Authors: Richie Tankersley Cusick
But Wynn gave an irritated shrug. “Just … dark. Darkness that went on and on forever.”
Martha thought a moment, picturing the house, the dark shadows, the dark corners, the dark secrets….
“You can’t imagine how awful it is.” Wynn drew a shaky breath. “Trying so hard … but just … nothing comes.”
They turned off the school grounds and headed up Main Street, past rows of old-fashioned shops. Wynn’s face was still troubled, but as she glanced over at Martha again, a slow smile began to replace the pain.
“That’s why I acted funny yesterday when we came to pick you up at your house. I just haven’t been back there for such a long time. But I worried and worried about it — I … I didn’t want you to think it was you or anything —”
Martha reached over and gave her a hug. “I didn’t think that. And thanks for telling me.” For a second Wynn looked like she might cry, and Martha added quickly, “We don’t ever have to talk about it. You don’t ever have to come.”
But to her surprise Wynn shook her head. “No, that’s just it. I
want
to talk about it. I
need
to. And I want to come to your house, too — I just … have to get up my nerve.”
“Whenever you want, it’s okay.”
And then you can tell me if the house is really evil
…
or if Conor’s trying to drive me out of my mind
. There were so many questions Martha was dying to ask, but instead she said, “I’ve never been to this part of town before.”
Wynn seemed ready to change the subject. “It’s the original downtown — take my word for it, nothing’s any different than it was when we were kids. In fact, it’s probably the same as it was a
hundred
years ago.” Wynn gave her a glance that was almost apologetic. “I’ll bet you feel so trapped here, after Chicago. I’ll bet you had millions of things to do back there.”
Martha thought a moment, smiling. “There were lots of places to go. Now that I’m gone, I wish I’d done more. But what do
you
do here? You know, for fun?”
“Well, you saw the pizza place — everyone either hangs out there or this other place called Marty’s — it’s right at the edge of town, and they have a band.”
“Ooh, I love music —”
“You wouldn’t like this. They’re not very good, and they never learn any new songs. I mean, after they play the same old stuff three times in a row, it gets boring.”
Martha laughed. “Okay, forget Marty’s. What else?”
“Clubs at school. And school dances. Sports, naturally. And church.” Wynn made a face. “It’s really —
really
— the pits.” She glanced towards a storefront window and suddenly pulled Martha over to the display. “Oh, look — don’t you love that sweater?”
“It’d look great on you — go try it on.” Martha tugged on her arm, but Wynn held back.
“No — I’d only get depressed.”
“Depressed! Why?”
Wynn shook her head. “If you were as shapeless as me, you’d never ask that question.”
“You? Look at me — I have —” Martha pinched at her own ribs — “lots of extra insulation.”
“You do not! You have a great shape!”
“Lumpy —”
“All in the right places. Listen — I still remember a few years back — when everyone was getting measured in gym class? Afterwards I found out
my
chest and Blake’s were the same!”
“You’re kidding!” Martha couldn’t help herself; she doubled over with laughter while Wynn looked on helplessly.
“Would I kid about something like that? I’ll never get over it as long as I live.”
They both started laughing then, harder than ever, and after several moments Wynn finally caught her breath.
“Oh, well … not that there’s anyone around here to impress, anyway. You just can’t get too excited about guys you’ve known since kindergarten. No mystique.”
Martha straightened up slowly, holding her aching sides. “I guess I never thought about that — there were always new kids coming and going where I lived.”
Wynn studied her with a smile that was almost shy. “I’ll bet you had lots of boyfriends, didn’t you?”
They were walking again, side by side, and Martha looked up at the gray sky, sudden memories making her frown.
“A couple. God, I was stupid, though.”
“What do you mean?”
Martha cast Wynn a sidelong glance, kicking at some crumpled paper on the sidewalk. The wind caught it and it flew crazily through the air, snagging at last at the foot of a fire hydrant.
“There was this one guy who really liked me. And he was nice, too — and cute — and … well … my dad thought he was wonderful and was thrilled we were going out.”
Wynn nodded as if she knew what was coming.
“But I liked this other guy more … he was so cool and so handsome” — Martha gave a guilty laugh — “and he was such a jerk.”
Wynn stopped and turned so abruptly that Martha ran into her.
“That’s what people said about Dennis, too.” Her eyes were wide and serious. “That’s just like Dennis and Elizabeth.”
Startled, Martha watched Wynn walk away, then took a deep breath and hurried after her.
“Wynn!”
The girl stopped, shoulders rigid, hands clenched at her sides. As Martha slowed down, Wynn suddenly whirled to face her.
“They’re wrong, you know. All of them.”
Martha stared at her, mind racing. “About what?”
“About Dennis. Oh, he
could
be a real jerk sometimes, and he was always getting into some kind of trouble — and everyone thinks he killed Elizabeth — but he
didn’t
. He couldn’t have. He
loved
her.” Wynn’s face was almost pleading, and Martha reached out for her.
“I … Conor heard they broke up,” she said. “That Dennis was kind of upset about it.”
“Yes.” Wynn was nodding, her eyes closed tight, her voice suddenly sad. “Yes, that’s true — they
did
break up and he wanted her back, but she didn’t
want
to go back with him. He was jealous, that’s all, just ’cause she was with somebody else and not him — but he
never
would have done something so awful —”
“Wait a minute,” Martha interrupted. “After they broke up, she had a new boyfriend?”
“She went with Blake,” Wynn said quietly. And then, seeing the look on Martha’s face, “He never talks about it. He keeps everything in. And when you came and moved into her house — it really shook everyone up. Not just Blake and me, but … well … everybody.”
