Super Freak (13 page)

I made it through the next two days of school but only just. People moved on from being scared of me to being nasty. It didn’t matter now what happened on Friday. I was guilty already in their eyes. No matter what adults thought, kids were way worse than any judge or jury. At least at a trial you got a rational panel of mature adults. In middle school, you got bloodthirsty savages who wanted blood, tears, or both. Usually both.

I was determined not to give them either.

Kevin protested, but Leo sat with me at lunch, distracting me again. He didn’t try to hug me, which I was grateful for. Diana was the one with a crush on him.

The gossip mill worked overtime during the last couple of days. The rumor on Tuesday’s bus ride was only slightly different than the day before. By the time I sat down with my lunch on Wednesday, I had gone from mildly suspicious child, to ravenous eighth grade witch with a taste for black magic and blood. No puzzle or Rubik’s cube could make those rumors stop buzzing in my ears. Judging by the wide berth they gave my table, I was pretty sure some of the sixth graders thought I would eat them for lunch if they stepped too close.

If it would have shut some of them up, I might have tried.

Mr. Grouseman caught my eye from across the room, tapping his chin. His message was easy to understand. Keep my chin up. Yeah. Easy for him to say.

At least in Mr. Darcy’s class our assignment was several pages from our books, and then a set of short answer questions. I threw myself into reading and writing like my life depended on it.

When the final bell rang, I practically ran out the door. At the buses, Mr. Grouseman stopped me, pulled me away from the largest of the crowds. “Caroline, how are you doing?”

I laughed. “That’s a dumb question.” The words slipped out without thought. I felt my face heat. But honestly, what else was I supposed to say?

He smiled. “It was, actually. But you know what I mean.”

He wanted to know if I had figured things out yet. I shook my head. “I don’t understand yet. You could be more helpful.”

Frustration lined his mouth with deep creases. I took a step back.

“Sorry,” he said. “But I can’t say more than I have. Believe me, I wish I could. But you’re a smart girl. If you’ve found what Elspeth hid, you’ve got everything you need. Just think about it and you’ll figure it out.”

I wanted to smack him. He made it sound so easy. It wasn’t math homework, where a standard formula worked for everything. Things here didn’t add up, no matter how I looked at them. He only made it more confusing.

Without another word, he turned and walked toward a clump of teachers gossiping in the shade next to the doors. Slowly, my mind on the facts I did know, I climbed into the bus. No matter how many different ways I tried to piece things together, something didn’t fit. I groaned, pressed my hands against my eyes, confused again. Mr. Grouseman knew Elspeth. And the way he said her name was soft and familiar. If I had to guess, I’d say he loved her. Just as Elspeth said in her diary. So what happened?

My mind turned to the newspaper articles Diana talked about. There had been one about a woman disappearing, and one about a man wrongfully imprisoned. Elspeth disappeared. She was who the article talked about, but the other was just another dead-end.

Instead of trying to figure anything else out, I planned how to get out of school Thursday. We got Friday off as it was, and I couldn’t handle another day of rumors. Maybe if I explained everything to Mom and Dad, they’d let me stay home. The way things were, I didn’t think they’d argue. Until all this ended, there would be rumors and speculation from everyone. Teachers, students, random people on the street. Worrying about what was being said would drive me batty.

***

I spent most of dinner picking willow leaves out of my spaghetti. Mom tried to keep it together, but saying she was stressed would be an understatement. The police put a watch on the house, and the car sat in the driveway. They said we weren’t guilty, but their actions told a different story.

Dad put down his fork, pinning me with a stare. “Caro, I know this is trying, but you should still go to school. People will talk; it’s the nature of a small town. If you stay home, you’re saying you’re guilty.”

“Dad, they already have their minds made up. It’s just one day.” I said.

“You can’t–” Dad started.

Mom cut him off. “Oh, George, let her stay home. Neither of us is going anywhere. Besides, until this is over I’d feel better if she were with us, where I know she’s safe. Until this is all settled, I think she needs to stay inside.”

She patted my hand, dried her tears with a corner of the tablecloth.

