomach.
“No!” I yelled, running forward.
Behind me, Mrs. Wrightly gasped as she, too, realized what Clavin meant to do.
As I pushed through the door, Clavin stepped off the curb in front of a car. The driver, busy with the radio, didn’t react in time. The thud of Clavin’s body hitting the hood and the squeal of tires covered my second cry. The impact knocked Clavin back a few feet. He collapsed to the ground.
I fell to my knees by his side but didn’t touch him, unsure if the thing had released Clavin yet. The cold asphalt bit into my knees as I studied him.
He calmly looked up at me without speaking. Blood streamed from his head where it had connected with the ground. The people surrounding us began to yell for help. Teachers poured from the school as they shouted for the students to move away.
The engine of the car that had hit him quieted. Someone else knelt beside him and started to ask him questions. Neither of us paid any attention.
The thing hadn’t yet left Clavin.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
He smiled and reached up to touch my face. I flinched away, and he dropped his hand.
“Now that I found you, I will take care...” Clavin’s voice was only a rasp, but the echo behind it came through strong and clear.
“Take care of what?” I asked.
His eyes rolled back in a faint. The teachers swarmed around Clavin, trying to revive him.
I stood, heart racing, and scanned those in the group surrounding us. The thing’s ability to jump from person to person terrified me. I spun a slow circle, searching for it. Everyone looked away as soon as I made eye contact. Where did it go?
“Tessa!”
I turned at the sound of my name.
Gran stood outside the crowd, trying to get to me. I ran to her, and the frightened crowd shuffled to give me a wide berth. When I reached her, I didn’t slow, but grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the accident. No one moved to stop us.
“We need to get out of here, now.” I kept my voice low and quiet. “I’ll drive.” I held my hand out. My fingers trembled badly, but she willingly surrendered the keys.
Gran hurried to her side of the car as I slid behind the wheel.
Sweat beaded on my upper lip. Something out there watched me, wanted to hurt people who hurt me, and was able to hop from body to body. And, apparently, only I could perceive it.
Shaking, I fumbled with the ignition and, after several attempts, managed to insert the keys.
I buckled as I navigated the visitor lot. In the distance, sirens blared, but I didn’t worry about them. I needed to get Gran as far away from that thing as possible. What would it do if it possessed her?
Despite the fear that still shook me, I controlled my use of the gas pedal when I really wanted to floor it. I took an indirect way home, winding through back roads until I felt certain no one followed.
Gran said nothing the entire time.
When I glanced over, I saw her gripping her purse straps tightly and eased off the gas. At some point, I’d begun using it liberally. At least, I now knew she wasn’t possessed.
Gradually, the shakes eased and the sweat dried. With only an hour of daylight to spare, I stopped driving aimlessly and headed home.
As soon as I skidded to a dusty stop in front of the house, the front door flew open. My mom hurried down the steps with a scowl.
“Inside,” I said without preamble, waving her toward the house while I moved around the car to help Gran. She was out before I reached her.
“Excuse me?” Mom looked seriously pissed.
I didn’t stop to argue with her. Didn’t need to. Gran piped up with a sharp, “Get in the house, Clare,” and beat me to the door.
Inside, boxes partially covered the table and lined the wall. Many of the cupboards stood open in various states of emptiness. Small things like throw pillows, pictures, and knickknacks no longer decorated the living room. Aunt Danielle sat in her chair with her eyes closed.
“What on earth is going on, Tessa? You were driving like a maniac. That’s the only car we have.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
I let my bag slide to the floor as I dropped into a kitchen chair. I’d thought the shaking was finished, but now, safe at home, it reclaimed me. I leaned forward, braced my elbows on my quaking knees, and rested my head in my hands.
My hand trembled so badly I hurt my own cheek, and the pain finally penetrated my shock.
The silence in the room cocooned me, but it gave me a moment to think. Inside before dark. Sleep until seven. Move often. Pick a boy before my seventeenth birthday. Have a baby, or babies, young. Watch my husband die prematurely.
What happens if I’m out after dark? Something finds me and starts to talk to me through other people. What did it want? Could it find me here? Why was it out during the day? I thought I was safe when it was light outside; otherwise, what was the point of knocking me out each night?
“Baby?”
I raised my head at the gentle touch on my shoulder. My mom stood beside me, watching me with concern.
“Please. What happened?” she asked, all anger absent from her expression.
