Read Online Paint by Magic by Kathryn Reiss - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathryn Reiss
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quick swoop. "Not all of them!" she cried. "Not
this
one!"
"Let me see it," I said.
"You can't," said Mom, folding the paper and putting it behind her back. "You mustn't see this. You'd never understand." But something in her eyes looked to me like she might be wavering, like maybe she really
did
want to show somebody.
"How could Fitzgerald Cotton paint you before you were even born, Mom?" I whispered. "How could he paint these"âI reached out a trembly finger and touched the gold elephants that dangled from her earsâ"before Dad ever gave them to you?"
Mom was watching me closely. There were tears in her eyes.
I felt I was just on the brink of understanding something, something so weird that it couldn't be grasped. It was too impossible.
"Tell me what happened to you, Mom," I said urgently. "Tell me what's
still
happeningâ"
But it was too late. Even as I spoke to her, it was happening again. Happening worse than before. Her eyes narrowed, seemed to glaze over in that awful stare ... but this time, instead of the usual panic, there was a new and fearful cruelty in them. Her mouth, teeth bared, curled up into that awful grimace. "
Ahhggghhh!
" she cried through the terrible grin. "
Ahhaaa!
"
I jumped back from herâI had seen that smile somewhere before!
Her hands held the art book open as if she'd just looked up from reading it. The grin was frozen on her face. Her eyes didn't blink. Behind her on my bedside table I could see my alarm clock: 7:27. I grabbed at the art book, but her fingers held it like a vise. I forced it away and flipped through the pages, backing across the room because she looked so ... so much like the little evil face in the corner of Fitzgerald Cotton's later paintings! I dropped the book.
"No!" I cried, and I grabbed Mom's arm. She didn't blink, and she didn't unfreeze. "Mom,
no
!" It was like talking to a statue. The numbers on the clock changed, but nothing about Mom moved at all: 7:28.
The door to my room burst open and Crystal and Dad ran in. "We heard you yell," Crystal said. "Is it Momâ"
"Pam!" cried Dad, and he ran to her, gasping when he saw her ferocious face. "Oh, dear God!" he whispered, shuddering, and it really did sound like a prayer. "What is happening here?"
He bent over her as he had down in the kitchen and listened to her heartbeat. "It's very slow, kids; this is really bad. How can this be happening? I think we could lose her ... Ohâwe need help!"
"I'll call!" Crystal shrieked. "I'll call nine-one-one!" She turned to leave the room, looking back over her shoulder at Mom's evil grin and cold, glittering eyes. As Crystal ran out, the folded paper fluttered to the floor in her wake.
My dad was working on Mom, trying so desperately to help her, panic in his eyes. After a few seconds he jumped up again. "Watch her, Con," he cried. "We need an ambulance!" He raced out of the room after Crystal, and I was alone with Mom.
"
Aggghhh,
" Mom groaned in the voice of the damned. "
Aghhhaaa!
" Blood was seeping out of her hairline againâreally starting to drip. Flinching, I reached out and touched her cheekâno, wait a minuteânot blood. Something else. Something else red. Wet and sticky...
I rubbed my fingers together. Sniffed them in disbelief. Felt my stomach drop.
Not bloodâbut
paint.
Then I knew that the help we needed couldn't come from an ambulance. Dr. Rhodes and all of modern medicine wouldn't be able to help my momâI knew this in my gut. People did not leak paint. They just
didn't.
But here was Mom, frozen, groaning. And that book. And that paper on the floor.
I reached down and picked up the folded paper that Mom had tried to keep from me. The brittle page tingled in my hands as I unfolded it and stared down at a sketch of Mom sitting on thick grass, holding out her hand. Her smile was an invitation. I reached out a finger and touched the charcoal drawing, and a wave of cold rolled over me....
I went limp, felt myself
this
one!"
"Let me see it," I said.
"You can't," said Mom, folding the paper and putting it behind her back. "You mustn't see this. You'd never understand." But something in her eyes looked to me like she might be wavering, like maybe she really
did
want to show somebody.
"How could Fitzgerald Cotton paint you before you were even born, Mom?" I whispered. "How could he paint these"âI reached out a trembly finger and touched the gold elephants that dangled from her earsâ"before Dad ever gave them to you?"
Mom was watching me closely. There were tears in her eyes.
I felt I was just on the brink of understanding something, something so weird that it couldn't be grasped. It was too impossible.
"Tell me what happened to you, Mom," I said urgently. "Tell me what's
still
happeningâ"
But it was too late. Even as I spoke to her, it was happening again. Happening worse than before. Her eyes narrowed, seemed to glaze over in that awful stare ... but this time, instead of the usual panic, there was a new and fearful cruelty in them. Her mouth, teeth bared, curled up into that awful grimace. "
Ahhggghhh!
" she cried through the terrible grin. "
Ahhaaa!
"
I jumped back from herâI had seen that smile somewhere before!
Her hands held the art book open as if she'd just looked up from reading it. The grin was frozen on her face. Her eyes didn't blink. Behind her on my bedside table I could see my alarm clock: 7:27. I grabbed at the art book, but her fingers held it like a vise. I forced it away and flipped through the pages, backing across the room because she looked so ... so much like the little evil face in the corner of Fitzgerald Cotton's later paintings! I dropped the book.
"No!" I cried, and I grabbed Mom's arm. She didn't blink, and she didn't unfreeze. "Mom,
no
!" It was like talking to a statue. The numbers on the clock changed, but nothing about Mom moved at all: 7:28.
The door to my room burst open and Crystal and Dad ran in. "We heard you yell," Crystal said. "Is it Momâ"
"Pam!" cried Dad, and he ran to her, gasping when he saw her ferocious face. "Oh, dear God!" he whispered, shuddering, and it really did sound like a prayer. "What is happening here?"
He bent over her as he had down in the kitchen and listened to her heartbeat. "It's very slow, kids; this is really bad. How can this be happening? I think we could lose her ... Ohâwe need help!"
"I'll call!" Crystal shrieked. "I'll call nine-one-one!" She turned to leave the room, looking back over her shoulder at Mom's evil grin and cold, glittering eyes. As Crystal ran out, the folded paper fluttered to the floor in her wake.
My dad was working on Mom, trying so desperately to help her, panic in his eyes. After a few seconds he jumped up again. "Watch her, Con," he cried. "We need an ambulance!" He raced out of the room after Crystal, and I was alone with Mom.
"
Aggghhh,
" Mom groaned in the voice of the damned. "
Aghhhaaa!
" Blood was seeping out of her hairline againâreally starting to drip. Flinching, I reached out and touched her cheekâno, wait a minuteânot blood. Something else. Something else red. Wet and sticky...
I rubbed my fingers together. Sniffed them in disbelief. Felt my stomach drop.
Not bloodâbut
paint.
Then I knew that the help we needed couldn't come from an ambulance. Dr. Rhodes and all of modern medicine wouldn't be able to help my momâI knew this in my gut. People did not leak paint. They just
didn't.
But here was Mom, frozen, groaning. And that book. And that paper on the floor.
I reached down and picked up the folded paper that Mom had tried to keep from me. The brittle page tingled in my hands as I unfolded it and stared down at a sketch of Mom sitting on thick grass, holding out her hand. Her smile was an invitation. I reached out a finger and touched the charcoal drawing, and a wave of cold rolled over me....
I went limp, felt myself
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