The Merciless II (10 page)

It's the perfect time to talk, but every time I imagine facing her, I see Jude's smile. Smell his shampoo. Feel the weight of his hand on mine.

I can't avoid our dorm forever. I take a deep breath and head down the hallway.

Leena lies on her bed, a tangle of yarn balanced on her lap. A white cast covered in stickers stretches from below her knee to down around her toes. She wears an oversized sweater, her glossy black hair hanging around her shoulders. She's piled blankets and pillows beneath her knee to keep her leg elevated.

“Oh my God,” I murmur, pushing the door shut behind me. Leena straightens, and the yarn rolls off her lap and hits the floor.

“Crap,” she mutters, watching the yarn roll across the floor. I lean down and pick it up.

“I'm sorry,” I say, staring at the yarn. Saying that out loud is like opening a floodgate. Words pour from my mouth so fast I barely realize what I'm saying. “I'm so sorry, Leena. I've been a terrible friend. All of this is my fault.”

“Your fault?” A blush creeps over Leena's cheeks. “Sister Lauren told everyone in the auditorium that the trapdoor was busted, but I was the only one dumb enough to fall through it.” Leena stares at a spot on her leg. I follow her gaze and see Jude's name scrawled across her ankle.

“If you want the truth, I was too busy staring at Jude to look where I was going,” she says. “Stupid, huh?”

I swallow, thinking of the gold glint in Jude's eyes. The way he always seems to smell like incense. “That's not stupid,” I murmur.

Leena presses her hand flat against the cast, covering Jude's signature. “Anyway, that's why I got hurt. You didn't do anything wrong.”

I turn the words around in my head. Dr. Keller said the same thing over and over during our first session. I'd been a wreck after my friends' deaths. I thought there was evil inside me, controlling me, but Dr. Keller convinced me it was just guilt. He told me that, if I wasn't careful, my mind would keep going back down that path. That I'd drive myself crazy thinking the Devil's out to get me.

I release a breath, realization dawning on me. That's exactly what happened. There was a terrible accident and I convinced myself it was my fault. But maybe this isn't a sign that I'm possessed. Maybe it really was just a freak thing.

For the first time since Leena fell, I actually allow myself to believe that's true.

Leena leans over and pulls open a drawer in her bedside table. She shuffles around for a moment before removing an orange Sharpie. “Sign my cast?” she asks.

I take the marker and uncap the top. “What should I write? Sutton told me you like dirty jokes.”

“No more! Please!” Leena cringes, staring down at the stickers plastered over her cast. “I had to use all my stickers to cover them up before Sister Lauren saw.”

“Okay, fine.” I lean over her leg and sketch two floppy ears and a twitchy little nose.

“Is that Heathcliff?” Leena asks.

“Yup.” I add a fluffy tail and two big feet.

“Wow, Sofia. It actually looks like him. You're good.”

“I used to draw a lot,” I explain. I sketch a little bubble coming out of the bunny's mouth and write
Get Well Soon
before capping the marker. “There. You're all done.”

“You're so much more artistic than I am,” Leena says. “Did Sutton tell you I started knitting? I'm making a scarf.”

She pulls a tangled red-and-green yarn rectangle out of the basket next to her bed, the cast making her movements stiff and clumsy. She straightens with a grunt. “Ta-da!”

Only the very kindest person would call the thing she's holding a scarf. One end is nearly six inches narrower than the other, and it's way too short to wrap around her neck. Lumps of yarn jut out at weird angles, and the pattern—some sort of snowman wearing a top hat—stops in the middle of the scarf, as though she got tired of doing it.

“It's . . . good,” I say.

“You're such a liar.” Leena smirks at me and flips the scarf around, examining it through narrowed eyes. “This is the worst scarf ever knitted.”

“You might want to stick to acting.”

Leena drops the scarf in her lap. “Speaking of acting, this broken leg might be a blessing in disguise. Sister Lauren's worried I won't be ready for opening night, so she's making me do an extra rehearsal tonight.” Leena's eyes flash. “A
private
rehearsal. With Jude.”

“Just the two of you?” I ask.

