by R. L. Stine
Zane waved good-bye, walked to the side of the stage, and handed the mic back to the host. He squeezed past a few tables and dropped down beside Amber with a loud sigh. “That went well,” he murmured, shaking his head.
“I thought you were solid,” I said. “I mean, for the first time.”
He squinted at me. “Solid? What does that mean? What about funny?”
“That’s what I meant,” I said.
Zane tapped Winks’s arm across the table. “What did you think? How was I?”
“Did you start yet?” Winks replied.
Amber slapped Winks’s hand. “You’re not funny.”
Delia rolled her eyes. She sipped her Pepsi and didn’t say anything.
“I’ll bet her name is Darlene,” Liam said.
I turned to him. “What are you talking about?”
The beautiful girl. She was shaking out her coppery hair, tossing her head as if she had just washed it.
“Why Darlene?” I asked.
“She’s got to be a Jacqueline,” Winks said. “But no one ever calls her Jackie.”
“Have you both gone crazy?” Delia cried. “You’ve never seen a pretty girl before?”
“Not like that,” Zane chimed in. “I think her name is Shannon. It goes with her red hair.”
Amber grabbed my arm. “Let’s go, Julie,” she said, trying to pull me up. “We don’t have to sit here and listen to these morons. They are obviously hypnotized.”
Onstage, the emcee, Stanley D, waved for attention. “Hey, everyone, let’s give our next performer a Chuckles welcome. By that, I mean totally ignore him! His name is Bernie Glaser, everyone. Here he comes. Feel the Bern! Feel the Bern!”
Bernie Glaser was maybe in his thirties, but looked older because he was balding and kind of stooped over, and had a large Adam’s apple that bobbed at the neck of his gray turtleneck sweater.
“Can you imagine this? My girlfriend is so cheap,” he started, “she’ll only take me out to dinner two or three times a week.”
Liam’s chair clattered loudly as he jumped to his feet. The wine bottle on the floor started to topple over, but I caught it. “I’m going to ask her to come sit with us,” Liam said. “I’ll tell her we were betting on her name.”
“Let’s bet on whether she’ll come over,” Winks said. “I bet yes.”
“I bet no,” Delia said. “Look at her. You can see she wants to be alone.”
“She hasn’t smiled once,” I said, watching her as she sipped a sparkling water. “She looks so sad. Don’t bother her, Liam.”
“My girlfriend is angry with me,” Bernie Glaser said up on the stage. “She caught me cheating on her with my wife.”
Big laugh, mostly from the men.
Liam signaled to us with his fingers crossed. He rested his hand on Winks’s head as he slid past and moved to the girl’s table.
We all turned around to watch as he pulled out the chair and sat down across from her. Onstage, Bernie Glaser must have wondered what was going on.
Liam had his goofy grin pasted on his face, and he was talking a mile a minute.
The girl still didn’t smile. But she didn’t motion him away, either. A light beam from the stage caught her big green eyes and made them flash like emeralds.
Liam gestured to our table. We all quickly turned away. We didn’t want to be caught staring.
“I think she’s going to do it,” Zane said. “I think she’s going to come over here.”
“Scoot over,” Winks told Delia. “Make some room.”
“You can make some room for my fist!” Delia exclaimed. The threat sounded funny in her mousy little voice. But I didn’t think she was joking. She was totally possessive when it came to Winks. And the big idiot never really seemed to notice.
Then I saw the girl brush her hair off her shoulders and stand up. She had a smile on her face for the first time.
“Whoa. Liam dropped the charm on her,” Zane said. “Here she comes.”
Yes. She adjusted her short black skirt and tugged down her silky green top as she followed Liam to our table.
And as I watched, I felt a chill.
A cold tightening at the back of my neck.
I put a warm, welcoming smile on my face. But I turned and whispered to Amber, “There’s something strange about her.”
Amber didn’t react. She just kept her eyes on Liam and the girl as they approached.
“You know I’m always right about these things,” I whispered. “I have a very bad feeling about this.”
