"Hi Marjorie. Hi Grace."
"Oh, hi Claire. Grace and I were just going for a walk in the woods. We want you to come."
"Oh, no, I can't, thanks for offering. I'm not allowed into the woods."
"We're not going to hurt you."
"Yeah, Claiwe."
"We just want to see something." Marjorie held out an egg, a delicate blue robin's egg. Claire dismounted her pretty pink bike and walked over to the other girls to accept the peace offering. "We know where there's more," Marjorie said inticingly.
"Alive ones," Grace added earnestly.
Claire took the egg delicately from Marjorie's hand, cupped it like something precious. Hollow, weightless, and followed Marjorie and Grace into the woods.
The cornfieldwas on the other side of the ravine they were standing by, and beyond that is a clear, bright meadow where, if you are quiet, you might see a deer. And then the woods.
"The nest is in the woods," Marjorie explained, climbing over the embankment, beckoning Grace and Claire to follow her.
It was unseasonably warm for April. The grass was clicking with insects and the sun was shining. Perfect.
The three girls entered the cornfield and walked single file, careful of last year's corn stalks poking up from the ground like bones of soldiers. Behind Claire, Grace is turning round and round as she walks, staring at the sky.
"Get dizzy, then look at the sky."
Claire tried it and she and Grace laughed with their heads thrown back, childish innocence.
From ahead, Marjorie turned. "Come on, you two. I'm not partial to dilly-dallying, you know." She spotted the corncob then, light and lean from age. She picked it up, peeled back the papery husk. She was about to toss it away, disinterested, when Grace grabbed it and shoved it between her legs.
"Guess who I am?" she giggled.
Claire smiled, polite, then turned away, embarrassed. Marjorie rolled her eyes and kept walking. Claire followed.
Grace swaggered behind Claire, still pretending. "Squeeze my muscle, little girl." She laughed, pretended to pee out of it.
"Don't be rude, Grace," said Marjorie, already hatching a game in her mind. Grace just laughed and ran ahead of Marjorie, then spun around and sprayed her with imaginary pee. "Grace," Marjorie says warningly.
Grace turned forward again, interest in the ear of corn lost. Marjorie picked it up as the cornfield gave way to the meadow.
The meadow was empty except for last year's long grass collapsed over the new growth, and a few cattails left standing.
"Are we there yet?" Claire asked, growing impatient of the walk.
Grace glanced at Marjorie, but Marjorie, unconcerned, simply twirled the ear of corn like a baton. "Not too much farther," Grace assured her.
As they approached the woods, Claire hesitated. "I told you, I'm not allowed into the woods."
"Well, I'm afraid you have no choice. That's where the next is."
"No," Claire said firmly.
"How come?" Grace asked innocently.
"My mommy told me it's too dangerous, little girls get lost and never come back out."
"The cornfield is more dangerous than the woods, Claire."
"Yeah."
But Claire shook her head no, refusing.
"It's your loss, little girl," Marjorie said, shrugging. "Oh well. Show us your underpants."
Claire looked at Grace for help, but Grace was looking at Marjorie. Claire simply smiled and lifted up her dress, obliging.
"Oh, they're pretty."
"Yeah, really pretty."
"Thank you." Claire dropped her dress, tried to walk away.
"I'm not finished. Take them off."
Claire, unsure of what to do, slid the underpants down her legs and kicked them off, even though something inside of her kept telling her, "don't take off your underpants when people ask, it's not good for people to ask that" but the breeze was lovely. Claire giggled and ran through the meadow with not panties on.
"Good. Now bend over, little girl."
Grace giggled, Claire laughed, because what were they playing now. Claire took off across the meadow.
"Get her," Marjorie instructed Grace, who then followed Claire across the meadow. They were about fifteen feet from the elm tree when they stopped. Marjorie followed, unhurried, still holding the corncob. Grace grabbed Claire's arm, tightly.
"Ow."
Grace looked at Marjorie, unsure of what to do next. She was just a pawn. This was Marjorie's game. Claire glanced down, looking for her blue egg. She dropped it. "Excuse me, Grace, but could you please let go?"
