by Eden Royce
“That I’m grown up?” I asked.
“Not quite yet.” She laughed, and I felt warmer inside. “But you’re doing things grown-ups do, and it’s a lot of weight on your small shoulders.”
I tilted my chin up high. “But I want to do them. I want to learn.”
Miss Corrie leaned closer to me. “Do you know why I bought that potion from your uncle?”
“No, ma’am.” I shifted in my seat.
“Because I don’t know how to make it. Many years ago, my family used to work the roots, like yours. But before I was born, they made a decision to leave those ways behind.” She took off her glasses and cleaned them with a cloth before replacing them. I noticed there was a little brown speck marking the white part of her right eye. “So over the years, we forgot the recipes and the stories and songs. We lost them. You still have them, and that’s a special thing to hold on to.
“Still,” she continued, “everything you’ve told me, and being a magical girl on top of all that . . . Oh my, what a road you have in front of you.”
“So what do I do?”
“Learn your magic. And your schoolwork too. Learn everything you can and become the person you want to be.”
“What if people think—”
“Stop right there. One day, you’ll have to make some pretty big decisions, and when that day comes, all that will matter is what you think, not anybody else. Best to start practicing now.” Her voice held a firmness that made me stand up straighter. “Remember: what makes you different makes you special.”
I thought of the looks the other kids gave me. “I don’t feel special.”
“Being different is hard, Jezebel. I know that. But you have to learn to accept what makes you different. Most of all, learn to love it.” She looked at me, and her eyes seemed small and sharp through the glass of her lenses. “That’s your power. Don’t let anyone take it from you. Be strong and be yourself. Not the person you think everyone will like. Learn your power and learn to use it well.” She looked at her watch, scribbled on a notepad, then ripped off the paper. “Give this to your teacher. And take care of yourself, Jezebel.” Then she patted my shoulder and sent me on my way.
When I got back to Miss Watson’s classroom, I found that the slip Miss Corrie had signed said I should be allowed to go home early. She didn’t want me to catch a chill from sitting the rest of the day soaked to the skin, she’d said. After giving a wide-eyed Miss Watson the slip, I ran down the front steps of the school, only slowing when I reached the road. It was sunny and warm, and the shivering chill of the cold water was starting to evaporate.
But when I got home, something else sent a chill down my back. A police car was parked in front of our house.
I snuck in the back, being extra quiet. When I got inside and peeked around the doorframe of Mama’s bedroom into the front room, I breathed a bit easier. It was Sheriff Edwards, not Deputy Collins. Sheriff Edwards and Mama were in the front room, talking.
Or, to be specific, arguing.
“How are we supposed to live?” Mama was saying, her voice rising. “Do you know what I found on Saturday out back in the marsh? An animal trap!”
“Miss Turner—” the sheriff began, but Mama cut right on in.
“Open and set where anyone could have stepped on it. One of my children, Sheriff! Only one person I know of would do a thing like that.” She paced around the front room while Sheriff Edwards, big and tall as he was, stood in the corner, his hat in his hand.
“I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Be about something. Fix this.” Mama turned her face up to the ceiling and breathed deep, like she was gasping for air.
“I’m doing what I can,” he said. His voice was gentle, careful.
“It’s not enough. Can’t you put Collins in jail or something?”
“I would, but he hasn’t done anything I can jail him for. You know what the laws are.” Sheriff twisted his hat in his big hands. “People like him have been doing this to folks for years, with no one saying a word. I have to operate within a certain chain of command to even get an investigation of Collins and his cronies started.”
Mama had sunk down into a chair. She was nodding slowly. I didn’t know what a chain of command was, but I could tell what it meant—Sheriff Edwards wanted to help us, but he would have to wait. And that meant we would have to wait.
“What are we supposed to do until then? Hope he doesn’t catch wind of what you’re doing and try to hurt one of us?” She plucked the strings of her apron, unraveling the thread. “I don’t suppose you know my husband and Collins had a run-in a while back?”