I looked at Gran, who sat nearby, and Aunt Grace, who had just walked into the room. They all waited. Unsure of what Gran had already told them, I started with what I knew.
“When I was running for the door yesterday, it wasn’t just because of sunset. I heard something behind me. Gran says none of you saw it, but when I turned to look back, I did. It had horns on each side of its head, dark shifting skin like black smoke, and glowing green eyes.”
No one sai
d anything, but I saw alarm creep into each of their faces. I swallowed hard around my own fear.
“Today at school, something took over Mr. Jameson’s body.” My hand drifted to my cheek as I remembered its touch. “It wanted to know who bruised me. Before I could say anything, another teacher came over to walk me to class, and it released Mr. Jameson. I watched for it, after that but didn’t see it again until the end of the day when it took over Mrs. Wrightly.
“Then, Clavin showed up.” My voice broke as I relived the terror.
“It asked if he was the one who bruised me. Clavin tried saying it was an accident. But I don’t think it cared. It jumped from Mrs. Wrightly to Clavin. Then, it walked Clavin right in front of a moving car. It said Clavin needed to atone for misdeeds.” I took a deep breath and finished on a whisper. “I think it hurt Clavin because Clavin hurt me.”
My mom sat heavily in a chair near mine.
“What is it?” I asked, looking at Gran.
“It’s what we hide from, obviously,” Aunt Danielle said. Her peacefully closed eyes belied her awareness.
We all watched her as we waited for more, but she said nothing.
“Well, we have a lot of packing to do.” Mom stood, nervously wiped her hands on her faded jeans, and viewed the enormity of our task before moving toward the dishes. She took a piece of newspaper from the pile on the table and went to the mismatched glasses on the counter.
When she reached for a glass, her fingers brushed its neighbor and nudged it off the edge. I watched it drop to the floor. The tinkling shatter sounded anticlimactic to me. Given my day, it should have been more of an explosion.
Staring at the sparkling splinters that dusted the floor, I thought of birthday candles and wondered if I’d make it another five months.
Chapter Three
Since Mom already had a house lined up in the next county, she and Aunt Grace took the breakables to the new place at first light. A shallow trunk and a short back seat didn’t leave room for much else for the initial load. But that was okay. We’d learned over the years that the breakables had a better chance of survival on their own in the car.
To save gas and time, we wouldn’t use the car to move everything, though. One of Aunt Grace’s co-workers, who owned a pickup and trailer, would stop by the old place after lunch for the bigger pieces.
Because of the short distance, we should be able to move everything in one day. We had talked about possibly moving farther away, but the cost of gas and Mom and Aunt Grace’s current jobs just didn’t make it feasible. And, finding another employer wanting to hire two people at a comparable pay was out of the question.
While they were gone, Gran and I kept working. We packed up my bedroom. Then I focused on taking apart the beds. Mattresses lined the living room by lunchtime.
Lacking anywhere to sit comfortably for a break, I took my sandwich out to the porch. My breath fogged the air as I sat in Gran’s chair and took in the dormant landscape. I’d been looking forward to seeing what this house would be like blanketed in white at Christmas, which was only a few weeks away. If only the snow hadn’t stubbornly refused to fall yet.
I watched the frozen branches sway and ate my sandwich. Chewing still sent little twinges of pain into my cheek, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from eating. The subtle ache was enough of a reminder, though, for me to almost choke on my bite of sandwich when Clavin’s shiny, cherry red car turned onto our drive.
Fear slithered down my spine. Who was really driving? Clavin or what possessed him yesterday?
Through the windshield, Clavin watched me before glancing at the house. The change in his attention was a good sign. No burning fixation that I’d noticed during a possession.
While I was terrified of the thing that had hurt Clavin, I also wisely acknowledged Clavin was a danger to me, too. My face still vibrantly displayed a reminder of how far he could go.
I set my sandwich aside and stood. The sooner I dealt with Clavin, the sooner he could leave before that thing returned.
As he parked, I studied him for any sign of aggression. The last time I’d made him mad, he’d been flushed with anger. He didn’t appear flushed now, just pale. Despite his apparent calm, I still hoped Gran wouldn’t notice his arrival. I didn’t want her hurt.
He opened the car door and used the frame to attempt to leverage himself from the seat. It took several tries before he managed to pull himself upright. He paused for a moment and rubbed his forehead tiredly, which called attention to his tousled hair. It stood out in different directions with the strands in front sticking up from the bandage at his hairline.
