Mom Refused To Do An Exorcism by Sophia Krich-Brinton

Three nights in a row now, my little sister had tried to leap out the bedroom window.

It wasn’t a big drop, but she’d have gotten hurt if she made it. I’d started sleeping on the floor below the window after the first night, grabbing her when she approached and holding her tight ’til the fit passed, but Mom wouldn’t take her in to get her diagnosed.

“She’s possessed,” I insisted. “Her eyes glow red at night.”

But Mom said it was just pinkeye.

She called it wishful thinking when I made stuff up, but Mom was a grown-up so she had different rules. I wanted to shake her. Like, come on: On the third day, my sister started foaming at the mouth. By the fourth day, her eyes had no whites in them anymore, and no irises: they were solid black, but Mom said it must be flu. She hugged my sister and sobbed, trying to kiss her while also trying not to get headbutted or bit.

So I took it into my own hands. First, an online search at the school library. I’d need chalk, salt, candles—I had all that stuff, or Mom did. I’d chalk the shapes on our bedroom floor, then my sister would have to sit in it while I said the words. How would I make her do that? She was locked in Mom’s room all day now, prowling on all fours, snarling and spitting. Mom called it a game, told the school she was sick. I was the only one who knew the truth.

That afternoon, I chalked the star and circle on the floor of our room, under the rug. After Mom said goodnight, I shoved the rug to one side and poured the salt all around the edge, then set candles at each tip of the star. I’d stolen Mom’s lighter from the mantlepiece and the roll-y thing was difficult, but I got it lit. The candles made our room look spooky. I guess that was appropriate.

Now I needed my sister.

“Cicely, come here,” I whispered, poking a wire into the bathroom’s locked door handle.

I’d started locking her in there at night so she wouldn’t attack me or try to hurt herself. Mom said it was smart since she was sick, and she could brush her teeth if she puked. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes, since my sister’s teeth had lengthened into fangs yesterday and Mom still pretended not to notice.

The bathroom door scraped open. I peeked inside. My sister crouched in the corner of the bathtub, her black eyes reflecting the nightlight’s glitter. She braced herself, waggling her rear like a cat about to pounce.

Okay, she was going to mess this up.

Sure enough, a second later she launched herself at me, her mouth gaping wide, her claws outstretched. I dodged, then threw myself onto her, grabbing her small body and dragging her into the bedroom. She thrashed and snarled, but I had an arm tight around her neck. I carried her into the salt circle and put her down, but didn’t let go.

“Stop fighting!” I yelled in her ear. “I’m trying to help you.”

She’d kicked over one candle, but I righted it before it went out. Time for the words.

I couldn’t remember the words!

They’d been weird, written phonetically in some foreign language. I’d practiced and practiced, but with her brawling in my arms, I couldn’t call them to mind.

Fine, I’d ad-lib.

“Get out of my sister, demon!” I shouted. “Give her back to me! She shouldn't try to eat me or kill me. Let her go!”

“What is going on in here?” Mom opened the door, gasping at the state of the room. She ran to each candle and pinched them out one by one, then stood back panting, like she did when she was really mad. “What on earth do you think you’re doing? Get off your sister!”

“I can’t, she’ll—”

Mom didn’t wait. She took my arm and dragged me away, bending down to check on my sister.

“Stop! Mom!” I tried to pull her back, but she shook me off with that crazy strength she sometimes got when Cicely and I were fighting.

My sister whipped her head around, I swear it went a full 180 degrees, and she stared at Mom with those solid black eyes. Then she leapt for Mom with her fangs open wide. Mom just stood there staring.

“Grab her!” I shouted, but Mom didn’t hear me, or maybe she did but couldn’t make herself believe what was happening. It wasn’t as if I’d told her ten thousand times.

So I ran at my sister and jumped onto her, flattening her to the floor. She fought, growling and hissing, her arms reversing at the elbow to scratch me.

Finally Mom woke up. “I’ll call 911. Something’s wrong with her.”

Duh.

I didn’t say it, since Mom always got mad when I did. I just sat on top of my thrashing sister until I heard the sirens, the front door opening, Mom’s frenzied voice and another voice, this one calm. Then three women in paramedic uniforms appeared in the doorway. They took in the scene, then the one with a pentagon symbol on her shoulder stepped forward.

She bent down right in front of my sister’s face and whispered something in a strange, hot language. My sister tilted her head to listen, then she went still.

“Why aren’t you putting her on a stretcher? What is she doing?” Mom couldn’t stop talking.

The other paramedics smiled. “Don’t worry. This isn’t a bad case, not like the ones we sometimes get. Marie’ll handle it in a moment and we’ll be on our way.”

“Just like that?” Mom asked.

“Just like that.”

Marie looked up from her crouched position in front of my sister and me. “You can get off her now.”

I jumped off and ran three steps away in case she came for me, but my sister just lay there beside the special paramedic. The air grew thick around her, smoky and sour, and Cicely’s elbows snapped back to the right angle. Her fingertips smoothed, and her eyes went back to normal. No fangs peeked out of her slightly open mouth.

Marie helped my sister to her feet. “You’re all set.”

Cicely looked at Mom, then at me. “Am I in trouble?”

Marie answered before either of us could. “Of course not. It could happen to anyone. They’ll call us sooner next time.” She looked at Mom. Mom nodded.

We stood there staring at Cicely while the three paramedics left. Then Mom blinked. “Anyone hungry? How about a midnight snack. Pancakes!” She turned before we could answer and hurried downstairs.

When she left, my sister’s face crumpled. “Does Mom hate me now?”

“Nah. She’ll be okay.” I pulled her into an awkward hug and patted her back. “What was it like?”

Sis grinned at me. “It was great. Don’t call them too quick if it happens again.”