Off in the distance, just over the top of the hill, the sun slipped down, silhouetting the small grove of twisted thorn trees where she was headed. It looked creepy that way, she had to admit to herself, all dark and knotted together. It was just a bunch of trees growing in a little circle for some weird reason, but they stood out in the middle of a bare clearing, as if all the other trees were trying to avoid them. The clump of thorn trees leaned in toward each other and their branches wove together from the ground up to form a sort of room with a tangled ceiling overhead.
Inside the circle was an open space about ten feet in diameter, where it was almost always cool and the sounds from outside were muffled. Susan and her friends, Kathy and Meredith, went there almost every day. It was hard to see out through the branches sometimes, so it seemed as though they had crossed into another world when they slid through the narrow opening they had made at the beginning of the summer. It was the perfect place for secret meetings and telling scary stories.
Kathy liked scary stories, the bloodier and more horrifying the better, and to her the only thing better than reading a scary story or watching one on TV was making one up herself. Kathy was everything Susan wished she could be. She had long dark auburn hair that fell in thick waves down her back, not stringy dirty-looking blonde wisps clinging to her forehead, like Susan's. Her eyes were wide and golden green, not squinty and watery blue. Her smile was wide and bright, and there were just enough freckles across her perfect nose to make it interesting. She was thin, but not skinny, and already had little blossoms of breasts starting to show. Her voice was the best thing, though, deep and husky, unusual especially for a kid, with a raspy little catch that sounded like pebbles rolling in honey. People sometimes stopped to look at her, and when they heard her talk they stared at her like she was some kind of rare musical instrument.
Then, of course, there was Meredith. Meredith lived one house away from Kathy, two away from Susan. She was eleven, too, the same age as the others. She always joined Susan and Kathy in the mornings, but she met them down at the creek, never at Susan's door. Meredith was generally sort of fidgety and sniffly, and had bony elbows and knees that poked out of her clothes at awkward angles. Her thick glasses magnified her round brown eyes, set in a pale narrow face framed by straight dark hair that just reached her shoulders. She was very serious and very smart, and one reason Kathy let her hang out with them was that Meredith knew all kinds of bizarre facts about all kinds of things, and Kathy loved anything bizarre. But the thing Kathy liked best about Meredith was that, in spite of her brains and her seriousness, she fell for every trick in Kathy's book. What Meredith got out of the whole deal Susan wasn't sure.
Susan also wasn't sure what Kathy liked about her. She was still pudgy with baby fat, and she knew she wasn't pretty, and she wasn't even all that smart. But like Meredith, Susan either believed in or went along with everything Kathy said, even when it made her feel kind of bad. Kathy basically ran the show, and whatever Kathy wanted, Kathy got. Until today, anyway. Susan was already beginning to wonder what her life would be like if Kathy stayed mad at her for going back for Meredith. And without Kathy, Susan wasn't sure she would know what to do.
Sometimes Susan wished she could go to live at Kathy's house, just so she could keep looking at her and listening to her all day and all night, too. Most of the time, though, she just wished she could be Kathy, with her looks and her imagination and her voice and her certainty about the world and her place in it. At night in bed she would pray that God would reach down and rearrange her pudgy body, make her thinner, prettier, smarter, better. In the morning she would rush to the mirror, squeeze her eyes shut tight, count to twenty, then open them all at once, hoping against hope that when she looked at her reflection she would see Kathy's face gazing back.
As Susan approached the grove of thorn trees, she realized there were only a few minutes of good daylight left. "Better get this over with quick," she thought, and picked up her pace the best she could. Earlier in the day when Kathy had suggested the game to Susan as they headed across the field to the creek, it had seemed like a better idea and a whole lot more fun.
At first, things had gone pretty much like every other day. They went to the thorn trees, got settled inside, and started talking about TV shows they had seen the night before. And then Kathy and Susan put Kathy's plan into action. They jumped at imaginary sounds, then Kathy went outside and started screaming. Susan followed and yelled something about a crazy guy with an ax, then stuck her head inside the clearing and told Meredith, all panicked by now, to stay in there. She added a strong "no matter what" and a wild woman scream, and even pretended she was being dragged away from the trees by some awful attacker. Susan was proud of that last touch, and prouder still when Kathy agreed later it was pretty inspired.