The sheriff edged his way closer to Mama and sat across from her. He reached out, as if he was thinking to take her hand, then stopped. “No, I didn’t.”
“The kids were small. I’m sure they don’t remember. But Collins came here late one night and roughed him up. I thought . . . I thought he was going to—” Mama swallowed hard. “My husband left after that night. And I can’t say I blame him.”
I scurried back through the bedroom, through the kitchen, and out the back door. I hurried down the path, my heart beating fast, my head spinning with what I’d seen and heard. Daddy and Deputy Collins had it out one time? Then Daddy left us. He left us because he was afraid of what Deputy Collins might do. No wonder Mama was so hurt and angry. But why would she keep that from me and Jay?
I stood under our pecan tree, breathing hard. The rough bark of the tree scratched against my back through my school dress. I tried to figure out what to do, but I couldn’t think straight. Should I go in and let Mama know what I heard? That didn’t feel right. I let the cool wind blow over my skin. Secrets. Protection. Mama’s story and Doc’s lessons mixed together in my mind. Then I realized: while Mama didn’t work roots, she thought keeping the story about Daddy a secret was protecting us. I didn’t understand it, but I knew it, felt it with my intuition.
But Mama wasn’t the only protector in the family. We all had to protect each other.
I started up the path, calling out, “Mama! Mama!” so she would be sure to hear me. I burst through the front door this time, giving her plenty of time to get herself together. When I got inside, she and Sheriff Edwards were sitting in the front room with glasses of iced tea, Mama fanning herself with the newspaper.
“Jez? Why are you home at this time?” She blinked, then stared at my coiled-up hair and wrinkled dress. “And what happened to you?”
I told her what happened and she looked me over. At the same time, Sheriff Edwards rose.
“I’d better be on my way now,” he said. “If anything more happens, please let me know. It can all go in the investigation report.” He took up his hat. “I’ll let myself out.”
“Okay, Sheriff,” she said, her voice sounding far away. Our front door closed softly behind him, and as soon as it did, Mama spoke again. “Who is the horrible child that did this?”
“Lettie, of course.” I told her the story as best I could without letting all the hurt and anger I felt earlier come right on back. My fists tightened as I told it.
“Oh Lord. How’re you feeling, Jez?”
“I’m fine. Just mad at how stupid kids are.”
“Go change your clothes and hang that dress up on the clothesline.” She hugged me tightly and I snuggled close. “Bring your hair things when you come back and you can have a cup of hot tea while I redo your pigtails.”
I changed into dry clothes and took the bag of graveyard dust and powdered brick, still heavy with water, out of my dress pocket. I sat it on the windowsill to dry, along with my bracelet Doc had woven back together after I saved the wolf. I grabbed the small plastic bucket Mama kept my hair things in: pomades, combs, barrettes, and knockers. I set it on the chair next to me and sipped tea with honey and cinnamon while Mama loosed my hair, then oiled and combed and brushed it as gently as she could.
“Did you already sell out everything at your market stall?” I asked.
“Yes, I w
as home when Sheriff Edwards stopped by to give me some information.”
“What sort of information?”
“That’s . . . best kept between adults” was all she said.
She leaned over to look at me and saw me pouting. “Jez, you know why I sometimes tell you certain things are for grown-ups, don’t you?”
I shrugged and focused on my empty cup. “Because you don’t want me to know those things.”
“Not only that. I have a duty—a responsibility—as your mother to keep you safe. Just like Doc tells you to protect yourself, I’m supposed to protect you and your brother.” She stood up and refilled my cup with hot water.
“To me, that means I have to protect all parts of you: your body, your mind, and your heart. And there are some things I don’t think you’re ready to know. Not just yet, okay?” She smoothed her hands down each of my pigtails, the signal she was finished doing my hair.