Leena uncaps her marker and draws a tiny orange heart on her cast, not far from Jude's signature. “Sister Lauren's going to chaperone, but otherwise, yeah. Just the two of us.”

L
eena leaves for rehearsal a few minutes later, and Sutton's not going to be back from her hockey game until tomorrow morning, so I grab my history textbook and huddle down in bed, desperate to catch up on my reading from the past few days. I never realized how hard it would be to study when you share a room with two other girls.

I flip a page of my book and uncap a highlighter. For an hour or two, I lose myself in my homework. I haven't done a unit on the post Civil War era at any of my other schools and most of the names and dates are unfamiliar. If I still want to take the final at the end of the semester, I have a lot of catching up to do.

I raid Sutton's junk food stash for dinner and read until my eyes go blurry. My head pounds with new information. When I finally check the clock, it takes my brain a moment to make sense of the numbers. 7:45.

I rub my eyes with my palms and check the clock again, but the time stays the same. It's been three hours since Leena left for rehearsal. What could they be doing for three hours?

An image pops into my head: Leena and Jude standing shoulder to shoulder in an empty theater. Jude brushing Leena's hair aside, whispering something in her ear. Jude raising Leena's hand to his lips and . . .

I turn a page so hard that it rips away from the binding.

“Calm down,” I say to myself. Jude likes
me
. He wouldn't kiss another girl.

But you rejected him,
a little voice whispers at the back of my head.

I turn back to my book, desperate to focus on anything else. Heathcliff moves around in his cage. He gnaws at his carrot toy, making it squeak. And squeak. I flinch every time the noise splits the room's silence.

An hour passes.
Squeak squeak
.

“Stupid bunny,” I mutter, shoving my book aside. I climb out of bed and grab the carrot from Heathcliff's cage. I'm surprised nobody's thrown the damn thing
away. I toss the carrot into the corner and climb back into bed.

Silence. I roll onto my stomach and pull my book closer.

Heathcliff hops across his cage. His paws make a soft
thwomp thwomp thwomp
on the sawdust. I grit my teeth together, but it's fine. Much better than the damn carrot.

A minute passes. Heathcliff starts drinking from his water dispenser.

Click click click click
. Pause.
Click click click click
.

I curl my toes into my bedspread.
It's fine,
I tell myself. But it's not fine. We're not even supposed to have pets in this place. Why did Leena have to rescue a damn bunny? It's stinky and loud and it's not even cute, for Christ's sake. It has these bright-red eyes that look like tiny drops of blood in the middle of all that white fur.

Click click click click
.

I turn another page. Why would anyone name a damn rabbit “Heathcliff” in the first place? I mean, how pretentious can you get? If Jude knew, he'd probably laugh.

Click click click click
.

Another hour or so passes this way until, finally, I groan, and check the clock on my side table. It's almost ten. Leena's been hanging out with Jude for five hours.

I roll onto my side and stare at the bunny's cage.
Heathcliff glares back at me with those beady little bloodshot eyes. I can't believe I have to hang out in a room reeking of rabbit piss while Leena gets to be with Jude. Heathcliff is
her
pet. She should have to deal with him.

Click click
—

I throw my pillow at Heathcliff's cage. It hits the glass with a soft
thwack
. Heathcliff bounces to the far corner, shivering. I have a sudden, horrible thought:
Why couldn't he have just died when Leena tried to fix his stupid leg?

It's a terrible thing to think. I push it to the very back of my head, but I can't help the tiny spark of glee I feel at the idea. Leena's little “bun-bun” is a menace. I'm sure Sutton kind of wishes he'd have a little accident, too.

Frustrated, I switch off the overhead light and climb into bed. It's officially time for this day to be over.

Heathcliff finds his water dispenser again. His tongue sends the metal ball spinning and clicking. I pull a pillow over my head to block out the sound, but I can't fall asleep. My mind plays images of Leena and Jude on a loop. Jude touching Leena's arm. Jude leaning toward her face. Jude lowering his lips to hers . . . Heathcliff returns to his water bottle and the clicking starts again.
Click click click
.
Click click click
. It reminds me of Grandmother's rosary beads hitting her hospital bed. I can't stop clenching my shoulders. Grinding my teeth. I lie like that for hours, begging my brain to calm down. Fall asleep.

