I shrieked, and followed with a shudder. The shudder was put-on, I admit, but I didn’t want him to think I was ungrateful. “Oh! You did that? For me?” Okay, I was a little shameless at this point, pretending submissiveness for him. But sometimes you can tell what a guy wants, and Victor wanted that from me. And I liked him, so why not? Feminine submissiveness is the way of the world.
“He was like…” Mad Dog swung his fist in the air, needlessly.
I rolled my eyes for them. “I got it, Rickey.”
He winced. “Hey, not cool P-Lang. Not cool.”
Victor liked me, I could tell. He was staring at my lips like he wanted to kiss me. We were sharing a subliminal secret and I cut my eyes toward Mad Dog, raising one eyebrow. I was very good at this. I could raise one eyebrow halfway up my forehead without any other part of my face moving at all. It looked very cool. Why does he have to be here? my eyebrow was asking.
Victor responded by leaning closer to me. His lips parted and his teeth were so white they reflected light. He must have known what I was thinking because his eyes found my lips parted too. I tilted my head back, ready for… “What’s wrong with your mouth?” Victor asked.
“What?” I covered it as quickly as I could.
“Take your hand down,” he commanded. He scrutinized my lips, and apparently I had misread the moment. “What are those scratches? Are you cutting …your face?”
I had noticed the sores that morning—weird little hurts like from dry skin cracking—spreading out from the corners of my mouth. “I don’t know, it’s probably nothing,” I said, touching the wounds with my fingers.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Victor said, patronizing. “Have you noticed any other changes since you met Marie LaVey?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“She may have put a curse on you, with that mojo hand.”
“No. That’s crazy. I don’t believe any of that.” My arms crossed over my chest and I did not feel so friendly toward him anymore. I looked at the door and brought my eyes back to his, cold as ice.
“Here I’ve put myself in harm’s way to retrieve your prized possession, and now you can’t even play it. It’s probably cursed, too.”
“Nothing’s cursed, Victor!”
He sniggered at me and snorted when he inhaled again. Mad Dog and he burst out laughing, like a snort was the funniest thing in the world. He pushed his chair back slowly, screeching the legs on the floor. “We were just leaving.”
Mad Dog was already up and halfway out the door.
“I wouldn’t play that clarinet if I were you, unless you want your whole face to rot off.”
“Don’t be gross.”
“I could fix it, if you want. I’ve got power too.”
“Like what?”
“I could lift the curse,” Victor said. “Because it’s only going to get worse, you know.” He turned away. “Think about it. Oh, and be very suspicious of anything funny.” I closed the door behind them.
He was right. I had developed a weird rash on my abdomen, which I had noticed that morning. It was itching like crazy and was beginning to get painful, and it was bigger.
I swung the door open again, before he was down the steps, pulled up my shirt, and showed him the red circle that had developed a few inches above my navel. “This just came up. And it’s right where the bag was hanging.” There was an inch of redness, with a pale ring around it, then another circle of redness like a bull’s-eye around that.
Victor examined it.
“There were horseshoe nails in the bag. Do you think I got tetanus?”
“No, it’s a lot worse than that. It’s an eye. She’s got her eye on you. You’re going to need my help. And stay away from that LaVey boy. He’s bad news.”
That night I dreamed about Victor. He was holding me off the ground, my legs were wrapped around him, and we were kissing. I knew he loved me, but then I startled awake. There was something thumping on the roof, and pings on my window. Acorns bounced off the glass one at a time, then several, and then a shower of them on the roof. I went to the window and it stopped. When I was in bed again and had almost fallen asleep—ping! pop! Then a shower rolling down the roof again. I opened the window and looked out but did not see anything. I peeked through the limbs to the starry sky. There was no one there. I left the window open and another shower of acorns tumbled off the roof and made a pile on the ground. It was a clear night, no wind. I could not figure out how this was happening, but Victor’s words came back and I had to think about the curse. I had a weird blotchy rash—the Eye of Marie on my abdomen, my skin was cracking apart at the corners of my mouth, and now a plague of acorns was hailing down on my roof!
