by Meg Cabot
“Yeah, but I could understand that. I mean, she loved him. She’s really mad at him. I didn’t think she’d try to go after me. I mean, I had nothing to do with it. I just tried to let her know her options—”
“Which is what I’d been doing ever since she first showed up at the Mission.”
“Right. But Heather’s not liking any of the options we’ve put before her. I’m telling you, the girl’s gone loco. She’s quiet now because she thinks she killed Bryce, and she’s probably all tuckered out, but in a little while she’s going to perk up again, and God only knows what she’ll do next now that she knows what she’s capable of.”
Father Dominic looked at me curiously, his concern over the archbishop’s impending visit forgotten. “What do you mean ‘now that she knows what she’s capable of’?”
“Well, last night was just a dress rehearsal. We can expect bigger and better things from Heather now that she knows what she can do.”
Father Dominic shook his head, confused. “Have you seen her today? How do you know all this?”
I couldn’t tell Father Dominic about Jesse. I really couldn’t. It wasn’t any of his business, for one thing. But I also had an idea it might kind of shock him, knowing there was this guy living in my bedroom. I mean, Father Dom was a priest and all.
“Look,” I said. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, and I don’t see any other way. You’ve tried to reason with her, and so have I. And look where it’s gotten us. You’re in the hospital, and I’m having to look over my shoulder everywhere I go. I think it’s time to settle the matter once and for all.”
Father Dom blinked at me. “What do you mean, Susannah? What are you talking about?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m talking about what we mediators do as a last resort.”
He still looked confused. “Last resort? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m talking,” I said, “about an exorcism.”
Chapter
Sixteen
“Out of the question,” said Father Dominic.
“Look,” I said. “I don’t see any other way. She won’t go willingly, we both know that. And she’s too dangerous to let hang around indefinitely. I think we’re going to have to give her a push.”
Father Dominic looked away from me, and started staring bleakly at a spot on the ceiling above our heads. “That isn’t what we’re here for, people like you and me, Susannah,” he said in the saddest voice I had ever heard. “We are the sentries who guard the gates of the afterlife. We are the ones who help guide lost souls to their final destinations. And every single one of the spirits I’ve helped have passed my gate quite willingly….”
Yeah. And if you clap hard enough, Tinkerbell won’t die. It must, I thought, have been nice to see the world through Father Dom’s eyes. It seemed like a nice place. A lot better than the world I’d lived in for the past sixteen years.
“Yes,” I said. “Well, I don’t see any other way.”
“An exorcism,” Father Dominic murmured. He said the word like it was distasteful, like mucus or something.
“Look,” I said, beginning to regret I’d said anything. “Believe me, it’s not a method I recommend. But I don’t see that we have much choice. Heather’s not just a danger to Bryce anymore.” I didn’t want to tell him what she’d said about David. I could just see him jumping out of bed and hollering for a pair of crutches. But since I had already let spill what I was planning, I had to let him know why I felt such an extreme was necessary. “She’s a danger to the whole school,” I said. “She’s got to be stopped.”
He nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course, you’re right. But Susannah, you’ve got to promise me you won’t try it until I’ve been released. I was talking to the doctor, and she says she might let me go as early as Friday. That will give us plenty of time to research the proper methodology—” He glanced at his bedside table. “Hand me that Bible there, would you, Susannah? If we can get the wording correctly, we just might—”
I handed him the Bible. “I’m pretty sure,” I said, “that I’ve got it down pat.”
He lifted his gaze, pinning me with those baby blues of his. Too bad he was so old, and a priest, besides. I wondered how many hearts he’d broken back before he’d gotten his calling. “How could you possibly,” he wondered, “have gotten anything as complicated as a Roman Catholic exorcism down pat?”
I fidgeted uncomfortably. “Well, I wasn’t really planning on doing the Roman Catholic version.”
“Is there another?”
“Oh, sure. Most religions have one. Personally, I prefer Mecumba. It’s pretty much to the point. No long incantations or anything.”
He looked pained. “Mecumba?”
