The Singing Bone (31 page)

Alice climbed into the front of the van next to Lee. “You're such a shit, Lee,” she said. “I know your backstory.”

Lee looked bored. “That's nice,” he said as he backed out of the Smiths' driveway. “Did you talk about the play at all?”

“No.” Alice folded her arms. “I did not talk about the play. At all.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Alice mimicked. “Someone needs to give you better lines.”

Lee swerved and pulled off the road. He stopped so quickly that Molly shot forward in the backseat. Molly mumbled something. Alice sat still and waited. “If you know my backstory,” Lee said, leaning close to Alice, his breath on her face, a hint of whiskey, of cigarettes, “then you should be nicer to me.” He reached out and jerked her chin towards him so that she had to look at him.

“I am nice to you,” Alice said.

Lee held her chin and stared at her, then he shoved her away and pulled back on to the road. “Be nicer.”

  •  •  •  

By the time they pulled up in front of the house, Alice was sad to see that she'd missed the lighting of the bonfire. She got out of the van and made her way towards it. “Hey,” she said to a tall man dressed as a pilgrim. He was with a girl who spun a baton. She tossed it up in the air and caught it. Alice swerved out of their way.

When she got to the fire, she saw Mr. Wyck. He was standing still and looking into the flames. He didn't see Alice, so she watched. There was a pile on the ground in front of him—clothes and books and shoes. He threw them into the fire, sometimes just a shoe, a book; other times, he heaved armfuls in—a loose pile. When he finished, he turned and went back to the house, and Alice walked around to where he'd been standing. She saw a hairbrush. She squatted on the ground and with a stick pulled a gold necklace from the flames. At first it was too hot to touch, but then it cooled and she brought it closer. It had a little key on it. The key was the size of Alice's pinky fingernail. Alice pretended to unlock a small door and then she tucked the necklace quickly into her boot. Mr. Wyck was coming back, his arms full.

When he got close, he slowed down, watching her. “What are you doing, Genie?” he said.

He stood behind her, looking down at her. She could feel his eyes there on top of her head. “Trying to keep warm.” She held her palms up and breathed the way Allegra had taught her—exhaling swiftly and repeatedly through her nose.

“You sound like a cow,” Mr. Wyck said. Alice kept doing it, watching as Mr. Wyck threw more things into the fire. She rocked back and forth on her heels, breathing hard, until she felt dizzy. When Mr. Wyck finished throwing things into the fire, he reached down to her to help her up. “Come on, babe. Everyone's inside.” She kept breathing and rocking. “There's hot apple cider,” he said. Alice looked up at him. He was wearing the dirty white fur vest that he'd had on the night he found her in the forest. “Come,” he said again. “It's okay.” She took his hand and walked back to the house with him. He whistled the song she'd been teaching herself on the guitar. She could feel the key charm cutting into her foot, but she didn't mind it. It was like Stanislavsky's stone in his shoe—when she felt its pinch, the rest of her body relaxed. All of her attention went to the pain.

Inside, smoke hung in a low cloud: the dank earth smell of marijuana, the acrid exhale of cigarettes.
Cobwebs
, Alice thought. She trailed her hand through the cloudy air. Stover came over. He kissed Alice on the mouth and pressed a little spot of paper onto her tongue. “What kind?” she said, but he kissed her again and then moved into the light to dance. Someone had put on an old Velvet Underground record. Back at her mother's house, Alice had a poster in her room:
So far underground, you get the bends
. She danced a little. Moving through the crowd, she picked up a stray beer bottle. She turned and smiled and held her arms in the air. Tuna was there. “Oh, look at that witch!” he said when he saw Alice. “How's the play going?” He danced in front of her. He danced with his hips.

She tipped the beer bottle back. Schizz was there. And Fat Mary and Tall Mary. Tall Mary was wearing an elf costume: a green leotard, green tights. Fat Mary was dressed in a belly dancer costume, and Alice could see that she really could belly dance. She moved and rippled and shook, a fake snake draped around her neck. Trina found Alice and lifted her hands up over her head. “Who are you?” Alice shouted to her over the music.

