Hell's Hollow (3 page)
“Bye, Zach Zachariah,” I said, smiling.
I sketched a little longer, sorting through images of disease in my mind to see if any of them matched up with his face and hands. It was late. I knew I should head back so Mom wouldn’t worry.
And then a shudder passed through my body. And I realized: the tug of something needing me in The Hollow had disappeared along with Zach. The wounded animal keeping me awake every night
was the dark-haired boy.
Mom was still reading, waiting up for me.
“Are you sure there’s nobody new in town?” I couldn’t keep myself from asking, as I set down my bag on the antique coffee table.
She looked up from her book, “You know how Hell’s Hollow gets when someone new moves in. It was practically a festival when Astrid arrived. You’d think we were stranded on the moon with no visitors.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, wondering where Zach could’ve come from.
“So why do you keep asking that?” She was sitting up straight now, concern wrinkling her forehead.
“Never mind,” I said, heading to my room.
“Never mind? Seraphina, what’s this all about?” I could hear in her voice that she was jumping to conclusions, assuming the worst.
“It’s nothing,” I insisted.
She followed me toward my room. “You’ve been spending entirely too much time down below. I think it would be a good idea for us to visit with Gran and Auntie MK tomorrow.”
I turned to look at her. “Is that supposed to be some kind of reminder about where I could end up if I see strange things?”
She gasped, grabbed her throat. “Are you seeing strange things?” she asked in a voice I didn’t recognize.
“No! God! I didn’t mean it like that!” I ran to my room and slammed the door. My body trembled.
Was
I seeing strange things? He seemed real. But hadn’t Gran always insisted the things she saw were real, too? And Mom was right, no one showed up in this town without getting noticed, especially not someone with a face as damaged as his.
I lay on my bed, closed my eyes, and pictured Zach as I’d seen him down below. I wouldn’t have dreamed up the long clothes on a summer’s night, the socks wit
hout shoes, the horrific scars — would I? I wished I knew where he went, how to find him.
And then I realized something that hadn’t occurred to me before. If he was the one causing the tug the last few nights, I’d feel it again. I’d know when he was down below. Except I really should not have been listening to that pull at all. It was dangerous. I knew that. And I didn’t feel like waiting around for him to show up again either.
By the next morning I’d had an idea. What if I stood out in the middle of Main Street and let my shield down completely just for a minute? Then, if he was anywhere nearby, I’d sense his wounds, I’d know where to look. I’d be sure to keep the unshielding brief, just drop the barrier long enough to catch a glimpse of him, then pull it back around me. Mom would never know. There was no danger of me catching anything. And surely something as minor as dropping my shield in public for a second wouldn’t send me to the loony bin. I took my time walking the dusty road into town, trying to build up my courage. It had been a long time since I’d been around people without my shield.
Passing the abandoned junk cars on the side of the road — Hollow stall-out victims — I wondered if George McGraw might be able to get one of them running for me. I doubted it, though. Even the simplest repairs seemed to take him forever.
As I passed the bank, I spotted Melody McDowell flirting with Bennett Taylor. She flipped her bobbed helmet hair and laughed too loudly at whatever he said. I guessed I couldn’t exactly blame her, considering he was one of only two available men near her age in town. Unfortunately for her, he didn’t seem the least bit interested, more concerned with trying to get into the bank.
When I reached the center of the square, I sat below an old redwood tree. I figured the strength of it behind me couldn’t hurt. A turkey vulture swooped by, catching a ride on a wind gust. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the smell of fresh cut grass, wildflowers, and hot asphalt. I turned off my music and took out my earbuds so I could be fully alert. Then I let down my guard, the circle of energy I’d named “my shell” when I was little, imagining it to look like a turtle shell, a safe place to hide.
I wasn’t expecting the onslaught of need that instantly overwhelmed me. It came from all directions at once, as if the town were flooded with wounded. I guess
ed I’d forgotten how sensitive I was… or maybe my sensitivity had grown.
Another thing I’d forgotten was that once it hit me, I was too weak to build back up my defense. Nausea, headache, dizziness, shortness of breath, itching in my chest and eyes, aches and pains and burning throughout my body all blindsided me. I literally fell over, suffocated by need. I couldn’t begin to separate out where any one part of it was coming from.
Stupid idea. Stupid Sera
.
“Wow, what is going on here?” Astrid asked, sitting down beside me. “Your aura is flipping out!”
I couldn’t answer. Everything hurt too much. I could barely breathe.
“Sera, are you okay?” she asked, sounding more concerned.
I tried to answer so she wouldn’t freak, but even though I could feel my mouth moving, nothing was coming out.
“Hang on,” she said, patting my shoulder, then took off in the direction of the bakery. I struggled to pull up my shield, saw the golden light in my belly the way Mom had taught me. I tried to see it grow and surround me, but I was too weak. The flood hammered me. The world spun. My body jerked. And then everything went black.
When I came to I was in my own four-poster bed, the heavy quilt over me, and my raggedy stuffed bunny, Marshmallow, on the pillow beside me. My head pounded, but I thought, well,
hoped
, maybe it had been a bad dream.
Mom opened my door, brought in a tray with a cup of soup and a bar of dark chocolate. She placed the tray on my lap and let me take a few sips of broth before talking.
“What did you do?” she asked.
I sat quietly, nibbling on chocolate. The way my stomach felt, chocolate was the last thing I wanted, but I knew I needed it to ground me,
to blunt my senses.
“Seraphina?” she asked, getting impatient.
I shrugged, couldn’t think of any explanation other than the truth, so I told it, only leaving out the most important part. “It had been a while since I tried going without the shield. I just wanted to see what would happen.”
