Evil in Me, page 11
Yes, the other whispered. We will have to take care of him. It is the only way.
There’d been times in Ruby’s life when she’d thought she’d heard voices, when she’d thought she’d seen things too, ghostly people out of the corner of her eye. But this was different somehow, clearer. She cocked her head, listening for more. “Fuck, what’s this ring doing to me?”
She marched round to the side of the building, near the pool, found a spigot, turned it on, and began scrubbing at the tar. And, just like Mr. Miller had said, the stuff wouldn’t come off. It hadn’t just stained her flesh, it had seeped into her flesh and was now part of her skin, and on top of everything else, it was starting to sting a little. “Fuck!”
“Well, hey, Rube,” someone called.
Ruby glanced toward the pool, and there, just on the other side of the fence, was Stacy and Billy smirking at her. They were sharing a beach towel on the grass. Stacy had on a neon-purple two-piece today, propped up on her elbows while Billy rubbed suntan lotion up and down her tummy—her tight, firm tummy.
“Heard you lost your meds,” Stacy said.
Billy snorted.
Ruby didn’t say a word, just glared at them as sweat trickled down her face. The ring began to grow hot on her finger.
“Heard you went cuckoo-crackers and tore up my tape,” Stacy went on. “Wondering if I should tell Mama about that?”
Billy’s hand slid down the front of her tummy, well below her belly button.
Stacy gave him a giggle, but it was Ruby she was looking at, gloating, like she’d beaten Ruby at some game.
Ruby bared her teeth and a savage, guttural sound escaped from deep in her throat, a sound that she didn’t even recognize.
“Oh … my … Lord,” Stacy said, and her and Billy shared a look, the look, the she’s-bat-shit-crazy look. Then, both of them burst out laughing, Stacy into a fit of high-pitch giggles and Billy hee-hawing.
The sound ate into Ruby’s brain.
Stacy began twirling her forefinger around her ear, and the ring on Ruby’s finger burned, her rage bloomed, then exploded.
Let us make them sorry, the voice whispered.
“Yes,” Ruby replied, nodding her head in full agreement. “Let’s.”
The only way into the pool area was back through the main entrance of the building. Ruby headed around, stopping only long enough to slip her gloves back on and pick up one of the two-gallon buckets of coal tar—the full one.
She passed through the lobby and went right past Mrs. Wright’s office. But this time, no one noticed this pale, skinny girl, wearing big gloves, lugging along a bucket of coal tar and wearing a look of hot murder on her face.
Ruby stalked down the long corridor to the women’s locker room, kicking the door open, and stomping past a few moms and young girls, soliciting plenty of concerned glances as she headed out into the pool area.
Kids laughed, splashing and hollering, while moms lounged about, drinking Tab, reading Redbook, and topping off their end-of-summer tans. Ruby noticed none of this, her eyes locked on Billy and Stacy.
Ruby marched over to them. They were both lying on their backs now, sunglasses on, eyes closed, soaking in the sun.
“Y’all think I’m crazy?” Ruby asked.
Billy didn’t even bother to sit up, just lowered his sunglasses and squinted at her. “What are you doing, Ruby? Not in the mood for any of your little fits today.”
A fresh wave of rage rolled through Ruby and she clutched the bucket handle even tighter.
Do it, the voice whispered.
“Dang, Ruby,” Billy put in. “You don’t look so well. Maybe you should get out of the sun.”
Stacy lifted her shades. “Holy shit, girl. You look awful.” Stacy plucked up the can of cola sitting next to Billy and gave it a swig, leaving her bright pink lipstick on the lip.
“Y’all think I’m crazy?” Ruby asked again.
“Aww, Ruby, don’t go making a big deal out of nothing.” Billy took the cola from Stacy and drank. Billy now had Stacy’s pink lipstick on his lips.
The fire in Ruby’s chest flared.
“Hey Ruby, check this out,” Billy flexed his pale gut. “An all new kinda six-pack for me. What’d you think?”
When Ruby only glared at him, Stacy put in, “I think you’re looking yummy, shug.”