With an awkward hobble, he got out of the way to close the door then kept a hand on the hood to make his way toward me. As he rounded the front of the car, the reason for his struggling progress became clear. A cast covered his leg from toe to mid-thigh.
The memory of the car hitting him changed my self-concern to pity.
“Are you supposed to be walking around on that leg?” I asked.
He stopped his approach, his fingertips on the hood for balance, to glance down at his leg.
“No, but I had to come.”
When he met my gaze again, I saw panic in his eyes.
“I think I’m going crazy, Tessa. When I woke up this morning, there was a note by my bed. It looked like I wrote it, but I don’t remember doing it.”
A chill ran through me, and it had nothing to do with the cold.
“What did the note say?”
“It was about you, but I don’t understand it.” His voice quavered. Balancing against the hood, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and offered it to me.
Hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake, I left the porch and grabbed the note.
“You need to sit down.” I helped him over to the bottom step. By the time he was sitting, he looked like he was about to throw up.
Giving him a moment, I skimmed the page.
Go to her. Apologize. Without her forgiveness, your other leg is next.
I sat heavily next to Clavin and met his watery gaze.
He cleared his throat and swallowed hard.
“When I came to at the hospital, they told me I walked right in front of the car. The doctor said I was lucky the car wasn’t going faster. Brian was there. He said he called my name as soon as I walked out the doors, but I didn’t even look at him. I don’t remember any of it.”
Clavin looked down at his hands, and I saw a tear fall onto his sleeve.
“At school, the rumor is that you can see the future.”
I flinched a little.
“Do you know what’s going on?” he asked, his words laced with desperation.
My stomach flipped with relief. For a moment, I’d thought he would accuse me of controlling the thing, or maybe even him, and causing his accident.
“I wish I did know,” I said, looking toward the trees to give him a minute to wipe his face.
I grew up knowing that I was different. My weird family history made it marginally easier to deal with the possibility that something was out there possessing people. However, poor Clavin had to be going crazy with fear.
“I forgive you, Clavin. Whether what happened was an accident or a malicious plan, I forgive you.” I hoped that speaking the words would spare him any further involvement.
Clavin’s tears started falling in earnest. He nodded then awkwardly pulled himself to his feet. Without saying anything further, he limped back to his car.
As I watched him struggle, I didn’t ask if he was okay to drive or if he wanted to stay. Forgiving him didn’t mean I liked him. I sat on the step until he pulled onto the road then went back to Gran’s chair and my sandwich, thankful she hadn’t come outside. The turkey and cheese didn’t appeal to me anymore, but I still munched on it while staring at the note I’d kept.
When the thing had used Mr. Jameson, it had wanted to know who hurt me; and when it found out, it had hurt the person back. Was that protective or posse
ssive? I needed to figure out what the thing was and what it wanted.
Popping the last bite into my mouth, I stood and tucked the folded paper into my pocket.
Mom and Aunt Grace returned just a few minutes later, and their friend arrived not long afterward. We loaded as much as we could on the trailer and more into our car since they would follow him to the new place.
I waved as they left then went back into the house. Looking at the piles of belongings that remained, I estimated we would need another two trips with the truck, which meant they would make it back from the last trip just before dark. The house would be empty of everything but cleaning supplies, sleeping bags, a few blankets, and Aunt Danielle’s chair. The chair always went last.
The prospect of a night in an empty house unsettled me because now I knew what waited out there in the dark. Somehow, the furniture and our things made the house feel safer.
By the time we finished stacking the final load onto the trailer, every muscle ached, especially in my legs. I’d overused them in the last few days, and they were letting me know, loud and clear, that they wouldn’t put up with anything tomorrow. That meant finishing the bathroom today.
Kneeling on the floor to scrub around the toilet would probably send my legs into a state of mutiny. I could picture my legs detaching themselves in a cartoonish way and walking off without me.
Smiling at the possibility, I went back to work.
“Tessa, honey, you look exhausted,” Mom said a long while later. “I think you should get ready for bed now.”
Glancing up from the dustpan I held, I nodded and wondered when they’d returned. Too tired to ask, I finished sweeping the corners of the last vacant room and joined Aunt Grace in the living room. Without furnishings, the house echoed loudly, and chilly drafts drifted along the floor where she’d made everyone blanket beds. Though I wouldn’t notice any of the discomfort once they knocked me out, I wondered what the rest of my family would do.
I collapsed onto my blanket and listened to them move around as they closed up the house for the night.
