Scary Mary (3 page)

“
Back to Cy. Was he cute?” Rachel bounced
up and down, fixated once again.

Mary squirmed. “Haven’t we worn this subject
out?”

“
No. You said he seemed normal, and he
didn’t like Hicky, which means he’s very smart, but you didn’t
really tell me anything about his looks.”

“
Um.” Mary was getting a little
embarrassed. Why did his looks matter? “He was, I guess, kind of
cute...”

“
Really?” Rachel said becoming more
interested.

“
Let’s talk about something
else.”

“
Do you think he’s really
cute?”

She shrugged her shoulders to mask her sudden
unease. “I wouldn’t go that far. He’s not Quasimodo, but he’s no
one to pursue like the Holy Grail either. Anyway, Vicky has set her
sights on him.”

“
Oh, Vic-ky.” Rachel’s head cocked sharply
so that her hair bounced like a valley girl. “You give me the word,
Mary, and I’ll set my sights on her. I wonder what she would look
like bald. If we’re lucky, she’ll have an ugly birthmark, like that
guy—Gorbachev. She’d be known as Gorbie for the rest of the year.
We have to think of a song now to make fun of her with! What rhymes
with Gorbie?”

Mary shook her head. She wasn’t about to
encourage this plan for a second because that’s all it took for
Rachel to rush to the drugstore buy whatever hair removal was on
sale, swap out Vicky’s shampoo, write a song to ridicule her with,
and for Mary to land in ISS for three days. “Why do anything to
Vicky when old age will do all that for us?”

“
Oh, let time do all the dirty work. The
perfect slacker revenge.” She began to pull apart another
dandelion. “But I still think we should ask your grandma to throw a
voodoo curse on the Vickster. Think of all the fun we could have
with one of those voodoo dolls. We could stick pins in it, twist
its limbs in ways God never intended, set it on fire, flush it down
the good old commode, pour hot wax--” Mary put her hand over
Rachel’s mouth to cut her off. If she didn’t, she may very well not
get a word in until Rachel passed out from lack of oxygen and then
what she had to say wouldn’t matter, seeing as how Rachel would be
unconscious.

In a slow, clear voice, Mary reminded her, “Gran
doesn’t do voodoo. She’s a good witch.” Remembering the time, Mary
dropped her hand and looked at her watch.

"Speaking of, I’ve got to go. She’s probably
fixing dinner, and I should set the table.”

Rachel jumped up and began vigorously brushing
herself off with a pout on her lips. “I knew it! You won’t let me
Nair bomb Vicky, you won’t show me how to make voodoo dolls, and
you always remember to do your chores! You’re not really an
outcast, loner, anti-establishment teenager at all. You’re really a
secret agent, sent by my father to instill a good influence on me,
aren’t you?”

Mary solemnly nodded. “Yes, you’ve found me out.
Under this latex, I’m actually a 35 year-old man from Nova Scotia
whose interests include polka music, macramé, and professional dog
racing.”

Rachel tilted her head and winked. “Really, do
you have a girlfriend?”

~~ ~~ ~~

Mary lived with her maternal grandmother. Her
parents had died in a car crash when she was three. Mary’s
grandmother was her only living relative. She and Gran hadn’t had
an easy life. Gran was a fortuneteller by trade, but trade hadn’t
always been forthcoming. Mary could remember some months being very
tight. They’d never gone hungry, but theirs wasn’t a name brand
lifestyle. None of this had mattered too much to Mary. She loved
her grandmother and considered her the center of her world. She’d
do anything for her. Plus the fact that she shuffled Tarot cards,
read palms, and made charms had made her the coolest grandmother in
the world.

They lived in a two story house. Gran and
Grandpa had bought it in their twenties. It wasn’t glamorous, and
it may have a few drafts and a touchy heater, but it was the only
home Mary had ever known, and she loved it. She let herself in
through the front door and called out, “Gran, I’m home!”