Then the darkness around me moves, taking on mass and shape. Jude crouches in front of my bed. The smoky, vanilla smell of incense clings to his hair. I smile at him, groggily. I must've fallen asleep at some point because my eyes are heavy and fuzzy. The room loses focus at the edges, like in an old photograph. Jude lifts a finger to his lips.

“Quiet enough?” he whispers.

A scream rips through the stillness. Jude breaks apart, his body nothing more than shadows that flit to the corners of the room like bats. I jerk awake.

Leena flicks on the lights. The bright fluorescent glow assaults my eyes. I cringe, blinking.

“What's going on?”

“Where's Heathcliff?” Leena hobbles across the room, her crutches creaking beneath her weight. “Did you let him out of his cage?”

“What are you talking about?” I murmur, still half asleep. “He's in the closet.”

“He's
not
in the closet.”

“Maybe Sutton took him out?” I say, rubbing my eyes with my palms.

“Sutton's in Jackson for that stupid game. Remember?” There's an edge to Leena's voice that sends something jittery and cold shooting up my spine. I blink, and my eyes start to adjust to the light.

“We'll look for him, okay?” I say, crawling out of bed. Leena nods. A tear slides out from the corner of her eye and rolls down her cheek but she brushes it away, hard. I open the closet, checking behind boots and coats. “I swear, he was in the cage when I—”

Someone knocks on the door, then eases it open without waiting for an answer. Sister Lauren sticks her head into our dorm.

“I heard a scream.” She tucks a short brown lock of hair behind one ear. “Is everything okay?”

“We lost—” I start, but Leena jerks her head to the side to shoot me an angry look.
Shit
. The bunny's a secret. My head spins, trying to come up with a good lie. “I mean, Leena lost her favorite earrings, and . . .”

“Could the thing you lost have anything to do with this room smelling like a zoo?” Sister Lauren asks, wrinkling her nose. I press my lips together, not sure what to say. I knew it reeked of piss in here.

Leena opens her mouth to answer, but her face crumples. She lowers her head to her hands, her shoulders shaking. Sister Lauren kneels next to her and slides an arm around her shoulder.

“I'm not going to bust you, okay? Now, what was it? A hamster?”

Leena lifts her face from her hands. “A bunny.”

“Let's check the hall,” Sister Lauren says, squeezing
Leena's shoulder. “Sofia, you want to give the dorm another look before you head to bed?”

“Of course. I'm sure he's around here somewhere, Leena.”

Leena nods again. Sister Lauren helps her to her feet and leads her into the hall. Our dorm is tiny, and it doesn't take me very long to search every inch of carpet. Heathcliff isn't in the closet or hiding behind the dressers. He isn't under either bed. He's just
gone
.

I know the bunny isn't here, but I check the entire room again, and then a third time after that. Sister Lauren and Leena haven't come back yet, so I look inside dresser drawers, and behind the books in our bookcase, and on the higher shelves in the back of our wardrobe. I don't get it. Heathcliff was in a cage, on a table in the closet. He couldn't have just escaped.

Finally, I collapse back onto my bed, frustrated. The sheets are pleasantly cool to the touch. My eyes droop. According to my alarm clock, it's past midnight. I can't believe Sister Lauren and Leena are still out looking. They must be searching every inch of the school. I'm going to be a zombie tomorrow if I don't get some sleep, so I stretch out across the cold sheets, yawning.

My fingers brush against something soft. My entire body stiffens. I reach a little farther, fingers grasping. It feels like hair, or . . .

I jerk my hand out from under the pillow and sit up. Not hair.

Fur
.

I half leap, half fall out of my bed. Blankets tangle around my legs, and I lose my balance, slamming to the floor. Dull pain spreads through my shoulder and down my arm, but I barely notice.

I reach forward, and I curl my fingers around the pale pink pillowcase. My hands tremble.

I rip the pillow away before I can change my mind, letting it drop to the floor next to me. Heathcliff lies on the white sheets, his red eyes staring up at the ceiling. Blood blossoms across his fur like roses. I curl my hand into a fist and press it against my mouth to keep from screaming out loud. I
smell
him, all sharp and metallic. Like pennies.

