MOON FALL (10 page)

"Buffy Bullock."

"Jan Sutcliff," volunteered the girl next to her. She had
wire-rimmed glasses, light brown hair
,
and an overdeveloped
figure.

"I'm Blaire Fugate," said the last girl, who looked like she
was twenty-one, at least. She had thick chestnut hair that curled
under perfectly at her shoulders, large blue eyes, and lashes so
thick and sooty that they made her appear to be wearing makeup.
She was as tall as Marcia Crowley, but with a more developed
figure. She smiled, showing perfect white teeth behind full lips,
and although she had been the last to
speak,
Sara thought that
she
was
probably second in command of the clique.

"I'm glad to meet all of you," Sara told them, then glanced
at her watch. ''I have some things to do right now, but I'll see
you this weekend, I'm sure."

"Okay," Marcia and Blaire said simultaneously. Sara saw
them glance at each other and knew there was a rivalry between
them.
So what else is new?
The girls said good-bye and started
out the lobby doors. Sara followed slowly, and as she opened
the door for herself, she saw a slightly younger girl, awkward
and gangly, with wavy carroty hair, walk widely around them
as she came up the steps to enter the building.

"Hey, Ghost Girl," called Marcia Crowley, "you'd better
be careful or I'll get you put in solitary forever!"

The girl wrapped her arms tightly around her books and,
head down, passed them. As she approached Sara, Marcia and
Blaire turned around, mouths open. Seeing Sara, they shut them,
turned, and hurried down the steps, the whole pack giggling.

Sara put her hand on the girl's shoulder. Startled, she flinched
,
then looked up, her eyes wide, like a frightened doe's.

"Are you all right?" Sara asked gently.

The girl nodded, not making eye contact.

"I'm Sara Hawthorne, the new history teacher. If you want
to talk, come see me, okay?"

"Kelly Reed," came Mother Lucy's voice from behind.
"You're supposed to be on your way to study hall." The nun
approached, glaring at the girl.

"
I
t's my fault," Sara began. "I stopped her. There was a
little trouble, some girls teasing her-"

''The only trouble is Miss Reed," interrupted Mother Lucy."Don't let her shyness fool you. Run along now, Kelly." She
clapped her hands twice and the girl took off, nearly running.

"She's a known thief, and her attitude is terrible," Lucy
said. "I advise you to be very wary of her."

"I'll remember. I want to go to town to buy a few things
before it gets much later. I'd better get going."

The Mother Superior nodded and Sara took off, walking
rapidly around the school building and past the chapel, to the
garage area, an old stable, at the rear of the grounds. Disgusted,
upset, she unlocked her little white Sentra and slipped inside,
dropping her briefcase on the seat next to her.

She ground the ignition and took off too fast, making the
car buck. She slowed and drove the dirt path around the school
and out. A mile of forest and she'd be among normal people.
She was amazed; she hadn't thought St. Gertrude's could be
as awful as she remembered. She'd been wrong.

Kelly Reed glanced behind her to make sure no one was
looking, then quickly slipped out the door at the east end of the
school building. There, she again checked for people, quickly
ducking under the stair rail and jumping down behind the
hedges as a small white car tore out of the garage. She caught
sight of the driver
-
the new teacher who'd wanted to talk
to her
-
just before the car disappeared behind the cemetery,
heading toward the road to town. Maybe she was leaving
already. Kelly didn't blame her.

She tucked her schoolbooks out of sight under the neatly
trimmed hedge, then peered around. Everything was quiet. She
unfolded her long legs and stood, stepped out, and walked
slowly across the lawn toward the ugly stone chapel. If someone
s
aw her, they probably would think that she was just taking a
walk.

She walked up to the chapel's steps, feeling the gargoyles
watching her from above. She hated the things and sometimes
imagined she could actually see their stone breasts move as
they breathed. But that was stupid. She walked along the back
of the chapel and into the cemetery, crossing the small yard
quickly, glancing up only as she passed the weeping angel. The
statue was so beautiful that it seemed out of place; trapped
here, just like Kelly.

A moment later, after making sure the road was clear, she
slipped through the cemetery hedge, then darted across the road
and into the pine forest beyond.
Safe at last!
Or she would be,
once she was off St. Gruesome's property and into Witch Forest.

It took only ten minutes to get to the north fork of Moonfall
Creek, but it always seemed much longer. The forest on this
side of the stream looked no different from Witch Forest on
the other side, but it
felt
very different, as if the trees, the pines
and sycamores and oaks, were bending down, watching her,
just waiting for the right moment to trip her with a root, then
wrap her up in woody tendrils and pull her under the earth to
feed upon at their leisure. She shivered and glanced around.
''Grow up," she muttered, as she sat down on a large boulder
where she took off her shoes, stuffed her socks into the toes,
then tied the laces together. Rising, she approached the edge
of the creek, which was only about ten feet wide and fairly
shallow this time of year. Still, she had to be careful because
the water ran rapidly and the streambed was filled with slippery
rocks.

