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Amanda took in a breath, forced a smile. “That’s my job. Fun ruiner.”
“And she set a fire?” Amanda would nod, always having to look away. “Yes,” she’d say, the same reply she’d given hundreds of times, beginning back when she was Erin’s age and the police first questioned her about it.
Erin walked out and slammed the door behind her, but not quickly enough to drown out the first words she spoke: “I fucking hate my mother.”
Girls like that, they’re going straight to hell. That’s what Daddy said. You stay away from them unless you want to get burned.
Then they coated her legs with shaving cream, and Mel shaved her with a pink razor, saying, “You’ve got quite the pelt going on here, Hannah. What are you, a wolf-girl?” And Hannah had bared her teeth, laughed, and said, “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m going to eat you up.”
Hannah looked at Manda. The only one she half trusted.
“Holy shit, did you see his face?” “Hannah-beast is scary!” “Hannah-beast is crazy!” “Hannah-beast is spectacular!”
If you spend enough time blocking something out, built sturdy enough walls around it, then it’s almost like it didn’t happen.
Hannah heard every word this time. “Benjamin and Brian were sleeping in the hayloft. They do it every Halloween.”
Amanda had hated it and loved it all at the same time. Which was the way she’d felt about Hannah, wasn’t it?
Hannah looped the rope around her neck over the rainbow wig, over the pink boa. She heard the girls’ voices in her head as she jumped off the wall—Hannah-beast takes flight!—swinging, flying, legs dangling over the floor. Say boo!
“No!” Amanda cried, the word a wailing sob. “No, no, nooo!” Erin looked so surprised, so puzzled, as she reached down and touched the knife, like she couldn’t believe it was real. Amanda could see traces of cat whiskers beneath the blue face paint. “Mom?”