4
Julie Hart Continues
Bernie Glaser finished his act with “Don’t applaud. Just throw Bitcoins!” He walked offstage to mild applause and some scattered boos.
Liam dragged a chair up to the table and pushed it in next to his own. We all squeezed around and said hi as the girl gracefully lowered herself onto the chair and brushed her hair back again.
Liam dropped beside her and put an arm on the back of her chair, as if they were old friends or something. He had drops of perspiration on his forehead. He was really working hard to win her over.
I was directly across from her. And what totally blew me away was the smooth perfection of her skin, pale as cream and not a blemish, not a mark, as if she’d never been out in the sun for a minute. And I instantly noticed how the soft perfection of her skin made those enormous green eyes glow like jewels. It’s a cliché, I know, but it’s the only way to describe them.
We went around the table, announcing our names. Liam’s hand tapped the back of her chair. “So is your name Darlene?” he asked.
I laughed. I couldn’t believe Liam told her how we’d tried to guess her name by looking at her.
My laugh cut short when she said, “Yes. I’m Darlene.”
Liam’s eyes bulged. “Seriously? Are you seriously Darlene?”
“Not seriously,” she said. She had a scratchy, hoarse voice, as if she hadn’t used it for a while.
“But you are Darlene?” Liam wouldn’t give up.
“Actually, no,” she said. “I never knew a Darlene. Did you?”
“My cousin Darlene used to live a few blocks from me,” Winks said. “But she moved to Houston.”
“That’s fascinating,” Delia said sarcastically. She slid her arm through his and took his hand. She wanted to show the new girl that Winks was taken.
“My guess was Shannon,” Zane said. “Was I close?”
She squeezed his hand. “Yes. Shannon. Good guess.”
“You mean I was right?”
“No. My name is Morgan. Morgan Marks.”
Zane groaned. “I saw you watching my act. What did you think?”
She shrugged her delicate shoulders. It made the silky material of her green top shimmer. “I’m the wrong person to ask,” she said in that scratchy voice. “I don’t get jokes. Really.”
“Neither does Zane!” Liam joked.
We all laughed, everyone except Zane.
Morgan locked her eyes on Zane. She stared like she was burning into his brain. “Do you really want to be a comedian?”
“I just wanted to see what it feels like,” he said.
She gave him a sly look. “You mean you like to try new experiences? That’s bold.”
Zane snickered. He looked uncomfortable.
He’s so shy with girls. I’ve been coming on to him for years and he’s never made a move. Now this beautiful girl was definitely flirting with him, and all he could do was snicker and blush.
“How about some wine?” Liam pulled the bottle off the floor. “It’s a little warm . . .”
“No. But I’d like another LaCroix if you see the waitress.”
Delia held on to Winks’s arm. He had this big grin on his face that looked painted on. He couldn’t take his eyes off Morgan, and I could see Delia’s features tightening as she became more and more annoyed with him.
“Are you new here?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going so we didn’t just have a staring
match.
“I’m new everywhere,” she replied. She smiled. “Does that make any sense?”
“You mean you just moved here?” Liam said. “Where is your house?”
She waved toward the door. “Somewhere over there.”
Jeannie, the waitress, appeared. She narrowed her eyes at Zane. “I’d ask how you are doing, but I saw your act. Wish I could serve you a drink. I’m sure you need it.”
Zane’s face appeared to slump. “I was that good, huh?” he replied.
“No. Not that good,” Jeannie said.
“You are cold,” Winks said.
She frowned at him. “Keeping it real. Anybody want anything?”
I was still hungry. I ordered nachos for the table. We ordered more sodas. Morgan asked for another LaCroix.
“Where did you live before here? Where did you go to school?” Liam asked Morgan after Jeannie walked away.
She ran a finger down his sleeve. “You’re very inquisitive, aren’t you?”
Liam shrugged. “I just wondered . . .”