Dad shrugged. “I suppose you have a point.”

Score one for Mom.

“Thanks,” I said.

The rest of dinner was silent and awkward. My parents were lost in their own thoughts, and I didn’t really want to make small talk. As soon as I could be excused without more questions, I dumped my plate in the sink and left the room. I started upstairs but paused halfway up. My room no longer felt comfortable. Even though I couldn’t feel the darkness of black magic, it tainted my favorite place. Instead, I made sure Mom wasn’t watching and headed out to the birch tree. The police said they looked it over, but I didn’t think they looked very hard. It was one of the things that didn’t make any sense. Somehow the tree was connected to everything. How? I didn’t know. What would an old, crotchety, silent tree have to do with the cursing and founding of a town?

Unless–no. I froze just outside the front door, staring at the long, graceful branches. It couldn’t be that easy.

I ran to the birch, looking for any sign my wild thought might be true. I searched at the base of the tree, looking for the bundle the man placed there. I saw nothing. The roots were tangled and wild, but they lay across the ground, splayed in front of the tree like skirts.

My heart leapt to my throat and I circled the tree, searching the network of roots for anything unusual. Besides the plants Mom planted there, nothing else remained. There was a scuffed place, about the size of a shoebox, but whatever had been there was gone. Someone had come back for it. But I didn’t know which one–the man who put it there or the other.

All I had were suspicions. I needed to read through those diary entries in my room again. But not right now. The police car sat fifty feet away at the end of the drive. I’d bet money one of the MIST women was in there with the officer, just in case. And they were watching me. If I ran tearing back into the house from here, they would know something was up. If I stood here and pretended to commune with the tree, they would think I’d lied about having no magic. Considering they already thought I dabbled in black magic, it wasn’t much of a loss.

Taking careful steps between the roots, I laid a hand on the tree bark. And almost jumped out of my skin. I risked a glance behind me, but no one noticed. The police cruiser doors didn’t open. The bark under my palm was
warm
. I pressed harder, and I almost thought I felt the faintest pulsing, regular like a heartbeat, though much slower.

This tree wasn’t a tree. It was a dryad.

Looking up into the branches, I couldn’t quite believe it. I only heard of a dryad “going wild” a few times. Dad and Mom had a friend who did it once. An old lady, who was already halfway there by the time she showed up to tell them what she was doing. A weird one.

But if I were right, only two people could be this tree. Elspeth Bennings or her brother, Edmund. I would bet this was Elspeth. I stepped a little closer, and whispered up at the crown of the limbs, “Elspeth? Is it you?”

The branches above me rustled a tiny bit. Even she realized that others watched us. I wanted to shout and do a victory dance, but I thought it might be a little obvious. Now I knew where Elspeth went, but I didn’t know why. And that was important. Knowing who had been out here the night of the kidnapping would also be good. I knew about Mr. Grouseman, but who else? And why would he have been here?

Elspeth loved Mr. Grouseman. Her birthday was that night. If he knew she was here, of course he would have come to visit on her birthday. But who would have attacked him? And why?

I patted the bark. “I’m doing my best, Elspeth. But it would be great if you could wake up and help me.”

No response. Figured. I refrained from making any snide comments. Turning away, I avoided looking at the police and went back in the house. At least I didn’t have to spend an evening downstairs watching TV and pretending everything was all right.

I got back to my room and spread out everything I had, grabbing a pen and notepad from the desk. I put the locket and photograph to the side. Right now I needed to focus on Elspeth. She was the key to everything.

I wrote her name in the center of the page, then put an arrow and a heart and William. It was a little weird to think of Mr. Grouseman and William as the same person. From the other direction, I wrote Edmund’s name. One of the pages mentioned both men, but I only skimmed it. I picked it up now, paying careful attention to what she wrote.

Edmund has suspected, I think. William and I are not as good at hiding our feelings as I hoped. I want to leave, but I am afraid of what he might do. Of what he might have already done.

Which he? I wondered. William or Edmund?