Kathy and Susan ran down the hill into the woods and hid, waiting for Meredith to come rushing by in a panic so they could jump out and scare her and tease her about being taken in once again. The trouble was, Meredith never showed up. The two other girls played guessing games, climbed trees, swung from branches, and talked until they were bored and tired of waiting. Susan suggested they call for Meredith, but Kathy said that would ruin the whole thing. After a couple of hours, Kathy announced she was going home for lunch.
"Are you kidding? We can't just leave Meredith there, Kathy," Susan fretted.
"Why not? If she's so stupid to think some guy actually chopped us into pieces with an ax, then she deserves to get left behind." Kathy sniffed. This was the bad side of Kathy, the side Susan would do anything to avoid, the side that made even the teachers at school cave in to almost anything Kathy wanted. Kathy in a mean mood could rip a person's heart right out.
"Yeah, I know. But it does seem a little mean. Um, I mean, not as much of a game anymore." Susan didn't know why she persisted, but the thought of Meredith up there hiding in a pile of thorns and broken twigs made her nervous.
"Well, I am hungry and tired of waiting on stupid old Meredith. What a baby she is. And you're just as much of a baby for wanting to be so nicey-nice to her."
Kathy flounced away, and Susan hurried after her, calling for her to stop and wait, she didn't mean it, she wasn't going to help Meredith, but Kathy didn't stop, not until she was inside her house, leaving Susan standing in her back yard outside the kitchen door.
Susan went home, too, then, because she couldn't think of anything else to do. Kathy hated her, and Meredith was stuck up in the woods, with no food and no bathroom and no water or anything. She moped around the house, watched TV a while. Her mother kept asking her why she was inside on such a beautiful day, but Susan didn't tell her. Her mother could be so dopey sometimes, but she was pretty, and she wouldn't understand what someone like Susan needed from someone like Kathy. So Susan kept quiet, and soon her mother gave up and just stomped around the house mumbling about disrespect and bad attitudes.
Dinnertime came and went, and Susan still hadn't heard from anybody. Finally she decided to go over to Meredith's to see if she was back yet. She almost never went to Meredith's house. Meredith was pretty much on her own, since her dad worked most of the time and Mrs. Jackson had her hands full taking care of the baby, Roy, who was sickly and in and out of the hospital a lot. Meredith's older sisters, who were fourteen and fifteen, less than a year apart, didn't pay much attention to anybody, and they were almost never there. They hung out with a bunch of older kids down at the ball field most of the time.
Susan overheard her mother talking on the phone once about Meredith's mother. The problem with Mrs. Jackson, Susan's mom had said, was that the poor woman had been having babies since she was fifteen years old, and here she was barely thirty with two wild teenagers, an odd eleven year old, and now a sick baby. And he was the only boy, too. Susan wasn't sure why all that mattered, but in any case, the house didn't seem to have much to do with Meredith.
Today, though, Susan thought she really needed to go over there. She walked down the road instead of cutting through Kathy's yard so that Kathy wouldn't be as likely to catch her. She knocked on the front door, and Mrs. Jackson answered, looking tired, smiling distractedly.
"Hi, Susan," she said, "I haven't seen you in a while."
"Hi, Mrs. Jackson, um, I was wondering, is Meredith here?"
Mrs. Jackson looked puzzled. "I don't know, let me check. Meredith!" she shouted into the house. She waited few seconds for a response then turned back to Susan. "Isn't she with you and Kathy?"
"Oh, yeah, that's right. I mean, I think she was with Kathy. That's right. I forgot." Susan backed off the porch, embarrassed and worried.
So now what, Susan wondered. She fought her fear of Kathy's disapproval and went down the road to her house. This time, she went through the yards to the back, like always, and rang the cowbell Kathy's mother had hung up next to the door. Kathy answered.
"Hi," she purred. "Find your little baby friend? I saw you going over to her house."
Crushed, Susan stuttered, "No, no, I--I--I--we . . ." She took a sharp breath. "Kathy, we need to go back and get her. It'll be dark soon, and maybe she's hurt, maybe something actually happened to her up there and . . ."
