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'Let me help you； dear。 Oh I am so sor…'
She struck out at her
（flex）
and Miss Desjardin went flying to rattle off the wall at the side of the stage and fall into a heap。
Carrie ran。 She ran through the middle of them。 Her hands were to her face but she could see through the prison of her fingers； could see them； how they were； beautiful； wrapped in light； swathed in the bright； angelic robes of Acceptance。 The shined shoes； the clear faces； the careful beauty…parlour hairdos； the glittery gowns。 They stepped back from her as if she was plague； but they kept laughing； then； a foot was stuck slyly out
（o yes that es next o yes）
and she fell over on her hands and knew and began to crawl； to crawl along the floor with her blood…clotted hair hanging in her face； crawling like St Paul on the Damascus Road； whose eyes had been blinded by the light。 Next someone would kick her ass。
But no one did and then she was scrabbling to her feet again。 Things began to speed up。 She was out through the door； out into the lobby； then flying down the stairs that she and Tommy had swept up so grandly two hours ago。
（tommy's dead full price paid full price for bringing a plague into the place of light）
She went down them in great； awkward leaps； with the sound of the laughter flapping around her like black birds。
Then； darkness。
She fled across the school's wide front lawn； losing both of her prom slippers and fleeing barefoot The closely cut school lawn was like velvet； lightly dusted with dewfall； and the laughter was behind her。 She began to calm slightly。
Then her feet did tangle and she fell at full length out by the flagpole。 She lay quiescent； breathing raggedly； her hot face buried in the cool grass。 The tears of shame began to flow； as hot and as heavy as that first flow of menstrual blood had been。 They had beaten her； bested her； once and for all time。 It was over。
She would pick herself up very soon now； and sneak home by the back streets； keeping to the shadows in case someone came looking for her； find Momma； admit she had been wrong
（！ NO ！）
The steel in her… and there was a great deal of it suddenly rose up and cried the word out strongly。 The closet？ The endless； wandering prayers？ The tracts and the cross and only the mechanical bird in the Black Forest cuckoo clock to mark off the rest of the hours and days and years and decades of her life？
Suddenly； as if a videotape machine had been turned on in her mind； she saw Miss Desjardin running toward her； and saw her thrown out of her way like a rag doll as she used her mind on her； without even consciously thinking of it。
She rolled over on her back； eyes staring wildly at the stars from her painted face。 She was forgetting
（！ THE POWER ！）
It was time to teach them a lesson。 Time to show them a thing or two。 She giggled hysterically。 It was one of Momma's pet phrases。
（momma ing home putting her purse down eyeglasses flashing well i guess i showed that elt a thing or two at the shop today）
There was the sprinkler system。 She could turn it on； turn it on easily。 She giggled again and got up； began to walk barefoot back toward the lobby doors。 Turn on the sprinkler system and close all the doors。 Look in and let them see her looking in； watching and laughing while the shower ruined their dresses and their hairdos and took the shine off their shoes。 Her only regret was that it couldn't be blood。
The lobby was empty。 She paused halfway up the stairs and FLEX； the doors all slammed shut under the concentrated force she directed at them the pneumatic door…closers snapping of。 She heard some of them scream and it was music； sweet soul music。
For a moment nothing changed and then she could feel them pushing against the doors； wanting them to open。 The pressure was negligible。 They were trapped
（trapped）
and the word echoed intoxicatingly in her mind。 They were under her thumb； in her power。 Power！ What a word that was！
She went the rest of the way up and looked in and George Dawson was smashed up against the glass； struggling； pushing； his face distorted with effort。 There were others behind him； and they all looked like fish in an aquarium。
She glanced up and yes； there were the sprinkler pipes； with their tiny nozzles like metal daisies。 The pipes went through small holes in the green cinderblock wall。 There were a great many inside； she remembered。 Fire laws； or something。
Fire laws。 In a flash her mind recalled
（black thick cords like snakes）
the power cords strung all over the stage。 They were out of the audience's sight； hidden by the footlights； but she had had to step carefully over them to get to the throne。 Tommy had been holding her arm。