We were supposed to meet last month, when he was at his strongest. He insisted it was best then. I think he’s afraid we will be stopped. But I will not be dissuaded; not this time. I know what I want, and I won’t allow him to stop me. I’ve lived under his thumb for too long.

The page ended there. I wrote another note on my page. Edmund controlled what Elspeth did, and he didn’t approve of Mr. Grouseman. I studied enough history with Dad to know that at that time a woman was expected to marry within her social class. Obviously Elspeth and Edmund were upper class. Mr. Grouseman, based on his clothing, was nowhere close to being as wealthy. But often, when supernatural beings were still fairy tales, exceptions were made. You couldn’t have a dryad marrying a human and risk being exposed. She’d have been persecuted or murdered.

A million different reasons why Edmund didn’t want her to marry William crossed my mind. Most of them made him into some sort of Victorian supervillain. I read through another two pages, as they were actually consecutive. In them, Elspeth talked about mundane life and never mentioned her love or her brother. But she did mention feeling strange. Wanting to stand outside and stay there, needing lots of extra sleep, and noticing that her “other nature” was becoming more apparent. She started wearing gloves when some of her friends noticed the strange texture of her skin.

She was going dormant. I was sure of it. But she didn’t know. As far as I had heard, it was a conscience decision. It was actually a lengthy process. Flipping the page over, I checked the date. Nearly a month before the last entry in the diary I read in the study.

Scribbling more notes to myself, I finally consulted the last paper about an hour later. Now that I’d spent some quality time, I had a much clearer picture of what was going on. Elspeth was in love with William. If I read between the lines right, they planned to elope just after the big Founders’ Day celebration. Her brother did not approve of William. While she implied it was his station, there was another reason as well, but I couldn’t quite make it out.

The only other thing I knew from reading everything was that Elspeth disappeared on the first Founders Day after being very lethargic. She mentioned her brother many times, and I thought perhaps her brother paid someone to cast a spell and make his sister dormant so that she and William could not run off.

What I didn’t understand was why Edmund had also disappeared. Because nowhere else is he mentioned, unless the articles said something about it. But Diana didn’t say anything, and she would have if there had been a mention of him. Did everyone forget about him, or were their minds also tampered with?

I flopped back onto the bed and groaned. I knew all this about Elspeth, but what good was it doing Diana? There had to be a connection. I just couldn’t see it.

As I sat there, I thought I heard a faint sniffling noise. I held my breath, straining my ears. I heard Mom and Dad in the kitchen, cleaning up. The soft creaks and pops of the house, and then … there. Just underneath me, I could hear it.

“Diana?” I felt ridiculous talking to air.

When air answered, I jumped about a foot off the bed. “Caroline? Can you hear me?”

“It is you!” I said, jumping off the bed. I couldn’t tell which direction her voice came from.

“You have to get me out of here, Caroline.”

I circled the room, listening hard. “I can’t figure out where you’re at,” I said. “Let me get my parents. Maybe they can tell.”

“No!” She sounded panicked. “You’ve got to do this alone.”

“What?” I stared at the floor. “Why? The police and those MIST women can get you out in no time.”

“But if they do, they have to use spells. They’ll disturb the magic and he’ll know. He said he’d kill my dad if he felt the slightest disturbance!”

I chewed on a fingernail. “My parents could try something with roots or something.”

“It’s still magic,” she said, her voice filled with misery. “And maybe they won’t even believe you.”

Her voice sounded closer as I moved toward the door. “Why?”

“I can hear them in the kitchen. I pounded on the walls and yelled until I was hoarse yesterday, but no one heard me.” There was another sniffle. “I think the walls are enchanted.”

“Why can I hear you then?” They’d believe me, but I didn’t want to risk getting Diana’s dad killed either.

“I think it’s because you’re, well, normal. Whoever it is that brought me here thinks someone with magic is hunting for him.”

Him? “Do you know who it is, Diana?”

“No. But he’s got me blindfolded. He’s tall and strong. His voice is weird. I think he’s disguising it.” There was a pause and I thought I heard movement beneath me. “He’s coming back. I’ll try to talk again later.”