Martha was staring at her, Wynn’s words reaching her as from a long way off. “Wynn … what are you talking about?”
“She was small like you … and her hair was blonde. Even about the same length.” Wynn’s face was sad and apologetic, and Martha felt herself going cold. “Even the things you and I laugh about — and you’re such a nice person, Martha…. You’re just so much like her. You remind me so much of Elizabeth.”
Chapter 9
That night it started to rain in earnest.
And Martha dreamed she was Elizabeth Bedford.
She’d drifted off restlessly, lulled by the dull thudding of rain against the windowpane, yet once sleep took over she lay there with the strangest sensation of wakefulness … as if part of herself were trapped inside her mind while the other part waited in the terror of reality.
She dreamed she was dying.
She felt each stab of the knife going through her, and everywhere she turned there were blood-spattered walls — and her killer was real, but she couldn’t see his face because he was wearing a mask….
Yet she knew him.
In her absolute terror she knew him, and knew she had trusted him with her life.
In the depths of her dream she screamed — screamed — and suddenly it was real; suddenly someone was holding her and she was safe at last in a pair of strong, steady arms.
“Martha, it’s only a dream. You’re okay.”
And Conor was there, and his arms were around her, and the light spilling in from the hall was safe and real….
“I’m dead,” Martha whispered, and she began to cry, and Conor held her tighter and rocked her.
“No. It was only a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m scared,” Martha said, but her voice was muffled against his bare shoulder, and sleep was a deep, deep sea, pulling her down.
“Then I’ll stay,” Conor said, far, far away, and she sank into stillness at last.
When morning came she felt drained and exhausted — she couldn’t remember what had been a dream and what had been real, and she was embarrassed to go into the kitchen. Conor was at the table drinking coffee, scanning a newspaper. Martha slipped groggily into her chair.
“I’m never going to school again,” she announced.
Conor lowered one corner of the paper, raised an eyebrow, disappeared behind the financial section once more.
“I’m not,” she repeated sullenly. “I can’t face anyone ever again.”
“I thought we got all this straightened out yesterday. You’ve been facing them all this time, Martha. Nothing’s different.”
“It’s different,” she insisted. “I look like a dead girl.”
“You just need sleep.”
“Conor, this isn’t funny! I
look
like Elizabeth Bedford —”
“That’s not what you told me Wynn said — she didn’t say you
look
like her, she said you
remind
her of —”
“No wonder everyone’s been staring at me. No wonder I feel like such a freak.”
“They’re staring at you because you’re new and you never talk to anyone.”
“I live in her house, and I look like her, too!” Martha caught her breath sharply. “Did I have a nightmare last night?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, no.” Martha covered her face with her hands. So Conor
had
been there. She’d never be able to face him again.
“You can come out,” Conor said. “I won’t look at you if you don’t want me to.” He sounded like he was trying not to laugh, and Martha pointedly ignored him.
“I’m not staying in Elizabeth’s room,” she said.
“Then if we’re going to switch permanently, I need to move my things.”
“Don’t you realize how serious this is? I feel … doomed.”
Her voice dropped dramatically, and Conor laid the paper down.
“You’re scaring yourself. You know that, don’t you?”
Martha hesitated … gave a guilty nod. “But don’t you think the coincidences are just too … too weird? Blake said Elizabeth was being … well … harrassed and….” She trailed off, frowning down at the untouched bowl of cornflakes Conor had had waiting for her.
“You’re not Elizabeth,” Conor said, not unkindly. “Your life isn’t her life.”
“No … hers is over.” Martha glanced up at him, then shrugged. “There’s so much I don’t understand. Blake and Wynn both say Dennis was a jerk. But Wynn says he really loved Elizabeth and wouldn’t have hurt her.”
Conor toyed with his cup, the handle going back and forth between his fingers. “So how would Wynn know?”
“I was thinking about that,” Martha said. “Wynn probably knew him better than most people ’cause she was Elizabeth’s best friend, and best friends tell each other everything. Elizabeth probably told her lots about Dennis.”
“And Blake probably spent just as much time with him at school. They had classes together, and they were teammates.”
“Blake said Dennis was a dirty player.”
“He was an ace player. They both were. Every article I came across when I checked out the newspapers that day couldn’t say enough about the two of them. They were the top scorers. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were top rivals, too.”
Martha nodded glumly. “And then Elizabeth started going out with Blake after she and Dennis broke up.”
“You didn’t tell me
that
yesterday.”
“I guess I forgot.”
Conor glanced at her, the eyebrow lifting again. “Eat your cereal. I’ll go fish out the car.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Probably. It rained all night, and it hasn’t stopped yet.”
“Great,” Martha mumbled, “it matches my mood.”
The day dragged on relentlessly. Walking down the halls was pure torture — she was sure she could see fear and Elizabeth Bedford written in everyone’s eyes. She had quizzes in three classes that she wasn’t prepared for, and when Greg questioned her on a reading assignment, she realized she’d studied the wrong chapters. In between she managed to knock over a bottle of hand lotion in her locker, spotting most of her books with grease. When she realized there were papers due in her last two classes that she hadn’t done, she leaned her head on her locker, feeling too hopeless to even cry, and never even noticed that Blake had come up beside her.
“Hi.” He grinned. “You look like you could use a change of scene.”
After the initial leap, Martha’s heart settled sickeningly in her stomach. She thought of what Wynn had told her about Blake and Elizabeth Bedford, and she concentrated on rearranging her locker.
Well, it was nice while it lasted
….