The Witching Game by Annette Cascone

Author:Annette Cascone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

14

The bed covers flew off Lindsey’s body, startling her awake.

It was only then that she heard the ear-splitting noise coming from the table beside her.

“Lindsey!” Her mother shouted to be heard over the obnoxious buzzing of her alarm clock.

Lindsey’s eyes were still blurry as she looked up to see her mother standing beside the bed, her hands on her hips.

“How could you possibly sleep through this alarm?” Mrs. Jordan asked as she reached to turn it off.

Finally there was quiet. Lindsey wished it could stay that way. She was so tired, she wished she could just pull her covers back up around her and go back to sleep.

But her mother wasn’t about to let that happen. “You’d better get up, young lady. You’re going to be late for school.”

Who cares? Lindsey thought. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was go to school and face Carolyn Berger.

“Let’s get a move on it,” her mother said, refusing to move herself until she saw Lindsey get out of that bed.

Lindsey’s legs felt as though they had hundred-pound weights attached to them as she swung them over the side of the bed and sat up.

“Why are you so sleepy this morning?” her mother asked, sounding genuinely concerned. She reached out to touch Lindsey’s forehead. “You’re not coming down with anything, are you?”

“I’m okay,” Lindsey assured her. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I was too nervous because the cast list for the play is going to be posted this morning. I’m sure Carolyn’s going to get the lead.”

“You don’t know that,” her mother told her, trying to sound encouraging.

Yes, I do, Lindsey thought. There was only one hope, and it was a long shot. “Hey, Mom,” Lindsey started. “What do you know about Bloody Mary?”

“Which one?” her mother asked.

Which one? Lindsey thought. How many Bloody Marys do you know? “The one in the mirror,” Lindsey answered tentatively.

“Oh.” Her mother chuckled. “That Bloody Mary.”

“Yeah,” Lindsey said. “That Bloody Mary.”

“Well, I can tell you that you and your friends did not invent the game,” her mother informed her. “Kids have been playing Bloody Mary for as long as I can remember—or at least some version of the game,” she explained. “It depends upon where you grow up.”

“What do you mean?” Lindsey asked.

“Well, when I was a kid, we didn’t call the game Bloody Mary. We called it ‘Mary, Mary.’ And I grew up in Connecticut,” her mother reminded her. “We didn’t chant, either. We just lit a candle in front of the mirror and said ‘Mary, Mary’ thirteen times. My cousin, Lillian, called the game ‘Mary Worth,’” she continued. “She grew up in Virginia. And your Aunt Maggie called the game ‘Mary Billingsworth,’ and she grew up around here. No matter where you come from, there always seems to be a game with a scary Mary in the mirror.”

“Did you ever see a scary Mary?” Lindsey wanted to know.

“All the time,” her mother replied, sounding very serious about it.

“Really?” Lindsey gasped.

Her mother laughed.

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