I knew Mama was right. She already had so much to worry about that I wanted to let her think I didn’t know the story about Daddy. “Okay,” I said.
“I’m glad we got that settled,” she said, kissing my forehead.
That’s when Jay came sprinting in the door. “Jez, you okay? After school, Susie told me what happened to you at lunch. So I ran home.”
Mama looked grateful for the interruption. “If you are both home, why don’t you two play outside for a bit? I need to do a few things before I get dinner started.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we said. Jay changed into his playclothes in a blink, and we ran out the door.
“Did Susie really tell you what happened?” I asked once we were a little ways from the house.
“Yeah, she said to tell you she was sorry she wasn’t there when it happened.” He grinned. “I think she woulda knocked that girl’s lights out.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the idea someone wanted to fight for me. “Maybe she would have. Did she say if she might come by to check on me?” I asked hopefully.
“Nope. I asked if she wanted to, but she said she needed to get home or something.”
We walked a bit longer, enjoying the warm afternoon, and I realized we were heading toward the marsh. “Do you think we need to worry about any more traps out here?” I asked.
Jay slowed down. “I don’t know. I think we’ll be okay if we keep our eyes open.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m more scared of the things we can’t see,” he added.
I was thinking about that too. “But the marsh is our home,” I said. “It has ingredients we use in rootwork. It’s where we get some of our food. We can’t stay away forever. Come on—I’ll race you!”
Jay grinned at that, and we took off, watching our footsteps as we did.
13
While we kept a lookout for any more traps, we soon relaxed, because it felt so good to be outside again. The summer had been dry, so the plants sucked up all the moisture they could from the early November rains, and extra water sat in a thin layer on top of the soaked dirt. The heavy rains had cooled the air some, and I took big gulps of it as I ran.
I wanted to run faster today than ever. Maybe I could outrun my thoughts. My heart thumped hard as my feet pounded into the muddy ground, and my arms pumped. At least tomorrow was Friday. Then I’d have the whole weekend to fix my feelings before I had to go back to school and all the kids there.
A chilly breeze blew up and I breathed it deep as it flowed over me, letting it power me on to follow Jay’s lead through the marsh. After a storm, we always went down to the marsh, because the rains dredged up all kinds of weird stuff. Maybe I’d find something today that would take my mind off school. Some of our best prizes were a baseball cap, a beat-up weather vane shaped like a chicken, and a beautiful feather that looked like it might have come from a peacock.
“You find anything?” I yelled across to Jay.
“Not yet!” He high-stepped through the pluff mud, the hem of his pants rolled up to his knees, fishing for treasures. Jay could stay outside all day if he was able, searching the marsh’s secrets. Only nighttime—and his empty belly—could pull him from a treasure hunt like this.
I skirted along the grassy bank, watching the water bubble between the stalks of grass, a sure sign that the fiddler crabs were scrabbling around just out of sight. The memory of the thing in the marsh holding me there to listen flooded my mind like a high tide. Being held in place was so terrifying, but I had Jay with me then. I looked up and out across the marsh, but I didn’t see him anywhere.
Of course he’d wandered off. This was the first time in weeks when he was actually home after school and we were out together in the marsh like we used to be, and he was nowhere in sight. Mama and Doc had told us both to not leave the other alone. But I was alone. I was always alone, it seemed, these days.
Lonely girl. I am here.
The voice echoed around me, and I spun, searching for where it came from. No one was nearby.
Lonely girl.
I listened as the whispery light voice echoed. I couldn’t tell if it was in my head or on the air.
I am alone too. I, too, have no one.
A flash of something caught my eye and I looked right, to an area within the thick rushes of the marsh where a tidal pool of water had gathered. There was something out there in the murky water: a glimpse of red that sank away as soon as I saw it. Moments later, it surfaced again before sinking out of sight.
