Hell's Hollow (18 page)
“I’m a little stunned, I guess, and reluctant to ... well, to get my hopes up.”
“Psshh!” MK waved off her worry. “Nothing to worry about.
Look at me!” She squeezed my hand again. “How do you thank a person for giving you your life back?”
I wanted to say she was overstating it, that I hadn’t really done all that much. But it was true really. She seemed whole and sane in a way I’d never in my entire life witnessed from her. I hadn’t known her before she’d lost her mind. I didn’t have any idea what she was like.
“You didn’t open the bakery today?” I asked Mom.
She shook her head, her mouth tight, eyebrows crinkled.
“You can go if you want. MK and I will be fine here.”
“I don’t think so, not yet anyway. Let’s wait and see what Dr. Gates says later.”
Listening to Mom and MK reminisce all afternoon about their childhoods was something I’d never experienced before. Mom never talked about that stuff. Now, she and MK were in the kitchen, baking and laughing and telling funny stories about their strict grandmother. It felt perfect. Except I wished Gran could be there, too. I’d need to rest up, regain my strength, but then we’d have to rescue her as well.
At one point the two of them started whispering and giggling and an image crept into my mind of them locking me in MK’s room at Meadowland. “What’s funny?” I blurted.
They looked up at me like they hadn’t realized I was there. “MK was just reminding me of some of the games we used to play when we were little. I don’t know where we came up with those ideas.”
“Well, don’t get any ideas about me,” I said. “I’m fine.”
They looked at me like they didn’t understand what I was talking about.
I rushed back to my room and turned up my music before Mom had a chance to ask a billion questions.
Just before dinner, Dr. Gates examined MK again and declared her sane and healthy. After she left, the three of us danced around the living room. Even Mom was getting into the spirit. She called the boys and invited them all over for dinner the next night to celebrate.
I wanted to go check to see if Zach had left me a new note. I missed him and I was worried about what he’d said the last time. But I’d have to wait one more day. In the morning I would take MK into town and leave her at the bakery while I checked.
That evening, Mom crashed early, finally able to relax. MK and I sat in the living room.
“Best day I’ve had in a long time,” she said.
“I’m glad,” I replied, starting to feel sleepy.
She went to the bookshelf and started re-organizing all the books. “I just have so much energy,” she said.
“I guess you have a lot of time to make up for, and you know, The Hollow, well, I guess you got a big dose.”
“I haven’t had any visions since, not one. I guess they’re gone for good.” Her back was to me. I couldn’t tell if she was upset.
“Would that bother you?” I asked.
She turned to look at me. “No. I’m happy for you that you’re able to use your … your
gift
for good and not have any negative effects. It’s different for me. It was never something I liked, always scary, never clear.” She came and sat next to me. “It’s like when you’re trying so hard to remember a dream but you can’t quite wrap your mind around it. It doesn’t exactly make sense. And it’s so hard when things don’t make sense. Such a dark feeling. Darkness has a way of taking over. And sometimes there’s no choice about that. You can’t find the light switch. You’re stumbling through a dark hallway and calling for help. But no one hears you. Which is different from when you hear the voices no one hears, which is a whole other kind of scary. Know what I’m saying?”
I didn’t. I’d lost her somewhere along the line. Maybe she was making sense and it was me who wasn’t thinking clearly. I was probably just too tired to follow.
“I’m sorry, MK, I think I’m more tired than I thought. Will you be okay if I head to bed?”
“Sure! I’m fine. You get some rest, lovey. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“Do you need anything? Are you all set in your old room?”
“All set, yes. Though I’m going to have to do some cleaning in there. Gabe did not exactly leave things the way I’m used to,” she said with a smile. “Maybe some air freshener.”
I kissed her good night and went to bed. I slept like the dead until a horrible crashing noise yanked me from sleep.
Had someone broken in? Looking around my room, I didn’t see anything I could use as a weapon. I grabbed my flashlight, figuring it was heavy enough to conk someone out if need be, and then I opened my door a crack. The living room light was on. The bookshelf had crashed to the floor, one corner of it rested awkwardly on the antique coffee table, which was now damaged. Books had scattered everywhere. MK sat in the mess, crying.
Oh no.
I rushed to her side. “What happened?”
I noticed Mom standing in the doorway of her room. Her look said
I knew this would happen.
“I was trying to be helpful,” MK said, “arranging the books alphabetically by author the way they always did at the library in school. You remember, don’t you, Clarabelle? A, B, C, D…. But they kept jumping around, switching places when I wasn’t looking. And I just got so frustrated. Clara, don’t look like that. It’s not what you’re thinking.”
Mom’s eyes jumped to the phone, which was across the room.
“I’m fine now, really.” MK stood up and tried to push the bookcase to standing. “I’ll clean it all up. It was silly.”
I helped her push the bookcase back to its spot on the wall. The front of it was cracked, as was the table.
MK covered her mouth. “Grammy’s table! Oh, B,” she said. “Look what I’ve done.” And she started crying again. I’d never heard anyone call Mom ‘B’. I knew Grammy was what they called Gran’s mother.
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “Everything’s fine.” I looked at Mom. “MK’s just overtired. It’s nothing to worry about. Right, Mary Kate? You probably need to rest.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly sleep,” she said. “I’m not tired at all. You two go back to bed. I’ll clean up in here. I disturbed you. I’m so sorry.”
I prayed Mom wouldn’t pick up the phone, wouldn’t call Meadowland or 911 or whoever she was thinking about calling.
“I’ll put on some tea,” she said.
