Stalking Shadows (Scary Mary) Page 4
“Now she’s in a coma, and you’re sitting by her bedside until she wakes up.” She flipped a page and jabbed the green copy button.
“I’m worried about her.”
“Is it just worry? Would you have gone out with her again if the accident hadn’t happened?”
He didn’t reply. She halfway ripped out a page of her notes as she turned it to scan the final sheet. When the last page spat out, she grabbed up the sheets, shoved them at him, and stormed out of the library.
“Mary!”
She ignored him. It was what one was supposed to do with strangers.
She walked down the hall toward the stairs. She was trying hard not to think, because she didn’t like anything currently swirling around in her head. She needed a distraction, something to take her mind off Cy, Vicky, and the joke that was her love life. She couldn’t stop the gurgly laugh that came out at the thought of her having a love life. Who was she kidding?
“Mary?”
She tried to pretend to not hear Kyle, but he didn’t get the hint that she didn’t want to talk. “Hey, Mary, wait up.”
She stopped and turned toward him, but she couldn’t bring herself to raise her eyes from the floor. “If you’re looking for Cy, he’s in the library.”
“Thanks, but he’ll find me. I’m not his nursemaid.”
She smiled thinly and turned towards the stairs.
“Are you all right?”
She didn’t turn around. “I’m peachy. See ya, Kyle.” She began walking to the stairs.
“Mary, wait!” She didn’t stop. Instead, she picked up her pace. She needed to get away from school. It was way past time for this day to be over. She couldn’t take anymore.
She was halfway down the stairs when Kyle called down to her from the top. “He’s a jerk. You shouldn’t let him bother you.”
She stopped and looked up at him. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
His face fell. She knew it was wrong to have said that, but she was hurting and wanted to lash out. Kyle wasn’t one of the people hurting her, but one of those people was in a coma, and the other had an arm in a sling. She couldn’t lash out at them. She shook her head.
“Don’t listen to me, Kyle. I’m a jerk too.” She turned and finished going down the stairs. He didn’t call out to her again.
As she was walking home, Rachel rolled up in her mom’s station wagon. “Get in. We have some serious cramming to do.”
The whole drama with Cy had made her totally forget her promise to help Rachel study. She climbed into the car. “Sorry, I got held up after class.”
Rachel looked her over. Mary knew she didn’t look good. “You still up for this?” Rachel asked. She nodded. Rachel began driving again. They were headed to the library. “Did you talk to Cy today?”
She sighed and slumped down. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“He likes Vicky. He knew it would upset me if he told me. They’re totally a couple.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded again. Rachel shook her head in silent commiseration. Mary straightened in her car seat. “I’m done dwelling on it. Let’s get you all biology-ed up.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“Hey, did your crafts teacher agree to write the recommendation?”
“Yeah, but Dad said that if I don’t get my grade up in biology, he won’t let me volunteer. I have to ace this test.”
“Wow, that’s like even more incentive to study hard.”
“You say incentive. I say pressure.”
“You’re gonna ace it. Where are the flash cards?” She reached into the back and grabbed Rachel’s book bag.
Rachel’s eyebrows rose. “I think studying in the car on the way to the library is like an example of the absolute reverse of procrastination. Is there even a word for that?”
“We’re studying bio, not English. Now, while studying a cell through an electron microscope, you note the following: numerous ribosomes, a well-developed endoplasmic reticulum, chloroplasts, and a cell wall. What did this cell come from?”
“A plant.”
She flipped the card. “Correct!” She flipped to the next card. “The bonding of two amino acid molecules to form a larger molecule requires what?”
“The release of a water molecule.”
She flipped the card. “Correct again!”
“You know Mr. Hutchins said that you shouldn’t allow too many distractions while driving, or you could end up in an accident.”
Mary looked through the windshield. “We’re at a stoplight.”
“One should always be vigilant.”
She tucked the cards back into Rachel’s book bag. “Fine, but we’re getting through all of them at the library.”
“But don’t you want to do some research into Vicky’s demonic stalker?”
“And how am I supposed to search for it? I don’t know anything about it except it claws at her.”
“Vicky didn’t tell you anything else?”
“No, she didn't.” She wasn’t really comfortable having this conversation because 1) Vicky was in a coma, 2) Vicky was supposedly talking to her in her dreams, 3) It was something spooky weird, and of course, she was supposed to know something about it, but in reality, she didn’t have a clue what was going on, and 4) Cy was totally dating the cheerleader. “And stop trying to wheedle out of studying by researching ghosts and goblins.”
“Ooh, do you think it’s a goblin?”
Mary groaned.
* * *
“Ask Mr. Fletcher.”
Mary ignored Rachel and read the next index card. “In humans, primary oocytes are located in the--?”
Rachel ignored her back. “Ask him.”
“Answer the question.”
“Ovaries. Ask him.”
She put the cards down and looked at the ceiling. They were in the microfilm section. It was deserted because no one used microfilm if they didn’t have to. “Mr. Fletcher, are you here?”
She waited for an acknowledgement. Nothing happened. Rachel could tell she didn’t get a response. “Hey, Mr. Fletcher! We got a research question!”