“We’ve been having a sit-up contest,” he laughed. “Gonna have abs every bit as nice as Stace soon. See if I don’t.” With that he slapped Stacy’s stomach—her tight, firm stomach and gave her a smooch. Then both of them were giggling.
“I’m not crazy,” Ruby said. “Y’all are just assholes.” And with that, Ruby lifted the bucket to chest level and stepped forward.
“Ruby? Wh—” Billy started, but never finished, because that was the moment the oily tar hit his chest.
Ruby sloshed it around, dousing the both of them, the dark syrupy stuff splashing over their legs, arms, chests, and their abs, especially their abs, all over their goddamn abs.
Stacy screamed while Billy shrieked. Both raised their hands, trying to shield their faces, trying to keep the foul goo from spattering into their mouths and eyes. They rolled away, staggering to their feet, trying to escape. But before they could, Ruby managed to get one more good glob right atop of Stacy’s head, drenching her all-so-lovely, bottle-blonde hair.
Someone’s gonna have to get their head shaved, Ruby thought, and realized she was smiling, grinning really, a wide fierce sort of grin that felt good on her face. The song in her head rang out, a chorus of elation that sent shivers through her body.
Stacy and Billy stumbled toward the pool. Ruby remembered how bad the little spot on her arm had stung, imaged just how awful they must feel covered nearly head to toe, and her smile managed to grow wider.
All the little kiddies in the pool saw the two gooey, squalling monsters staggering toward them and began screaming as they panicked to escape. Mothers screamed as well, rushing for their children, many tumbling into the pool in the effort. The two lifeguards added their shrill whistles to the cacophony and all became chaos.
Stacy fell into the pool first, belly-flopping right on top of some poor little boy wearing floaters.
The stuff must’ve been in Billy’s eyes, as he dashed headfirst into the lifeguard stand, ricocheting off like a pinball, clutching his forehead as he spun backward into the water.
“Well, bless your heart,” Ruby said, and heard crazy, manic laughter, realized it was her—her and the chorus in her head.
Billy and Stacy floundered into the shallow end, hollering and wailing as they struggled to get out of the pool. They wiped frantically at the black goo, but the stuff was like glue, and all they did was smear it around.
It is time to go, the voice, the other, whispered. Time to find Mr. Rosenfeld.
Ruby nodded, allowing herself one last delicious moment to watch Stacy crawl out of the pool. The girl was stained up one side and down the other, her hair a clotted lump, like something you’d dig out of a bathroom drainpipe.
Ruby, still clutching the bucket, left the pool, walking through the horrified moms, everyone scrambling out of her way. She passed through the locker room, then up the long hall into the lobby. She felt dazed, feverish, and somehow wonderful all at the same time. She glanced into Mrs. Wright’s office, saw the top of the woman’s head and blinked. She needed to get something from her. What was it? She blinked again and it came back—the report.
She looked at the bucket, and a small sad laugh escaped her lips. “I’m so screwed.”
“Ruby,” someone called.
It was Mrs. Wright, she was waving for Ruby to come in.
Ruby opened the door and entered. The AC felt spectacular, giving Ruby goose bumps. It was on high, the loud fan drowning out most of the yelling coming from down the hall.
“Would you close that, please,” Mrs. Wright asked. “You’d think we were under attack by Martians, the way those kids carry on.” She gave Ruby a concerned look. “Ruby, you okay?”
Ruby nodded. “Never better.”
Mrs. Wright held up a sealed envelope. “Going to give you this now. But I don’t want you to read it until you get home. I put a lot of thought into this letter and I want you to read it someplace where you can pay attention … can soak in every word.” She held it out to Ruby.
Ruby took it, absently sliding it into her back pocket.
“Might not be the report you were hoping for. But it’s the one you need. Some of it’s gonna be hard to read, but remember … it’s all coming from a place of care and concern. Concern for your well-being, concern for…”
Mrs. Wright droned on, but Ruby no longer heard her, she was staring at something familiar in Mrs. Wright’s wastebasket. She blinked, realized it was the entire bag of guitar picks she’d brought for the kids.
