Displacement

   The sun was up, but you would hardly know it, for the sky was heavy with something—but what? Some said snow, others ice, and still others freezing rain. The cautious prognosticators were calling it a "wintry mix," which meant, "we don't know." Sabrina sat in the rocker on the porch and watched the students, their parents, and the teachers slog their way to Capstone Academy.
   Capstone Academy was the most prestigious girls school in the area, maybe even in the entire country. It was certainly one of the oldest, located in Danvers and just twenty-seven miles from Boston's Logan International Airport. Admission to Capstone was more coveted than an appearance on prime time television. Every parent who had clawed his or her way to the top of the great heap of souls wanted their female progeny in the Academy.
   The pressure to excel at Capstone was beyond demanding. It was grueling. The competition could be more accurately described as pursuit with a vengeance. Only the top three percent of what was already the top half percent of graduates would be accepted into an Ivy League school and they all knew it. Anything less was considered failure and a life wasted in mediocrity—no better than a serf—and the students were reminded of this every day by their parents and teachers.
   Friendships were superficial at best in this environment, as the spots were few and the competitors were many. Every one who succeeded meant another who failed. Depression was rampant and suicide was not uncommon. At least one student slit her wrists each year and reports of overdose circulated every semester. The Academy had two full-time guidance counselors. Capstone Academy was serious about everything.
   Sabrina had lived on the street that led to Capstone Academy since before the school was built. She felt the tension and anxiety fermenting like a boiling cauldron. Sabrina loved the smell and inhaled deeply as she rocked on the porch. One might think she drew her strength from the toxic fumes. Perhaps this was the secret to her seemingly perpetual youth, for Sabrina was older than she looked—a lot older.
   Colette lived next door to Sabrina and was charged with caring for her every other weekend—a task she detested. Colette was utterly selfish and devoid of pity. Sabrina had known many such girls. There seemed to be no end of them. Sabrina was as accustomed to being treated with cruelty as anyone possibly could be.
   Colette was typical of the girls who attended Capstone. She was not only brilliant she was beautiful. Her features were perfect, just like her mother's. Her father wouldn't have settled for anything less than perfection in either one. After all, he had finished first in his class at Harvard Law School and was already a junior partner at a very prestigious Boston firm specializing in torts. The Firm sued everyone that had money and even some that didn't.
   Ellen was the closest thing to a friend that Colette had ever known. They had been in school together since kindergarten. Ellen was quite pretty by common standards and also very bright, but this was Capstone and more was expected. Colette felt comfortable around Ellen, because she didn't have to compete with her. Everything was a competition with the other girls at the Academy.
   Ellen was as spiteful as Colette and equally resentful of Sabrina, although for what possible reason, she didn't know. Colette and Ellen reminded Sabrina of two girls from long ago: Alice Young and Margaret Jones. They had made life miserable for Sabrina and had paid dearly for it. Colette and Ellen would pay dearly too. Sabrina would see to that. She would wait for the opportunity to present itself and employ the same plan that had worked well so many times before.
   The debilitating cramps started one day about an hour past lunch. Only five girls were affected and it was attributed to improper handling of food in the Cafeteria. In spite of the extra precautions and stern lectures to the kitchen staff, the cramps returned the next day. Ten girls were sent home with the same symptoms and an inspector from the Health Department showed up.
   Samples of the food were collected for analysis and more lectures were delivered. The contractor supplying lettuce and tomatoes was replaced and assurances were given to the parents that such a thing would never happen again. The next day twenty girls were sent home. Several of girls vomited up blood. A second nurse was brought in and the girls were asked how they felt at the beginning and end of every class.
   The Health Department didn't find anything wrong with the food, but more importantly, eight of the stricken girls had brought their own lunch the day before. That's when the rumors began. They didn't start in a single place. They rather sprang up like weeds: dandelions in the middle of the perfectly manicured lawn that was Capstone Academy.
   In fact it was dandelions that started the rumors. They were plucked and carefully arranged to form a pentagram—right in the middle of the squishiest part of the lawn—without a single footprint nearby. Another, much larger, pentagram was scratched into the acoustic tile at the front of the auditorium. It was so high up that no one could have reached it without scaffolding. You couldn't miss it. Everyone stared at it until it was covered over. The banner in the gym displaying the school motto of excellence & charity was ripped to shreds.
   "There's a witch among us," the whispers said. Who else would do such a thing? Colette's mother was certain it was one of the students. Colette knew it had to be one of the teachers. Ellen was positive that an entire coven was responsible. The rumors grew faster and spread farther than weeds ever could. Sabrina was a master at her craft and she had outdone herself this time. They would pay for the way they treated her. They would all pay—every single one of them!
