by Diane Hoh
Dumbfounded, Megan thought, What is she doing? What are all these candles for? It looks like a séance. Is she taking a nap on her last day? That doesn’t make any sense.
Candle shadows flickered across Juliet’s face, giving it an eerie yellow-gray glow. She was lying so perfectly still. Not a finger curled, not a muscle twitched, not a lash blinked. Her skin looked smooth and waxen, like the face of a department store mannequin.
Suddenly there was a startled shout from the terrace. It was immediately followed by the sound of shattering glass, a slam that shook the house, and then silence.
Juliet sat bolt upright, wide awake, and jumped from the bed. “What was that?”
Megan flew to the terrace, with Juliet right behind her.
The ladder had fallen. The upper half of it had thrust itself through the big picture window Megan’s father had installed less than a month ago. He was lying on his back in the midst of shards and slivers and chunks of glass. A gash on his cheek bled profusely, and his hands and sandaled feet were measled with red. But he was conscious and seemed more abashed than pained.
“Dad,” Juliet scolded, rushing over to help him up, “you shouldn’t be up on the ladder in sandals. It’s dangerous.”
“No kidding.” He got up very carefully. “But … it wasn’t my fault. The ladder just … tipped right over.”.
A pensive Megan watched from a distance as Juliet helped Tom Logan douse his wounds with antiseptic and bandage those that needed it. Megan couldn’t help feeling that something very weird was going on. Had Juliet really been asleep when that ladder fell? She hadn’t looked asleep. People didn’t look like that when they were sleeping. They looked relaxed. Sometimes their mouths hung open and their bodies got all loose, as if their bones had been removed.
But Juliet had been as stiff and rigid as a piece of wood. Like … a statue or a slab of cardboard. Like … there was no one in there.
She said she could leave my body any time. When she left before, it was to look through Donny’s locker. What was she doing this time when she left? When the ladder fell? Where did she go? Someplace far away? Or … only as far as the terrace?
Worry and suspicion began to gnaw at Megan. Wasn’t it just a bit too coincidental that the ladder had fallen at the exact moment when Juliet didn’t seem to be in Megan’s body?
But that was crazy. Juliet had no reason to harm Megan’s father. Why would she?
She wouldn’t.
I’m being ridiculous. It’s all this tension, trying to get through this last day.
But the worries wouldn’t go away. Megan watched Juliet wash her father’s wounds with a soft rag. Juliet was never worried about something happening to her, Megan thought. I worried about that all by myself. And I thought that was because she couldn’t be hurt physically. Because she had already lost her life and had nothing to lose.
Then Megan thought of something else. She can leave my body so easily. She can go anywhere, do anything, without leaving a trace. No fingerprints. No one can see or hear her. There would never be any witnesses because Juliet would be invisible.
Megan thought about the night of her mother’s accident. Juliet had been with Justin in the den, watching a movie. Megan had watched movies with Justin more than once. He became completely lost in them. Several times, Megan had left to get popcorn and drinks, and he’d never even noticed her absence. It would only have taken Juliet a second to leave Megan’s body and dart out to the dock to attack her mother. Justin wouldn’t even have noticed that the girl beside him was as quiet and motionless as a doll.
Maybe Juliet knew all along that no disaster would befall her because … because she is the disaster. Think about it, Megan told herself. Makes sense, right?
No. No! Juliet couldn’t have done those things. It’s not possible.
Juliet helping Megan’s father made a nice picture: the loving daughter taking care of an injured parent with tenderness.
Was it fake? Had Juliet herself caused those wounds?
No, she couldn’t have, Megan realized. She couldn’t have done any of it, for one very good reason. She had waited too long for this one short week of life. She would never have deliberately set out to wreak havoc on her precious seven days.
But look at her! Think, Megan, think! Does she look like someone whose time is almost up? Is she nervous? Depressed? Is there a look of dread in those eyes?
No. Not at all. Juliet is as calm and peaceful as the lake at night.
