Pretty Please (Nightmare Hall) Page 2

  Evan, who had refused to pose with them and received no argument from Missy, stood off to one side. “Those candles over their heads are going to cast shadows on their faces,” he pointed out.

  Missy barely glanced at the pair of burning candelabra, sitting on shelves above the bench. “It’ll be romantic,” she said, peering into her camera. “A nice, romantic glow. Just the effect I want.”

  It hasn’t been a bad night at all, Jo thought, straightening her skirt and obediently sitting up straight on the bench. Not bad at all. I think I have finally relaxed. Whatever that nagging feeling was, it must have come from something I ate.

  She wet her lips as she’d been taught to do and prepared to smile when Missy said “Cheese!” Although in Missy’s case, she might well say “petit fours” or “caviar.”

  A crowd had gathered to watch them pose. Missy was calling out orders like a drill sergeant—sit this way; move that way; turn in this direction; take a step backward, Reed; cross your legs, Nan—when a couple came in through the patio doors, bringing a sudden gust of wind with them.

  The wind circled the bench. The group shivered with the sudden cold.

  Missy, annoyed, lowered the camera.

  Then the wind danced on, wrapping itself around the candelabra on the wall behind the bench. The wind pulled and tugged at the flames, teasing them, fueling them into two separate, roaring blazes shooting out of the wall.

  Someone slammed the glass doors shut;

  With a disappointed moan, the wind died.

  But before Missy could lift the camera again, a girl in the crowd of onlookers gasped and screamed, “Reed’s jacket’s on fire!”

  The three girls on the bench jumped up and whirled around.

  There were no flames, only smoke behind Reed’s head, but it was clear that his jacket had been touched by the brief, sudden blaze. It was also clear that the cloth could burst into flames at any moment.

  Reed’s eyes were startled, his face as stark-white as the wall behind him. “What should I do?” he whispered.

  Everyone began screaming at once. “Throw him on the floor! Back him up against the wall! Someone get a blanket!”

  The crowd surged forward, pushing Jo aside.

  It was Evan who shouted, “Take the stupid jacket off!”

  Too late. The jacket burst into flames. Yellow and orange spires shot up into the air and singed Reed’s hair, causing him to cry out. His eyes were wild with fear.

  Jo’s only thought as she watched, horrified, was to get to her friend’s aid and rip the jacket off him before he was seriously injured.

  She tried to move forward, to join Carl, struggling to remove the flaming jacket from a fear-paralyzed Reed.

  But the crowd, a solid wall of people bordering on hysteria caused by the sight of the flames, surrounded her, imprisoning her.

  Jo pushed against them, pushed hard.

  Just as she thought she was going to break free, that one more step would do it, something hit the small of her back, hard, knocking her off-balance.

  At the same moment, the crowd surged forward. With nothing solid to grasp and no one in front of her to break her fall, Jo was slammed forward as if she’d been hit by a truck.

  She was thrown directly into one of the glass doors.

  The sound of splintering wood and exploding glass mingled with horrified screams and gasps as Jo crashed into and through the door, head first, falling to the stone patio in a shower of flying glass and fragments of wood.

  Face down amid the debris, Jo lay perfectly still.

  Icy January air rushed into the ballroom.

  Behind her, Reed’s jacket, safely off him, lay smoldering on the floor.

  A stunned silence fell over the crowd. They stood frozen, staring in renewed shock at the patio.

  Evan was the first to reach Jo’s side. Gently, very gently, he reached down and turned her over.

  Someone screamed.

  Johanna Donahue’s beautiful face was smeared from forehead to chin with bright red blood.

  Chapter 3

  WHEN JO WOKE UP, she was surrounded by white. It took her several dazed moments to realize she was lying in one of the small white cubicles in the infirmary. She had been there once before, when she’d been struck in the head by a softball early in the first semester.

  A tall, blonde woman in a white jacket, clipboard in hand, was standing at the foot of her bed. Her name, Jo remembered, was Dr. Trent.

