Free Wicked Girls by Stephanie Hemphill

Susannah.
    I pry the bread from her hand.
    â€œGoody Corey stops her eating,” I say.
    Susannah returns to color and breath.
    â€œAnn, you saved me.”
    She says it so all hear.

UPHEAVAL
    June 1692
    Why uproot
    a perfectly healthy
    white blazing star
    from the soil
    to allow room
    for a roadside weed?
    The purple love grass
    may appear somewhat
    spectacular at first
    with its bright-colored veins,
    but it grows wide and irreverent,
    knows not how to
    contain itself
    within the garden.

DO WE NEED ABIGAIL?
    Mercy Lewis, 17
    Ann flits about the room
    in her white streaming nightclothes.
    Her skirts pick up
    under the little gusts of air
    created by her wake.
    â€œAbigail”…she hesitates like
    the squirrel who tests his branch
    before scurrying onto it…
    â€œspeaks out of turn.
    She follows not as the others.”
    I say, “She is young, and she will follow
    orders better than most. You shall see.”
    Ann ventures onto the branch,
    wobbly on her little paws.
    â€œDo we really need Abigail
    to be part of the group?”
    I brush out my hair.
    I wish to brush out this nonsense.
    â€œShe was one of the first two to see,
    and she lives with the Reverend.
    What have you against Abigail still?”
    â€œShe acts like my baby sister.
    I think I have a girl to replace her.”
    â€œWho, Ann? Who else has our sight?”
    I pull hard on my brush.
    Ann stands behind me
    so I cannot see her face.
    She gulps in some air.
    â€œSusannah Sheldon, a maid
    from Salem Town. She is very nice.
    And she speaks well and torments well.”
    â€œAnn, ’tis dangerous to bring
    new people into the group.
    Forget not the lesson of Ruth Warren
    the traitor,” I say.
    Ann’s face sulks like the willow’s branch.
    â€œBut of course, we should ask
    all the other girls,” I say,
    my brush clenched tight.
    â€œPerhaps it will be decided to be
    a fine idea.”
    â€œAnd what about Abigail?” she asks.
    I stroke Ann’s head.
    â€œShe is good to have at hand.”

CAN SHE BE OF USE?
    Mercy Lewis, 17
    We leave Susannah
    loitering outside the tavern
    like a beggar.
    Ann says, “She’ll be of help to us.”
    â€œBut she’s not from the village.
    She dwells in town,” Margaret rebuffs
    her cousin.
    Abigail looks down,
    afraid to give speech.
    Elizabeth struggles to put her words
    together. “Maybe we should pray
    and let the Lord guide us.
    We do not know Susannah.”
    â€œExactly the truth.” Margaret stands.
    She says, “We know not
    that we can trust her.
    She is from the outside.”
    â€œBut we must grow in numbers.”
    Ann’s hands ball into fists.
    I open my lips to say
    let Susannah
    remain where she is,
    shut out of our doors,
    â€™tis dangerous to let in new blood.
    But then Margaret blurts
    from her sour mouth,
    â€œMust we grow
    with orphans and servants?
    Will the town believe
    words of them so low?”
    â€œWe need to enlarge our group.”
    I push away from the bench.
    I open the doors to the ordinary,
    strain my eyes against bright noon
    and let Susannah Sheldon
    into our circle in the shade.

THE MOST AFFLICTED
    Mercy Lewis, 17
    Susannah’s hands nearly twist
    full-round at the wrist
    like a weather vane
    swept up in a great gust of wind.
    Her fingers arrow at each witch
    Ann names, even ones Susannah
    must never have set eyes upon.
    The crowd gasps.
    Ruth Warren stuns silent on the stand.
    She cannot playact afflicted again;
    none can match Susannah’s skill.
    Abigail opens her mouth
    to cry out “Ruth Warren,”
    but her lips move without sound.
    Tears sink her eyes,
    and Abigail tries to sit down,
    but Susannah occupies
    double her rightful space
    on the bench, and Abigail
    is forced into the pew behind us.
    Ann smiles. I look away.
    Margaret whispers to Elizabeth,
    â€œSusannah be a braggart”
    as she elbows Susannah’s jaw
    like one harsh gavel blow.
    Elizabeth’s