“Sure. Brazilian voodoo. I got if off the Net. All you need is some chicken blood and a—”
“Mary, mother of God,” Father Dominic interrupted. Then, when he’d recovered himself, he said, “Out of the question. Heather Chambers was baptized a Roman Catholic, and despite the cause of her death, she deserves a Roman Catholic exorcism, if not burial. Her chances of being admitted into heaven at this point aren’t great, I’ll admit, but I certainly intend to see that she gets every opportunity to greet St. Peter at the gates.”
“Father Dom,” I said. “I really don’t think it matters whether she gets a Roman Catholic exorcism or a Brazilian one, or a Pygmy one, for that matter. The fact is, if there is a heaven, there’s no way Heather Chambers is getting in there.”
Father Dominic made a tut-tutt ing noise. “Susannah, how can you say such a thing? There is good in everyone. Surely even you can see that.”
“Even me? What do you mean, even me?”
“Well, I mean even Susannah Simon, who can be very hard on others, must see that even in the cruelest human being there can exist a flower of good. Maybe just the tiniest blossom, in need of water and sunlight, but a flower just the same.”
I wondered what kind of painkillers Father Dom was on.
I said, “Well, okay, Father. All I know is, wherever Heather’s going, it ain’t heaven. If there is a heaven.”
He smiled at me sadly. “I wish,” he said, “you had half as much faith in the good Lord, Susannah, as you have courage. Listen to me now for a moment. You mustn’t—you must not—attempt to stop Heather on your own. It is extremely clear that she very nearly killed you last night. I could not believe my eyes when I walked out and saw the damage she caused. You were lucky to escape with your life. And it is clear from what happened this morning that, like you say, she is only growing stronger. It would be stupid—criminally stupid—of you to try to do anything on your own again.”
I knew he was right. What’s more, if I really did go through with the exorcism thing, I couldn’t let Jesse help me…the exorcism might send him back to his maker, right along with Heather.
“Besides,” Father Dominic said. “There isn’t any reason to hurry, is there? Now that she’s managed to hospitalize Bryce, she won’t be up to any more mischief—at least not until he comes back to school. He seems to be the only person she entertains murderous feelings toward—”
I didn’t say anything. How could I? I mean, the poor guy looked so pathetic lying there. I didn’t want to give him more to worry about. But the truth was, I couldn’t possibly wait for Father Dom to get out of the hospital. Heather meant business. With every day that passed, she would only get stronger and nastier, and more filled with hate. I had to get rid of her, and I had to get rid of her soon.
So I committed what I’m sure must be some kind of mortal sin. I lied to a priest.
Good thing I’m not Catholic.
“Don’t worry, Father Dom,” I said. “I’ll wait till you’re feeling better.”
Father Dominic was no dummy, though. He went, “Promise me, Susannah.”
I said, “I promise.”
I had my fingers crossed, of course. I hoped that, if there was a God, this would cancel out the sin of lying to one of his most deservin
g servants.
“Let me see,” Father Dominic was murmuring. “We’ll need holy water, of course. That’s no problem. And, of course, a crucifix.”
As he was muttering over his exorcism grocery list, Adam and CeeCee came into the room.
“Hey, Father Dom,” Adam said. “Boy, do you look terrible.”
CeeCee elbowed him. “Adam,” she hissed. Then, to the Father, she said brightly, “Don’t listen to him, Father Dom. I think you look great. Well, for a guy with a bunch of broken bones, I mean.”
“Children.” Father Dominic looked really happy to see them. “What a delight! But why are you wasting a beautiful afternoon like this one visiting an old man in a hospital? You ought to be down at the beach enjoying the nice weather.”
“We’re actually here doing an article for the Mission News about the accident,” CeeCee said. “We just got done interviewing the monsignor. It’s really unfortunate, about the archbishop coming, and all, and the statue of Father Serra not having a head.”
“Yeah,” Adam said. “A real bummer.”
“Well,” Father Dominic said. “Never mind that. It’s the caring spirit of you children that should most impress the archbishop.”
“Amen,” said Adam solemnly.
Before either of us had a chance to berate Adam for being sarcastic, a nurse came in and told CeeCee and me that we had to leave because she had to give Father Dom his sponge bath.