I started putting books on the shelf in no particular order, just trying to get them off the floor so things seemed more normal.
MK sank onto Mom’s chair. “Books shouldn’t move on their own, should they?”
“No,” I said.
“In fact they probably can’t switch places. I don’t know what I was thinking, just tired I guess.”
“Yeah,” I said, my insides tight with worry.
“You believe me, don’t you, sweetie? You know I’m okay, right?”
I smiled at her, nodded.
“A few jumbled thoughts are to be expected after so much time like that. It can’t all be gone at once.” She spoke to herself as if she were consoling a child. “Just need a little time, that’s all.”
Mom brought her a mug of tea, then turned on the TV. MK became absorbed in the infomercial that was playing. Mom helped me finish putting the books, knickknacks, CDs, and candlesticks back on the broken shelf.
When MK finally fell asleep, Mom touched my arm. She pointed to my bedroom and I followed her there. “We have to take her in tomorrow. She needs to be medicated. It’s only a matter of time before it all starts again. You tried, honey. You tried your best. And I know you got your hopes up that she’d be okay forever. But at least you gave her a break from that life.”
“No! You don’t understand! I destroyed the darkness. The Hollow…”
She ran her hand down my hair. “She needs help.”
“Please, give it a few more days. She’ll come around the other side of the … of the…” That old children’s song “She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain” started playing in my head. “Mountain.”
Mom’s face tightened.
What if she locked me up there too? I backed away. “No,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Goodnight,” she said and walked out, closing the door behind her.
My breathing sped up. I checked to make sure she hadn’t locked me in. The doorknob turned. I was cold. I got under the covers. Was my thinking still sane? I wasn’t sure. Would Mom really lock me up? She’d locked up her own mother and sister, why not me? But they were really crazy. I wasn’t crazy. Was I?
Seraphina Wylde. Sixteen years old. Summertime. Three brothers. Dead father. One friend — Zachariah Clay.
Maybe I just needed a break from all the craziness. In the morning I’d go check in on Zach. I hadn’t felt his tug in so long. Where was he?
MK screamed and begged as the EMTs injected her with something to sedate her so they could cart her off to Meadowland. I wanted to go to her side, to be there for her. But I couldn’t do it. I was too afraid. And that made me feel like such a shit.
Mom knocked on my door. “I’m leaving. Are you coming?”
I turned the lock so she couldn’t get in.
“I called Luke, but he can’t miss work. Do you want me to call someone else to come keep you company? Maybe Astrid West?”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
She sighed loud enough for me to hear her through the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I know this must be hard for you.” She paused. “Get some rest.”
When I heard her car pull out of the gravel driveway, I got dressed and washed up and hiked into town. All the way in I was thinking,
if MK is crazy again, does that mean the healing doesn’t work? Does it mean I need more practice? And what does it mean for Zach? Will Gran and MK be imprisoned forever? Will I have to kill a hundred more baby chipmunks to figure it out? Will I be crazy before then?
The junked cars along the way looked rustier than ever.
When I reached Myra Clay’s, her
station wagon was back in the driveway. But the house seemed still. I knocked on the door, rang the bell, called her name. There was no response. I slipped around to the back and dug in the ivy for the socks. My last note was still there. He hadn’t been down to get it.
Something must be wrong
.
My heart raced. I looked around the yard to make sure no one could see me. Then I climbed the trellis. When I reached the landing, I called up toward the attic window in a whisper-yell, “Zach! Zach! Can you hear me?”
The black cat I’d seen before jumped from a tree onto the landing and hissed at me. I lurched back. Then a window on the second floor, right across from where I was standing, opened a crack. I froze.
I shouldn’t have called his name!
What if Myra Clay had heard me? I’d put him at risk!
“Go home, Sera,” came Zach’s voice, sounding weak.
I crept to the window and pushed it open. He lay in a single bed in what must have been his father’s childhood room. The walls were covered in heavy metal posters — Black Sabbath, AC/DC, and Jethro Tull. The shelves held football trophies, some Hardy Boys books, and a couple of arrowheads in a small woven basket.
“Why are you in bed?” I whispered. “And why down here?”
“You should go,” he replied. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
I climbed through the window into the darkened room. He was wrapped in bandages like a mummy. Ooze and blood seeped through some of the dressings.
My stomach dropped. My mouth went dry. “What happened to you?” I cried.
“It’s not what you think,” he said.
I sank to my knees. “Oh my God, I did this to you?
I
did this?”
He shook his head. “The wounds reopened.”
Myra Clay’s words echoed in my mind. “Does she know?”
“I told her it was The Hollow. I didn’t tell her it was you. I kept my promise,” he said.
I couldn’t make the tears stop coming. “I’m so sorry, I thought it would work. I thought…”
Footsteps on the stairs.
I half-jumped, half-fell out the window, stumbled down the trellis, and ran into the street, where the traffic light blinked red. The black cat chased me, hissing and growling in a ferocious feline way.
I saw Astrid heading toward the bakery, I ran to her. “What the hell is wrong with that thing?”
She gasped as she started doing some crazy hand motions around herself. “You have got some scary crud in your aura. What are you so upset about?”
Some deranged wild cat was attacking me, and she was worried about my stupid
aura
? I pointed at the beast, which was about to lunge.
Astrid peered down the street, as if looking for something in the distance. “What?” she asked.
My cheeks got hot. My stomach turned. She couldn’t see it.
It wasn’t real.
Certain I was going to puke, I ran for home.
“Are you feeling all right?” Astrid called after me. “Try meditating! Visualizations can be a goddess-send!”