I do not scare easily. At the county fair last year, I was attacked. I was wandering around behind the rides, thinking how interesting and probably unsafe it was that they took them apart and then rebuilt them every week in another place. I loved the Typhoon, Tornado, Zero Gravity, Vertigo. I was on every one of those the minute I was tall enough. Loved them. Loved them every year and looked forward to the fair more than a senior in high school probably should. And there I was last summer, staying till the last minute on the last Saturday afternoon when they were breaking it all down.
I was basically the last one there. This carny guy let me ride for free, over and over on the Tornado. He just let it keep going because it was all over anyway. He was smiling like he liked me.
After letting it run for about fifteen minutes straight I had had enough. He offered to show me the wheels, cogs, and insides of the thing—what really made it tick. I was curious, so I edged around behind it with him, into this little area between all the whirring and mechanics. It was really loud. He blocked me in and I realized why he had been so nice, and I was trapped.
The only possible way out was to roll in the mud under a truck. No way I was going to do that. But I also realized that no one would hear me if I screamed, and he definitely had that look in his eye like he was not taking no for an answer. With most guys, you just have to slow them down and keep those wandering hands under control. But this one was not going to be like that. He was determined in a way that nobody had ever been with me.
He came at me like a wrestler about to tackle. He was filthy anyway, so he didn’t care if he rolled me in the mud and got more dirty. When he got close, I took a deep breath and concentrated on letting my muscles relax. I was in a hopeless situation and I wanted him to know it, that I accepted my fate. I saw my swing in the backyard. I stretched my legs out and swung to the sky. I accepted him. There was no way out. I was totally vulnerable and I would not resist. He took this as an invitation—encouragement even—that by not fighting back, I was asking for it. Which made him let his guard down. “We’re gonna have a real good time together,” he said. I tilted my head like I was going to let him kiss me, but when he leaned in, I bit his chin. Really tore into it.
I may have cracked the bone. He needed a shave and the scratches stayed on my tongue. I was spitting out his nastiness for the rest of the day. At the same time I bit him, I punched him in the side. He dropped in the mud, clearly not expecting it, and I kicked his ass.
Seven was the only one I ever told this to. He was actually looking for me when I walked out from behind the Tornado. I thought everyone else was gone, but not Seven. He wanted to ride one last ride with me. He was mad at that carny when I told him what happened. He went in behind the Tornado to find him, but the guy was gone.
Seven waited for me to clean up in the bathroom and then we rode Vertigo one last time. I never told anybody else because nobody would believe that sweet little Penny Langston could do anything like that. Besides, I might have killed the man, and I did not want to go to jail for it. Seven said it was okay. He said guys like that get what they deserve.
So I’ve got some guts when I need them. But these acorns on the window, the weird rash on my belly, the cracks on my face—that stuff was totally beyond my control. There was something going on I could no
t explain, several things at once. I also had less energy since I lost my clarinet. Today I got tired just walking back from my tree. I had been there with my new National Geographic. But I couldn’t concentrate, the words blurred on the page, and I was dizzy. Something was seriously wrong with me.
I fell half-asleep when the acorns finally let up, but this time I dreamed Seven was leading me down a dark tunnel, down creaky stairs into a basement room, not his cave but somewhere else. He was going to fight Victor there, and Victor was going to kill him.
When I woke up again I was shivering and huddled under the blanket. It was light outside so I got up. I expected the yard to be littered with acorns, but there was nothing. In the back of my mind, thoughts of the curse crept in. The rash had no other explanation. I could see the sores on my mouth. I was losing the luxury to simply not believe it. I had to acknowledge that the curse might actually be real.
10 The Lunchroom Lady Sighs
I stayed out of sight, waiting for them to come out of Penny’s house. I was pissed. Mad Dog, for one, had never betrayed me like this. It was true that he blew with the wind as far as friends were concerned. But actually helping the other guy to hit me—wow, that was a new low, even for him. I had the feeling he would come back around and be stuck on me like glue as soon as Hoof got tired of him.
