her.
Rosemary gasped.
For a fraction of a second, she thought that she was staring into a mirror and that her reaction had been foolish fright. But another look at those eyes told her that the “reflection” was different.
The girl from the school library was standing on the other side of the bookcase, obviously on her own stepstool. She was glaring at Rosemary, eyes full of resentment and hate. Rosemary was held by those eyes like a butterfly on a pin.
“Who —?”
“Coward!” The girl’s voice was as soft as sandpaper. She lashed out, caught Rosemary’s wrist, and pulled.
Rosemary screamed. The stepstool flew back as she was pulled into the bookcase. Her forehead hit the top shelf. Another hand grabbed Rosemary’s collar. Rosemary kicked, struggled, but felt herself being pulled in.
Then a voice boomed around her. “Hey!”
The grip slackened. Rosemary fell backwards and hit the bookcase behind her. Books rained down on her and the spine of a thick volume clocked her on the head.
Her vision swam. She saw the girl standing over her, sneering. How did she come around the stacks so fast? Rosemary thought she heard someone calling her name, and footsteps running. The girl turned towards the sound and then turned away, folding into herself like paper and disappearing.
When Rosemary’s vision cleared, she saw Peter kneeling over her. “Peter!” She grabbed his arm.
“Rosemary! What —”
“There was this girl.” She was talking much too fast. “She — she — she was in the — I mean, behind the bookcase. She grabbed my wrist. She tried to pull me in —”
“Where did she go?”
“She disappeared.”
“Disappeared?!”
“I saw her yesterday, at the school library. She disappeared there too.” She stopped suddenly, staring up at Peter in horror. “You don’t believe me.”
His eyebrows jerked up.
“Of course you don’t believe me. Disappearing girls. It’s crazy talk, and you know it was just a matter of time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb! You heard the stories about Theo and his breakdown! You have to have heard, everybody knows. Everybody’s waiting for me to go crazy too. Of course you don’t believe me; I don’t believe me!”
He looked at her with a gaze that was the most serious she had ever seen. “I believe you.”
“But,” she sputtered, “why?”
“Because you’re bleeding.” He nodded at her wrist.
Where the girl had grabbed her, her wrist was covered in thin red cuts, two dozen or more. The cuts made the shape of a hand and clawing fingers. They weren’t bleeding much, but they hurt.
“These look like paper cuts,” said Peter.
“You believe me.” The feeling of relief made Rosemary giggle. “God, Peter, I feel like such an idiot!”
He helped her to her feet. “You’re not an idiot.”
“But it doesn’t help that you believe me,” gasped Rosemary. “I mean, it helps, but it doesn’t make it go away. If I’m not hallucinating, then something is attacking me. Something horrible.”
Cold brushed them. The library door had opened.
Peter and Rosemary looked up.
Theo stood in the entranceway.
Rosemary let go of Peter and stumbled over to her brother. He had come in from the cold without a coat. His book was in his hand and he stared blankly ahead.
“Theo?” said Rosemary.
Theo looked at her, then reached out and took her arm, where the girl had cut into her wrist. He stared at the paper cuts, and his gaze grew dark.
“Leave her alone!” he shouted, pointing in Peter’s direction.
“What? Theo, no, Peter didn’t —” Then Rosemary saw that Theo wasn’t pointing at Peter, but at the bookshelves beside him, at the aisle where the girl had been waiting for her.
How did he know?
Theo shouted again, “Leave my sister alone!”
CHAPTER THREE
A WINTER’S TALE
“Please. Why are you doing this?”
— Theo Watson
The library door flew open, and Rosemary’s mother burst in, carrying Theo’s coat. “Theo!” she cried. “Why did you walk out on us? It’s cold! You went six blocks without your coat!” Her breath fogged in the air let in by the door. Theo did not look cold.
“Rosemary needed help.” Theo’s voice was dull.
“Rosemary’s doing just fine, aren’t you, dear?” She shot her daughter a look that said, “Just nod!” Rosemary bit her tongue and nodded.
Dr. Abrams came in, puffing. “Theo,” he said. “Why did you leave?”
“There is nothing wrong with me,” said Theo. “Rosemary needed help.”
Dr. Abrams frowned. “That’s more responsive than I’ve seen him all morning.”
Rosemary’s mother wrung her hands. “Maybe he’d be more comfortable at home?”
Dr. Abrams touched Theo’s arm. “Come on, Theo, let’s take you home.”
Theo shrugged his arm away. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” There was a rising edge to his voice. “Rosemary needed help.”
Rosemary stepped into Theo’s vision. “Theo, go with them. Please?”
He focused on her. “Will you be all right?”
She squeezed his hand. “Yes. Peter will help me, won’t you, Peter?”
Everybody looked at Peter. He swallowed hard and nodded.
Theo glanced around at the library, blinking at the shelves as though seeing them for the first time. He looked at her. “Watch out for the books. Be home soon.”
He turned and walked out the front door. Dr. Abrams followed like a protective dog.
Rosemary’s mother gave her a hug. “Thanks, dear. Will you be coming home soon?”
Rosemary
