Free The Year of the Beasts by Cecil Castellucci Page A

from blue to pink to orange to black. She had seen the first star come out and had made a wish. She sat so long that she saw the constellations come and go.
    She had found the blade in the back of her vanity. It was an old one, and it was wrapped in wax paper with a little piece of folded cardboard over it. She’d found it a few years back but only remembered that it was there that night. She opened the drawer, pulled it out all the way. Shook out its contents on the floor: lip liner, pencil sharpener, paper clip, postage stamp, blush brush. There it was. Right there.
    Remove the cardboard. Press the point on her thumb. She felt it. Sharp.
    She turned her wrist over and wondered which way she should cut. Wondered if she did, if it would hurt? Wondered how long it would take. Wondered if her death would be the same as Lulu’s? How much blood would there be? And would it feel like drowning?
    At the hospital, Charlie had told her everything, because he had seen it. She could tell that he didn’t want to relive it as he told her.
    “You were dead,” Charlie said after finishing up a sandwich and prompting her to spoon soup into her mouth.
    “No, I didn’t die,” Tessa said. “I lived. ”
    He put the spoon down and pressed a hand to his eyes as if it would be easier to talk about if he didn’t have to see. He said the words like they didn’t belong to him. His other fist punching his thigh marking each event, like bullet points.
    “You came out of the water. Jasper pulled you out of the water. And you were so blue. Jasper was screaming that you were blue.”
    She had been cold when she woke up.
    “I don’t remember that,” Tessa said.
    “Jasper punched your chest. Punched it,” Charlie said. Charlie was crying, but didn’t care that he was. Snot was coming out of his nose and he wiped it with the back of his sleeve. His eyes were still closed.
    She had remembered Jasper kissing her. His voice sounded far away. She was floating and he was warm on her lips. And then there was air in her lungs.
    “He brought you back,” Charlie said. “We thought we’d lost you, too. If it weren’t for Jasper…”
    “But he should have looked for Lulu. He should have gone after her. You all should have.”
    “We couldn’t see her anymore. We only saw you. You are the one that we saw.”
    Tessa pushed aside the memory of those troubled first days at the hospital.
    Tessa put the point of the blade to her wrist. Sweat gathered on her upper lip. Would it hurt? Would someone pull it out of her skin? Wasn’t she still drowning now?
    She turned her arm over and carved five letters into it: I DIED. There was blood. She sopped it up with Kleenex. She had so many boxes of Kleenex in her room now, mostly empty. The garbage can was full of used ones, and her face was raw from tears.
    Tessa came downstairs holding a towel soaked in blood to her wrist. Her mother had screamed when she saw the blood. Then her mother had sunk down to the floor.
    “No. No! NO!” She’d said, not seeing at first that Tessa wasn’t dead, too.
    Her mother collapsed into her father’s arms.
    “She’s OK,” he soothed. “She just cut herself.”
    “Tessa!” her mother screamed. “Tessa. You scared me.”
    Tessa couldn’t look her mother in the eyes. She couldn’t say anything to them. She had no words. She couldn’t say that she was sorry. If she did, she might break.
    Her father told her to go upstairs to bed.
    The cuts hurt. They stopped bleeding. She shut the blinds, lay down on the bed and closed her eyes.
    *   *   *
     
    When she woke up, there was something different about her. Her head was squirming. She ran to the mirror. Her hair was untamable. It was dreaded. No. Her hair writhed. It was full of snakes.
    Tessa ran downstairs. Frightened.
    “Mom! Dad!” She was screaming. Her arm was still bleeding. “Mom! Dad!”
    She ran into the living room first.
    The kitchen second.
    They couldn’t help her. When they saw her, they turned