Juliet finished her nursing duties and, warning Tom Logan to “stay away from ladders,” ran lightly up the stairs.
The dark, devilish thought, once born, became relentless. It crept up on Megan steadily, like the big, black, hairy spider of her dream. It circled around her, teasing, taunting, wrapping her in its web.
The dress. The black dress with the pink cummerbund. The hair appointment.
They hadn’t been intended for Megan. They had been intended for Juliet.
Because Juliet had never meant to have only one short week. She had never planned to give back Megan’s life.
She was going to keep it for herself.
Juliet was going to have her birthday party after all.
Juliet had tricked her! Right from the beginning …
Megan raced up the stairs and into the bedroom.
Why? Why would Juliet do this? She had sounded so sad and sweet in the mirror, so full of yearning.
But she had done terrible, vicious things.
Why?
Juliet looked up when she felt Megan enter the room. The blinds were still closed, the flickering candles providing the only light.
“You know, don’t you?” she asked calmly. “You’ve guessed.”
“Yes. But I don’t understand any of it.”
“You want to know why? Is that why you’re here?”
“Yes.”
Juliet settled back on the bed, her skin yellow-gray from the candle shadows. Expressionless, she said, “Then I’ll tell you. Why not? It’s too late now for the truth to do you any good.”
Megan waited.
“It’s because of Martha.”
“Martha? My grandmother?”
Juliet nodded. The candlelight transformed her eyes into glowing, greenish-yellow coals. “Yes, Martha, your grandmother.”
Again, Megan waited.
“She was my stepsister.”
Chapter 19
THERE WAS A LONG SILENCE before Megan said slowly, “That’s not true. My grandmother only had one stepsister. Her name was Etta. She died three months after my great-grandmother married her father.”
“Etta!” Juliet spit the word out with disgust. “I am Juliette, My new stepmother — your great grandmother — said my name was too fanciful and ordered everyone to call me Etta. Horrid name! But my father said I had to respect my stepmother’s wishes.” Juliet’s voice was her own again.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I was fifteen when my father married Lily Lewis.” Juliet’s upper lip curled in a sneer. “I hated her on sight. I hated Martha even more, her and her stupid brothers!”
Megan’s mind was reeling. “Why did you hate them?” she whispered.
“Because we didn’t need them. We didn’t need anyone. I told my father when my mother died that I’d take care of him.” Juliet’s voice lifted, became happier. “It was wonderful for a long time. I was my father’s hostess when he entertained. I had beautiful dresses to wear, and everyone treated me as if I were grown-up. Then,” her voice hardened, “we came here on a vacation and he met that horrible Lily. We moved here, to this awful place, and everything changed.”
In shock, Megan spoke slowly. “That’s why you never told me where you lived. You lived here, in this house! I wondered when Sheriff Toomey said there weren’t any other houses out here that long ago.”
“I hated this house. A country house, boring and dull. I was used to living in the city. Nobody here knew anything about museums and art galleries and theater. Inst
ead of dinner parties, they had picnics!” Her voice oozed contempt.
“I’ve seen pictures of my great-grandmother. She was very beautiful.”
Agitation made Juliet’s voice erratic. Her sentences came in spurts. “She was shameless … chasing him. A widow, with three children to support … she knew a good thing when she saw it. I tried to warn my father that she only wanted his money, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“He must have really loved her.”
“Love? Love?” Juliet screamed, her features sharpening, her skin draining of healthy color. “We didn’t need her or her dull, stupid children. But he married her, and we moved to this awful house and that horrid lake.” Her voice lowered, became edged with bitterness. “He never had any time for me after that.”
“No one has ever talked about that time very much,” Megan, completely stunned, murmured. “I knew you died, but I never knew how or why. No one ever said.”
“Well, of course they didn’t! If you had killed someone, would your family talk about it?”
Megan gasped. “Killed? You said it was a boat accident that took your life.”
“It wasn’t the accident that killed me!” Juliet shouted. “Our boat hit a rock and we were both thrown overboard. But the crash didn’t kill either of us.”