  “Well, you’re awake! Good.” The doctor moved around to stand beside Jo. “I have good news for you. No serious harm done.”

  Jo worked at sorting things out. The party…Reed’s jacket on fire…the glass doors…she had fallen…Jo gasped. She’d gone through those doors headfirst. The glass had exploded…her hands flew to her face. Had it been sliced to ribbons by that flying glass?

  She felt bandages—lots of tape and a thick pad of gauze under one eye. “Oh, no!” she cried. “What’s happened to my face?”

  “You’re fine,” Dr. Trent said. “Don’t let the bandages scare you. You’ve only got one serious cut on the side of your neck, where a scar won’t show, and another less serious one on your right cheek, just under your eye. You were very lucky.”

  Lucky? Fighting tears, Jo gingerly explored the patchwork of tiny pieces of tape and the larger squares of gauze, one on her neck, one on her cheek. She felt like a mummy. Her heart sank and she struggled against panic. No one would be asking her to model for newspaper ads any time soon.

  “I notified your mother,” the doctor said. “I explained that you’re not in any danger, and I think she’s okay with it. But I’m sure she’d like to hear from you. Give her a call as soon as you’re fully awake, okay? There’s a phone on the wall over there.”

  When Jo had pulled herself together, she made the call, assuring her mother that there was no need for a visit to campus. She sounded much more certain than she felt. Her face felt stiff and sore. How could she be sure the doctor was telling the truth about no serious damage? Couldn’t she just be saying that so Jo wouldn’t get hysterical?

  She wanted to find a mirror and check for herself.

  Then, just as quickly, she decided she didn’t want to find a mirror. Not yet.

  She decided that she would believe the doctor. “No serious harm done.” She would believe it because she couldn’t stand not to.

  Her friends were allowed to see her, and they all breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the doctor informed them that “It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.” She smiled at the white-faced group anxiously gathered around Jo’s bed. “I know all that blood must have been scary,” she said, “but most of the cuts were surface lacerations. I only had to stitch two, and one of those was on the side of her neck. It will hardly show at all.”

  “She’s going to look,” the doctor continued, “like she tangled with a tiger, for a couple of weeks. After that, she should be good as new. I’m going to keep her here overnight to watch for any signs of a head injury. But my take on it is that she’ll be free to go in the morning. Stop by then.”

  They wanted to believe the doctor. But Jo could see that they were skeptical. She didn’t blame them. Even without a mirror, she could imagine what she looked like.

  “Is Reed okay?” she asked anxiously.

  Evan nodded. “The hair on the back of his neck was singed, but that’s about it. I think he’s still shaking, though. We took him home and put him to bed.”

  They had all had a terrible scare. And Jo could see that they hadn’t quite recovered from it yet. Nan and Kelly were white as sheets, and Carl was staring at her as if he expected her to burst into tears at any moment.

  What good would that do? She’d just get her bandages wet.

  Although she was given something to help her sleep, she spent a long, restless night, tossing and turning and trying to tell herself that her face wasn’t her most important asset. There were other things, good things, that had nothing to do with her appearance.

/>   But…her face was what people saw first. So it mattered, no matter how hard she tried to pretend it didn’t.

  She fell asleep and dreamed of the newspaper ads they’d posed for. But in her dream, there were only four people in all of the photos. She was missing. And when she complained to the editor, he smiled at her and said, “Well, of course you’re not in them. You’re no longer one of The Beautiful People, not with that face.”

  She woke up chilled and shaking, and had a hard time going back to sleep.

  The following morning, when her friends, including Reed, showed up to take Jo back to Lester dorm, their skepticism was obvious. Reed, who hadn’t seen her the night before, looked especially shocked. Because the patient really did look, as the doctor had warned them, as if she had “tangled with a tiger.” And she didn’t look as if she’d be “good as new” any time soon.

  Her face was a patchwork quilt of bruises and cuts, which peeked out from beneath the bandages that crisscrossed her face and neck.

  Jo had decided, upon awakening after her bad night, that she was going to take things one day at a time. No point in getting all bent out of shape over this until she knew for sure that she wouldn’t have to wear a bag over her head for the rest of her life.