（fire and water）
She reached up with her mind； felt the pipes； traced them Cold； full of water。 She tasted iron in her mouth； cold wet metal； the taste of water drank from the nozzle of a garden hose。
Flex
For a moment nothing happened。 Then they began to back away from the doors； looking around。 She walked to the small oblong of glass in the middle door and looked inside。
It was raining in the gym。
Carrie began to smile。
She hadn't gotten all of them； only some。 But she found that by looking up at the sprinkler system with her eyes； she could trace its course more easily with her mind。 She began to turn on more of the nozzles； and more。 Yet it wasn't enough。 They weren't crying yet； so it wasn't enough
（hurt them then hurt them）
There was a boy up on the stage by Tommy； gesturing wildly and shouting something。 As she watched； he climbed down and ran toward the rock band's equipment。 He caught hold one of the microphone stands and was transfixed。 Carrie watched； amazed； as his body went through a nearly motionless dance of electricity。 His feet shuffled in the water； his hair stood up in spikes； and his mouth jerked open； like the mouth of a fish。 He looked funny。 She began to laugh。
（by christ then let them all look funny）
And in a sudden； blind thrust； she yanked at all the power she could feel。
Some of the fights puffed out。 There was a dazzling flash somewhere as a live power cord hit a puddle of water。 There were dull thumps in her mind as circuit breakers went into hopeless operation。 The boy who had been holding the mike stand fell over on one of his amps and there was an explosion of purple sparks and then the crepe bunting that faced the stage was burning。
Just below the thrones； a live 220…volt electricity cable was crackling on the floor and beside it Rhonda Simard was doing a crazed puppet dance in her green tulle formal。 Its full skirt suddenly blazed into flame and she fell forward； still jerking。
It might have been at that moment that Carrie went over the edge。 She leaned against the doors； her heart pumping wildly； yet her body as cold as ice cubes。 Her face was livid； but dull red fever spots stood on each cheek。 Her head throbbed thickly； and conscious thought was lost。
She reeled away from the doors； still holding them shut； doing it without thought or plan。 Inside the fire was brightening and she realized dimly that the mural must have caught on fire。
She collapsed on the top step and put her head down on her knees； trying to slow her breathing。 They were trying to get out the doors again； but she held them shut easilythat alone was no strain。 Some obscure sense told her that a few were getting out the fire doors； but let them。 She would get them later。 She would get all of them。 Every last one。
She went down the stairs slowly and out the front doors； still holding the gymnasium doors closed。 It was easy。 All you had to do was see them in your mind。
The town whistle went off suddenly； making her scream and put her hands in front of her face
（the whistle it's just the fire whistle）
for a moment。 Her mind's eye lost sight of the gymnasium doors and some of them almost got out。 No； no。 Naughty。 She slammed them shut again； catching somebody's fingers…it felt like Dale Norbert … in the jamb and severing one of them。
She began to reel across the lawn again； a scarecrow fig= with bulging eyes； toward Main Street。 On her right was dowtown … the department store； the Kelly Fruit； the beauty parlour and barbershop； gas stations； police station； fire station
（they'll put out my fire）
But they wouldn't。 She began to giggle and it was an insane sound： triumphant； lost； victorious； terrified。 She came to the first hydrant and tried to twist the huge painted lug nut on the side。
（ohuh）
It was heavy。 It was very heavy。 Metal twisted fight to balk here。 Didn't matter。
She twisted harder and felt it give。 Then the other side。 Then the top。 Then she twisted all three at once； standing back； and they unscrewed in a flash。 Water exploded outward and upward； one of the lug nuts flying five feet in front of her at suicidal speed； It hit the street； caromed high into the air； and was gone。 Water gushed with white pressure in a cruciform pattern。
Smiling； staggering； her heart beating at over two hundred per minute； she began to to walk down toward Grass Plaza。 She was unaware that she was scrubbing her bloodied hands against her dress like Lady Macbeth； or that she was weeping even as she laughed； or that one hidden part of her mind was keening over her final and utter ruin。
Bemuse she was going to take t