Grace glanced back at Marjorie again, who shook her head no.
"Huwwy up, Mawjowie."
Marjorie wasn't laughing, because she knew that while it was a game, it wasn't funny. "I'm sick to death of you, little girl," she told Claire.
Claire laughed again, delighted by the game.
"Bend over and touch your toes," Marjorie demanded.
"Um, Marjorie, I don't want to play this…Let's pretend…" Claire was beginning to panic.
"Are you deaf, little girl?"
Grace gave a delighted shriek and held tighter to Claire's arm, with both hands now.
Claire whimpered, "Can I go home now? Want to come to my house to play?"
Grace gave Claire a hard shove, knocking her down.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Marjorie said disapprovingly. She tossed Claire's underpants onto Claire's face and Grace jumped onto Claire before she could get up. She held the underpants tightly on Claire's face and shrieked "Smell your bum!"
Marjorie stood over them both, watching. She could see the outline of Claire's face through the fabric. It's not enough. "Get off of her," she instructs Grace.
Grace stood, grinning like a madwoman, her tongue licking the corners of her mouth. Claire lay on the ground, motionless. Marjorie bent down and removed the underpants with the tip of the corncob. "Get up."
Claire stood up. "I have to go now."
"It's okay, Claiwe."
"Put your hands around Grace's throat," Marjorie instructed.
Claire obeyed.
"Squeeze. Harder now."
"Mar—!"
"Shut up, Grace."
Claire let go of Grace and waited for the next instruction, wishing she could run, home free, safe.
"Pee."
Claire wrinkled her forehead, tried not to cry. "I can't," she sobbed.
"Hold her still, Grace."
Grace took Claire's elbows and locked them together from behind while Marjorie pushed the cob of corn up Claire's dress.
"Ow." Claire bit her lip. "Marjorie, stop that please."
Marjorie pressed harder and Claire squealed.
"Owwwwww…" Claire didn't scream, just whimpered.
"Stop hurting her, Marjorie!" Grace yelled, still holding Claire's elbows.
Marjorie thrust her arm upward with a twist, just because she could. Claire screamed and jolted forward, but Grace prevented her from falling and hurting herself, though Claire's true intention was to run. Marjorie watched, thinking, 'Isn't it funny how someone right in front of you can be screaming about something you don't feel? It's like rain falling two inches in front of your face and you stay perfectly dry.'
"What are you screaming about, little girl?" she asked, pulling the corncob from under Claire's dress. There was blood on it, and Claire was sobbing.
Grace let go of her. "Hey, Claiwe, it's okay, Claiwe, don't cwy, Claiwe, hey, Claiwe, can I see youw chawm bwacelet?" She asked as Marjorie tossed the corncob away, into the grass. Claire raised her wrist, hiccupping, and showed Grace the bracelet.
"Oh, that's the pwettiest one I've evew seen," she said, fingering the charms. "Can I twy it on?"
Claire shook her head no and Grace said, "Okay, I won't Claiwe, it's youws," and let go of the bracelet.
Marjorie sighed, bored, and said, "Strangle her, Marjorie."
Grace obeyed, and didn't laugh at Marjorie's calling her Marjorie, because she didn't actually notice. She squeezed and squeezed.
Sometime while Grace was squeezing, Claire's expression changed from terror to surprise. Marjorie kept watching, entertained.
It was so quiet. Grace wasn't even grinning, just staring, the game had long since ceased being funny, ceased being anything. Just this, just the overwhelming silence, just Claire's shocked look and Grace's hands and Marjorie watching, like a movie in slow motion. It went on forever, Grace not doing anything, just not stopping, Marjorie watching, Claire looking surprised. Silent, empty, going on and on forever, doing nothing doing nothing doing nothing.
And finally, Claire peed. Grace let go then, and Claire dropped to the ground. Suddenly, it was that sunny, beautiful day again. Grace and Marjorie were in a field and Claire McCarroll, the new, shy, beautiful girl was there. Insects were there, and there were cars on the road, and Brownies after supper. The flying up.