  “I know, I know,” she said, gingerly attempting a grin. “I’m not looking my best.” Already dressed in the clothes Kelly had brought her the night before, she stood up. “But it could have been a lot worse, right?”

  When no one said anything, Jo laughed nervously. “It could have, right?”

  Then they all murmured, “Sure, of course, it’s not that bad.” But their eyes still registered shock. After what the doctor had told them the night before, they had been expecting Jo to look almost normal.

  She did not, she knew, look almost normal. Probably not even close.

  Sensing their discomfort, Jo babbled nervously all the way to the dorm. “I’m glad I only had to stay one night,” she said, trying valiantly to ignore the blatant stares of people who passed them on the Commons, a grassy area surrounded by tall stone and brick ivy-covered buildings. Some people actually stopped in their tracks, eyes wide, as Jo passed by. “That place is too noisy. They were working on that new wall behind the infirmary at six o’clock this morning. Six o’clock!”

  Groups of people whispered and sneaked quick glances at Jo, avoiding eye contact. Their horror showed plainly on their faces.

  Jo felt her aching face flush with heat. How could people be so rude?

  And was this kind of awful attention what was in store for her? She was used to positive attention. Admiring glances. Not this…this shocked curiosity, as if she were an exhibit in a freak show.

  She’d never be able to stand it.

  They passed a pair of Twin Falls policemen, walking toward Butler Hall, the administration building.

  “What are they doing here?” Jo asked Evan.

  He shrugged. “Who knows? Complaining about too many speeding tickets being doled out to our fellow students, maybe?”

  “I think,” Nan said, “they’re here about some girl who disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Well, she’s gone. A freshman. Hasn’t been to class or slept in her bed, I heard. She probably just went back home. Let’s face it, everyone doesn’t love Salem the way we do, right?”

  “Who is she?” Jo asked. “Anyone we know?”

  “Not really,” Nan replied. “At least, I didn’t. Sharon Westover.” Her tone of voice implied that anyone she didn’t know couldn’t be all that important. Nan had very clear ideas about who mattered and who didn’t. Someone she didn’t know didn’t matter. “The girl who was in that bad car wreck last fall. I heard she’d been depressed ever since. So she probably just took off, right?”

  “Look,” Carl told Jo, “you’ve got enough to worry about. Don’t start obsessing about people you don’t even know. Nan’s probably right, anyway. The girl decided to go home and work at the local fast food joint.” He laughed. “I’ve thought about it a couple of times, especially around finals.”

  Jo decided Carl was right. What was she doing worrying about someone she didn’t even know when every inch of her face stung?

  People were still staring.

  Lowering her head, she hurried her steps. And changed the subject. “So,” she said, her voice unnaturally high, “is Missy worried that I’m going to sue? Or is she just going to send me a bill for the patio door?” Her laugh, too, was high and strained. “I don’t usually destroy houses I’m partying in.”

  They all laughed then, and that helped. By the time they reached room 428 at Lester, they were all laughing and talking, as if nothing horrible had happened.

  “We didn’t have time to get balloons or flowers,” Kelly apologized as she held the door open for Jo. “But I did go downstairs and get you a Coke and a glazed doughnut.”

  The snack was sitting on the table beside Jo’s bed.

  “That’s exactly what I was hoping for,” Jo said, smiling and heading for the bed. “Thanks, Kelly.”

  Reaching for the Coke, she had her back to the room when she heard a soft “oooh” of dismay behind her. Evan said, “What…?” and Carl let out a soft whistle.

  Jo turned around.

  Her eyes followed their stunned gaze…to the wide, framed mirror hanging over the large wooden dresser Jo and Kelly shared.

  The mirror was completely draped in black.

  Chapter 4

  JO STARED AT THE mirror, which was covered from side to side and top to bottom with heavy black fabric. Not an inch of glass showed. When she found her voice, she questioned, “Kelly?”

