“Please don’t let me have the mark. Don’t let it be true.”
The dull grinding sound, the fine strands hovering in the air like bits of spiderweb caught in a breeze, my raw scalp, the hair clogging the pipes, the desperate sucking sound of the drain … it reminds me of that night I found Dad in the breeding barn—the drain in the floor clogged with intestines and viscera.
With every pull of the razor, horrible images flash through my mind. The bull, blood gushing from his throat. Lee’s scarred skin stretched tight over jagged teeth. Jess looking back at me on that cot with dead eyes. Jimmy kneeling at the altar offering his gift to God. Ben strung up on the goalpost like Christ. The nuns cutting out their tongues. Noodle suckling from the dead calf. Ali crawling out of the cow. “I plead the blood” echoing in my mind.
“Stop!” I scream. I shut my eyes, trying to get away from the memories, but they’re always there, scratching at the surface, begging for release.
I force myself to look at my reflection, inspecting every inch of my scalp. I let out a huge burst of pent-up air when all I find are the familiar bumps and planes of my skull.
“Thank God,” is all I can manage to say. “Thank God.”
*
AFTER I pull myself together and get everything cleaned up, I wrap the towel around my waist and go into Jess’s room, sinking to the edge of her bed. She can’t have been gone long, because she’s been taking the food. I saw a shadow pass under her door. Heard her footsteps. I’m sure of it. But I’ve been seeing all kinds of things lately. I look toward the window. Maybe she’s been climbing the drainpipe, coming in and out as she pleases. I just can’t believe she’d leave Noodle here with Mom, knowing the state she’s in. I want to wring Jess’s neck.
I get up and open her window, hoping by some miracle that when the sun comes up, she’ll be in her bed, or better yet, waiting for me in my truck with those awful boots pressed up against my dash.
I search her room, looking for any kind of clues, but she’s taken down every photo, every personal item. I think about how opposite we are. All I do is cling to the past and here she is trying to erase it. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for her … living in this house … living under this cloud of death and depression. She’s the only one who had it right and I brushed her off like she was nothing. Like she didn’t matter. I think about her out there with Lee Wiggins and my blood boils. I think about him touching her and I want to kill something.
“I’m going to make this right, Jess.”
I lie back on her bed, staring up at the handful of glow-in-the-dark stars I put up for her ninth birthday. She wanted to be able to wish on a star whenever she felt like it.
“Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”
I close my eyes.
Just for a minute, I tell myself.
A low sizzling sound accompanied by a warm glow is coming from the window. I walk toward it, staring out over the burning wheat. A repulsive charred stench lingers in the air. The flames form a perfect circle. Inside, there’s a girl with reddish hair, her lithe, naked body bathed in eerie green light.
Noodle slips her hand in mine. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she says as the flames engulf the girl’s body. “This is all for the chosen one.”
We stand there, watching her burn.
And I feel nothing.
*
I WAKE in Jess’s bed, covered in a cold sweat, to find the decrepit baby doll lying next to me, her dead eyes glinting in the early-morning light.
A disgusted rage fills me; I grab the doll by its neck, flinging it out the window.
I’m leaning against the frame, taking in huge gulps of fresh air when I see Hammy pick up the doll in his teeth.
“Leave it, Hammy,” I holler at him.
He stares up at me, like he’s looking at a ghost, and then buries it at the edge of the wheat.
49
IT’S FRIDAY. Game day.
I get Noodle on the bus and make arrangements with Mrs. Gifford to sit with her after school until I get home.
On my way to Midland High, I stop at Merritt’s to fill up the tank, but it’s really just an excuse to look for Jess. I know I promised Sheriff I wouldn’t go out to the trailer park, but he didn’t say anything about the old campgrounds. The thing is I’m not even mad anymore. Just worried. I don’t want Jess getting hurt. If Lee decides to share that little story with her, it could scar her for life.
I hike out into the pines, calling her name. Every insect scrabbling over the pine straw puts me on edge. Lee could be anywhere out here and this is his turf. For all I know, this place could be booby-trapped.
I come up on the old campgrounds, just a handful of busted-up cabins. I peek inside. They reek of mold and animal droppings and other things I don’t even want to think about.