Vassa in the Night Read Free Page A

She tries to bite my lip, but I yank her back in time and her little wooden jaws snap on empty air.
    When I said that magical things in Brooklyn should be shunned like the plague? I’m sorry to say that’s not always an option. I was leaving Erg out of the equation although, with her being a talking doll and everything, she’d be magic by anyone’s standards. I don’t have much chance of avoiding her, since we’re bound to each other for life. And no, I didn’t name her that. It’s what she calls herself. When I was younger I tried to get her to accept names like Jasmine or Clarissa but she wasn’t having it.
    I plonk Erg down on my lap and get out the bottle of lemon oil from under the sink. It’s her favorite and I always try to keep some around. Dab the oil on some toilet paper and give her a nice rubdown, working it up and down her limbs while she makes little purring sounds. Getting oiled makes her sleepy and she rolls on my black flannel pajamas and rubs her face against me like a kitten. She can be cute sometimes. She’d better be cute, really, considering all the trouble she causes.
    â€œYou don’t like Stephanie anyway,” Erg murmurs. “She’s kind of a bitch.”
    â€œI like her fine,” I say. “You need to quit projecting.” Erg snuggles into the folds of my pajama leg, yawning and wrapping her tiny arms around the loose fabric. By the time I slip her back into my pocket she’s fast asleep.
    When I get back to the bedroom Chels and Steph are both glowering at me like they have synchronized brain waves. “You were gone a while,” Chels observes coolly.
    â€œWhat?” I say. I’m still standing against the door. “Like two minutes?” We all know how meaningless minutes are now, at night anyway. “Did you find your locket, Steph?”
    â€œYeah,” she says, then pauses. “I did.”
    â€œSo where was it?” I try to sound uninterested.
    â€œIn your shoe. One of the ones with the spikes.”
    My guts tighten up just a bit. “Weird.”
    â€œUnder your bed.”
    â€œDouble weird.” Erg will be lucky if she eats again this week.
    â€œYou think that just because you can get away with murder with boys, you can mess with me, too? My mom gave me that locket, Vassa!” Maybe that’s why Erg was attracted to it. Another mom-present, like she and the locket could be comrades and start an insurrection.
    â€œI didn’t touch it,” I say. But this is one of those times when truth is utterly worthless. They won’t stop scowling.
    â€œVassa,” Chelsea hazards, “if you won’t admit you have a problem then there’s no way we can even try to help. You’re basically our sister, and we both really want to be able to trust you. Right? And you’re a great person, but you have this serious issue which is making everyone feel like you’re bad news to be around. I am saying this,” she adds carefully, “out of love.”
    â€œI appreciate the love part,” I tell her. “But I didn’t do it.”
    â€œThen who did?”
    I can’t answer that, is the problem. Everything would be so much simpler if I could just tell them the truth, and I want to. I could pull Erg out of my pocket and let her take some responsibility for once. But, well, I promised my mom, an hour before she died, that I would keep Erg completely secret forever, and feed her and take care of her, and—like three more times—that I would really, truly never tell anyone. I don’t want to lie to Chelsea, though. “Not me. That’s all I can tell you, Chels. Okay?”
    â€œ Very not okay.” Chelsea is nobody’s fool. She has huge dark eyes that could make anyone feel ashamed. “Very, extremely not. When you decide you’re ready to try some honesty, V., you let me know.”
    Since there’s nothing else to say I go