"Oooooo!" Kathy broke in. "Maybe somebody up there really did have an ax!" She laughed.
"Kathy, I think this might be serious."
"Don't you dare go back there, Susan," Kathy warned. "Don't you dare ruin this. It's perfect."
"But I think we should. Or at least maybe we should let somebody know, don't you think?" Susan was shaking now, both with fear for Meredith and fear that she was losing Kathy forever.
"Don't do it."
Susan pulled up some resolve from somewhere inside and decided that no matter what, she had to get Meredith out of that thorn tree grove.
"I am, Kathy. I'm going back."
Kathy didn't say one single word. She hardly even moved. She just let go of the handle on the screen door and let it bang closed between them.
It was almost dark when Susan finally reached the grove. She found the place where the thorn trees parted slightly and with her hands carefully pushed the branches far enough apart to wriggle through into the clearing.
"Meredith?" she called softly, squinting into the darkness as her eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the tight circle of trees.
Susan heard a small rustling sound to her right. Hunched on the ground near the edge of the little clearing a shadowy bundle rocked slightly back and forth.
"Oh, jeez, Meredith, we didn't think you'd stay here," Susan complained, secretly relieved. "Come on, get up. Let's get out of here before it gets too dark."
Meredith lifted her head. Her glasses reflected the low light, the smudged lenses twin moons in her narrow face. A dead leaf, tangled in her hair, hung down over one eye. Susan laughed.
"Man, do you ever look stupid! Wait until your mother sees how filthy you are. Now come on." Susan stretched out her hand toward Meredith.
Meredith leapt from her crouch and threw herself into Susan, knocking her backwards onto the spiny carpet of broken twigs and thorns. She dove on top of Susan, pinning her down.
"Ow! Stop it!" Susan screamed, furious. "Meredith, knock it off, you're hurting me!"
Susan pushed against the other girl, but Meredith clung fast, squeezing her knees against Susan's sides.
"Get off me!" Susan yelled.
Meredith slapped her across the mouth.
Susan screamed and kicked. The thorns dug into her back and thighs, and she could feel sticky warm wetness beginning to seep through her clothes. She lurched her hips upward, loosening Meredith's grip a little, then managed to roll onto her stomach and drag herself a foot or so away on her elbows. Meredith grabbed Susan's legs and slammed her body hard onto Susan's back, grinding Susan's face into the dirt.
She dropped her head and bit down into the soft flesh of Susan's shoulder.
Susan wailed and kicked, but as the pain deepened and spread through her back, she could do nothing but lie still, shaking, as the teeth dug in.
"Meredith, please stop, please," she sobbed.
Meredith bit harder in response. Susan whimpered and clenched her hands into fists, waiting for the pop of skin, the burst of blood.
But it didn't happen. Meredith eased her mouth open and let go, then rested her cheek on Susan's wounded shoulder. Meredith's body quivered gently and gave off a musky heat, an oddly soothing sensation Susan savored as they lay there together and the sky grew completely dark. Through the tangle of branches and thorns above them, a few stars were beginning to show. It was quiet and still in the thorn tree grove, no echoes, not even insect sounds, just the ragged whisper of the girls' rough breathing.
Finally Meredith sat up and crawled off the bigger girl.
Susan stood, shakily.
"We have to go," she whispered, her throat tight and dry.
She stumbled toward the opening in the trees, now barely visible, and staggered through, not caring as more thorns tore at her arms and legs. Meredith followed, crashing through the opening after Susan, clumsy and dazed. Outside there was a little more light, but with Meredith's bad eyesight and dirty glasses, it was clear that she could see almost nothing. Susan turned to see her blinking uncertainly, not sure of which way to go. Up close, Susan saw that the smudges on her glasses were dark streaks of mud, or maybe blood. An ugly gash slashed the bottom of her chin, an extra turned-down mouth.
Susan reached out and took Meredith's hand. Meredith didn't resist.
"I'll lead you. Be careful."
The girls trudged slowly forward down the hill.
"I'm really sorry, Meredith, I really am," Susan said softly. "We didn't think you would stay. We thought you'd know it was a joke and just go home. We really thought you'd figure it out."