“Us?”
“Martha and me.”
The candles flickered as the wind, growing stronger every minute, rattled against the closed blinds, as if knocking to get in.
“I was struck unconscious. But Martha wasn’t. She wasn’t hurt at all. She could have saved me. But she didn’t. Your sweet, kind grandmother,” Juliet said with hatred, “clung to the side of the boat and watched while I sank like a stone. And then she watched me drown.”
“She wouldn’t have. Never.”
Juliet jumped up from the bed and began a wild pacing, back and forth across the faded blue carpet. There was nothing in her face now that resembled Megan. Her skin was dirty-white, her mouth pinched and twisted, and thin strands of her hair traced a spiderweb across her cheeks.
Megan watched in disbelief. She doesn’t even look human anymore, she thought, and wondered how she could ever do battle with such a creature. Because it was clear now that, to save herself, she was going to have to fight Juliet.
But how?
“You can’t have my life, Juliet. I won’t let you.”
“She stole my life!” Juliet cried. “She hated me as much as I hated her.” Her eyes grew colder. “I would never have got into that boat with her, but my father insisted. He said it was my fault she was lonely. He implied that I had stolen all of her friends.”
“I think you did,” Megan said softly. “I think you hurt her because you were jealous when your father found a new family.”
Outside, the wind began to pick up speed. It blew across the lake with a low moaning sound that penetrated the walls of the bedroom, bringing with it a chilly dampness.
Juliet’s eyes began to glow yellow like the candle flame. “I don’t care what you think! But I cared what my father thought. I hated Martha for turning him against me. And I told her so. In the boat, when we were out on the lake where my father couldn’t hear.”
“You fought with her?”
“I told her I hated her. Martha said some terrible things to me. I ordered her to turn the boat around. She refused.” The heels of Juliet’s sandals dug into the carpet with each angry step. “I tried to take the oars from her. But she fought me. Then we hit the rock.”
As she neared the window, the wind-tossed curtains whipped around her, shrouding her in white lace. “And Martha let me drown.”
“I don’t think so. I think she tried to save you. You couldn’t have known, because you were unconscious. I think you hate her so much, you don’t want to believe she tried.”
Juliet turned away from the window, lace still coiled around her neck and shoulders. She ripped it away from her. “She was the one who should have died! I was the pretty one, the popular one. Dull old Martha with her books and her piano and her bird-watching, she got to live!”
Then, before Megan could respond, Juliet stopped her pacing and faced the big oval mirror. “But it’s all right now. It is. I’m getting even, at last. You’ve seen for yourself that I, too, can hurt people, just like Martha hurt me.” She smiled an evil smile. “Your mother never knew what happened to her. Neither did Hilary.”
“You did it all? Everything?”
“The car accident, Thomas’s bicycle, your father’s ladder. Even the drawings. I did every bit of it. And loved doing it.”
“But why us?” Megan asked, bewildered. “My friends and family never did anything to you. Jenny, Barb, Hilary, they never even knew you existed. Why did you try to kill them?”
“Because you care about them. And Martha cared about you. I never had the chance to pay her back. Until you moved in. I knew she loved you. And I knew I could take my precious revenge on you and your family and friends. It was even better that way.”
“We never did anything to you,” Megan cried angrily. “And I don’t think my grandmother did, either.”
Juliet’s face contorted in rage. “What I’ve done is simple justice. Your grandmother loved you. I couldn’t punish her, so I punished you. You love your friends and family. Not one of them has remained untouched. Can’t you see that’s justice?”
“You let me think it was Donny. Or Vicki. You wanted me to think that. And they hadn’t done anything. It was all you.”
“They didn’t matter. They’re unimportant. And now you, your grandmother’s favorite person, will take my place, in my world, and I will take yours. Forever. That, too, is justice.” She smiled vaguely, her anger gone. “You know, Megan, it is uncanny how much you look like her.” She laughed wildly, a sound that rocketed off the walls and slammed into Megan. “Isn’t that funny? I’ll spend my whole life looking exactly like the woman I hate most. Are you laughing, Megan? Don’t you think that’s funny?”