Nobody answered her. She set her book bag down
in the living room and walked to the back of the house. The curtain
to Gran’s ‘office’ was drawn. Mary stared at the length of cloth in
puzzlement because she didn’t recall a client being scheduled for
that hour. As she pondered the curtain, goose bumps erupted up her
arms as a cold prickle ran down her spine. There was an
otherworldly presence in the next room. Spirits often manifested
like alien air currents like the one Mary felt now, and Gran was
channeling it. Mary inched forward to listen in, but all she caught
were a couple of indistinct voices before the alien air current
shifted and enveloped her in its presence.

“
Arf! Arf!”

“
What the--?” she stumbled back and fell
down with a thud. The voices behind the curtain stopped.

A hand swept the curtain back, and Mary looked
up at her wild-haired grandmother. She always teased it up for the
clients. She had on her Gypsy clothes as well. They weren’t
Gypsies, nor were the clothes a part of Gypsy culture, but the
clients preferred she wore a long, patchwork skirt and ruffled
blouse rather than a floral embroidered track suit. They wanted her
to look ‘authentic’. Gran was willing to wear a rubber nose and
tutu if they paid her fees without grumbling.

“
Mary! You’re home!” Gran’s face cracked
into a huge welcoming smile. She leaned down and helped her up off
the floor. Mary was about to ask Gran what she’d been channeling
when she saw the client over her shoulder. Her mouth snapped shut,
and her eyes widened.

A chubby woman with short, curly, brown hair and
wearing small round glasses peeked out from behind the curtain. She
clutched under her arm a small, stuffed, black dog, not the plush
toy kind but the taxidermy kind. Mary stared with incredulous eyes.
It had been a Scottish Terrier when alive, now it was a furry
paperweight with his mouth permanently open in a happy pant, and
his tail raised in a frozen wag. It was beyond creepy. Mary slowly
turned to Gran for an explanation.

Gran performed the introductions. “Mary, I’d
like for you to meet Mrs. Polk. She’s here to contact her deceased
pet Chowder. Mrs. Polk, this is my granddaughter Mary.”

“
How do you do.” Mrs. Polk hefted the dog
higher under her arm to extend her hand.

Ignoring the outstretched hand, Mary turned to
her grandmother. She pointed at the dog under Mrs. Polk’s arm.
“Chowder?”

There was another bark.

Mary jumped and looked down at her feet, though
there was nothing there to see.

“
He’s here, isn’t he?” Mrs. Polk gushed,
patting the head of the little dog.

“
You could say that,” Mary replied. The
canine ghost jumped up on one of Mary’s shins with small invisible
paws, wanting the teenager’s attention. “Get away from me, mutt,”
she muttered, shaking her foot.

“
Chowder? Are you here, boy?” Mrs. Polk
called, staring at the ceiling. The little invisible presence
stayed at Mary’s feet, totally ignoring the voice of his mistress.
Mary grimaced at the floor. She wasn’t a fan of living dogs, let
alone dead ones.

Gran could see her discomfort. She moved to Mrs.
Polk’s side and took her arm. “No, I believe he’s gone now, Mrs.
Polk.”

“
But he was here. I could almost feel
him,” she said as she squeezed the stuffed dog. Gran nodded and
patted Mrs. Polk’s arm. “Yes, he was here, and his spirit is
strong. I’m sure that at our next session, we’ll be able to contact
him again.”

“
Oh, I can’t wait. I so miss my little
Chowder.” Mrs. Polk kissed the dog’s head. Mary had to swallow hard
to keep herself from gagging at the sight. Chowder began to whine
and jump at Mary’s feet again.

“
Heel,” she whispered at the small ghost
at her feet.

“
What?” Mrs. Polk asked.

“
Nothing,” Mary quickly lied.

Gran gently pulled Mrs. Polk’s arm. “Let me show
you out.” They disappeared behind the curtain. Gran’s office had
its own outside entrance. Chowder whined one last time at her feet
but reluctantly followed his body out of the house.

Mary was in the kitchen chopping vegetables
while a pot of water boiled on the stove when Gran came back in.
She sat down in a kitchen chair with a heavy sigh.

Mary’s lips twitched. “You were channeling a
dog.”

“
I wouldn’t say channeling, more like
taking out for a walk,” she said as she walked her fingers walk the
table.

Mary snickered. “Did you know she’d actually
bring ‘Chowder’?”

“
I did tell her to bring a few of his
things,” Gran trailed off as she began to chuckle.