“Well, I guess you won’t be trying that again.”
I didn’t respond.
“Right?” she said. “I told everybody you’d been feeling poorly the last couple of days, that you were probably dehydrated. It
has
been unusually hot lately even for us. I think they bought it.”
I hated that what they thought was what mattered most to her. And I was so frustrated that my plan hadn’t worked and so mad that it’d made me feel sick. I checked my thoughts to make sure I was still in the realm of the sane.
Two plus two is four. Seraphina Wylde. Sixteen-years-old. Three brothers. Summertime.
“What were you thinking?” Mom asked. “Don’t you remember what it used to feel like?” When I didn’t respond, she said, “
Well?
Don’t you?”
“Kinda,” I whispered. “Like not having skin.” And then an image of Zach’s damaged face came into my mind and I wondered what it felt like, knew that I could find out if I let myself. I slammed the door on the possibility, couldn’t believe I’d even considered it. What was going on with me lately?
“Exactly,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “So why would you voluntarily go and do that to yourself?”
I couldn’t explain. I’d promised Zach I wouldn’t tell anyone about him.
“I know it’s hard being different, sweetheart. But opening yourself up like that won’t make you like everyone else. If you want to be a regular kid, you could try talking to people more, dressing more fashionably, going to parties, socializing. But you’ve got to keep your shield up at all times. I can’t imagine what would cause you to want to tamper with that after all this time. You know the risks.”
“I’m tired,” I said, pushing away the tray.
She straightened up my room, throwing a couple of T-shirts into the wicker laundry basket, tilting the freestanding mirror so it stood at just the right angle in the corner of the room. “All right, get some rest,” she replied, taking the tray of leftover food with her.
“We should go see Gran and MK tomorrow,” I said as she was leaving.
“Maybe that’s not such a good idea after all.”
Now what? She feared I’d
catch
their crazy? Chances were it was already inside me.
When I rolled out of bed Sunday morning, Mom was in the kitchen, marinating chicken and chopping veggies for a salad. The whole house smelled like pie, sweet and buttery.
“How about that visit to Gran and MK?” I asked, snagging a piece of banana bread.
“A visit? I don’t know, Seraphina. After yesterday, maybe you should take it easy.”
“Mom, I’m fine. I’m sure they’d appreciate it,” one of her favorite lines to use on me when I didn’t feel like going. “You don’t have to come. I can drive myself. Where are the keys?”
She sighed. “I’ll go with you. Give me a few minutes to tidy up.”
I went to put on some brightly colored clothes. Gran hated drab colors. I chose a purple sundress I’d made myself and a pair of sunshine-yellow earrings.
The bleakness of Meadowland depressed me the second we pulled into the parking lot. How could this place ever hope to heal anyone from mental illness when it was so ugly and dreary? I turned my music up loud enough that it would block out some of the dark tugs, but low enough so I could still hear people talking.
Martha, the receptionist, buzzed us in the front door, then waddled out to give Mom a hug.
“How are they doing today?” Mom asked.
“Haven’t seen them yet, doll. Want me to call their nurse? I think it’s Louise today.” She checked the white board behind her.
“That’s okay,” Mom said. “We’ll just head back.”
It annoyed me that the artwork dangling from the forgotten bulletin board still displayed childish drawings of hearts and cupids
— in June. But that wasn’t as bad as the hallway, which stunk of body odor and dirty mop water mixed with ammonia.
Mom pulled my earbuds out. “Don’t be rude,” she said. Then she opened their door.
Auntie MK was passed out in her bed, drooling, her red hair hanging over her eyes. Gran, who wore a striped purple blouse and orange pants, looked comical squatting on a straight-backed chair by the window, poking the glass over and over as if she expected her finger to pass through it. Not that it would do her any good if it did. The windows were barred. Her long, gray hair was ratty and wild, like it hadn’t been washed or brushed since our last visit.
My stomach seized up. My feet wanted to turn my body around and run out the door. And even though I’d shored up my shield before coming here like always, it didn’t feel like enough. The tug felt thick and black. I closed my eyes and sent what extra energy I could draw up into the shield. Still, a quiver shook me. I wished I’d brought some chocolate along.
“Oh, Mary Kate,” Mom called, rushing to my aunt’s bed. “What’s going on?”
“Pshshst,” Gran laughed, pushing her hair out of her face. “
Sucker
.”
As I tried to hug Gran, she jumped to the ground and twirled around. “Did anybody follow you in here?” She closed the door and pushed her chair up behind it. “They’ll be coming for me,” she whispered, sounding scared and certain.
“Mother,” my mom cooed. “No one is coming for you. Come sit down and tell me why MK is passed out like this in the middle of the day.” I didn’t know how she stayed calm with Gran acting so crazy. The room felt hot and too small. Besides the two beds and Gran’s chair, there was only room for the dresser with the TV and radio on top and a decaying brown recliner.
“
This
,” Gran explained, “is what happens when you follow along. Pills go in, MK goes down. They’re trying to control us. Are you sure there wasn’t anyone behind you? They’ll be after me again. It’s that Johnny Rocket fella. He’s a bruiser. Did you see him in the hall?” She peeked behind the curtain. “I don’t know if I can take him down on my own. Why do you leave me with him when you know he wants to axe me?”
“Mother, try to focus. What about
your
pills?” Mom asked her.
Gran pointed at MK with a look that said something along the lines of
she took them and I had nothing to do with it.
“Oh, Mother!” Mom stood up and turned to me. “I’m going to talk to the nurses. Looks like MK has been getting both of their doses again.” She glared at Gran. “Keep an eye on her, Seraphina.”