Frozen in shock, Megan heard the back door slam. Her father was returning to the hospital to be with Thomas and her mother.
“Now,” Juliet said briskly, “I have to get ready to go out. Justin broke our date because of your silly little brother’s accident.” She giggled. “I’ll have to go find Justin, won’t I?” Her face began to rearrange itself into Megan’s features. Her voice became Megan’s again. “You do get it that the only reason Justin wasn’t hurt is that I want him for myself, don’t you? I’m going to take very good care of him for you, I promise.”
Megan, shaken to the core, watched as Juliet went to the closet to pick out an outfit. Fighting to gather her senses together, Megan said in an unsteady voice, “I am Megan, and I want to be me again.”
Nothing happened.
She said it louder, “I am Megan, and I want to be me again!”
Still nothing.
“Forget it,” Juliet said calmly. “I left out one very important detail when you agreed to switch. Remember when I said your consent was necessary for the trade? Well, so is mine. That’s fair, isn’t it? I guess I forgot to mention that part. It’s supposed to be an honor kind of thing. You give me your life for a week, and I give it back, willingly.” She laughed. “Only I seem to have misplaced my honor. Can’t find it anywhere.” Her face twisted in anger again. “I guess I lost it when I drowned in that lake, thanks to your grandmother.”
Holding up a red leather skirt and examining it carefully, Juliet said, “What do you think your chances are of getting my willing consent to switch back before midnight tonight, which happens to be all the time you have left?” Her laugh this time was almost a cackle. “I’d say that’s about as likely as Justin wishing I were you again.”
“Juliet, you can’t!” Megan shrieked. “You can’t do this. You have to give my life back to me. You can’t keep it!”
“Just watch me!”
A dizzied, tormented Megan watched in revulsion as Juliet preened before the dresser mirror. That’s my face, my bod
y … and no one will know that the inside of it is evil and decay, like rotten fruit.
“Juliet, you had your week. I gave that to you. You can’t pay me back for that by stealing what’s mine.”
“Oh, yes I can. And I’m going to.”
Satisfied with her appearance, Juliet moved to the door. “See you, Meg,” she said cheerfully. Then she stopped and slapped herself lightly on one cheek, laughing. “What am I saying? I won’t be seeing you at all, will I? As of midnight, you’re history.”
“I’m not leaving, Juliet,” Megan promised grimly. “I’m not giving up. I’ll get back what’s mine before midnight.”
Juliet’s laugh was scornful. “Don’t try to scare me, Megan. You’re no match for me. At midnight, the clock in the den downstairs will go bong, bong, twelve times, and you will disappear like a puff of smoke. Forever.” She grinned. “Better you than me.”
“Juliet, stop! Wait! Please, you can’t —”
“Kind of like Cinderella.” Juliet opened the door. “Except that you won’t turn into a pumpkin. You’ll turn into … nothing. Absolutely nothing!”
“How can you be so evil?” Megan cried. “I hate you!”
The smile disappeared. The eyes became cold, green glass. “It isn’t me you should hate, Megan. You should curse the day Martha Lewis was born. As I have cursed it for forty-six years.”
Alone in his room, Justin had been thinking about Megan. He was probably being loopy minding the change in her. Most guys would have been wild about the new, livelier, more affectionate, girl he was spending so much time with these days.
But the truth was, he missed the “old” Megan. The one he could talk to about anything while she listened, and always understood. The Megan who never flirted with other guys, and was nice to people, and cared about her family.
What had happened to that Megan? Hilary blamed it on raging hormones, due to a sixteenth birthday coming up fast.
Then Justin remembered a comment Megan had made a few days ago. Had that been last week? Or this week? What was it she had said? “Something weird is going on at my house.” And she’d said more than that, too. Something about death … if only Justin could remember what it was. Maybe then he’d understand why she’d changed. Or why all those horrible things had started happening to her family.
