Freeks(15)

Della Jane snapped her fingers. “I got it. She probably went over to the Tangipahoa Parish music festival. They have all kinds of bands, going on for the next week to celebrate the equinox. Does that sound like something she would enjoy?”

“It does…” I admitted reluctantly. “But she would’ve told us.”

“Maybe she just hitched a ride and didn’t have a chance,” Della Jane suggested. “But I can see that you’ll be worried until she shows up again. So I’ll tell you what—”

Abruptly she turned her back to us and hurriedly wrote something down on the corner of a flier. Then she tore off the corner and faced us again, handing me the paper with Della Jane and her phone number scrawled in beautiful loopy handwriting.

“If you haven’t heard from your friend in the next day or two, give me a call,” Della Jane said. “I’ll look into it personally and see if we can’t find her. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great. Thank you.” I smiled at her, but it felt weak.

“Thank you again,” Gideon told her, and when I didn’t move, he put his hand on my back to gently usher me out of the police station.

As soon as we stepped outside, Gideon let out a sigh of relief. With the sun shining brightly above, it was a warm spring day, and thanks to Della Jane, things had gone better in the police station than I had hoped for. She’d given a logical explanation for where Blossom probably was—safe and sound listening to bands.

Despite all that, I couldn’t shake the chill inside my chest, like my heart had been encased in ice.





7. night terror

I had no idea where I was, since I was completely surrounded by black. And in that darkness, a face began to emerge. An old woman, her face gaunt, and the folds of gray flesh wrinkled and shriveled to the point of mummification.

She began to move toward me, as if gliding through the emptiness. Her gown billowed out around her, a dark fabric making her appear larger and more threatening. Not that she needed the help. Her gray hair stuck out maniacally around her head, like a crazed halo, and her eyes were black as coal.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to say something to stop her from coming at me.

She opened her mouth then and began to scream—her words came out rapid fire, shrill and furious. It made it impossible to understand, but what little I did pick up wasn’t a language that I knew.

“I don’t know what you want! I can’t understand you!” I told her, but that only made her angrier.

Her wails grew louder, echoing through my skull, and then she extended her hands toward me. Her fingers were long and the nails were yellowed, and somehow I knew that if she got me, she’d never let me go.

I turned to run away from her, but the ground fell out from under me. There was nothing to grab on to, no matter how I tried to reach out, and I tumbled down into a bottomless pit of blackness.

Then, just as I felt my body slam into the hard ground, I opened my eyes and sat up.

Panting heavily, I realized with great relief that it was only a dream. I was safe in my own bed, but I couldn’t seem to stop my trembling and slow the panicked racing of my heart.

The room was dark, with the only light coming in from the hall and spilling in through the narrow gaps between the strings of beads. Still, I could make out the familiar shapes of my room, and after the nightmare that felt all too vivid and intense, I took comfort in taking inventory of the normal things in my room that weren’t screaming banshees.

Posters adorned my half of the room, covering the narrow bits of paneling that weren’t covered by windows. I only had one full-size poster, tacked up on the side of the closet, of David Bowie. The rest were smaller ones, like a tour poster for the Cure, ticket stubs for Aliens, and a flier for the sideshow from a state fair last summer.

Books were stacked to the brim on my nightstand. I kept as many as I could, but eventually, Mom would make me part ways with them to make room for new ones. My stereo and cassette tapes were stacked on the small vanity at the end of my mom’s bed next to the closet-size bathroom.

Across from my bed was Mom’s own narrow twin bed, neatly made the way it always was. Her half of the room was much cleaner and more organized than mine, but she had extra scarves and jewelry hanging from tacks above the window, since she’d run out of room everywhere else.

After we’d gotten back from the police station and delivered what little news we had to my mom, I’d finished helping set up, and then I’d snuck back to my trailer to take a quick nap. I couldn’t have gotten more than a couple hours of sleep last night at Gabe’s house, since we’d stayed up so late talking.

My mom had made the curtains from dark upholstery fabric and black lace, making them almost impenetrable to light, and I peeled them back from the windows. The sun had almost completely set, which meant that I’d overslept.

I swore, then hurried to get ready. The AC had gone out in the trailer, so my mom and Gideon had put a window air conditioner in the dining room. It stayed in place with duct tape, bungee cords, and a hope and a prayer.

I’d only just turned it on when I came inside, so it had been crazy hot and I’d stripped down to a tank top and panties to sleep in. Now I hurried to pull on a light dress. The carnival would be opening soon, and though I didn’t perform in any shows or run any stands, I worked hard as a gopher for everyone else.