We Don't Talk to Edith Thompson Part 2

Ch 2: Don't

September 2nd, 2025, 8:35 AM

"W-what do you mean, 'we don't talk to Edith Thompson'?" I questioned, my mind spinning from this confusing revelation.

It didn't make sense! Why would an entire community, unanimously, decide to shun a weird teen girl publicly? Like, what did she do? What does she know?

Rubbing both my temples, I continued, "Is that girl Edith Thompson? Why doesn't anyone talk to or acknowledge her? What happens if you talk to her?"

The guys banged their heads on the table softly as the girls answered. "Yes, it's something the town decided a long time ago, and we don't know."

"That's it!?" I whisper-screamed. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! There's got to be a reason behind it!" I tapped on the table harder with each sentence. "People don't just do that!"

“We do, so just don’t.” The girls leaned in closer. “Talk. To. Edith Thompson, got it?”

Trent cleared his throat. “I think, since Suzy’s new, she should get a onetime pass.” The girls crossed their arms in annoyance. He held up his hands in defense. “If she gets caught doing it again, we’ll go bring it to the town council.”

Seriously? Talking to someone is a crime punishable by the town itself? What crazy cult have I moved into?

Eric interjected, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m cool with that, ladies?”

After conversing briefly, the girls nodded in agreement.

Sabrina remarked, “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, okay?” Fluttering her eyelashes. “I would hate to lose such a pretty friend.”

Mrs. Smith began her lesson by introducing me to the class, expressing the importance of being open and friendly to all we meet. The class nodded collectively. I snorted internally. What a bunch of hypocrites!

She asked me to stand up and tell everyone five things about myself. A shiver of awkwardness surged through me. I wasn’t prepared to speak to literally half the school today!

With a sigh, I obeyed, fidgeting with my cardigan sleeve as I spoke. “Let’s see… well, I’m originally from Sacramento, California, my family relocated to Boston for my dad's job, this is my second new school in less than a year, I hate the security guard already, and I’m about to turn eighteen on Halloween.”

Several people whoop in excitement at my last statement. I guess was a big holiday around here.

As if sensing my curiosity, Mrs. Smith beamed. “Halloween is a massive event in these parts. In the old days, Danvers, once called Salem’s Village, was filled with pagan practices. Animal sacrifice, witchcraft, you name it! Samhain was a celebration that marked the end of harvest season and ushered in winter. Eventually, this was turned into what we call Halloween. Salem’s Village was divided, converted to Christianity, became a separate entity, and was renamed Danvers. You are likely familiar with Salem.” I nod. Everyone knows Salem, Massachusetts.

“So is there a big party or something?” I inquired, curious how this strange town celebrates the holiday.

“Actually, the town council wanted to keep things as accurate as possible, to celebrate as our ancestors did in the 17th century!” Mrs. Smith placed her hand affectionately on my shoulder. “Costumes are optional, but encouraged. Trust me, you’ll love it.” She patted me on the back. “Thank you, Ms. Thorn. Please take your seat.

The next few weeks go by in a flash and without incident. However, it has not been without difficulty. Although I didn’t agree with it, I had been avoiding Edith Thompson. Which, according to Sabrina, should be simple. Don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her, don’t walk near her, and if possible, don’t think about her. If I followed all of that, everything would be fine.

Allegedly.

How could I not think about someone that I have to avoid specifically, at all times? I have to be constantly aware of where she is and what she’s doing to avoid conversation or interaction. Sorry, Sabrina, I have to think about her. Minimally, at least. On top of all that, everywhere I turn, Edith’s there. Staring at me, walking near me, dropping things in my presence in hopes I’ll pick them up. It’s like she's doing it on purpose.

Was it to befriend or mock me? Either reason was maddening.

Despite all the drama with my new friend group, avoiding the town pariah, and adjusting to my new environment, I was grateful. My days were fairly peaceful, and I settled into a new routine.

Not once have I thought about the beautiful beaches of California, about Dad’s affair, or had to put on a facade to be liked. Unlike the teens I sort of associated with back then, my group is pretty solid. Sabrina, Karina, Amara, Trent, and Eric appear to like me as I am.

As long as I didn’t slip up, that is. Conditional friendships were not for the faint of heart.

The school reassigned Mrs. Smith’s classroom to the newly remodeled room #800. Thank goodness for that! The old, strict environment in the library made it hard to focus on the source material. That, and Edith loved hanging around there after class let out. She would be in various corners staring, reading, and pacing. Like it was her personal stomping grounds. A place she controlled, and nobody could stop her.