“I’ve moved around a lot,” Morgan said. “Sometimes it’s like a blur. I don’t remember where I’ve been or where I’m coming from.” She touched his arm again. “You ever have that feeling where you want to lose yourself completely and not know where you are?”
Liam hesitated. “Well . . .”
“Liam is always lost,” Winks joked. I could see he didn’t like all the attention Liam was getting from Morgan.
Zane just sat there staring at her. Like she was a new species. He seemed totally hypnotized.
Did she notice that all three boys were like deer caught in headlights, all three helplessly insane for her, ready to become her slaves, and she’d barely said a word?
I thought she did.
Amber and I exchanged glances across the table. We both saw that Morgan was a total flirt.
She had this way of letting her hair fall over her face and making her green eyes go wide when she concentrated on one of them. She used her hoarse voice to sound sexy.
And she was one of those people who touch you as she talks to you. She kept rubbing Liam’s arm and touching his chest. She even reached across the table once to brush Zane’s hair back from his forehead.
Delia eyed her warily. She had tightened her grip on Winks’s arm and had pulled back her head, her expression tense, like a wildcat preparing to spring. Winks didn’t seem aware of Delia at all. He kept grinning at Morgan and nodding at everything she said.
Which wasn’t much. She seemed really swift at not answering questions or giving away anything about herself. We still didn’t know where she came from or when she got to Linden or where she lived.
“Hey, how’s it going?” A loud voice interrupted our conversation. I turned to see Bernie Glaser behind me, a tall drink in one hand. I saw a round spot on his gray turtleneck and guessed he had spilled some of the drink.
He reached across the table and bumped fists with Zane. “I watched your act, man. Not bad. I mean, for a first-timer.”
Zane seemed embarrassed by the compliment. But he said, “Hey, thanks. I thought—”
“You were thinking too much, man,” Glaser said. “I could see the gears spinning. You just got to let it go. Know what I mean?”
“I guess. I—”
“Well, see you around, guys.” He raised his glass. “Cheers.” He turned and walked away. His stoop-shouldered gait made him look a lot older than he was.
Liam turned back to Morgan. “Linden is a pretty big high school,” he said. “It takes in all the surrounding communities. You might need some help navigating at first. I could help. . . .”
“That would be nice,” Morgan purred.
“Liam gets lost all the time,” Winks said again. “He can’t find anything. He can’t find his butt with both hands.”
“Hey—!” Liam shouted. “Leave the jokes to Zane.”
“Who’s joking?” Winks said. He turned back to Morgan. “I could meet you Monday morning before homeroom.”
“Sweet,” Morgan murmured, doing her wide-eye thing.
Amber and I shared another disgusted look. Well . . . not really disgusted. It’s just that Morgan was being so obvious, and the boys were being such jerks.
Finally, I turned to Morgan. “You said you don’t like jokes?” I said.
She nodded. “It’s just that I don’t get jokes.”
“Then why did you come here tonight?” I demanded.
Her smile faded. “Fresh blood,” she said.
5
Told by Bernie Glaser
Twenty-five dollars and all I can drink. That’s a good night for me. I’m not bitter or anything, but here I am, thirty-four years old, still driving a UPS truck, my bony knees in the brown shorts, my balding head sunburned from being outside all day . . . still getting my heart pumping at open mic night in a crummy falling-down comedy club in a nowhere town you can’t even find on a map. At least, I couldn’t find it if I hadn’t been born here.
Born in captivity.
That’s the real joke.
We’re all born in captivity—aren’t we?
I should put it in my act. It’s about as funny as anything else I got.
All those jokes about my girlfriend, and I haven’t had a girlfriend since I had a full head of hair and all those big dreams of showbiz glory. Ha-ha. Feel the Bern. Feel the Bern, everyone! Not that I’m bitter.
You got to be bitter to be funny, right? At least it helps. You know. You’ve got to have an attitude. That’s what comedy is all about. That attitude.
As if I know what I’m talking about.
Well, I know a good tequila and tonic. Or maybe three of them. I lost count. And now I’m walking to get the buzz off. Clear my head so I can drive back to my little studio apartment and wallow in pity till I fall asleep on the couch.
