The Winslow Incident

The Winslow Incident by Elizabeth Voss

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Authors: Elizabeth Voss
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movement created a sodden smacking sound that made Hazel
want to scream again.
    Then the door slammed closed in
Hazel’s face and Patience grabbed her hand, squeezing it so hard Hazel feared
her bones would break.
    “This is our fault!” Patience whispered
feverishly. “We made it happen. The coffin—”
    “Don’t say that!” Hazel couldn’t
handle another helping of horror; she was full.
    Hazel’s grandmother kept pushing
the girls outside through the kitchen entry, repeating, “Shush, shush,” as if
the only thing wrong was their refusal to be quiet.
    Patience stopped on the back steps
and seized Hazel by the wrists. “Don’t tempt fate, my Gram always says.” Her
eyes sparked with panic. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”
    “It’s not our fault.” Hazel
tried to raise her hands to cover her ears.
    But Patience held fast, mewled hysterically.
“Tempt fate and your worst fears come true.”
    I t was after that that Patience had begun to
collect her lucky charms. Now she stood in Hazel’s foyer on the verge of tears,
working that bracelet, her fingertips compulsively stroking the tiny talismans.
“It is happening again,” Patience insisted.
    “Listen to me,” Hazel adopted a
firm tone. “Nothing like that is going to happen now. Don’t even start thinking
like that.”
    Patience’s expression remained bleak.
“Tanner shouldn’t have broken that mirror.”
    Hazel frowned. “That’s just a silly
superstition. Besides, you told me you buried the broken glass outside in the
moonlight like a good little witch. Didn’t you say that wards off the evil
spirits?”
    “Wards off bad luck,” Patience
corrected.
    “Then you’re safe, right?” Despite
Hazel’s attempts at reassurance, she sympathized with her friend. Not only had
they sorely tempted fate again, this time they’d taunted it—practically
dared it.
    “I feel really, really weird,
Hazel.” Patience’s tears welled higher. “I threw up in front of the whole town.
Everything’s ruined. I ruined my best chaps and everyone saw me and my gramps is
mad that I embarrassed our family.”
    “It’s just food poisoning.” Hazel
backed up a step, her heart suddenly racing. “Lots of people have it. You’ll be
okay tomorrow.”
    “No I won’t. I’m sick. ” Patience
looked desperate. “And I’m scared.”
    Hazel wondered again how Sean was
feeling. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry.” She tried to keep calm for both their
sakes. “Everything’s fine,” she said, realizing how hollow that sounded. “We’re
all fine.”

The Water Tower
    S ean and Tanner perched on the water tower
platform, the highest point on Silver Hill, with the lights of Winslow spread
out below them like a Lite-Brite missing most of its pegs.
    Sean hadn’t been feeling too good
since he and Hazel left Three Fools Creek. His stomach was slippery and it
seemed as though his heart was beating too fast, the blood pumping around his
body with sickening speed. His mom and Aaron were sick too, taking turns in the
bathroom, and the sound of it had made Sean feel even worse.
    So when Tanner came by inviting
him to go have a smoke, Sean had said okay, figuring that the weed would settle
his stomach and slow the pounding in his chest. The fresh air couldn’t hurt
either, especially if he ended up retching anyway—who wants to stick
their face in a toilet?
    He watched Tanner roll the joint.
After Tanner licked and sealed the paper, he held it up for Sean to admire.
Sean had known instantly that he didn’t particularly like—and definitely
didn’t trust—Tanner Holloway. But whatever, it wasn’t like there were a
lot of other guys his age to hang with around Winslow.
    Sean decided that it might be
useful to know what Tanner was capable of. “What’d you get busted for back home,
anyway?” he asked.
    “A little of this.” Tanner waved
the joint. “A little of that.”
    “You miss home?” Sean was starting
to hope that he did and would go back there soon.
    “Nah.”

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