   Ellen was quite relieved when the cramps had spread to the others. She was so fearful of being pregnant. She had been flirting with the history teacher for months. She wasn't sure they had done enough for her to get pregnant, but when the cramps started, she had feared the worst and the anxiety was debilitating.
   The girls who showed any symptoms were immediately sent to the Clinic for tests, but all the tests came back negative. This simply fueled the rumors of witchcraft. That's when the bumps started. Colette got them first. The red welts started on her arms and legs, but soon spread to her face. The worst part was when the bumps reached her scalp. It itched so bad she wanted to pull her hair out.
   By the time the bumps reached Colette's scalp, seven more girls had them too. The school's pediatrician was quite certain that these were neither chicken pox nor measles, but the affected girls should be isolated to limit the spread of what was in all likelihood a virus that would pass. In all, forty girls came down with the bumps, but by the following week the bumps were gone and all the girls were back in school.
   A specialist was brought in at the insistence of the Board of Directors. He and his staff were quite thorough, interviewing all of the girls variously afflicted and repeating all of the tests. At last he presented his findings to the Board. He was absolutely certain that the girls were suffering from a variety of symptoms that could not possibly arise from any known disease or any form of food poisoning. The only plausible explanation was: Displacement Disorder. Simply put, these were psychosomatic manifestations arising from the anxiety these girls experienced due to the appalling pressure to achieve.
   Sabrina had carefully positioned herself at the window so as to hear the doctor's presentation to the Board. When he delivered his diagnosis she laughed harder than she had in years. This was a displacement all right and it was psychological, but it had nothing to do with witchcraft. This was a displacement of blame and Sabrina had orchestrated it like a maestro.
   Sabrina had punished others before in much the same way. Danvers was called Salem Village then. The year was 1647. It all started with Alice Young. Sabrina had no reason to hate Alice before then, but that day changed everything. A pot of boiling water, discarded carelessly, had been the start of it. After that one thing led to another, all leading up to conviction and finally the hanging. Alice Young paid dearly for her callous treatment of Sabrina.
   It was easy for Sabrina to accomplish: a shadow here and there, a few items removed, and others carefully placed to form a pentagram. These all pointed toward witchcraft. Sabrina need only start the rumors rolling and occasionally nudge them along. The others did the rest for her. They were all so very gullible.
   It could have stopped there if only Margaret Jones hadn't tossed those hot ashes, but she did. The rest was on her head. Sabrina's plan had worked so well the first time, why not a second? If anything it was easier the second time. The same fools were still in charge and looking for witches in every dustbin. Then there was Mary Johnson and her ever-present broom. Both women hung that next year.
   Two years passed and life was pleasant in Salem Village, but that was not to last. Sabrina feared that she would always be barren, but that spring brought with it new life in her womb. It pained her now to remember the day that Henry Lake's wife drowned her precious little one. Mrs. Kendall had taken part in the deed, executed while Sabrina was out securing food. They had robbed her of life and she would see them hang for it by year's end.
   Life in Salem Village was never the same after that. Sorrow stalked Sabrina so that she moved to Hartford in hopes of escaping it. All of Massachusetts seemed infested with cruel women, bent on Sabrina's grief. The next year saw the conviction and hanging of Mary Parsons and Goodwife Bassett.
   Hanging was too good for them. Sabrina wished for worse, like they used to do in the old country, before she had come over on the Mayflower. The crossing had been dreadful. She longed to return, but could never endure another such voyage. She hated even the sight of a ship and would sooner die than board one.
   Two more years passed and Goodwife Knap was the next to pay for her misdeeds. Another three years and Sabrina wondered if she would ever know happiness. Was it her destiny to suffer endlessly at the hands of these women? Ann Hibbins swung from the same rope as Goodwife Knap.
   Another six years passed and the year was 1662. Sabrina had a new family and new hopes. She wanted to forget the past and start another life, a different life than the last one. Alas, this was not to be, for there was no shortage of evil people in this place. Sabrina had settled her family into a little cottage by a gentle stream. It was a beautiful place until Goodman Greensmith and his Goodwife moved in and drove Sabrina and her family out. The Greensmiths hung together on the same tree.
   Twenty-six more years passed and Sabrina's hopes were again high. She had a new life, this time in Boston. There were more opportunities in the city, but many more bad people. There were fools in Boston too and Sabrina found them to be as compliant as the ones in Hartford and Salem Village. The execution of Goody Glover was the end of the witch trials, but by this time Sabrina had learned the displacement of blame like a trade.
   "Enough of memories for now," Sabrina said to herself. They were all too painful and that was four lives ago. She was now on her eighth of nine lives, the fire was warm, and the wing chair was comfortable. Sabrina purred softly and began her morning nap.

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