The Pumpkin Man

path through a mob of young teens all scurrying to their lockers to stow books and grab lunches, but Jenn had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to be hungry for lunch after this meeting. And she was right.

“Sit down,” Sister Beatrice instructed, taking her place behind a large desk whose blond wood was almost completely hidden by stacks of paper. “As you know, we’ve had to look very closely at the budget for the remainder of this year and next. We started the year with fewer students than we expected and have had several switch to public schools since. At the same time, expenses continue to climb. Last night, we approved a reduction in force.”

Oh crap. RIF’ed in her first year? That meant she’d be without a check come summer if she didn’t move fast.

“This impacts several of our staff,” Sister Beatrice continued, “and I’m sorry to tell you that you are one of them. Unfortunately, it is effective immediately. If you could turn in your grade books before you leave today, we’d appreciate it.”

Jenn didn’t know what to say.

The principal didn’t give her time to think of anything. She pushed a formal-looking letter forward and pointed to a line with her name at the bottom of the page. “Please sign.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Jenn sat in a stall in the bathroom and cried for a few minutes, but that didn’t help. She finished up her classes, then opened and closed the drawers on her desk five times, looking for possessions she didn’t want to accidentally leave behind. On the sixth look, she pocketed a box of the school’s paperclips. She’d need them for resume letters.

She dropped off her grades at the front desk without a word, then fled to her car, just barely holding back another spate of tears. She’d thought that her dad’s death bled her dry, but from somewhere deep inside she found a new reserve of saltwater—and remorse. She tried to picture Rudy’s face and told herself that at least she wouldn’t have to deal with the Neanderthal any longer, but instead of cheering her up, the idea of never seeing Rudy “pee” on the floor again just made things worse. As angry as he’d made her, she still cared. That had always been her problem with boys, really. No matter how much they hurt her, she forgave them. They used her, and still she opened her arms. Usually to empty air.

When she finally arrived home, Jennica walked into the foyer and checked the mail slot. Apparently Kirstin was still out, because the box was full. Typical. They rarely drove to work together because Kirstin was always traipsing off somewhere else afterward.

She riffled through the envelopes as she walked up the stairs: Advertising coupons. An electric bill. A Visa bill. A “Have You Seen This Child?” flyer. An unstamped envelope, hand-addressed to her . . .

Frowning, she opened the last and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It was from her landlord. Absently, she let herself into the apartment and kicked the door closed behind her. As she read the short but painfully clear letter, she sat on the couch and found yet another reserve of tears.

Kirstin came home an hour later and dropped her bag on the floor. “They fuckin’ fired me,” she announced, hands on hips. “They didn’t even let me finish out the term. RIF’ed to the curb like, NOW, and don’t let the door hit you in your pretty little ass on your way out.”

Jenn looked up from the arm of the couch, her eyes red. “You, too?” She’d been so upset, she hadn’t even thought to check. When something hurt her, she retreated into herself. Her friend was the opposite: she told the world.

“Patrick and Darren took me out for a beer afterward. They couldn’t believe it,” Kirstin said. “I don’t know how the hell they’re going to cover my classrooms.”

Jenn shook her head. She’d been wondering the same thing.

“Sister Beatrice didn’t even give me a chance to ask—” Finally it dawned on Kirstin what Jennica had said, and she eyed her friend in shock. “Wait a minute, they canned you, too? Effective immediately?”

Jenn nodded.

“Oh, shit.” Kirstin’s mouth hung open in shock. “How the hell are we going to cover the rent?”

Jenn laughed. “Oh, that’s easy. We won’t have to.”

“Huh?”

Jenn shoved forward the letter from the landlord. “The building’s going condo. We have sixty days to get out.”

Meredith Perenais’s Journal

October 17, 1984

They turned on him today. George was carving a child’s portrait into one of the pumpkins down near Postens’ Farm Stand when the boy’s mother turned up. He said she started yelling at him to leave her son alone, and slapped his hand.

“Molester,” she screamed at him. “What are you doing to our children? What did you do to Billy Hawkins?”

She called George a monster, and the little boy started to cry. Then she ripped her son away and dragged him from the pumpkin stand. But that wasn’t the end of it. After she left, Nick Postens came down from the barn and asked George to leave, too. Just like that. “You’re not welcome here anymore.” As if somehow carving faces into pumpkins was the devil’s work and his eyes had just been opened to it.

They’re scared is what it is. Scared of what happened to the missing Hawkins boy. Scared of what I’m doing up here. Not that it stops them from coming up the hill to ask me in secret if I can make a charm for this or a drink to cure that. But deep down they’re suspicious of my magic as much as they want it. And now they’re making George pay, since they don’t dare touch me. I’m the witch, right? But what they don’t understand is that if they hurt him, they ARE hurting me.

All I’ve ever tried to do was to draw healing from the natural forces. I tried to help. But maybe it’s time that I stopped helping. Maybe it’s time to use the power that is there for the taking to hurt them back.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Jennica closed Meredith’s journal and shook her head. People were crazy all over—fickle, untrustworthy, always ready to kick you in the teeth as soon as they scented a hint of weakness. Her aunt’s journal entry was dated more than twenty-five years ago, but nothing ever really changed. Her aunt sounded more than a little crazy, but the problems she had faced were the same either way. People always sucked. Only the names changed. Jenn knew about trying to be nice to people and having them kick you in the face as thanks.

She curled up in a ball on the couch and hugged her pillow. Reading Meredith’s journal wasn’t helping her mood. For the past few days she’d felt worse than she could ever remember.

From the back of the apartment a sudden pounding beat rocked the picture frames on the wall, and a moment later Kirstin came dancing down the hall in gray sweats and a baggy white Hello Kitty T-shirt singing AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.” Jennica couldn’t help but laugh when her roommate held the phantom mic to her lips and then wriggled her hips like a rock star.

“Off the couch, you moody bitch!” Kirstin demanded. She tried to drag her friend up by the hand, but Jennica waved her off. Kirstin didn’t stop, but instead danced her way around the living room, dancing with a lamp and then miming obscene things with a flashlight she pulled from the hall closet until the song ended. Finally she launched herself to land on the cushion next to Jennica, breathing hard.