Much Like a Bug, Ever-Snug

Jenna Tobias 

There’s a girl in my lecture who’s kind of…strange.

To others, at least. In my eyes, she’s a strange sort of pretty. Like a discordant note in a song that just fits in. Charming in the way a china doll is: dainty but off-putting, as if her veins are liquid gold and her eyelashes are spun from sugar. Even her name is pretty. Beatrice. Fluffy like a bumblebee. 

She doesn’t speak unless spoken to, and when she does it’s like the sweetest honey, or so I’ve heard. She wears thick-rimmed glasses, the lenses blackened out to hide her sensitive eyes, and long, swishing skirts paired with soft, oversized uniform sweaters. When she swans into a room, it’s with an air of quiet grace. As if she’s but a gentle breeze, hardly noticeable until you force yourself to become aware of her presence. I’ve always thought it might be interesting to talk to her. Beatrice keeps to herself, never overstaying her welcome anywhere, as if she’s allergic to lingering. I see her holed up in a corner of the library from time to time, squished into an alcove window like a spider. She’s usually reading or scribbling in a leather notebook. It’s an old, patchwork thing, bound with twine and overstuffed with yellowing pages. There’s a rumor being spread like the plague that the cover’s made from stitched-up human flesh, but no one’s gotten close enough to prove or disprove the theory.

“Gracious, Ethe, give it a rest, would ya?” Edward, my closest friend and fellow mischief maker, says, lifting a book on hexes from his face. Wispy strands of blond hair peel away from the pages, sticking to his forehead like straw. He cards his hand through his scalp to muss it more thoroughly. “So she’s a bit unusual. What’s it matter?”

“It matters because those rumors are needlessly cruel. They’re painting a shy, nice girl as some monster. How’s that fair?” I explain, plucking the book from his hands before he can retreat beneath it for another nap. As if he hopes the knowledge will soak into his skin like an academic cosmetic. Unlikely.

“Yeah, well, people are cruel.” He kicks his legs up on the table and folds his hands behind his head. “And that’s the most entertaining thing at this school.”

“It’s not entertaining when it ostracizes someone from our year,” I mutter. In order to distract myself from this conversation, I flip through my notes. It’s wrong to call them notes when doodles take up the margins of each page, exploding onto the looseleaf like brain matter on a wall.

“And what do you think?” Ed asks, cracking an eye open to challenge me. “About Beatrice. We know squat about her family, she shows up in much the same fashion, her hair’s an unruly mess, and Harry from Magic History says no one’s ever seen her eyes. No circling around it—she’s weird. So what’s fact and what’s fiction?”

“Most of it’s crocodile tears.”

“Yeah? You don’t wanna believe she’s actually a man-eating monster?”

I roll my eyes and intentionally slam my notebook shut. Fogmarsh might school all manner of fantastical fiends, but it’s not like any of us are inherently evil. At least, that’s what I believe. “Has anyone ever thought to ask her about these things?”

Ed shrugs. “Why would they? More fun to theorize, ain’t it?” My expression suggests I’m not satisfied with that answer, so he sighs loudly and sits up in his chair. “If you’re so curious, why not ask? Go play journalist and then write up a piece for the school paper. You might even get her some friends and learn what she’s really like. Two birds, y’know?”

“Maybe I will, and you can come with me to apologize.”

Just then, emerging from the towering, tome-stacked shelves, Beatrice makes her way to the library’s exit. She’s so close to our table, weaving through the aisle and passing us in the process, that I catch the stench of white lilies. It chokes both of us momentarily, lingering in the air long after she’s slipped out of the heavy wooden doors.

Ed stares at me. “Speak of the devil and she arrives.”

“Oh, clam up,” I snap, reaching across the table to bat him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna

talk to her.”

“Really? Right now?”

“Now’s as good a time as any, no?”

“If you must. Don’t get hissy when I’m proven right.” Grinning, he stuffs his books and papers into his satchel and rockets up from his seat. “Let’s get to it, soldier.”

I roll my eyes. And soon we’re giggling, seemingly no longer at war with our opposing opinions.

We scurry like rats in the direction Beatrice went. She’s not too far from us, casually strutting down the hall. Her long skirt hides most of her shoes, giving us the illusion she’s floating along. If it weren’t for her clicking footsteps, I’d be fooled by her ghostly nature. 

“Beatrice, wait for us!” I call out, breaking into a jog.

Ed hurries after me, his time on the track team proving useful. He passes me easily and meets Beatrice in just a few seconds, whose gait slows to assess him. I drag myself the rest of the way, my hands on my knees as I catch my breath. Then, after recovering most of my oxygen, I straighten up to address her.

“Ed and I wanted to say hi. Ask what you’re up to.”

“Righto,” he confirms with a salute. He tries to peek at the books tucked away in her bag. “Got any secrets in there?” I’m quick to elbow him for that.

I can’t tell if she’s looking at us through her glasses or not. In fact, she’s standing so still I have to wonder if she’s even here with us at all. 

But then her blush-pink lips part and she speaks. “I’m on my way home.”

“That all? No extracurriculars?”

“Not today, Edward.”

He shrugs. It’s my cue to salvage this stilted conversation before she leaves altogether.

“Would you like to study with us? You’re in my herbology class and you seem to know what you’re doing during labs. I could learn from your expertise.”