The fresh air feels so good on my hot cheeks. Of course, everything is closed up, even the Starbucks. They call this part of town Five Corners, and it’s the only happening neighborhood in this existentially boring place. But, of course, it isn’t happening, either. At least, not after ten o’clock at night.
A warm spring night and the soft bump of my shoes on the sidewalk is the only sound, except for the soft rustling of the trees in the little park across the street.
Aren’t I poetic? Well, I wrote a lot of poetry when I was at Penn State. But I always tried to make it funny. You know, satiric, ironic. And who wants funny poetry? Everyone wants sensitive.
I step into the park. Maybe I’m weaving a bit, a little unsteady. But I want to get a sniff of those fresh trees, the leaves just uncurling, the spring grass so fragrant and sweet. Just a chill as I step under the trees.
And there is the girl. Is she waiting for me?
No. She couldn’t be.
Her face gleams as pale as moonlight. No. The moon was never as beautiful. She glows, and her red-lipped smile spreads over that beautiful face, coppery hair catching the glint of light from the streetlamp behind us.
She moves toward me, her face open, like she’s expecting something. Suddenly, I wish I had a clear head. But she smells sweet, like flowers, intoxicating . . . intoxicating.
I knew I was breathing fast. I shook my head hard, but it only sent a shooting pain down my neck.
“Hey,” she whispered. So close now, the flowery scent wrapping me up.
“I—I saw you at the club,” I stammered. “Did you follow me here?”
She tossed a wave of hair off her forehead. Her eyes were green and bright as traffic lights. She didn’t answer. A teasing smile spread over her face.
“Did you like my act?” I asked. So lame. But usually my first question to anyone.
“I liked your act,” she whispered. Her voice was soft and hoarse.
“Thank you,” I said. Still lame. But my head cleared a little and I began to see that we were alone in this tiny, dark park. “What did you want? My autograph?” I actually made a joke.
Another te
asing smile from her. “What do I want?” Pause. “You’ll see.”
She took my hand. Her fingers were ice-cold.
“No. Wait,” I said. I suddenly imagined a Linden patrol car pulling up to the curb.
She ignored me and slid her hands across the front of my turtleneck. Chills. Believe me. Chills down my back.
“I liked your act, honey,” she whispered.
“No. Wait.” I tried to back up, but I was against a wide tree trunk. “How . . . how old are you?”
She brought her lips close to my ear. “Old enough,” she whispered.
“No. Listen.” I tried to gently push her back. “You’re a beautiful girl. But I know you’re not old enough. I saw you with those teenagers. You . . . you could get me in a whole lot of trouble.”
She giggled. A light giggle, like a tinkling piano. “That’s the idea.”
And then her cold hands were wrapped around the back of my neck, and she pulled my face to hers. And kissed me, softly at first and then with more energy, her lips moving on mine. And, yes, I kissed her back. I’m human, you know.
Her soft hair brushed my face. My heart started to pound. The kiss lasted a long time. I knew I was still buzzing, not from the drinks but from the flower-sweet fragrance and the fresh, cool air and the tingling feel of her hands on the back of my neck and the hard push of her lips against mine.
Intoxicating.
I stood there, my eyes half shut, my whole body tensed and pulsing. I didn’t even open my eyes when she tugged down the neck of my turtleneck.
And pressed her lips against the pulsing vein in my throat.
I didn’t make a sound until I felt her teeth pierce my skin . . . until I felt the stab of pain as two pinpricks at my throat became a roaring, drilling pain.
I tried to scream, but only a groan escaped my throat.
I guess I went into instant shock. So surprised . . . so taken unaware.
She made loud slurping sounds, and her tongue lapped against my neck. I could feel the warm liquid on my skin and beneath her tongue.
Helpless. I tried to squirm away. Tried to jerk my head from her teeth. But I was helpless. No longer intoxicated but under a spell, a strong spell that made me feel weaker . . . then weaker.