“Rach!”
The living librarian stuck her head around the corner. “Do you girls need help?”
Mary was shaking her head when Rachel said, “Yes, ma’am. Can you show us how to get information about patients at the hospital?”
The librarian strolled back to them so Rachel wouldn’t continue shouting across the room. This was supposed to be a quiet area. “You want patient information?”
“Yes,” she said. She rolled her eyes a little. Mary wanted to kick her.
The librarian, whose nametag said Elizabeth, took Rachel’s response in stride. “I’m afraid patient information is very sensitive. The hospital only gives that out to the patient, close family, or to someone with a court order. What exactly are you trying to find?”
“How many coma patients are at the hospital?”
Elizabeth blinked. “I’m sorry, girls, but that sort of information won’t be available.”
“How about, how many coma patients died at the hospital?”
She shook her head. “I’m really sorry. But that kind of hospital specific information is not available. I could maybe find you national numbers if you’re interested in those?”
Rachel shook her head. “Thanks, but we were interested in only the local hospital. We’ll surf the net for something else.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Well, just get me if you need any help.”
When the librarian was gone, Rachel sighed and cradled her chin with her fists. “I suppose Mr. Fletcher didn’t show up while we were talking to her, did he?”
“No. We should get back to studying. That is why we’re here.”
Rachel made a face, but couldn’t deny her statement.
“What is found in both prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells?”
Rachel stared into space. Mary waited for her to answer. While she waited, she flip
ped the card and looked at the answer. Rachel still didn’t appear ready to answer.
“It starts with an ‘R’.”
Rachel straightened with enlightenment. “Mom!”
“What?” She didn’t follow.
“I can ask her how many coma patients there are. Come on, I gotta get home.” She stood and slung on her book bag.
“But what about studying?”
“I’m good. I haven’t gotten one wrong, have I?”
Mary looked at the small stack of cards that they’d gone through and the much larger stack still in her hands. “Rach, you’re procrastinating.”
“No, you’re avoiding your duty.”
“What?”
“You have to help Vicky, but because she’s like spite incarnate and dating Cy, you don’t want to help her, so you’re dragging your feet when you should be marching around this library asking for Mr. Fletcher.”
Mary narrowed her eyes. “What’s found in both prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells?”
Rachel screwed up her mouth.
She flipped to the next card. “When hydrogen ions are pumped out of the mitochondrial matrix, across the inner mitochondrial membrane, and into the space between the inner and outer membranes, the result is what?”
Rachel crossed her arms and stared her down.
“Are you not answering because you won’t or because you don’t know the answer?”
Rachel lifted her chin.
She flipped to another card. “What possesses a microtubular structure similar in form to a basal body?”
She watched Rachel closely. She still stood defiant, but there was uncertainty around her eyes. Mary lowered the flash cards. “Maybe the reason I’m not all gung-ho to help Vicky is because I don’t know the answers either.”
“I know the answers,” Rachel muttered.
“Prove it.”
Rachel turned her nose away, but she did sit back down.
“What possesses a microtubular structure similar in form to a basal body?” Mary repeated.
Rachel rocked a little in her seat.
“It starts with a ‘C’.”
She rocked more.
“I can’t give you anymore hints because, frankly, I have no idea what this question is talking about.”
She waited for her to reply, but Rachel was in one of her monumentally stubborn moods. Mary sighed and pushed the cards toward her. “Look, what I need to know will not be in any book or newspaper. I have to go to the hospital and walk around if I’m going to get any idea about what is hurting Vicky, but the hospital isn’t going to just let us snoop. We need to enter the volunteer program, and the only way you’re going to get into the program is if you ace this test, so let’s get studying. All right?”
Rachel worked her jaw a bit but finally said, “Centrioles.”
She glanced at the note card. The answer was correct.
Rachel looked over at her with a small grin. “You know, we’re going through an awful lot of trouble for Vicky.”
“Don’t remind me. Focus on all of the other nameless patients that we might be helping.”
“Yeah, it’s too bad none of them contacted you in your dreams for help. Does this mean she has, like, psychic ability?”
Mary shuddered as she recalled her first dream. “I hope not. A psychic Vicky would be terrible. Now no more Vicky talk. What is the function of water in photosynthesis?”
Chapter 4
Mr. Poopy-Pants
Mary and Rachel stumbled out of the library as it was closing at 7 p.m. They’d gone through the note cards twice. Rachel had gotten most of them right. “You’re going to ace this test,” Mary told her.
“Yeah, now let’s celebrate.”
“Celebrate?”
“Yeah, me acing the test.”
“Um, I don’t think you’re supposed to celebrate something until after it happens.”
“Really? What about baby showers and bridal showers? Let’s have a test-acing shower.”
“Why are those things called showers?”
“I guess because you get showered with gifts?”
“Huh.”
Rachel began to bounce. “Let’s go to The Drowsy Poet.”
Mary’s nose wrinkled. “It’s Open Mic Night, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
She winced. “I don’t like listening to therapy sessions put to verse.”
“Oh, come on, please? It’s my Test-Acing Shower.”
