“Wait … except for Ali and Tyler, I have no idea where their marks are. How do you expect me to do that? It’s not a pool party.”
“I have faith in you.” She steps in close, pinning it on my jacket. “You should know, Ali whispered your name last night before she woke up. She dreamt you saved her. Do whatever you have to do to get close to her. You’re the only one who can protect her now.”
Noodle slips her hand into mine and I flinch.
“Did I scare you?” She giggles.
“No … no, ’course not,” I stutter and force a smile.
“See you tonight,” Miss Granger says as she walks back up the steps and disappears inside the heavy chapel doors.
Noodle and I walk back to the truck, hand in hand. The sun doesn’t feel as bright as it did before, like there’s something hanging over us. Hanging over the world.
It feels like judgment day.
19
I CAN’T stop tugging at the navy-blue tie around my neck; it feels like a noose.
We haven’t dressed up like this in ages—not since Dad’s funeral. Mom keeps checking herself out in the rearview mirror, smearing her coral lips together. Noodle’s on Mom’s lap counting the number of stitches on the hem of her dress, while Jess is crammed against the passenger window, like she couldn’t get far enough away from me if she tried.
For the millionth time, I glance down to adjust the gold cross pin on my tie. I still can’t believe it’s a video camera. I feel like some kind of hillbilly James Bond.
“Watch it,” Jess snaps as the gravel on the shoulder of the road kicks up, smacking the side of my truck.
“Sorry,” I murmur, as I swerve back into my lane.
I try not to make a big deal out of it, but I’m stunned at how Jess looks. Her dress is a little short for her now, but she looks nice. Normal. There’s none of that crap on her face. She even took off the black nail polish and brushed her hair out of its usual rat’s nest. She’s always had such nice hair, not a towhead like Noodle, or like I was before mine turned dark blond. Jess’s hair’s the color of roasted chestnuts. She just came out that way.
With everything that’s going on I feel stupid even thinking about it, but I can’t help wondering what will happen with Ali tonight. Will she just start talking to me now that I’m “one of them”? Could it be that simple? And how the hell am I going to get their marks on video? If I go in too eager, they’re going to be suspicious. Worse than that, what if they accept me, no questions asked, and try to brand me? Miss Granger didn’t prepare me for anything like that.
By the time we pull into town, the pit of dread in my stomach has turned to straight-up doom. Main Street is packed with cars on both sides. Everyone who’s anybody is here. It’s one of the few events put on by the Preservation Society that’s open to the public. In the old days, it started out as a fair, a place for people to trade their goods when the crops came in, but now it’s more like a carnival.
There’s music, some old-fashioned games, but the big attraction is the Hell House. Midland Baptist puts it on every year. It’s like a haunted house, only they lead you through a bunch of huge canvas tents presenting little plays on whatever hot topics they think are pulling people away from the church. Meth. Abortion. Gay sex. Satanism. Video games. It’s really just a chance for people to show off, get some attention. I was in it when I was a kid; I got to play a skeleton in the afterlife. It was pretty fun, jumping out at people and scaring the bejeezus out of them. Another grand tradition around here.
I let out a shaky breath as I get out of the truck. I’ve kept my family in seclusion, away from everyone for the past year, and for what? Here I am dragging them straight into the Devil’s lair. I can’t believe I’m spying on the Preservation Society for the Catholic Church, gathering evidence to sanction an exorcism. It sounds fucking crazy, even to me.
Just as I’m thinking about getting everybody back in the truck, hightailing it out of here, Noodle grabs my hand. She doesn’t even flinch at how sweaty it is.
“Doesn’t it look so pretty?” She squeezes my hand, like she knows how tough this is for me. “Just like a fairy tale.”
“Yeah.” I swallow hard.
It’s all lit up with gas lamps and jack-o’-lanterns, a maze made from bales of hay set up on the front lawn. Just like last year, and the year before that. Probably looked this way a hundred years ago. Hardly anything ever changes around here.