Because how could you discipline someone who didn’t exist?

I received my first assignment for History: to write a paper of at least 2-3 pages on the founding of Danvers, Massachusetts. Easy, right? She provided us with a lot of information on the first day for our reference.

Well, she wanted it found, paraphrased, and cited from sources in the local Historical Society and our library. Anything less would result in a reduced grade and potential detention.

So, to do the assignment, I have to spend most of my time bouncing between the library and the Historical Society. Unfortunately, the Society operates on strange hours, and they have changed the phone number four times in six months, so good luck getting in. Library it is, then.

More creepy Edith stalking! Yay!

As I closed my locker, a small metallic click signaled that I had secured it. My phone chimed. It was from Mom.

Mom: Hey, honey, how are you?

I replied, adjusting my backpack as I walked toward the library.

Me: Good, settling in nicely. You? We haven’t seen each other much lately.

I could almost hear her sigh in frustration as she answered.

Mom: I know. The job has been super time-consuming! Nobody listens to me, the manager constantly wants me working overtime, and I just found out I get paid less than the line workers! And that’s not the worst of it.

Stopping in my tracks, I groaned. Already anticipating her next response.

Mom: He's having me work overtime from now until Halloween. That’s going to be my next day off, too. I guess everything shuts down for the festivities.

Seriously!? What was the point in us moving here if we never see each other? She was being overworked, and her pay was less than what it was in Boston at the high school cafeteria? For less effort, she could’ve stayed there, and we could’ve rented a small apartment. Heck, I could’ve found a job if she really wanted somewhere nice! But no, no, we needed a 'fresh start' and 'distance' from Dad. I can’t believe this!

Fuming with anger, nerves bouncing with anxiety, I texted her.

Me: Do whatever; I’ve got an assignment to do and people to hang out with, so see you whenever. Love you.

She shot off a quick message.

Mom: Love you too. Sorry.

Then radio silence.

Trying to calm myself down, I did my breathing exercises. Inhale, hold for two seconds, exhale, repeat. This wasn't a situation that I could change. I should focus on what I could: my schoolwork, my friendships, my happiness. My nerves settled enough for me to continue my walk to the library, where I could redirect my energy into something constructive.

According to the sign, the library would be open until 6:00. That was when all the offices closed and when the night janitor came to earn his bread. It was my time limit to perform research on a town I know nothing about aside from its bizarre obsession with a certain girl. How fun!

The room was exactly as I remembered it: old, strict, and devoid of fun. Wooden shelves, filled with various books of all shapes and sizes, although slightly aged, are free of any dust or grime. Kept in a functional state for readers to peruse. To fulfill the purpose of education, nothing more, nothing less.

I sat in a booth across from a shelf marked “Historical Events”. The librarian, Anne, told me it had books on every important event, from all around the world, and perhaps a few on our fair town. After looking through a few interesting titles, I grabbed one of each, the thickest being Massachusetts: A History.

A yawn escaped from my lips, a signal of my already growing boredom as I flipped the pages.

“You’re looking in the wrong places…” A voice echoed. 

I gasped, looking around. Aside from Anne standing several feet away, I was alone. Nobody was next to me, or close enough, for me to hear them. So what was that?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. Edith Thompson, sitting atop the information desk next to Anne, who was typing away at a computer, ignoring her. As if she were a feather drifting through a breeze. Dressed in all black, boring into me with her onyx eyes. Like a lion stalking a baby gazelle drinking at a watering hole.

Frozen in my seat, I squirmed, trying to avert my gaze from her, but I couldn't. It was almost as if I were under a trance, or hypnotism of some kind. A slave for whatever she had in store for me.

“I know you can’t talk to me anymore. It’s okay.” Edith’s lips weren't moving. It was like she wasn't speaking with her mouth, but with her mind. Directly into my ears. “Even though you ignore me as they do...” Edith looked at Anne. “You’re different. Kinder, friendlier, better.” 

Quivering with fear, I found it hard to speak. My throat felt dry and tight. Like, I haven’t had water for days. Is… she doing this to me? Am I going to die?

She nodded at my first internal question, then shook her head at the second.

In my mind, I tried thinking the words I wanted to express to Edith. More than anything else, what I wanted to know was: “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

She kicked her feet back and forth like a child in a playful mood. The whisper of a smile on her lips. “Patience.” She jumped up, standing on the desk. “If you want the truth of this town, I can show you."

My head throbbed, causing my vision to go black.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, or events are entirely coincidental.

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