Something in her mouth slithers into a twitchy smile. Or… Well, I blinked and so maybe it’s nothing. But it almost looked like the twitching was beneath her skin, below her smile, nestled deep into flesh. I shake those thoughts away. It’s all baseless rumor, and eventually the awkwardness in her muscles smooths out into something placid. 

“I’m flattered, but I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly study with you.”

“Why not?”

“Hey, we’re not good enough for ya? So cold…”

“I prefer my solitude. That’s all.”

“Come on!” Ed scoffs and drapes his arm around her, yanking her close. “A little study time will do us all good. Exams are coming up anyways. We’ve gotta study, study, study!”

Beatrice’s smile doesn’t waver, nor does she appear burdened by the extra weight or Ed’s intrusive non-invitation. He’s really pushing it, but I’m glad he’s shameless. If it was me, I’d have abandoned ship already.

“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” I add quickly. “It would be nice to talk sometime, if you’re open to it.”

“You’ve got friends in us, y’know.” Which is a bald-faced lie, but I don’t say anything to discredit Ed.

Her smile widens slightly. “I’m grateful you’d want to befriend someone like myself. I don’t interact with the student body very often.”

“Meh. Forget about ’em.” Ed waves his hand through the air. I tamp down the urge to laugh at his acting. He was just contributing to all that nonsense talk regarding her already assassinated character and now he wants to pretend to be chummy. “Now it’s off to hit the books!

Where’re we going for that?”

“We can go to my house. I’m certain Mother won’t mind. She’s always insisting I bring friends home to meet her.” She flusters, suddenly embarrassed to admit to her lacking social circle.

“Are you sure we won’t be imposing?” I ask, but Ed’s already cheering.

“All right! Let’s hop to it, then!”

We pile onto the horse-drawn omnibus and are brought all the way to the edge of town. Ed decides to be a gentleman, offering his hand to help each of us from the steps. Beatrice’s house is poised between rows of bushy pines. Just beyond the woods, clawing towards the sky, are the mountains. I’m not sure why, but I was expecting something dilapidated. This quaint house, with its trimmed shrubbery and flower-lined pathway, is the exact opposite. For some reason, though, it reminds me of a lace-lined casket surrounded by funeral bouquets, each bloom blotting out sterile death.

“Huh…” Ed marvels as we follow Beatrice.

“Told you she was normal, you lump.”

“Right, right. I’m chewing my words,” he mutters. But then the amusement is bled from his voice. “Something’s still off.”

“Just around the corner here,” Beatrice announces, winding around the front of the house to the side. “Mother often waits outside to greet me when I get home.”

“Very well,” I reply, but Ed seizes my arm and drags me back. “What?”

“You don’t find it strange?” he whispers, holding me still. “When I touched her back at school… Something… There was…”

“Out with it,” I hiss, scowling.

“She sank under it. Me, I mean. Something moved.”

“Because you were putting all your weight on her.”

“No, not that. Ethe, listen to me. She’s not normal. I ain’t chaffin’ ya.”

We round the corner and there’s a yawning cave where a shed ought to be. It’s baffling that anyone would want to live right by something like that. Who knows what horrors lurk inside?

“So where’s Mother Dearest?” Ed asks, peering around the yard.

“Right this way.” Beatrice beckons us over to the cave. Against our better judgment, we inch closer and closer, caught in the jaws of morbid curiosity. She calls out into the dark.

“Mother? I’ve brought some friends! Won’t you say hello?”

An unnerving quiet mushrooms between the three of us.

“Well, if she’s not home, who are we to overstay our welcome?” Ed blurts, hooking arms with me and pulling. 

Before I can protest, something heavy lurches towards us. We listen to its stomping steps as it approaches. Closer… Closer…

Beatrice, her arms folded behind her back, waits patiently until the figure emerges. It’s tall, its face grotesque and spotted with black, beady eyes. It lowers itself on eight fuzzy legs to study us closely. We’re swallowed in its shadow, two tiny ants next to a beast.

A giant spider looms overhead. This can’t be her—

“Mother,” Beatrice says, gesturing to us, “these are my friends. Edward and Etheldreda.”

She pulls her glasses from her face and folds them up, revealing to us two empty eye sockets. A pair of apple-green spiders drop down into the hollowed spaces on thin strands of web, acting as her sight. Immediately, Ed’s comment about something moving beneath her skin and my witnessing of her twitchy lip paints a visceral image.

She’s the husk for a family of insects, each one wriggling together to keep the skin from sagging on her bones. An entire hive resides within a corpse. I don’t want to imagine what’s lurking behind her skin, nestled snugly in place of the ligaments and muscles of her hyoid bone, taking on the role of her larynx. Or what’s curled up within the hollow of her skull. Or what’s capable of smiling at us with a human’s face. 

I’m slow to move, rooted to the ground with this dawning realization. Ed’s fingers lace with my own, and before I know it we’re running.

Jenna Tobias is a writer from Chicago whose work has been published in EIU's literary magazine, "The Vehicle," in 2024 and 2025. She is currently writing her first novel, a romantic comedy called "To Kill a Cupid." When she isn’t working or writing, she’s reading, playing video games, and taking way too many photos of flowers, food, and her day-to-day outfits.