“Sponge bath,” Adam grumbled as we made our way back to the car. “Father Dom gets a sponge bath, but me, a guy who can actually appreciate something like that, what do I get?”
“A chance to play chauffeur to the two most beautiful girls in Carmel?” CeeCee offered helpfully.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “Right.” Then he glanced at me. “Not that you aren’t the most beautiful girl in Carmel, Suze…. I just meant…Well, you know….”
“I know,” I said with a smile.
“I mean, a sponge bath. And did you get a look at that nurse?” Adam held the passenger seat forward so CeeCee could crawl into the backseat. “There must be something to this priest thing. Maybe I should enroll.”
From the backseat CeeCee said, “You don’t enroll, you receive a calling. And believe me, Adam, you wouldn’t like it. They don’t let priests play Nintendo.”
Adam digested this. “Maybe I could form a new order,” he said, thoughtfully. “Like the Franciscans, only we’d be the Joystick Order. Our motto would be High Score for One, Pizza for All.”
CeeCee said, “Look out for that seagull.”
We were on Carmel Beach Road. Just beyond the low stone wall to our right was the Pacific, lit up like a jewel by the enormous yellow ball of sun hovering above it. I guess I must have been looking at it a little longingly—I still hadn’t gotten used to seeing it all the time—because Adam went, “Aw, hell,” and zipped into a parking space that a BMW had just vacated. I looked at him questioningly as he threw the car into park, and he said, “What? You don’t have time to sit and watch the sunset?”
I was out of the car in a flash.
How, I wondered a little while later, had I ever not looked forward to moving here? Sitting on a blanket Adam had extricated from the trunk of his car, watching the joggers and the evening surfers, the Frisbee-catching dogs and the tourists with their cameras, I felt better than I had in a long time. It might have been the fact that I was still operating on about four hours of sleep. It might have been that the heavy odor of brine was clouding my senses. But I really felt, for the first time in what seemed like forever, at peace.
Which was weird, considering the fact that in a few hours, I was going to be doing battle with the forces of evil.
But until then, I decided to enjoy myself. I turned my face toward the setting sun, feeling its warming rays on my cheeks, and listened to the roaring of the waves, the shrieking of the gulls, and the chatter of CeeCee and Adam.
“So I said to her, ‘Claire, you’re nearly forty. If you and Paul want to have another kid, you had better hurry. Time is not on your side.’ ” Adam sipped a latte he’d picked up from a coffee shop near where we’d parked. “And she was all, ‘But your father and I don’t want you to feel threatened by the new baby,’ and I was like, ‘Claire, babies don’t threaten me.’ You know what makes me feel threatened? Steroid-popping Neanderthals like Brad Ackerman. They threaten me.”
CeeCee shot Adam a warning look, then looked at me. “How are you getting along with your new stepbrothers, Suze?”
I tore my eyes away from the setting sun. “All right, I guess. Does Do—I mean, Brad really take steroids?”
Adam said, “I shouldn’t have mentioned that. I’m sorry. I’m sure he doesn’t. All those guys on the wrestling team, though—they scare me. And they’re so homophobic…well, you can’t help wondering about their sexual orientation. I mean, they all think I’m gay, but you wouldn’t catch me in a pair of tights grabbing at some other guy’s inner thigh.”
I felt a need to apologize for my stepbrother, and did so, adding, “I’m not so sure he’s gay. He got very excited when Kelly Prescott called the other night and invited us to her pool party on Saturday.”
Adam whistled, and CeeCee said unexpectedly, “Well, well, well. Are you sure this blanket is good enough for you? Maybe you would prefer a cashmere beach blanket. That’s what Kelly and all her friends sit on.”
I blinked at them, realizing I’d just committed a faux pas. “Oh, I’m sorry. Kelly didn’t invite you guys? But I just assumed she was inviting all the sophomores.”
“Certainly not,” CeeCee said with a sniff. “Just the sophomores with status, which Adam and I definitely lack.”
“But you,” I said, “are the editor of the school paper.”
“Right,” Adam said. “Translate that into dork, and you’ll have an idea why we’ve never been invited to any of Princess Kelly’s pool parties.”
