NECROMANTIC

six.

“Was Catherine Howard beheaded or did she die?”

Nudge.

“Sarah, I can’t remember, help me. I know you know.”

Nudge.

“Seriously Sarah.”

“Please answer me.”

“My mom’s the leader of the local Japanese mafia.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“The dad is Chris Evans. I made him wear the Captain America outfit whilst we did it.”

“I made him call me Bucky the whole time, too.”

“Sarah!”

That was when Mae eventually had enough of trying to capture my attention with outlandish remarks, and instead decided to use force – leaning over and pinching my arm, painfully, causing me to yelp, the librarian, Ms Greene to shoot me an evil look, me to mouth ‘sorry, Miss’, and finally, for me to hiss ‘what?’ to Mae.

Mae held her hands up in a don’t shoot gesture, and raised her eyebrows at me. “Don’t bite my head off, there, buddy. I’ve been stuck on my paper for the past five minutes because I can’t remember if Catherine fucking Howard was fucking beheaded or not, I know you know, and you’ve been spaced out on me. Spaced out completely! All you’ve been doing is staring into space and doodling that creepy motherfucker.” She said, grabbing the piece of paper from in front of me and holding it out for me to see.

On it was a drawing of a woman hanging from a noose, done in harsh scribbled biro lines. It was a drawing of the woman that was currently in my peripheral vision – what I’d been spaced out on. I’d watched her whilst Mae had gabbled, watched her step up onto a chair that was no longer there, check the strength of the rope noose that dangled from a light fixture also no longer there, watched her place it around her neck, watched her close her eyes, choke back a sob, and take a deep breath, watched her kick the chair away, watched her eyes bulge, the breath woosh from her lungs, watched her choke until eventually she went limp. Watched her do it all over again, and again, and again, and again … She looked young, but not young enough to be a student. She had a kind face, long brown hair and wore a pretty, flowery dress. I knew her as being Miss Bloom, the school’s librarian from when my mom and dad attended, and that after she’d found out she’d had her fourth miscarriage, and her husband had left her for another woman, she’d come here, and … well. I’d see her every time I came to study hall, and always, always, my heart wrenched for the poor woman. I wanted to stop her, to walk over, and take her hands, pull her away from the noose.

But, of course, I couldn’t.

“I mean … that’s just plain creepy, Sarah. Specially after what they say happened in here, like, fifty years ago.” Mae chided me, balling up the paper, and throwing it into one of the trash can at the end of the table.

Mae’s timing was a bit off … but I guess she was right. I’d have to make sure not to space out in the study hall again, and ignore Miss Bloom, no matter how hard that may be. It was, to other people, morbid and creepy. “What did you ask me?” I eventually said, capping my pen, and fixing my whole attention on my best friend. As best I could.

Mae’s eyebrows shot up further, and she rolled her eyes – but otherwise decided not to comment on my inattention and simply say “Was Catherine Howard beheaded or did she die naturally?”

“Catherine Howard was his fifth wife. In order it was divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived. So … she was beheaded.” I told her.