"Get up, Claire."
Many years later, Marjorie will recall the grass being yellow, but it was actually newly green. Grace will remember that they were in a cornfield, but there was no corn. There was long, pale green, last-year-grass. There was an elm tree. There was a bright yellow sun. All around, the month of April. It's 25 minutes to five.
"Put your tongue back in, Claire."
Claire didn't obey, she didn't do anything, she just lay there.
"Just get up, Claire."
But Claire flatly refused to do as she was told.
"Mawjowie…" Grace said, her voice going wavery. "Ohhhh," she moaned. "Oh no, oh no, Mawjowie…"
"Shut up," Marjorie said in a fed-up voice, like a teacher marking the final failed spelling test.
"Ohhhhhh…" Grace turned around slowly, pulling the tall grass, hugging herself, "Ohhhh, noooo…"
Marjorie finally relented, like Grace's long-suffering mother. "It's all right, Grace. I'll never tell. It'll be fine."
Grace knew she had to make things nice. She pulled Claire's dress down and folded her arms, covered her with bluebells and Queen Anne's lace. Marjorie added two long cattails for a cross over her chest, because now that all was said and done, she may as well leave Claire in peace.
"She's asleep," Grace said, reassuring herself more than anything else. She even bent to kiss Claire goodnight, but her eyes were too scary…her face was already changing. Scared, Grace went to retrieve her underpants, tiny yellow butterflies on white cotton, and put them over her face. The game was over. It was time to go home.
They walked with Claire's bike from Rock Bass to the dirt road and took turns riding it, but when they reached the intersection back to town, Marjorie said that they didn't want anyone to think they stole it, so they hid it under the willow tree. Grace pulled one of the pink streamers off the handlebars. "I'll give it back," she told Marjorie, but Marjorie didn't care anymore.
That night after Flying Up, Grace called on Marjorie, but Marjorie said that she couldn't come out, that it was too late and she had to do her homework and go to bed, just like a normal girl. It was already starting to get dark, and Grace had been out since right after Brownies, at the edge of Marjorie's driveway amongst the dented trashcans. Marjorie watched her from her bedroom window. She rapped sharply on the glass and yelled, "Go home, Grace!"
Grace was shivering like she was cold, which made sense—it was only April, the nights still dipped below freezing. She stood and wandered away, not in the direction of her house, not in any particular direction whatsoever. But five minutes later, she was banging on Marjorie's door again. Marjorie's mother was sick a lot and it was really a bother to have someone always banging on the door.
"Marjorie," she called to her daughter as Grace waited on the front step. "It's that kid again."
Marjorie came to the door in her housecoat, kiss-curls taped to her cheeks. "What do you want?" she asked through the screen door.
"We're best fwiends, wight?" Grace asked, her bottom lip quivering.
Marjorie didn't invite her in, just looked at Grace's chapped lips and grubby Brownie uniform and said nothing. She'd just had a bath. She wondered for a moment why she had ever been friends with poor, grimy Grace Novotny.
"I don't know," she said.
"We awe so, Mawjowie!"
"Keep your voice down, Grace."
"We awe so," Grace whispered.
"So?"
"So just come out fow a minute."
"I can't, I'm ready for bed."
The two little girls stood there for a moment, Marjorie behind the screen, Grace on the steps, her eyes starting to wander. Marjorie's mom called to her, "Marjorie, close the door, there's a draft."
"I have to go," Marjorie told Grace.
"Claiwe nevew went home," Grace said worriedly."
Marjorie glanced over her shoulder and tightened the cord of her housecoat, then whispered furtively, "Are you retarded, Grace?"
Grace looked lost. She reached out for Marjorie's arm but got the screen instead. "Mawjowie?" her voice trembled and her eyes filled with tears. "What happened to hew?"
"You killed her, Grace. That's what happened. Now go home." Marjorie closed the door, leaving Grace to stand out on the step, crying.