Trina shook her head. “I have no idea,” she said. Her hair hung in two tight braids by her ears. She wore long dangling earrings, a silk dress cut low at the neck, an obi around her waist. “Mr. Wyck dressed me,” she yelled.

Alice took her by the wrist. “What was all that stuff he was burning?” she wanted to know.

“Burning?” Trina smiled at her. “I don't know.” She danced away through the crowd. Her gold bracelets cut a bright trail through the smoke. In the corner of the room, she saw Mr. Wyck. He was talking to a girl Alice had never seen before. He lifted the girl's chin with one finger. The girl looked up into his face. The key in Alice's boot hurt, but now she didn't care. There were patterns. There were colors. She kept dancing. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, Schizz was gone and Dan Crew was standing in front of her.

“Alice Pearson!” he said. “I thought that was you.” Dan wasn't dancing, so Alice moved in close to him and put her arms around him and tried to move him, but he just stood there. He took her shoulders and pushed her away, examining her face. “You're different,” he said.

“I'm a witch,” she said.

“Not that.”

She felt like she'd half-expected to see Dan tonight—maybe as an ensemble member or part of the chorus.
There's a chorus now?
a voice in Alice's head queried. “Yes,” she said aloud. “There's a chorus now.”

“Wow,” Dan said. “Alice Pearson. I heard you were living up here. I thought you were going to go to school. I thought you left ages ago.”

“You don't have a costume on,” she said. “Or do you?”

“Halloween,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I guess you're going to school in the spring? Are you working?” Dan looked around. Schizz was dancing behind Alice, peeking out at Dan and then dodging behind her again. “Hey,” Dan said to Schizz. Alice thought that Dan's skin was radiant. He looked so healthy. She touched his face. “Alice,” he said. “What's up?” He took her hand in his and began to pull her away from Schizz. “I've got to talk to you.” Things were happening in slow motion. Mr. Wyck let the girl's chin drop. He turned to look at Alice. One step towards her. Two.

“Come on!” Alice said. She pulled Dan through a tunnel she made with her gray hand. They were underwater. They were swimming low against the bodies. She told him to hunch. “Like this,” she said, stooping. They were running through a field of tall grass. Mr. Wyck was on the edge of the field, calling her, telling her
Right now
. “Stay low,” she told Dan. They surfaced in the bright crowded kitchen, popping up for air, and then Alice opened the basement door and down they went. “Did he see us?” she whispered.

“Who?”

“The director, that's who.”

“You're tripping, Alice.”

“I am. So cold down here in the bottom of the earth.” She took a slat of wood and locked the door behind her, sliding it into place. She found the hurricane lamp hanging on its hook, the box of long matches. Her fingers were cold. She thought of Molly's gloves.
It must be almost midnight
, she thought. What would happen to Molly then? She struck the match and lit the lamp. “Are you still there?” she whispered.

Dan reached into the pool of light and took the lamp. “Here,” he said. “Let me.”

He took her to sit on a stack of newspapers. Above them, the floor creaked. The music came in low waves. Alice leaned towards Dan. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“I heard there was a party,” he said. “God, I'm so happy to see you.” He pushed Alice's hair behind her ears like he used to. “Are you all right?”

“I'm tripping,” she said. “I think. Maybe a little.” Dan's eyes were bright. His mouth was red. He was a prince. He was a lord. She put her finger on his mouth. She squeezed his lip.

He smiled. “What are you doing?” he said. He pulled her hand away and examined her gray fingers in the warm light. “What happened to your hands?” he said.

She looked down at her hands. They were covered with soot or stained with the smoke from the bonfire. She couldn't remember. She didn't like to look at them. “I don't know. I'm a witch,” she said, laughing.

“No, you're not.”

“It's my part.”

“Your part?”

She nodded. Because his mouth was so red, she leaned over and kissed him. He kissed her back and soon they were lying on the floor together, but she said, “No. I'm cold.” They went out through the cellar door—the one that led to the backyard. She took his hand and, running, went to the bonfire. It was mostly embers now. A few people stood around talking. Alice didn't recognize them. One of them wore a tall top hat. Another had on a cat costume. “He was burning things,” she said to Dan.

“Who?”

“Mr. Wyck.”