She sighed. Rachel had really buckled down while they were studying. She deserved some reward for that. “All right, but a dozen haikus or one sestina is my limit. Understand?”
She nodded and happily skipped to the car. Mary really didn’t understand Rachel’s enjoyment of bad poetry, but then again, Mary didn’t really have much tolerance for poetry, period.
It was a short drive to The Drowsy Poet. It was a small café-- with hopes of being a hip, artistic hangout--nestled in the corner of a shopping center. Abstract art done by local artists hung on the walls with price tags attached. There were tables with lounge chairs, high stools at the bar, and a few sofas pushed against the walls. The lighting was dim. A few groups of young people varying from high school to graduate school age were scattered around the room.
As she had dreaded, the small stage was lit, with a mic stand set up. As they went to the counter to place their orders, she looked around and spotted something new. There were some Internet terminals set up along the back wall. Rachel ordered an iced chai latte and went to grab a seat on a sofa while Mary lingered a moment to ask the barista about the Internet terminals.
“They're five dollars an hour.”
She paid and got the login information. She went over to Rachel.
“It looks like they’re about to start,” Rachel said, settling deeper into the sofa. Mary glanced toward the stage. There was a balding guy with a ponytail shuffling some note cards at the mic. She wished she had earplugs.
“I bought some time on one of the computers to look up some stuff. I’ll be right over there.”
Rachel’s brow knitted. “We could’ve done that at the library.”
“No, we were studying. I’m willing to take part in your test acing shower, but I’m gonna need some distraction. Now listen to emo guys wax tragically about their overbearing mothers and cheating ex-girlfriends while I surf the ‘net.”
“Can’t you wait until you get home?”
“It’ll be too late by then. I won’t take too long.”
“How much time did you buy?”
“How long will this be?”
Rachel frowned. “If you gave it a chance—” she started.
“I know, but I already bought the time.”
Rachel glowered at her, but Mary couldn’t muster much guilt. She settled down at the nearest computer terminal and logged in.
She pulled up Google and stared at the search box for a moment. Vicky really hadn’t given her anything to go on. She typed in “claw soul” and hit enter. Nothing useful came back, though she was surprised by the number of Pokémon results. Did people still watch Pokémon? She returned to the search box. She typed in “bad ghost” this time. The results were a little better. She focused on reading personal accounts to see if anyone had a similar experience to what Vicky had described. She wasn’t interested in the paranormal investigators because they relied on equipment she didn’t need, and their results were usually false. She couldn’t help snickering whenever anyone mentioned EVPs. How could anyone think a ghost’s voice would appear on a recording device? And the recordings--she’d listened to some of those clips over and over again and could not hear the “words” the investigators were adamant were on them. It was static or background noise, nothing else. Among the personal accounts, there were a few that sounded similar to what Vicky described, but they were mostly one-time occurrences, not repeated attacks by the same entity.
“Whatcha reading?” Rachel had come up behind her and now leaned over her shoulder. Mary had been
ignoring the poetry readings so hard that she’d missed her friend’s approach.
“First-hand ghost stories, trying to figure out what’s attacking Vicky.”
“Find anything?”
“Not really. I mean some stuff is sort of similar but not entirely. I really need more info on what’s happening at the hospital.”
“So you want Vicky to bug you more in your dreams?”
She rolled her eyes at the possibility. She closed all the windows and logged off the computer. A short, chubby girl with violet hair was on the stage. She seemed to be just saying random words with weird pauses between them. She was really irritating. “Have you gotten your fill of poor-me-etry?”
“Don’t call it that, and yeah, that last guy’s diatribe about fat-free yogurt gave me a lot to think about.”
Mary looked at her askance. “Please don’t share your thoughts.”
* * *
The bell to start sixth period had just rung, but Mary hadn’t noticed. The world had shifted a little, and she was still thrown off by it. Cy was across the room. The seat beside her was empty. She was so used to seeing him beside her during English that seeing him elsewhere was playing with her spatial perception. He was sitting by Vicky’s old seat, which everyone was still leaving empty. She was beginning to wonder if it had a bronze plaque dedicating it to her. He’d gone directly over to it without even a word to her. He’d said something to one of the girls sitting close by, and she’d nodded her head eagerly. It looked like Mary wouldn’t be Xeroxing her notes for him that day. Maybe her handwriting had been too sloppy. More likely he didn’t want to sit by someone who didn’t like his girlfriend. Girlfriend. The word made her want to hurl.
She put on mental blinders during class and wouldn’t let her eyes stray between Mrs. Myers and her notes. She would only look at one or the other. No straying side to side. She thought she caught in her peripheral vision a sandy haired head turned in her direction a couple of times, but she wouldn’t let her pupils deviate from their strict path of teacher and notes. She was here to learn. She was determined to learn. Maybe she’d make honor roll this quarter. She should focus on school more anyway. It would serve her well later in life. Better than silly friendships that couldn’t take a bit of snarking or disagreement. She may have ripped through her note paper a couple of times due to the zeal of her note taking, but it only showed her dedication to learning. She was sure of it.