In the trash, Ruby thought. They’re in the fucking trash.
Ruby clinched the bucket handle. “You said the moms were complaining about me.”
“What?”
“But they weren’t … were they? They wanted me to give their kids lessons. Didn’t they? Why did you lie to me, Mrs. Wright?”
Mrs. Wright reddened and Ruby saw the undeniable guilt in the flush of her cheeks.
“Why did you lie?”
“N … no … Ruby,” she sputtered. “Where did you hear such a thing?”
“You told them I was bad. Told them to keep their kids away from me.”
“Well … now … that’s not exactly true. I—”
Ruby thrust her gloved hand into the bucket, swabbed out the last gooey clump of tar. She held the dripping glove out toward Mrs. Wright, made a fist, squeezing the goo, letting it drip all over the woman’s desk and typewriter.
“Ruby!” Mrs. Wright cried, leaping up from her chair. “What are you doing?”
Ruby started around the desk, holding her dripping gloved hand out before her, backing Mrs. Wright into the corner.
“Ruby!” Mrs. Wright screamed. “Stop it!”
Ruby stopped, turned her head toward the painting on the wall, the one with the big blue ribbon. She glanced back at Mrs. Wright and gave her a grin.
“Ruby, don’t you dare!”
“I’m a bad girl … remember?”
“Ruby, stop it! Stop it now! I will report you! You know I will!”
Ruby slapped the goo onto the painting, smearing all around.
“RUBY!” Mrs. Wright screamed.
The chorus sang their sweet song and Ruby hummed right along with them. She gave the painting one last good slap, then chucked the bucket aside and tugged off the huge gloves, tossing them onto the desk. She marched out of the office, leaving Mrs. Wright sobbing in the corner.
Ruby reached the bike rack and pulled out the letter. It didn’t matter what it said, not now, not after what she’d just done, but she opened it anyway and began to read.
The bulk of it was Mrs. Wright’s usual self-aggrandizing nonsense about how she had shepherded Ruby along, then even more nonsense about how much Ruby needs Jesus Christ in her life. It was the final bit, the note for the judge, that Ruby had to read twice.
Dear Judge Stevenson,
During her time working for me at the YMCA, Ruby has shown herself to be an exemplary young woman in every way—hardworking, caring, and conscientious. I am impressed with how far she has come in such a short period of time. I feel that she has learned many lessons from her past mistakes and is already working hard toward a better life. I can, in full confidence, say that Ruby has a good heart and soul, and recommend that her probation be ended immediately.
Mrs. Janice Wright, Manager, Enterprise, Alabama, YMCA
Ruby continued to stare at the letter until her tears blurred out the letters.
It is all his doing, the voice whispered. Mr. Rosenfeld, he has ruined everything.
Ruby crumbled the letter and threw it at the building.
We need to find him. We need to fix things.
Ruby wiped away the tears, got on her bike, and started pedaling toward Mr. Rosenfeld’s trailer.
GHOULS
Ruby pedaled into her neighborhood and stopped, taking a moment to catch her breath, she was dripping in sweat. The hard ride had cleared her head a touch—the chorus now a distant hum.
“What’s the plan, Ruby Tucker?” she asked herself, staring at the ring.
You know what you must do, whispered that strange voice.
Ruby rubbed her forehead, clinched her eyes, and caught a flash of Mr. Rosenfeld lying on the ground, his neck slit open. “No!” Ruby cried. “Never. Can’t do that!”
He has left you no choice.
“I love that man.”
He is not a man. You know this.
She saw the Mr. Rosenfeld from her dream then, the one with the glowing red eye glaring out from his forehead. Only now, she was certain it hadn’t been a dream at all. No, he had been there in her room.
He is a demon.
“No!”
Yes, the voice insisted, and it was almost as though she had said it.
He has tricked you. He wants your soul.
“Y … yes,” she relented, and it felt good to let the truth in. “Yes. God, yes. I see it all now.”