“I see something!” I yelled, in case Jay was somewhere close enough to hear me. I didn’t wait for him to answer, though; I just went on over to look. Around me, the blowing wind grew cooler, too cool for this time of year. And all I could see was the thing in front of me bobbing on the surface of the water: white, then red, then orange-brown, before it disappeared for the briefest moment.
I am so empty, lonely girl. Are you empty like me?
I should have been scared then, and I was, but that wasn’t all I felt. I could feel the desperation all around me, hear it in the voice. It felt so true and so real. It felt like my loneliness, new and painfully fresh.
Something moved against me, and I found it was Dinah squirming in my pocket. I pulled her out; whether she was worried about me or encouraging me, I couldn’t tell. I put her back in my pocket and gave her a pat.
As I got closer, the spot under the surface started to look like different things: a towel, maybe a scrap of a shirt, or a dress. Then I got close enough to see what it was.
Of all the things we’d found in this marsh, there was one thing we’d never seen: a body. I was afraid for a moment that we had finally found one. But then I realized exactly what I was looking at.
It was a doll.
The doll was nothing like Dinah; this one looked like someone tried to carve a real person out of wood. A shock went through my body, starting at my head like a lightning strike, then moving down, down into my legs, freezing them to the spot. I wanted to get a closer look at it, but it was in deeper water, a few feet out from where I stood. I searched around for a branch or something to use and came up empty.
“Jay,” I called again, my voice ringing out over the stillness. “Got something here!”
Dinah was going crazy now. It felt like she was pushing against the pocket with her all of her tiny body. I didn’t know what her problem was with some old doll, but I’d find out after I figured out a way to haul it in. Surely another step would be okay, especially if I kept the marsh’s edge in sight. I stepped into the water and the mud smooshed under my feet. The water, cooler than the air, made me shiver, but it only came halfway up my calf. The doll looked so much smaller now that I was almost on top of it, as though I could pick it up in one hand.
My fingers waggled, barely scraping the muddy fabric of the strange doll’s belly. Then my hand sank inside it.
My gasp was cut off quick as I was yanked forward into the tidal pool of standing marsh water. My knees hit the mud at the bottom of the marsh, splashing through the standing
water left by the floods and the last hard rain. Then something strong—fiercely strong—gripped my right arm, still sunk inside the belly of the doll. It crawled up to my shoulder, adjusted its grip, then pulled harder.
I screamed out.
“Jay! Doc! Help me!” My voice was swallowed up by a roar of air from the doll. Dinah thrashed around, the tug of her flailing keeping me off-balance. I couldn’t get free of the thing that had me and I couldn’t get to her. She was in my right pocket, and I was using my left arm to brace myself as I was pulled closer and closer to the surface of the water. I pulled back with all my strength, but whatever had my arm was stronger. I reached for the protection powder I’d made with Doc’s graveyard dirt and powdered brick—maybe if I sprinkled it on the water, I could get free—but then I remembered I’d taken the bag out of my pocket and left it on the windowsill to dry. Along with my bracelet of Devil’s Shoestrings.
Doc had told me never to go out without protection and I had done just that. I tugged harder, screaming until my voice cracked and my throat was raw and sore. The puddle of water churned now, and I saw glimpses through its cloudy surface. The smell of the marsh surrounded me. Usually I loved the scent of it, rich with bubbling life, but there was something in it now that smelled burnt and bitter. I could taste it on my tongue.
Whatever it was drew my head closer to the pool. I writhed and punched the water, but nothing I did made any difference.
“No! No, no, no!” I cried out. My heart was in my throat. I felt like I was choking on my fear. Cold water covered my lips and nose. Dinah was scratching against the inside of my pocket, but all the sounds around me were drowned out by the voice pounding into my head. The one coming from the doll.
Got you!
And then, laughter. Hard, cruel laughter just like the kids at school.
My body tightened up and I flailed around, trying to get loose. I can’t die like this! I can’t leave Mama and Jay and Doc. I had to get away from that voice that sounded like creaking floors and smelled like used oil. Where was Jay now?
