BY THURSDAY VANESSA was seriously worried about Morgan. She hadn’t come to school, and today was the day they were supposed to sign up to decorate for homecoming.
After school, Vanessa stopped at a newsstand on Fairfax. She bought Morgan’s favorite magazines and then caught the bus to her house.
Barushe answered the door. She had a strained look of fear on her face. “I’m glad you’re here. Her parents can’t come home until next week.” She glanced up as if she expected Morgan to suddenly appear at the top of the stairs.
“How is she?”
“I’ll show you,” Barushe said. “Let me get her tea first.”
Vanessa followed Barushe to the kitchen. She had fixed a tray with lemon tea and cookies.
“We’ll use the back stairs.” Barushe motioned with her head as she picked up the tray.
Vanessa followed her up the narrow winding staircase that led upstairs from the pantry next to the kitchen.
At the end of the hallway Barushe pushed a door open with her foot and led Vanessa into Morgan’s bedroom. The first thing she noticed was the odd smell. Barushe had placed bouquets of wild mountain thyme in glass jars and strung garlic across the windows and around the iron bedpost. Barushe came from Romania. Maybe she thought Morgan had fallen prey to a younger evil, one for which garlic and thyme were charms.
Morgan lay in bed, a pink quilt wrapped around her in spite of the heat. Her hair was swept up in a knot on the top of her head, and without makeup she looked pale and childlike.
Barushe set the tray on the bed. “A friend has come to see you.” Barushe glanced worriedly at Vanessa, then left the room quickly and closed the door behind her.
“Hi, Morgan,” Vanessa said, her voice overly cheerful.
Morgan stared at her, eyes flat. “Hi.” She turned her head and a strand of hair fell in front of her eyes. She didn’t brush it away.
“I brought you some magazines.” Vanessa placed them next to the telephone on the night-stand. The red digital light flashed thirty-two messages. That explained why Morgan hadn’t called her back.
“You’ve got calls,” Vanessa pointed out. “Don’t you want to hear them?”
Morgan shrugged. “Whatever.”
A reflection of sunlight caught Vanessa’s eye. She looked down. A razor blade sat in the ring holder next to the telephone. She glanced back at Morgan. The covers were too tightly wrapped around her to see if she had tried to cut herself.
Vanessa sat on the edge of the bed.
“We missed you at school,” Vanessa tried again.
Morgan didn’t answer.
“Do you remember anything that happened?”
“I,” she started, and then looked out the window before she continued. “I was dancing and . . .”
“And?”
“I think.” She sighed. “I don’t know what to think. What does it matter anyway?”
“I want to help you.”
Morgan looked at her. Her dull eyes seemed unable to focus. Her hand reached out from the covers for the tea. Thin brownish-red scabs sliced down her wrist.
She saw Vanessa looking at the cuts as she sipped the tea.
“I can’t cry anymore,” she whispered, as if that explained the marks on her arm. She set the cup down and studied the ragged lines on her skin.
“Has Barushe seen the cuts?” Vanessa’s uneasiness was rising. What had Morgan tried to do? Her concern quickly turned to self-blame; she should have come over sooner.
Morgan looked confused for a moment, then a slow smile crept over her face. “Barushe keeps looking at my throat for puncture wounds.” She tried to laugh but the sound came out wrong. “You think that’s what she told my parents?” Morgan said. “Is that why they haven’t come home? They think Barushe is being hysterical?”
“Why don’t you call them?”
“Maybe later.” Morgan sighed. “What’s the use?”
Vanessa took Morgan’s hand. The skin was wet and cold. “Remember when you talked to me about Catty over at Urth?”
Morgan shook her head.
“You said you’d want everyone to keep trying to find you if you were missing.”
“So?”
“So I’m going to keep trying to find you until I get you back. I have a friend who might be able to help.”
Morgan’s eyes shined with tears and her chin quivered, but then her face hardened. Her lip raised in a show of contempt. “No one can help me.”
“She can,” Vanessa insisted. “Let me help you get dressed and we’ll go visit her. She opened the closet door, turned on the light and walked in. The clothes were arranged by colors. Long shelves held shoes, sweaters, and purses. She grabbed a gray hooded sweatshirt and black flared pants and brought them back to the bed.
“Put these on,” Vanessa instructed. “I’ll go talk to Barushe.”
Morgan looked at the clothes as if she didn’t understand.
“Dress,” Vanessa explained.
“Get my five-pocket carpenter’s,” Morgan ordered.
“You got it,” Vanessa said, and smiled with confidence. If Morgan could think about clothes, she wasn’t completely lost. She hurried into the closet pulled the denim pants from a hanger and brought them back.
Morgan took the pants and stared at the brass button, zipper, and tie as if she were trying to recall how to work them.
Vanessa hurried back downstairs. Barushe was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
“I am so grateful you came to see her,” Barushe said. “Her other friends—”
“Other friends? Who?” Vanessa was suddenly alert. Morgan was popular. She had lots of friends, but they weren’t close friends who would worry about her absence at school.
“Tymmie and Cassandra,” Barushe said. “I think the other one’s name is Karyl.” She made a face like she was tasting something sour. “I don’t like them.”
The doorbell rang.
Vanessa grabbed Barushe’s hand. “Is that them?”
Barushe looked at her oddly. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Barushe.” Vanessa was forming a plan as she spoke. “I don’t think Morgan should see them.”
Barushe was silent.
“I’m going to take Morgan with me.”
“She can’t leave.”
“She shouldn’t see them,” Vanessa said again, and lifted her eyes toward the door. “I’ll take her down the back stairs and over to a friend’s house.”
Barushe looked uncertain.
“Can you tell them she’s sleeping? Please. Give me enough time to get Morgan away.”
Barushe nodded but her eyes looked nervous.
Vanessa hurried back to Morgan’s bedroom. She took Morgan’s hand. “We’re leaving.”
Morgan looked at her blankly.
Vanessa tugged. “Come on.”
Morgan followed reluctantly down the hallway to the back stairs. Vanessa could hear Barushe talking to Tymmie.
“No, she’s sleeping.” Barushe spoke with a slight tremor in her voice.
“We’ll wake her up then,” Tymmie replied.
“Like Sleeping Beauty,” Karyl snickered.
“I better go see my friends,” Morgan said in a dazed kind of way.
Vanessa pushed her out the back door. “Not now.”
It was after seven when she finally had Morgan in Maggie’s apartment. Maggie didn’t seem surprised by Morgan’s condition.
She sat Morgan in a chair and stood behind her. “They have stolen some of her thoughts, maybe, but at least she’s not imprisoned in their memories. Her soul needs to visit the spirit-world for healing.” Maggie gently touched Morgan’s hair.
“Can you do that?”
Maggie smiled as if Vanessa had asked a silly question. “People do it every day in prayer. You go on now. I’ll make sure she gets home.”
Vanessa started for the door.
“Vanessa,” Maggie called as she opened the door. “Remember your promise.”
Vanessa nodded and left.
On the way home, she looked at her hands. They were trembling. Fear was a mild word compared to what she was feeling. She realized then that she had made her decision. She knew now what she had to do.