That bunny cannot be lying there. Someone would have had to sneak into my locked room, silently kill it, and slip it under my pillow without making any sound. It's not
possible
. It's another Brooklyn nightmare. I pinch myself on the shoulder and a bright burst of pain flutters through my skin.

Or . . . could
I
have done this?

I wished for something bad to happen to Leena. And then she fell through a trapdoor and broke her leg. And tonight, just before I went to sleep, I wished that
Heathcliff was dead. Sister Lauren said demons could attach themselves to you. She said it was just like getting sick . . .

My mind slams closed on that line of thinking.
No.
This wasn't me. I'm not possessed. I would have remembered killing a bunny.

Footsteps sound in the hall outside my dorm. I go rigid, waiting for the door to fly open. For Leena to burst inside and see what I've done. But the girl moves past my room, the sound of footsteps fading as she makes her way down the hall. I exhale, my chest tight with worry. It doesn't matter how this happened. I have to get rid of it.

I work quickly. I rip the sheets off my mattress, and wrap them around the bunny, so I don't have to look into the creature's dull red eyes. I ball the sheets together, tight, and then I tug the case off my pillow and shove them inside. There. It looks innocent now. Like laundry. I tug my comforter over my bed, then shove a pillow underneath at the last second. Leena will think I'm sleeping. I throw a coat over my nightgown and creep across the room, easing the door open , the pillowcase heavy in my hands.

Hallway's empty. Dozens of doors stretch between the stairs and me, each one closed, hiding God knows what behind its polished surface. I creep forward until I reach the staircase. Then I run.

Icy rain pounds at the ground outside, creating rivers
of mud through the grass. I slosh through it, cringing at the sudden cold on my feet. Sleet slithers under my collar and cuts down my back, instantly soaking my thin nightgown. Mud oozes through my toes and climbs up around my feet and ankles. I hobble toward a thick grove of trees near the front fence. I drop to my knees and thrust my hands into the mud.

No one can find this bag.
Ever
.

I dig. Mud creeps in between my fingers and gushes up past my elbows. It's slick and cold, and soon my skin's gone numb and I can barely move my fingers. The muscles in my arms scream with pain but still, I dig. Pebbles and twigs bite my fingers, and a sharp rock peels away the skin along my knuckles. Blood appears, dark as oil against my skin. I grit my teeth, working through the pain.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and a flash of lightning cuts across the sky, illuminating my shallow hole and bloody pillowcase. I sit back on my feet, gasping. This will have to do. I shove the pillowcase into the hole, then cup my hands and shovel dirt and mud on top of it. Something inside of me loosens when the last bit of pink cloth disappears below the ground.

It's over. The bunny's gone for good. Beneath the panic and the horror, I actually feel sort of . . .
good
. Heathcliff's dead, but it's okay. I fixed it. No one will ever know what happened.

I catch my reflection in the front door as I limp back to the dormitory. Mud covers my body. It's caked in my hair and in the creases on my knees and elbows. Long brown fingers streak along my calves. My nightgown is ruined. It's plastered to my legs, the hem ragged and torn. A hole has opened up just below my hip and a tiny glimpse of brown skin peeks through.

I lift my eyes to my face and, for a second, I don't recognize myself. I'm
smiling
. The expression is grotesque, like someone else has arranged my features into what they think a human smile should look like. My eyes are wide and manic, my lips stretched tight over my small white teeth.

My expression instantly changes into one of horror. What is wrong with me?

I lift a hand to push the door open and my fingers are raw. Bloody.

I hurry into the hall, a plan forming in the back of my head. I can't go to my dorm like this. Leena will know something's up. They keep fresh towels in the laundry room. I'll just sneak down and steal one, then hit the shared bathrooms on our floor. There's nothing suspicious about needing a shower. I'll shove my nightgown into my laundry bag before Leena can see it and change into—

“Sofia?” Sister Lauren's voice cuts through my
thoughts. I freeze. Water drips from my coat, forming a puddle on the floor.