Wicked Girls by Stephanie Hemphill Page B

as he might place a hand
    on my neck and kiss me.
    How dare he treat me, a seer,
    as no more than a girl to be bed?
    â€œShould ye not take a ride with Margaret?”
    I say, and walk past Isaac to fetch
    some water from the well.
    He follows and whispers in my ear,
    â€œI have done that already,
    and the ride was not all that worthy.”
    I turn to slap him.
    He grabs my hand and kisses it.
    The Constable stoops under the door frame.
    â€œIsaac, what brings ye to our home?”
    Constable smiles at me.
    â€œMercy, please fetch us some cider.”
    â€œI can’t stay,” Isaac says.
    â€œMy father asked that I give ye
    this petition to bring to court.”
    Isaac hands the Constable a paper.
    â€œSome that are called witch
    be upright and good Christians.”
    Isaac glares at me.
    With the gloat of the hunter
    believing he’s shot his doe
    both head and heart.
    But I run steady on my hooves.
    â€œThe Devil disguises his servants well,”
    Constable Putnam says as he takes the petition.
    â€œGood day, sir.” Isaac tips his hat
    to the Constable, and he leaves.
    He kicks up a puff of dirt in his wake,
    a little black cloud he leaves behind.
    â€œI must tell Reverend Parris of this,”
    the Constable mumbles.
    â€œFear ye not, Mercy.
    There be always ones against
    those who work hard for the Lord.
    But the righteous do prevail.”

GIRLS WHO SIN
    Margaret Walcott, 17
    In meeting I can’t look at Reverend.
    I feel his eyes ’pon me like I be
    the next to stand accused.
    Ann nudges me.
    â€œMargaret, straighten up.
    Stop looking low.
    We are watched.”
    I won’t look on Isaac neither.
    I feel like I’ll lose my stomach.
    I put a hand o’er my mouth
    and stand to leave the bench.
    The tears stinging my eyes,
    â€œI be a sinner,” I whisper to Ann.
    â€œAnd the Lord does know it.”
    Mercy glares at me and my words.
    She wedges tight on the other side of me.
    Her and Ann do hold each my wrists
    to the pew.
    Ann snarls at me.
    She whispers so none else but Mercy hears,
    â€œDo not say that we sin.
    Not in meeting. Not anywhere.”
    She then calls out,
    â€œWitches torment Margaret!”
    Abigail and Elizabeth do sit
    as wooden toys nodding their heads
    like they had strings attached.
    Mercy speaks in my ear alone,
    â€œDo you seek repentance, Margaret?”
    â€œLet me go!” I cry.
    Reverend Parris can’t quiet the noise now.
    All the folk search the air for witches,
    but I know that the only witches
    in the meetinghouse be holding me down.
    Ann fumes under her breath,
    â€œI said not to act tormented
    during sermon today.”
    But Mercy quickly quits Ann scolding me,
    â€œI told Margaret to act as such.”
    I can’t know why Mercy says this.
    Ann’s cheeks turn like raspberries,
    and she appears about to cry.
    â€œI did not know. I am sorry, Mercy.”
    Ann grovels to that servant.
    â€œâ€™Tis but a misunderstanding.
    I forgive thee,” Mercy says,
    and pats Ann’s shoulder.
    Abigail screeches, “The leader
    of the witches!” She points,
    and all eyes in church follow
    her finger to the rafters.
    â€œThe wizard George Burroughs!”
    Only Mercy and me look still on each
    other. “Why—” I start to say.
    Mercy smiles at me as she says,
    â€œI know your secret sin, Margaret Walcott.”
    I shake my head. “No, you can’t know.”
    â€œShhhh,” she says, and clutches my hand.
    My mouth dries up. She knows not anything—
    how could she? I told not a one.

IN HER DEFENSE
    Ann Putnam Jr., 12
    â€œI like her,” I say not loud enough.
    â€œShe must stuff her mouth plenty
    when she be out of our sight.
    All her dresses pull their seams.” Margaret laughs.
    â€œSusannah ought pray.”
    Elizabeth bows her head.
    â€œI never see her in meeting.”
    â€œShe belongs to another church,” I say.
    Mercy marches like a