Meredith said nothing, just walked blindly behind Susan, straight ahead into the shadows of the woods.
"You're not mad, are you?" Susan continued. "I mean, you know we were just fooling around, right?"
Still silent, Meredith stopped suddenly, pulling Susan to a jolting halt. She stared at Susan, expressionless, breathing hard, the blood on her chin glistening in the starlight.
"O.k., so you are mad. So what are you going to do?"
Meredith smiled.
"What? You're not going to tell, are you? Meredith?"
Meredith stared at Susan, still smiling.
"Please don't tell," Susan begged.
Meredith said nothing.
"Please, Meredith! I came back for you, didn't I? Didn't I come back?"
Meredith jerked Susan's arm and lurched ahead, half-dragging Susan over the brush and fallen logs through the woods. Susan realized Meredith could see just well enough to focus on the shapes of their houses as they came into view down below, the lighted windows shining out like beacons. She tried to pull away, but Meredith's grip was strong, and she crushed Susan's fingers painfully when Susan tried to break free or slow down.
At the bottom of the hill, across the creek where the fields finally flattened out into mown back yards, Meredith dropped Susan's hand and ran. Susan stood watching the other girl's figure fade into the dark, then reappear, distant but clear, on the lighted back porch of her house. She thought about calling out to Meredith, to apologize again or plead for silence, but she was afraid the parents might hear. Meredith did not look back toward Susan or the woods. She pulled open the door and rushed inside. The slam of the screen door cracked across the fields.
Susan walked slowly across the backyards to her own house, through Kathy's yard. The lights were on in the kitchen, and Susan supposed she could have stopped to tell Kathy what had happened, but she just kept going. When she reached her back door, she eased it open slowly, trying to stop it from creaking and alerting her mother. No luck. Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting.
"Hi Mom," Susan mumbled.
"Where have you been?"
"Just up in the woods."
"What happened to you?"
"Nothing," Susan replied, her head down, brushing past her mother toward the stairs. "I have to go to the bathroom." She ran upstairs before her mother could protest.
The fluorescent light flickered on as Susan locked the bathroom door behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror and pulled a few twigs from her tangled hair. Just above her left eyebrow was a jagged scratch, a piece of brown grass stuck in the drying blood. She carefully lifted it away and touched her cheek, where a cluster of shallow round punctures formed a pattern, almost readable, but indecipherable.
Her mother knocked sharply on the door. Susan turned on the cold water in the sink full blast.
"Susan? Are you O.K.?"
Susan examined her arms, found more scratches, some fairly deep. Her legs were streaked with mud and covered with bloody scrapes and pinpoint thorn pricks. Her shorts were soaking wet, and Susan realized with shame it wasn't just from sweat or blood.
Susan's mother knocked again, then rattled the doorknob.
"Open the door, Susan. Let me in," she implored, exasperation seeping through her concern.
Susan pulled off her wet shorts and underpants, then stripped off her shirt. A few broken thorns clung to the cloth. She pulled it over her head and flung it to the floor, and as she did a powerful throb of pain surged through her right arm and shoulder.
Outside in the hallway, her mother was growing angrier. "Susan Marie!" she shouted, twisting the doorknob again, "I said open this door. What the hell is wrong with you?"
The pain in Susan's shoulder subsided a little. She touched it gingerly with her left hand, then turned her back to the mirror, straining her neck around to see her reflection. The bite was an angry purplish red, the flesh already beginning to swell where the edges curved in toward each other, a wide smiling oval broken at ends. Susan pressed her fingers down harder, then harder still, to see how much it really hurt. The pain was deep and steady.
"Susan!" Her mother pounded on the door. "Come out of there this minute!"
Downstairs, the telephone rang.
"Susan!" Her mother slammed the door with her fist a last time. "Shit!" Her footsteps clattered down the stairs. The phone suddenly stopped ringing, and Susan heard her mother say hello.
Susan turned around and cupped her hand under the cold water. She lifted the water to her shoulder and poured it over the wound to cool and soothe it, letting it roll down her back, her thigh, her calf. She stared at her face in the mirror and waited, naked and bloody, for her mother to return.
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