Lifting her shoes by the laces, she twirled them above her
head and let them fly across the stream. Her clothes would dry
if she fell, but she couldn't take a chance on the shoes. That
old bitch Lucy would stick her back in solitary, like last month,
after Marcia had told her she'd stolen the locket.
My locket.

Holding her skirt up around her thighs, Kelly began picking
her way across the freezing cold stream. When she'd first been
sent to solitary, she'd thought it was great to be locked, all alone,
in the tiny room in the basement. She didn't feel imprisoned, but
safe behind the windowless walls. There was a hard cot, a
scarred up old desk and chair, and a lamp. And her schoolbooks,
of course. Even in solitary, she was expected to do her work.
The first few hours were fine, but there was no place to pee,
except over a drain in the floor, and no water to drink. They
left her there for a long time-later, she found out it was almost
two days, and they hadn't given her anything to eat or drink.
It was hell, and old Mother Lucy was right: she didn't want to
go back.

She stepped out of the water on the east side of Moonfall
Creek, retrieved her shoes, then sighed happily and lay back
on the forest floor to let her feet and legs dry before putting
the shoes back on.

It was amazing, the difference in atmosphere on this side of
the creek. Maybe it was all in her head, but the trees seemed
taller and more sunshine came through to dapple the ground,
with its thick cover of pine needles, acorns, pinecones, and the
first few red and yellow
autumn
leaves. She sat up and put on
her shoes, turning so that she didn't have to see St. Gruesome's
forest, which looked dark and grim. The trees reminded her of
the Ents in
The Hobbit.

She stood and made her way through the forest, moving with
more leisure now, enjoying the singing of the sparrows, the
harsh complaints of the obnoxious scrub jays. A gray squirrel
saw her and sat very still for an instant, then scrabbled up an
oak tree, where it watched her from a branch, its fluffy tail
twitching. Kelly laughed. "Silly thing. I won't hurt you."

It occurred to her that she'd never seen a squirrel on the
other side of the creek, and she began walking more rapidly.
Soon, she heard the thunder of Witch Falls, and she considered
going there, then remembered that's where they'd found Miss
Tynan, who'd been so nice to her. She shivered and kept going
until she came to the east fork of the creek and the narrow,
well-worn footpath that followed it. Glancing up through the
trees, she tried to gauge the time.
Probably past three.
That
meant Minerva would likely be at her cottage by now, home
from the Gingerbread House. She turned south and followed
the path toward the cabin.

Ten minutes of travel brought her to Minerva Payne's house.
She slowed as she approached, enjoying the sight, wishing she
could move in and live with her.

The cottage, in the middle of a large clearing, was built of
logs, like a cabin, but it had two stories, and there was a
slight curvature to the walls that gave it a fairy-tale appearance,
especially with its steeply pitched thick-shingled roof and a
river
stone chimney rising gracefully into the sky. Around the
cottage were stone-edged fl
owerbeds full of marigolds, petunias,
and periwinkles, and instead of a lawn, the walkway was
surrounded by vegetable gardens full of huge red tomatoes,
cucumbers, peppers, onions, zucchini, and melons. Once, Kelly
had asked Minerva how she grew so many vegetables when
they had sun for only a few hours each day, and the old lady
had chuckled and told her that everyone knew she was a witch.
Kelly didn't know what to say; then Minerva laughed and talked
about composting, vitamins, and things like that.

Off to the side was a pumpkin patch that blazed orange, and
behind the cabin were blackberry bushes and an herb garden
filled with cooking herbs like chives and garlic, oregano and
rosemary. There were other herbs, too, and shortly before Miss
T
y
nan had died, Minerva had finally told her why there were
all the stories about her being a witch: she was a healer, like
a medicine woman, and that, she explained, was what real
witches were, until the Christians came along and declared
them evil servants of the devil-a devil the healers didn't even
believe in.

Kelly loved to think about that and the fact that Minerva made
no effort to hide her contempt for the nuns. She understood her
fears about the ghost, and she even warned Kelly to be careful
around the nuns and never to talk about her visits to the cottage.
Yeah, like I'd ever tell them anything.

There was no smoke coming from the chimney, but the day
was warm, and if Minerva was home, she wouldn't have built
a fire yet. Kelly approached the door, which was made of heavy
planks and had a black iron knocker at eye level. She rapped
on it, but the sound seemed to be absorbed by the wood. The
multi
-
paned kitchen window was open, so she leaned toward it
and called Minerva's name.

"Here I am."

Startled, Kelly turned to see Minerva coming up the path.
"Hi, Min
-
"

There was a boy walking with her, carrying a basket covered
with a gingham napkin. He was maybe thirteen, a year or so
younger than her, and he was staring at her. She started to
blush.

Minerva smiled. ''This is Mark. Mark, this is Kelly. You
have some common interests and I thought you'd like to meet."

"How did you know I'd be here?'' Kelly asked.

''Minerva knows everything," said the boy.

"Let's go inside, shall we? We'll have tea and these tarts
Mark helped me make."

"Ah, geez ... " Now the boy was blushing. "I just
watched." he told Kelly.

Tentatively, she returned his smile. He was six inches shorter
than she, but she liked him anyway and suddenly wished she'd
combed her hair.