My frown deepened. “They were unfortunate, but those people were in a downward spiral anyway.” Then I looked up. “How do you know about them? Have you been following my career?”
“Oh, I know everything about you, my dear,” she said. “Remember that piece of paper you signed? I happen to have it here.” She handed it to me. “I, Amy Weinstein, hereby give my soul and my firstborn child to my friend Sally Ann in return for learning how to become gorgeous and successful and popular.” There was my signature, written in dark brown dried blood, and under it,
I looked up in horror. “It says Satan.” I could hardly get the words out. “Are you trying to tell me that she— that she was the devil in disguise?”
“What do you think?” Ms. Fer asked evenly. There was the hint of a smile on her face.
Anger welled up inside me.
“She tricked me. That was terrible. She got me to sign my soul away through trickery.”
Ms. Fer shook her head. “You said you would have done anything and at that moment you would have given anything to her, even your soul.”
“But I was a stupid kid. That’s totally unfair.”
“Whoever said that Satan had to play by the rules?” she said. “And Satan doesn’t have to have horns and a red face. He has to appear in a form that humans find seductive, otherwise he’d have few converts. You needed a best friend—a spunky, pretty best friend.”
I stared at her, openmouthed, as something else occurred to me. “My firstborn child,” I whispered. “Joshua. He was born perfect. Nothing wrong with him. And then a few hours later he suddenly stopped breathing for no reason. The doctors said something about underdeveloped lungs, but you should have heard him cry when he was born. He had a loud, perfect cry.”
“Yes, he did, didn’t he,” she said. “I did hear his cry. A lovely little fellow. I actually had a glimmer of remorse about taking him. But a contract is a contract, as you yourself said many times in court.”
For the first time I saw her name plaque on her desk. Ms. Lucy Fer.
“Am I in hell?” The words came out as a whisper.
“What do you think?”
“Either I’m still in a coma after that accident and this is a horribly real hallucination or . . .”
“You’re not in a coma any longer,” she said. “You never woke up. You slipped away and I was waiting for you.”
“But that’s not fair,” I said. “I can’t be in hell. Hell is for bad people—criminals, murderers.”
“You’re a murderer.”
“I am not.”
“The auto accident that sent you to us. You plowed into a van carrying a family. A mother and her three children. One of them was a baby of three months old. The van caught fire. They were all trapped inside and died a most horrible death.”
“But it was an accident. You said so yourself. I didn’t want to kill anybody.”
“But you ran the red light because you were in a hurry. You didn’t want to be late, did you? So you took the risk.”
I winced as she said the words. The full memory had come back to me now. I could see myself, gripping that steering wheel, my face consumed with anger. The bastard. The underhanded, sneaky bastard. How could he pull a trick like that?
“I couldn’t be late. I was told at the last minute that my opponent had shown up unexpectedly at the county fair and was going to make a speech. Sneaky tactics. He knew I was scheduled to speak there that afternoon. So I had to be there when he spoke to defend myself.”
“So you thought you could flout the law and run a red light.”
“Look, I’m sorry it happened but that van must have jumped the light, too.”
Ms. Fer shook her head. “On the contrary. The van could not have jumped anything. It was so old it could only creep along. It lacked the acceleration to get out of your way when it saw you coming. The family was poor, you see. The father had lost his job when your law firm put his company out of business. I believe you represented the bank in court on that one, didn’t you? And won your case yet again?”
“I was paid to win cases,” I said. “I was good at what I did. And I worked for whomever retained us.”
“Big business,” Ms. Fer said. “Chemical companies. Tobacco. Multinationals.”
“They paid well.”
“They destroyed lives. Texas Chemicals versus Rodriguez. You remember that one?”
Funny, that had been the thought that had popped into my head once before today. I nodded.
“Family lost three children to leukemia directly linked to outflow of toxic waste, correct?”
“It was not proven that there was a link.”
“YOU managed to prove that there wasn’t a link.”
I stared at her angrily. “I was no worse than anyone else trying to make a good living. And I was running for Congress, for pete’s sake. I wanted to help my country.”
“You wanted to fuel your ambition. That relentless, driving ambition. You had to be best, top dog, didn’t you? It’s no use, Amy Weinstein. You can’t hide anything from me. You see, I made you what you are. I saw a good brain and a desire to prove yourself and I molded you. You’ve always been my creature. Always been destined for here.”
“So is this farce of a high school the preliminary for hell? Do I have to graduate over again? Do I get some better-looking clothes?”
She smiled now. “Oh, no, my dear. You don’t get it, do you? This is hell. Your hell. For ever and ever.”
I smiled back now as a thought struck me. “Did it not occur to you that now that I know where I am, now that I know the ropes, I can survive here pretty well? I used to be a hot shot at my high school. I can become that again. I can look good and speak out against unfairness and get other kids to rally around me. I’m a natural leader, you know.”
“You became a natural leader after you had given me your soul.”
“So? Does it matter when I found my voice?”
“Very much. You see, you’ve now gone back to what you were before I transformed you. From now on every morning will be a new day for you. You’ll start the day knowing nothing—lost, blundering, pathetic without your number-two pencil to take the exam—just the way you were when Sally Ann found you at your old high school.” She watched the panic growing in my eyes, and the satisfied smile spread across her face. “Every now and then you’ll have a flash of memory, just to remind you what you have lost. But as time goes on, these memories will fade until all you’ll know is that you’re the new girl at this school—the fat girl, the misfit. Every day. For the rest of eternity.”
I stared at her. “Is there no way out?” I whispered. “No way to redeem myself? There is good in me, you know. A real desire to help. I could do good.”
“Too late, Miss Weinstein,” she said. “Your future was sealed when you sold me your soul. Now you’d better hurry. It wouldn’t do to be late for PE class.”
I got up and tried desperately to think. Some way out. There was always an escape clause.
“Wait,” I said, turning back to face her. “That contract. In the state of New York a minor cannot enter into any manner of contract without the consent of a parent and the signature of same parent. We were in the state of New York when that contract was signed. Hence it is null and void. That contract does not exist, Ms. Fer.”
I reached across the desk, took the sheet of paper and tore it in half.
I saw a flicker of amusement go through those narrowed eyes. “You obviously don’t read the small print, Miss Weinstein,” she said. “That statute does not apply to contracts signed in blood. The laws governing those contracts are far older than the state of New York. They go back to the dawn of humanity.”
“I don’t agree,” I said. “A contract signed in the state of New York is governed by the laws of that state. And a contract signed under coercion or pretense can be disputed in any state.”
“Oh, I shall enjoy having you here, Miss Weinstein,” she said. “Such an enjoyable challenge. Most poor wretches simply resign themselves to their lot.” A bell sounded in the hallway outside. “Now you had better hurry. The PE teacher is not as tolerant as I am.”
I came out of her office into the hallway that was already swarming with students. I joined the throng but my brain was already racing. I wasn’t going to let her beat me. There was always a loophole. There had to be a