“Oh,” I said. I was quiet for a minute, listening to the waves. Then I said, “Well, it’s not like I was planning on going.”
“You weren’t?” CeeCee’s eyes bugged out behind her glasses.
“No. At first because I had a date with Bryce, which is off now. But now because…well, if you guys aren’t going, who would I talk to?”
CeeCee leaned back on the blanket. “Suze,” she said. “Have you ever considered running for class VP?”
I laughed. “Oh, right. I’m the new kid, remember?”
“Yeah,” Adam said. “But there’s something about you. I saw real leadership potential in the way you trounced Debbie Mancuso yesterday. Guys always admire girls who look as if any minute they might punch another girl in the mouth. We just can’t help it.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s in the genes.”
“Well,” I said with a laugh. “I’ll certainly take it under advisement. I did hear a rumor Kelly was planning on blowing the entire class budget on some kind of dance—”
“Right.” CeeCee nodded. “She does that every year. The stupid spring dance. It’s so boring. I mean, if you don’t have a boyfriend, what is the point? There’s nothing to do there but dance.”
“Wait,” Adam said. “Remember that time we brought the water balloons?”
“Well,” CeeCee amended. “Okay, that year was fun.”
“I was kind of thinking,” I heard myself saying, “that something like this might be better. You know. A cookout at the beach. Maybe a couple of them.”
“Hey,” Adam said. “Yeah! And a bonfire! The pyro in me has always wanted to do a bonfire on the beach.”
CeeCee said, “Totally. That’s totally what we should do. Suze, you’ve got to run for VP.”
Holy smoke, what had I done? I didn’t want to be sophomore class VP! I didn’t want to get involved! I had no school spirit—I had no opinion on anything! What was I doing? Had I lost my mind?
“Oh, look,” Adam said, pointing suddenly at the sun. “There it goes.”
The great orange ball seemed to sink into the sea as it began its slow desc
ent below the horizon. I didn’t see any splashing or steam, but I could have sworn I heard it hit the water’s surface.
“There goes the sun,” CeeCee sang softly.
“Da da da da,” Adam said.
“There goes the sun,” I joined in.
Okay, I have to admit, it was kind of childish, sitting there singing, watching the sun go down. But it was also kind of fun. Back in New York, we used to sit in the park and watch the undercover cops arrest drug dealers. But that wasn’t anywhere near as nice as this, singing happily on a beach as the sun went down.
Something strange was happening. I wasn’t sure what it was.
“And I say,” the three of us sang, “it’s all right!”
And, strangely enough, at that moment, I actually believed it would be. All right, I mean.
And that’s when I realized what was happening: I was fitting in. Me, Susannah Simon, mediator. I was fitting in somewhere for the first time in my life.
And I was happy about it. Really happy. I actually believed, just then, that everything was going to be all right.
Boy, was I ever in denial.
Chapter
Seventeen
My alarm went off at midnight. I didn’t hit the snooze button. I turned it off, clapped my hands to turn on the bedside lamp, rolled over, and stared at the canopy over my bed.
This was it. D-day. Or E-day, I should have called it.
I’d been so tired after dinner, I knew I’d never make it without a nap. I told my mother I was going upstairs to do homework, and then I’d lain down with the intention of sacking out for a few hours. Back in our old place in Brooklyn, this wouldn’t have been a problem. My mom would have left me alone like I asked. But in the Ackerman household, the words I want to be alone were apparently completely meaningless. And not because the place is crawling with ghosts, either. No, it was the living who kept on bugging me for a change.
First it was Dopey. When I’d sat down to another gourmet dinner, immaculately prepared by my new stepfather, an interrogation of sorts had begun because I had ended up not getting home until after 6:00. There was the usual “Where were you?” from my mother (even though I’d so conscientiously left her that explanatory message). Then a “Did you have fun?” from Andy. And then there was a “Who’d you go with?” from, of all people, Doc. And when I said, “Adam McTavish and CeeCee Webb,” Dopey actually snorted disgustedly and, chewing on a meatball, said, “Christ. The class freaks.”