  Kelly was staring at it, too. “Jo, I…” She tried again. “I…it wasn’t like this when I left the room to go downstairs. It wasn’t. I…I wouldn’t do this.”

  Jo looked at her roommate. “You didn’t do this? You weren’t trying to…protect me?”

  “Protect you? Jo, I do not think of you as needing my protection. Not even after last night. I know lots of people who would steer clear of mirrors if they’d been…banged up like you have. But you’re not one of them. I didn’t do this.”

  “It’s a joke,” Carl suggested, moving forward to tug at the black fabric. “A sick joke, I’ll give you that, but it’s got to be a joke. Maybe Missy did it.”

  “Nah.” Reed shook his head. “This isn’t her kind of thing. Besides, she probably took to her bed because her party was a disaster. We won’t see her on campus for at least three days, I guarantee it.”

  Carl was still tugging on the fabric. “Well, whoever did it,” he said, “did a good job. This stuff wasn’t just tossed over the mirror. It was glued on. Anybody got a knife?”

  Evan had a pocketknife. Opening the blade, he began to cut away the black fabric.

  Jo went over and sat down on her bed. She felt sick. “Do I really look that bad?” she asked quietly, her eyes on the floor. “All those people were staring at me…”

  They all rushed to reassure her. “Of course not, Jo. You look fine. Don’t be silly, Jo.”

  But someone thought she looked that bad. Someone thought she shouldn’t even look into a mirror.

  When Evan had stripped away the last of the fabric, he glanced around the room. “You guys have your own bathroom?” he asked.

  Kelly nodded, waving a hand toward the bathroom. “Why?” Then her face paled and she whispered, “Oh, no…”

  Evan, his mouth set grimly, turned in the direction of Kelly’s wave.

  But Jo jumped up and ran to the bathroom doorway before anyone could stop her. When she looked inside, one hand flew to her mouth. The mirror on the medicine cabinet was draped exactly as the dresser mirror had been. “Oh, I don’t believe this,” she said softly. “What is going on?”

  Evan hurried over to gently move her away from the door. “Go sit down,” he said. “I’ll get rid of it.” And he disappeared inside, closing the door behind him.

  No one said anything as Jo, tears beginning t
o slide down her cheeks, returned to sink down upon her bed. Kelly joined her, putting a comforting arm around Jo’s shoulders. “Someone on campus has a really sick sense of humor,” Reed said awkwardly, leaning against the dresser. “Don’t let it throw you, Jo, okay?”

  Jo glared at him. Easy for him to say. His face didn’t look like he’d been run over by a lawnmower. There was no visible damage at all from the fire the night before. He was as gorgeous as ever. Still, Reed was only trying to be nice.

  Evan came out of the bathroom, his hands filled with a bundle of black. “I’ll get rid of this,” he offered, and left the room.

  “How well do you know that guy?” Carl asked when the door had closed.

  Jo looked up at him. “What?”

  “Well, I mean, you just met him, right? Last night?”

  Jo nodded.

  “Did he seem like the kind of guy who would go in for practical jokes? Creepy practical jokes, for instance?”

  Jo was about to retort, Don’t be ridiculous, when she realized that she couldn’t. After all, how much did she know about Evan? Almost nothing.

  “It’s just that he did ask about the bathroom mirror,” Carl continued. “None of the rest of us even thought about a second mirror. It was almost like…like he knew.”

  Jo wanted more than anything to say, No, you’re wrong, Carl. It couldn’t have been Evan. But she was too hurt and confused to say anything.

  Evan returned to a roomful of silence. He picked up on it right away. “Sorry, folks, but you’ve got the wrong guy,” he said drily. “I know I’m the new kid on the block in this group. But I’m also the only one here who didn’t know Jo’s room number.”

  “Anyone can get a room number,” Carl said stubbornly. “Piece of cake.”

  Evan smiled lazily. “This is true. But that ‘anyone’ would have to have a reason to make Jo miserable.” He looked at Jo. “Making Jo miserable isn’t on my agenda. You can take my word for that or not, your choice. But I think a better idea would be figuring out who does want to make Jo miserable.”