Stalking Shadows (Scary Mary) (6 page)

Mary shuddered as she recalled her first dream. “I hope not. A psychic Vicky would be terrible. Now no more Vicky talk. What is the function of water in photosynthesis?”

Chapter 4

Mr. Poopy-Pants

Mary and Rachel stumbled out of the library as it was closing at 7 p.m. They’d gone through the note cards twice. Rachel had gotten most of them right. “You’re going to ace this test,” Mary told her.

“Yeah, now let’s celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah, me acing the test.”

“Um, I don’t think you’re supposed to celebrate something until after it happens.”

“Really? What about baby showers and bridal showers? Let’s have a test-acing shower.”

“Why are those things called showers?”

“I guess because you get showered with gifts?”

“Huh.”

Rachel began to bounce. “Let’s go to The Drowsy Poet.”

Mary’s nose wrinkled. “It’s Open Mic Night, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

She winced. “I don’t like listening to therapy sessions put to verse.”

“Oh, come on, please? It’s my Test-Acing Shower.”

She sighed. Rachel had really buckled down while they were studying. She deserved some reward for that. “All right, but a dozen haikus or one sestina is my limit. Understand?”

She nodded and happily skipped to the car. Mary really didn’t understand Rachel’s enjoyment of bad poetry, but then again, Mary didn’t really have much tolerance for poetry, period.

It was a short drive to The Drowsy Poet. It was a small café-- with hopes of being a hip, artistic hangout--nestled in the corner of a shopping center. Abstract art done by local artists hung on the walls with price tags attached. There were tables with lounge chairs, high stools at the bar, and a few sofas pushed against the walls. The lighting was dim. A few groups of young people varying from high school to graduate school age were scattered around the room.

As she had dreaded, the small stage was lit, with a mic stand set up. As they went to the counter to place their orders, she looked around and spotted something new. There were some Internet terminals set up along the back wall. Rachel ordered an iced chai latte and went to grab a seat on a sofa while Mary lingered a moment to ask the barista about the Internet terminals.

“They're five dollars an hour.”

She paid and got the login information. She went over to Rachel.

“It looks like they’re about to start,” Rachel said, settling deeper into the sofa. Mary glanced toward the stage. There was a balding guy with a ponytail shuffling some note cards at the mic. She wished she had earplugs.

“I bought some time on one of the computers to look up some stuff. I’ll be right over there.”

Rachel’s brow knitted. “We could’ve done that at the library.”

“No, we were studying. I’m willing to take part in your test acing shower, but I’m gonna need some distraction. Now listen to emo guys wax tragically about their overbearing mothers and cheating ex-girlfriends while I surf the ‘net.”

“Can’t you wait until you get home?”

“It’ll be too late by then. I won’t take too long.”

“How much time did you buy?”

“How long will this be?”

Rachel frowned. “If you gave it a chance—” she started.

“I know, but I already bought the time.”

Rachel glowered at her, but Mary couldn’t muster much guilt. She settled down at the nearest computer terminal and logged in.

She pulled up Google and stared at the search box for a moment. Vicky really hadn’t given her anything to go on. She typed in “claw soul” and hit enter. Nothing useful came back, though she was surprised by the number of
Pok
émon
results. Did people still watch
Pok
émon
? She returned to the search box. She typed in “bad ghost” this time. The results were a little better. She focused on reading personal accounts to see if anyone had a similar experience to what Vicky had described. She wasn’t interested in the paranormal investigators because they relied on equipment she didn’t need, and their results were usually false. She couldn’t help snickering whenever anyone mentioned EVPs. How could anyone think a ghost’s voice would appear on a recording device? And the recordings--she’d listened to some of those clips over and over again and could not hear the “words” the investigators were adamant were on them. It was static or background noise, nothing else. Among the personal accounts, there were a few that sounded similar to what Vicky described, but they were mostly one-time occurrences, not repeated attacks by the same entity.

“Whatcha reading?” Rachel had come up behind her and now leaned over her shoulder. Mary had been ignoring the poetry readings so hard that she’d missed her friend’s approach.

“First-hand ghost stories, trying to figure out what’s attacking Vicky.”

“Find anything?”

“Not really. I mean some stuff is sort of similar but not entirely. I really need more info on what’s happening at the hospital.”

“So you want Vicky to bug you more in your dreams?”

She rolled her eyes at the possibility. She closed all the windows and logged off the computer. A short, chubby girl with violet hair was on the stage. She seemed to be just saying random words with weird pauses between them. She was really irritating. “Have you gotten your fill of poor-me-etry?”

“Don’t call it that, and yeah, that last guy’s diatribe about fat-free yogurt gave me a lot to think about.”

Mary looked at her askance. “Please don’t share your thoughts.”

*    *    *

The bell to start sixth period had just rung, but Mary hadn’t noticed. The world had shifted a little, and she was still thrown off by it. Cy was across the room. The seat beside her was empty. She was so used to seeing him beside her during English that seeing him elsewhere was playing with her spatial perception. He was sitting by Vicky’s old seat, which everyone was still leaving empty. She was beginning to wonder if it had a bronze plaque dedicating it to her. He’d gone directly over to it without even a word to her. He’d said something to one of the girls sitting close by, and she’d nodded her head eagerly. It looked like Mary wouldn’t be Xeroxing her notes for him that day. Maybe her handwriting had been too sloppy. More likely he didn’t want to sit by someone who didn’t like his girlfriend. Girlfriend. The word made her want to hurl.