When we were freshmen, Ray Dimple, a senior at the time, briefly made friends with Mad Dog. I think it was because Mad Dog was willing to wax his car for him every day. But Mad Dog was thrilled to have a senior as a friend, and Ray did have a very cool car. So Mad Dog was living like a king. They cruised around Bellin with windows down and arms hanging out, low riding and chilling at the park, cranking metal to the max.
Then Ray got this idea about stealing ice cream from the school cafeteria. He thought he could get a case out a day, no one would notice, and it would keep him in gas money and weed. Mad Dog was supposed to be his lookout. But, apparently, Mad Dog didn’t do his job very well because the lunchroom lady was still in her office when Ray locked himself in the walk-in freezer. When he didn’t come out with the Eskimo Pies, Mad Dog actually went up to the lunchroom lady and tipped her off about a missing person.
Pretty soon the cops were there and they heard Ray yelling for help. Mad Dog denied knowing anything about it, when actually he could have probably let Ray out of the freezer himself rather than panicking and turning the case over to the lunchroom lady.
So they made an example out of old Ray, and Ray spurned Mad Dog after that betrayal. Then a few weeks ago he and Hoof met at the dump and found that they both had a common interest in garbage. I would not have expected them to be much of a match. But Mad Dog was willing to work for him, and Hoof liked giving orders.
At Penny’s house as Mad Dog and Hoof were leaving, she closed the door and then opened it again. She pulled her shirt up. What the hell, Penny? Giving these guys a peep show? How could you? But she did not really look like a flirt. She looked upset and was showing something that was wrong on her stomach. And Hoof looked like he was diagnosing, giving her some ridiculous explanation from his boundless depth of horseshit.
Then she closed the door again and they pretended to leave. But they did not leave. They waited to be sure Penny and Sylvia had waved goodbye through a window and gone back to their business. Then Mad Dog and Hoof doubled back. Hoof sprinkled something all around the edges of her house. I went to check it out—red pepper flakes, salt, and dirt. The dirt was no doubt graveyard dirt. This was an old hoodoo recipe to create confusion. He was tricking Penny with the clarinet—saying he was the one who rescued it for her—and since that was a lie, he needed a confusion conjure.
Personally, I avoided conjures and conjuring. I was only privy to the inside info about the how-to because my grandmother did it all the time. I helped her when she asked me, but she basically kept me out of it. I knew some stuff, but it was not going to be my life’s work. I wanted to get past that. Seven generations were enough.
Interesting fact about graveyard dirt—it sounds like a superstition—because what difference could it make, right? Graveyard dirt versus regular dirt? But take the case of a pauper’s grave, with a pine box that decomposed relatively quickly. If the person died of tuberculosis or typhus or some terrible disease, well, the bacteria is actually seeping out of the corpse and into the dirt. So, if you dig deep enough on some old grave like that, it really would be more dangerous than just regular dirt. That’s hoodoo.
I caught up with them. Hoof—like he had eyes in the back of his head—stopped and held his hoof up in the air like he was checking the weather. Then they both turned, a cornball choreography of two. But at least they knew I would be gunning for them, which I liked.
“Too scared to knock, weren’t you?” Hoof said.
“No point in it. You already had the clarinet. You lied about it.”
“Back off, Seven,” Mad Dog said. He was stepping away as I plodded toward them. I thought I could take him out first, or at least punish him for flipping to Victor. Victor stopped me with the hoof. It was hard as brick, pressed against my chest, and Victor was actually pretty strong.
“I don’t want you interfering anymore,” Hoof said. “I like Penny, and she’s infatuated with me. We’re a couple now.”
“No, you’re not. You’re with Velvet.”
“I see the three of us together.”
Mad Dog yelped, then realized he was not included.
“I believe Velvet and Penny are in love,” Victor said. “Or they will be, with encouragement.”