He has you. If you want to stop him, want to save your soul. You know what you must do.
She did, but still she shook her head.
You have to kill him, Ruby.
She struggled not to listen, but it was so hard. The voice, it sounded so sure, so earnest, but more it sounded like a friend, like a most beloved friend.
“I’ll hurt him if I have to. Whatever it takes to make him take this ring off. But I’m not gonna kill him.”
He is a tricky demon. He will have traps.
Ruby took in every word.
He wants to eat your soul.
Ruby shuddered, then heard a distant siren, blinked, remembered she didn’t have long. “Not going back to the ward. No fucking way. Getting the hell out of here. Steal a car if I have to. Whatever it takes.”
Whatever it takes, the voice echoed.
She steered the bike down the street, pedaling fast, heading for her house. She needed to pick up a few things, her cash, some extra clothes, and—
And a very sharp knife, she thought, unsure if it was her own thought or that of the voice, not sure it mattered any longer.
She cut into her driveway, grateful to see that Eduardo’s truck wasn’t there.
She dumped her bike on the front lawn and sprinted up the walk, stepping over a few gardening tools and a pile of freshly torn-up weeds. Just as she reached the front door, her mother came rushing out, almost hitting her with the screen.
“Oh, Ruby! Honey, sorry. Didn’t even see you.” Her mother skirted past, her car keys jangling in her hand. “Running late.”
“Hey, mom. Hold up a sec.”
Her mom stopped. “What is it, shug?”
“My money … y’know the money dad left me. I need it.”
“Well, sure okay. Remind me when I get home.”
“No, I need it now.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah.”
Her mom gave her a sharp look. “What’s up? You in trouble?”
“No,” Ruby lied. “Why do you always think I’m in trouble?” But she knew why—because she’d been in nothing but trouble ever since her father had died. There was more, and it had a lot to do with her father’s mental issues, the huge mess that ended with his suicide. She felt her mother lumped her troubles in with her dad’s, that it was easier that way, easier to blame some mysterious inherited mental problem than maybe taking a little accountability. But, as she often had to remind her mother, most of her father’s difficulties had come from spending six-months in a POW camp in Vietnam, not something he was born with.
“You look pale,” her mother said. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Got overheated. That’s all.”
Her mother didn’t appear to believe her. “Honey, we’ll talk about the money tonight.”
“Can’t wait ’til tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Well…” Ruby realized she didn’t have a good reason, other than she was about to beat the crap out of an old man and flee the state. “Um … I … I’ve got a lead on a car … and, and maybe an apartment. But I need to act fast.”
Her mother’s face brightened. “You’re thinking of moving out?”
“Yeah, mom. Don’t look so goddamn happy.”
“Great. Eduardo should be home any minute. He’ll be happy to go look at a car with you. He’s real good under the hood.” She smirked. “Of a car that is.”
“Mom, the money?”
“I don’t have two grand on me, sweetie.”
“Duh, Mom, I know that. A check. And it’s more like four grand, not two.”
“Well, I don’t have that in my bank account either.”
“Yeah, you do. Of course, you do. It’s in the account dad left me.”
Her mother looked away. “Ruby … listen. I don’t have your money. I mean, I do … just not right now. It’s not in there.”
“What’d you mean?”
Her mother appeared to be searching for the right words.
“What’d you mean, Mom? Where is it?”
Her mother let out a sigh. “I lent it to Eduardo.”
Ruby’s mouth fell open. “Y … you did what?”
“Oh, now, don’t wig out on me. It was a loan. Just a loan. For his truck. You needn’t worry, he’s good for it.”
The rage returned along with the heat in her chest. The chorus began to sing. “You gave my money … Dad’s money, to that … to that, dumbass? To that fucking leech?”
“Ruby!” her mother snapped. “What’s wrong with you? If you think I’m gonna stand here and listen to you talk about Eduardo that way, you can think again. Really, I’ve had about enough of your attitude. Eduardo just needed a little help, a little boost. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve certainly been getting a lot of help around here. When’s the last time you paid rent?”