“What was he burning?”

“No one knows.”

“He knows.”

“I guess.” She saw Molly coming out of the woods with Stover, her pink dress shining in the moonlight. “Let's go,” she said to Dan. She took him through the house again, crouching low, and went winding up the stairs. She knew Mr. Wyck had lost her scent now. He couldn't see her in his magic ball. She took Dan to the room she shared with Molly. She closed the door behind them and sat on the bed. Dan turned on the bright overhead light. He looked around the room. “Is this where you sleep?” he asked. He looked at the clothes on the bed and the dirty dishes stacked on the dresser.

“Yes,” she said. “Can you turn that light off?” There were too many places to hide under the clothes. She didn't know what was there. Mr. Wyck could be there, or Allegra. Anyone. “I'm scared,” she said.

He turned off the light and sat down next to her on the bed. He put his arm around her. “I'm here,” he said. “Don't be scared.” She leaned over and turned on a smaller light. She kept an orange scarf over the lampshade. It kept her warm. “Alice,” Dan said. “This isn't such a great place to live. You don't have to stay here. Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. We'll go to the beach.”

Alice tried to imagine the beach. She closed her eyes and saw waves. She felt the waves inside of her body. She shook her head slowly to the sound of the waves. “I can't.”

“Why?”

She lay down on the bed and looked up at him. “Come here,” she said.

He lay down next to her. “Why can't we go?”

“We just can't.” She kissed him.

“Alice,” Dan said. “We can leave right now. I'll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Alice studied Dan's mouth as he talked. She touched his collarbone and ran her fingers over his throat. She pulled him in and kissed him. “Right now?”

“No one's paying attention, Alice,” Dan said.

“I am. I have to pay attention.”

They lay on their backs and looked at the ceiling. “I came here tonight to see if you're all right,” Dan said. “I've heard things.”

“What things?”

“About you. About Mr. Wyck and Stover and Trina. Molly. Some woman who lives here.”

“That was Allegra. She left.”

“Oh. Well, I've heard that you're all brainwashed or something.”

Brainwashed. A clean brain. A new brain. Alice laughed. A soapy brain. “Really?” She rubbed the sides of her head and closed her eyes.

“Who are all those people?” Dan asked. He was leaning on his elbow now, looking down at Alice.

“Friends,” she said. “Enemies. Pedestrians. Roman men.”

“You're not making any sense.”

“Because my brain is washed.”

Dan smiled. “Alice,” he said. “Come with me.”

“Stay here,” she said. “Stay with me.” She unbuttoned his shirt, kissed him, helped him pull off his T-shirt, his jeans. They got stuck in his shoes and he had to stand and begin again. She stood in front of him and stepped out of her dresses. They lay down together. She knew how to do this. He wouldn't talk. This was all there was. But in the middle of it all, he said “Come with me” again, only this time she wasn't sure which way he meant. Afterwards, they lay together and listened to the party. Alice thought the drugs weren't so strong, or maybe she'd just taken so much that it didn't have the same effect as it used to. She felt gray, silent, like her hands that rested lightly on Dan's radiant body. She liked being with Dan. She curled into him, resting her face on his chest. She touched his hipbone.

“We never did that,” he said.

“Didn't we?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“We're not in high school anymore.”

“No, definitely not.” Dan smelled like the supermarket—like soap and detergent—but with the blood smell of meat just under the clean.

There were steps in the hallway outside the room. Alice reached across Dan and turned the light off. The footsteps stopped in front of the door.

“Come away with me,” Dan whispered again. “You're frightened.”

“Shh,” Alice said, and Dan was quiet. Whoever was at the door turned around and went down the steps.

  •  •  •  

It was late. “Did I fall asleep?” Alice asked.

“Yeah. For a little while,” Dan said, stroking her hair. Outside, the moon was high in the sky. She could hear voices outside the door. Alice got up and tiptoed to the door. She looked out. It was just Schizz and Lee sitting on the steps together, drinking. She could hear someone snoring. Big John, probably. He was always falling asleep on the couch. She couldn't see anyone else, but she knew Mr. Wyck was there. Always in character. She shut the door and got back in bed with Dan.