“They’re enemies, Hoof. They’ve been trying to outdo each other for years.”
“That’s not what Velvet says. She adores Penny. And we’re going to have a special birthday party. For me. The kind of party that changes lives.”
Mad Dog crossed his arms, nodding. Then a look of puzzlement came across his face.
“I’m going to let you keep the cave,” Victor went on. “You should stay there more often. That’s your consolation prize.”
It was the oldest trick in the book, but I couldn’t think of anything else. I gaped over his shoulder like something had really caught my eye, and when his attention diverted, I smacked him. His head was as hard as his hoof, but I bet I made his ears ring. Rather than let the two of them gang up on me, I took off.
The next day, I was waiting at the mouth of my cave. I knew Penny would come back to her tree sooner or later, and then I could tell her what really happened. I could play down the part about getting beat up by a freak, and play up the part about how I was the one who had actually recovered the clarinet.
Two days later, there she was. I had grown so used to seeing her in knee-length skirts and stockings that I was shocked. Meeting Victor had made an impression, because now she was dressed like Velvet West. Short shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. She had on more makeup too. Her face was covered in it. She laid out her newspapers under the heavy limbs of the magnolia, crunching on dried-up leaves. She took off her shoes, not her usual clodhoppers but high-heeled sandals with ridiculous laces crisscrossing past her ankles. She plopped down and fingered her clarinet, but she didn’t play. I waited, closing my eyes to hear her better. She played a few notes softly and rubbed her lips. She seemed to be in pain. She put the clarinet down and looked at her lips in a little mirror. Then she packed up the mirror really fast, sat up taller, grabbed a National Geographic, and flipped it open.
Guess who? Of course, it was Victor Radcliffe and she waved to him like she had been waiting for him all day.
Was she actually spreading newspapers for him to sit on? Oh, Penny, how could you? Not cool. He’s a dick. He’s such a dick.
They talked quietly, cooing even. But now their voices raised. Penny heated up, and then she was positively irate. “You saw him?” she yelled. “Are you sure it was him?” Then she pointed up to me, fuming like she would kill me if she could.
Now I could hear Victor. “Yes, I’m sure it was him. I thought you needed to know. Seven was climbing
down the tree outside your window this morning, at about six o’clock. I just happened to be out for my morning run, you know, when I saw him. I was like, what’s Seven doing in that tree?”
“He was throwing acorns! At my window and on the roof. It’s totally creepy. I hate him! Who does that?”
“I told you to stay away from him.”
“I did. I didn’t even see him.”
“How’s the Eye of Marie?”
Penny pulled up her shirt. Probably higher than necessary. “Bigger.” She poked it.
“Marie LaVey has got her eye on you—through him.” He gestured toward me. What the fuck, Victor?
Penny simmered down, reassured that Big Vic was going to neutralize the bother that I had evidently become. Then Victor headed up the hill. To give me a piece of his mind, no doubt. I clenched my fists and made ready for a fight.
I came outside the mouth of my cave, in full view. Bring it, Victor. I’m not scared of you. He scowled like a demon and concealed a glass vial in his hand. He tapped it with his hoof and wisps of dust swirled into the breeze with every other step. Did Penny know he was doing that? No, she had no idea. She was back in her National Geographic and only stealing lusty glances when she thought he wouldn’t catch her.
“What’s that?” I asked. “More of the confusion dust?”
“You know about that?” He rubbed his brick of a chin in deep contemplation, and poured out the last of the powder in front of me. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you knew anything.”
“You gonna tell me what you’re doing …or not? If you hurt Penny, I’ll kill you.”
“You can’t do that. You can’t do anything. Your grandmother didn’t teach you. She made an agreement. Bless her Catholic soul. So right now, I’m having a little talk with you, about your bad behavior. Penny needs to see this. My noble power of restraint. And you need to leave Penny alone. She’s with me, and we don’t like you.” He chuckled, full of himself.
“Bad behavior? What are you talking about?”
Blue Bottle Tree Page 8
