Read Online Cauchemar by Alexandra Grigorescu - Free Book Online Page B

leather had worn down that Hannah colored in with a Crayola marker. In the summer rains, she trailed a muddy stream of brown ink, quick as a wound.
    â€œGood. Let’s get a scoop. My brother has an appointment this afternoon so I’m free for a few hours.”
    â€œWhere did your family live before?” Hannah asked.
    â€œNorth Carolina. We moved here because of my brother and his,” she hesitated, “head problems. We’ve tried doctors, we’ve tried priests, and now my parents are giving herbalists and voodoo a shot.” Sarah Anne wound her arm around the crook of Hannah’s elbow. She did this silently, moving closer until their shoulders touched.
    Hannah looked carefully at Sarah Anne, her arm shaking from the effort of being kept perfectly still. “Voodoo?”
    Sarah Anne waved the question away. “Well, it’s technically not voodoo. He has a regular head shrink, but a year ago my mother started looking into other remedies. She’s been taking him to a, what do they call it, a Yoruba priest.” When Hannah raised her eyebrows, Sarah Anne added, “They thought the orishas might help. So here we are. Just us and the bugs.”
    Hannah studied the girl’s profile. “You don’t think that’s dangerous? Calling on spirits?”
    â€œMaybe.” Sarah Anne sniffed. “I told you, I know what they say about you. I think you’d know better than me what’s dangerous.” Hannah turned her head and felt Sarah squeeze her arm. She pointed to the left as they reached the edge of the town square. “That’s my favorite ice cream shop. If you lick it slowly in front of Phil, he’ll give you another one for free. It gives him a boner, I think.”
    â€œRight,” Hannah said weakly.
    â€œI touched one, back in North Carolina. I told this boy I’d give him a hand-job, because I’d heard the older girls talking about it, but I didn’t really know what it was. Neither did he, I don’t think. I just ran my nail along it, like this.” She demonstrated by tracing a vein on Hannah’s arm, and something clapped open in Hannah’s stomach. “He made this terrible face, like this, and I thought I’d hurt him. But then it started spurting this white stuff, like a little volcano. I got a bit on my dress.” She giggled and tossed her hair. “It looks a bit like a giant tapeworm, don’t you think?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Hannah said, peering into the sunlight.
    â€œI think so. Anyways, he looked kind of scared afterward, and gave me all his cash. It ended up being nine bucks.” Her voice turned wistful. “He never talked to me again after that. Too bad, really.” Sarah Anne paused, then said suddenly, “I like you,” with the fearlessness that Hannah was just beginning to attribute to the beautiful. “You don’t seem to care too much about what people think of you. Why do you even come to Sunday school?”
    â€œMy mother sends me.”
    Sarah Anne rolled her eyes and unwound her arm. Hannah felt a film, an afterglow, where it had been. “My mom sends me, too. But I think she’d kill herself if she heard I wasn’t participating. My immortal soul is really important to her. It’s this one,” Sarah Anne said, pointing to a storefront. Hannah had seen the shop before, but never been inside. She paused at the door, but Sarah Anne tugged her forward.
    â€œMy mother doesn’t talk much about my immortal soul,” Hannah said, hanging back as Sarah Anne hopped onto a stool, and all five sets of male eyes in the shop swiveled to her bare knees, which she was knocking together impatiently. Sarah Anne seemed to have the uncanny ability to convince people that she was older, or younger, as it suited her.
    â€œHi Phil,” Sarah Anne said, her voice rising in pitch even as it softened. “Two vanilla soft serves,” she