She put on mental blinders during class and wouldn’t let her eyes stray between Mrs. Myers and her notes. She would only look at one or the other. No straying side to side. She thought she caught in her peripheral vision a sandy haired head turned in her direction a couple of times, but she wouldn’t let her pupils deviate from their strict path of teacher and notes. She was here to learn. She was determined to learn. Maybe she’d make honor roll this quarter. She should focus on school more anyway. It would serve her well later in life. Better than silly friendships that couldn’t take a bit of snarking or disagreement. She may have ripped through her note paper a couple of times due to the zeal of her note taking, but it only showed her dedication to learning. She was sure of it.

When the final bell rang, she began collecting her things. She was getting picked up by Gran to go to Mrs. Beadley’s home. They were going to see what they could do about her late husband.

“Hey, Mary.”

Her notebook slid to the floor rather than into her bag. She looked up in surprise. “Kyle? Hey, what’s up?”

He knelt down and retrieved her notebook. “Just collecting the invalid. You doing okay?”

She took the notebook and carefully put it into her bag. “I’m fine. Any news on Vicky?”

Kyle’s brow furrowed at her question. She’d be surprised, too, if she were him, but she hadn’t had a dream about the cheerleader the previous night, and she was a little worried. She hated that she was worried and wouldn’t admit to it under torture, but there it was. “No change. I don’t think the docs know what to do with her.”

Cy came up to them but hung back a step. “I’m ready to go.”

“That’s great. Why don’t you go wait by the truck?”

“Come on, Kyle. Mom told you to bring me straight home. I need to take my pain medication.”

“You can wait five minutes.”

Cy rolled his eyes and left the room. He hadn’t even acknowledged her. She kept her eyes down as she got up and prepared to leave too.

“Hard to believe I’m the bad one,” Kyle said.

“What?” She didn’t know what he was talking about.

His mouth twisted, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Oh you know how it is with brothers. One’s the good son, and other’s the bad. The golden boy and the screw-up. I’m the screw-up.”

“No, you’re not. You’re on the wrestling team, are pretty popular, and don’t pick fights and stuff. You’re like all-American. Don’t parents like that?”

“Yeah, but Cy’s always been the center of attention. He has that stupid smile which everyone likes. They’ll bend over backwards for him, and he doesn’t have to do a thing.”

Thinking about it, Mary couldn’t really deny it, but she thought Kyle was being too hard on himself. From what she saw, he did just as well as Cy. She looked toward the door. She didn’t really know how to end the conversation. She didn’t want to just walk away, but Gran was waiting.

“Like right now, you think I shouldn’t be making him wait for me. You think I should rush down and drive him home so he can take his precious pill while all evening Mom waits on him hand and foot, even though he can go to the kitchen and get his own stupid sodas.”

She was shaking her head and leaning away from him before he was done. Kyle was getting kind of intense, and it was giving her unhappy flashbacks. While he was possessed, he’d cornered her in the hallway and threatened her. She’d been alone, and he’d scared her pretty bad. He was bigger and stronger, and she knew he could hurt her. Trying to keep her cool, she said, “No, it’s just that Gran’s waiting for me, and I don’t want us to be late.”

“Late for what?”

“An appointment. We’re meeting a client.”

“Well then, let’s go.” He stepped back and motioned her to go. She skirted around him and tried to keep from jogging out of there. It was tough to keep from going faster when Kyle fell into step beside her.

“So what are you going to do? An exorcism or something?”

Her eyes darted around the hall to see who was listening, but the place was pretty deserted. Everyone had left with the bell. “No, there’s this widow whose dead husband is haunting her, and she wants our help with him.”

 She sneaked a look at Kyle. He seemed to be mulling that over. She wasn’t sure if she should’ve told him all of that, but he was making her nervous, and she’d blabbed without thinking.

“Sorry for venting all over you.”

“What?” She was beginning to get whiplash from his sudden turns in conversation.

“I know you’re still sort of friends with Cy. I shouldn’t have said all that stuff to you.”

“No, it’s okay. Everyone needs to just open up once in a while, right?” She hoped her smile was a friendly one, but it may have had more in common with a wince.

They’d reached the school doors. She quickly scanned the parking lot for Gran. A couple of horn toots helped find her. Kyle also looked in that direction.

“Geez, I hope I didn’t keep you too long. Tell your grandma sorry for me.”

“Yeah, sure.” She took a few steps and stopped. She turned back. “Kyle, the reason people may not fall over themselves to help you is because you don’t seem to need the help. I mean you seem really strong and together. People might think that they’d offend you or something if they offered. It doesn’t mean they don’t want to or whatever.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled at her. “Yeah, maybe. Thanks.”

“Kyle, come on!”

Both turned to see Cy standing beside a pickup in the senior parking lot. He looked pretty impatient. For some reason, it made her smile.

“Bye, Kyle. See you around.”

“Yeah, you too.”

She left him and made her way to Gran in the station wagon. She opened the passenger side door and stopped. Sitting in the seat was Chowder’s body. His ghost was there too, of course.

“What’s he doing here?”

“I thought he might help.”

“How?” She tossed her backpack onto the backseat and put Chowder on her lap, both physically and spiritually.

Gran shrugged and backed out of the spot. “I thought maybe he could sniff out the anchor.”

Mary was skeptical that the little dog would be useful, but she kept it to herself. She looked at the top of his head. He was ‘in’ his body. He did that if he was being held. She gave him a scratch behind the ears. He gave a happy pant but finished it with a little whine. She wasn’t sure what he could be begging for, but she figured it out after a second as she looked out the window. She rolled it down and stuck his head out. The wind blew his fur back, but that was all that moved on him. Gran couldn’t stop laughing at the sight, but she couldn’t hear his happy panting or feel his squirming glee. He was enjoying every second of the car ride. As she patted his back, she realized Chowder was very spoiled.