Mary’s body shook as she tried to hold in the
laughter. “I guess his body is a thing, and it was his.”

“
If you could’ve seen your face when Mrs.
Polk came out.”

“
I know, and could you feel him dancing at
my feet? It was all I could do not to kick the air.”

“
He didn’t become a distinct presence till
you arrived,” she commented.

That sobered Mary up fast. “Yeah, I guess that’s
how it goes.”

Gran got up and hugged her from the back. “Oh
Mary, I honestly didn’t think you’d be home before I was done with
Mrs. Polk.”

“
You know I don’t like you channeling. Why
can’t you just do fortunes?” It was an old argument that didn’t
hold any real fire anymore, but she still couldn’t help expressing
her anxiety.

Gran sighed. “We’ve had this discussion.
Fortunetelling isn’t as popular as it once was. I have to do this
to pay the bills.”

Mary’s head drooped. No, fortunetelling didn’t
pay the bills, but it was several degrees safer. “I guess I don’t
have to worry too much if Chowder is the worst you get. Just be
careful. I don’t want to come home and find you doing a Linda
Blair.”

Gran squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t worry about
your old grandma. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I have yet
to run across a spirit I couldn’t handle.”

“
I know.”

Changing the subject, her grandmother asked,
“How was your first day of school?”

“
How do you think?” Mary chopped the
potatoes harder.

“
Maybe this year will be different. I have
a feeling,” the old woman said as she combed her hair with her
fingers.

“
Or maybe you need some Alka
Seltzer.”

Chapter 4

New Friend?

Mary stood at her locker, sorting through her
textbooks. It was TAB, ‘Take-A-Break’, a fifteen-minute break
between first and second period. Students milled around the halls,
not having to be anywhere. Rachel had disappeared at the beginning
of TAB. She’d made Mary swear to alibi her if anyone asked. Mary
prayed that her best friend wasn’t spiking Vicky’s shampoo with
hair remover. Not because she didn’t want Vicky to lose all of her
hair, but because Mary knew that somehow she would end up with the
ISS.

"Hey there, deserter.”

Startled, Mary fumbled her book, and it
clattered to the bottom of the locker.

She turned to look at Cy. He flashed a smile at
her and leaned on the locker next to hers. Mary’s mind whirled as
she took in the fact that he was there, talking to her, and seemed
happy to see her. Her brain was having difficulty believing all of
this, but she was kind of happy to see him too. Then she analyzed
what he’d said. It didn’t make much sense. "What?”

He crossed his arms and stared back at her. “You
know yesterday, after English, when Vicky came up and began trying
to talk to me. Emphasis on the try. You left me trapped with her.
Whatever happened to leave no man behind?”

Mary ducked her head. She did feel a little
guilty for ditching him now. “I thought you might want to talk to
her.” She ran her hand over the stack of books in the locker as she
tried to remember what class she had next. She’d known a moment
ago.

“
Really? I think if given the choice I’d
rather have a root canal without the anesthesia.”

She smirked at that. Cy had figured out how to
get quickly into her good graces: Bash Vicky. She glanced at him
out of the corner of her eye and saw him grin at her again. He had
a nice smile. She liked that he smiled at her, but she was worried
about how much she liked it. She fixed her eyes back on her locker.
From the bottom, she pulled her Latin book out. She scrunched her
brow. She had Latin next, right? She did take Latin, didn’t she? If
she didn’t, what was she doing with this book? Was this what
happened to her classmates?

“
So how’d you get away?” she
asked.

“
I told her I had to fill out some
paperwork because I’m a new student, and it would take like an hour
before I was done, and not even she is that tenacious, so she left.
I tried to find you, but you’d vanished.”

“
But why?”

"Why what?”

“
Why’d you want to catch up with
me?”

“
I thought since you were like the first
person I’d met here, and we have a class together, and you seemed
fun that--”

This had gone on long enough. Mary shoved the
Latin book into her bag, not caring if it weren’t her next class.
She turned and looked him in the eye. “You are so mistaken.”

“
About what?”

“
About me being fun.”

“
We made each other laugh
yesterday.”

“
I wasn’t myself,” she
muttered.