by R. L. Stine
“What about Morgan?” Delia demanded.
“There must be a mistake in her school records,” I said. “My mom requested them from her old school and they arrived the other day. There was a letter that said Morgan died five years ago.”
Delia blinked a few times. Finally, she said, “Well . . . she is very pale.” I think she meant it as a joke. Amber and I both laughed.
“If I could be that gorgeous,” Amber said, “I wouldn’t mind being dead.”
Amber and Delia laughed.
I didn’t. “It really isn’t a joke,” I said. “I mean, I thought it was just a mix-up. It had to be a mix-up. What else? But . . . I googled Morgan Marks. And guess what? I found a bunch of news reports. She died in a car accident five years ago.”
A long silence. Then Delia said, “So . . . she’s like the living dead? A zombie? She doesn’t look like a zombie, Julie.”
“Let’s ask her,” Amber said. “She just walked in.”
14
Julie Continues to Narrate
I turned toward the front door and saw Morgan enter, followed by Zane. They both glanced around, searching for an empty table. They didn’t see us against the wall.
“Morgan and Zane?” Delia said to Amber. “I thought you saw her with Liam.”
“I did,” Amber said.
They both looked at me. They both know how I feel about Zane. And yes, it hurt to see him holding Morgan’s hand, being so cozy with her as they slid into a booth at the back. It made me angry at myself that I’d been so timid all this time, that I’d been so stupid about not letting Zane know that I had a thing for him.
“Julie, where are you going?” Amber asked.
I didn’t even realize I had jumped to my feet. “Uh . . . Let’s say hi.”
Amber slid out of the booth. “I’ll stay here,” Delia said. “They might take away the booth.” She slid the dark glasses over her eyes. But before she did, I thought I glimpsed a tremor of fear.
What did Delia have to be afraid of?
Amber and I pushed through some kids who were moving to leave, and strode toward Morgan and Zane. They were laughing together about something but stopped when they saw us coming.
“Hey.” Zane gave us a wave. He had a silly grin on his normally serious face. His dark eyes locked on mine. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” I said. “Delia’s here, too.” I motioned to our booth. “We’re just finishing up.”
“What did you have? A cheeseburger?” Zane laughed. It was kind of a private joke we always made. Because, what else would you have at Benson’s?
I guess it was only funny to us. Zane and I had a lot of private jokes. And I just remembered I’d offered to help him with some new stuff for his comedy routine.
Morgan and Amber were talking about their blog interview. Morgan said, “We should try it again. I was totally spaced out that afternoon. I’m really sorry.”
Amber said she’d love to do it over again some time. I was pretty sure she was lying.
I asked Zane when he wanted to work on his stand-up routine. We made a date for the next night at my house.
And then I don’t know what happened to me. It just burst out. I just blurted out what I really wanted to ask Morgan.
“Morgan, your school records came in while I was working in the office. There must have been a mix-up. You won’t believe this. It’s actually hilarious. It . . . it said you died five years ago.”
Morgan’s mouth dropped open.
Had I shocked her?
No. She burst out laughing. She has a low, throaty laugh that seems to come from deep inside her.
She grinned at me. “I thought everyone knew that. Yes, it’s true. It’s so tragic, Julie. I died so young. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.”
15
Julie Continues
Morgan laughed again. “The report . . . Did it say how I died? Did I have some kind of exotic disease? Or . . . wait . . . Did someone murder me?”
For some reason, Zane thought that was a riot and uttered a roar of laughter. “You’re a ghost, Morgan,” he said, squeezing her arm. “Are you going to haunt us all?”
“The—the letter said it was a car accident,” I said.
Morgan nodded. Her smile faded. “Did you say five years ago? And which school were the records from?”
“Five years. And it was Shadyside Middle School.”
“Really? Weird. I don’t understand the mix-up at all.” Her eyes flashed. “I’m glad you were worried about me, Julie.”
“We thought maybe you were a zombie,” Amber chimed in. “That would be exciting.”
“Well, I have been known to eat human flesh,” Morgan joked.
Zane turned and made growling noises as he pretended to chew on her shoulder. I noticed a bandage going down Zane’s cheek. “What happened to your face?”
He shrugged. “Morgan and I were tossing a Frisbee back and forth. I was telling her about our Ultimate Frisbee games. She threw one too high and fast and—I was such a klutz. I missed it and it cut my cheek.”
“You should have seen the blood,” Morgan said. “I felt so bad. It was a deep cut.” A strange smile crossed her face. She patted Zane’s hand. “Zane is a real bleeder.”
Zane came over after dinner the next night. He tossed his jacket onto the bench in the entryway, dropped onto the brown leather couch in the den, slipped his backpack to the carpet, and gazed around with those serious, dark raccoon eyes. “Where are your parents?”
“Went to a movie,” I said.
Zane used to spend a lot of time at our house. His parents were going through a bad time, and my home was like a safe place for him. He tried to make jokes about his parents’ arguments. But I knew him too well. I could see the trouble was tearing him apart.
When they divorced and his father moved away, I think it was kind of a relief for him.
I lowered a basket of tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa onto the coffee table and sat down at the other end of the couch. Sure enough, I heard the click of toenails on the wood floor in the hall, and Yancey, our French bulldog came waddling in, wagging his stubby tail.
Yancey adores Zane. For some reason, he likes Zane even better than he likes me.
Yancey barked to be picked up. He’s too big a tub to jump on the couch by himself. Zane groaned as he lifted the dog up beside him. Yancey insisted on licking his face. The dog nearly licked the bandage off his cheek.
Yancey finally calmed down and plopped next to Zane, waiting for Zane to start petting his back.
“I should do a comedy bit about Yancey,” Zane said, wiping dog drool off his face with one hand. “Maybe like how unsanitary dogs are. And they know it, see. They don’t really like to lick people. They are just on a mission to spread germs. Make us all sick. Take over the world.”
He lowered his gaze to Yancey. “What do you think? Pretty funny?”
Yancey began panting and put what looked like a grin on his round face.
“Look. He likes it,” Zane said. “He’s laughing.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s a pushover,” I said. “He laughs at dust balls on the floor.” I took a handful of chips. “Do you have any new ideas?”
“For sure.” Zane reached into his backpack and pulled out an iPad. He tapped a few things, then brought the screen to his face. “Uh . . . One idea is about dissecting frogs in biology lab. I mean, why frogs? They’ve been doing that for a hundred years. Why not make it more interesting, you know? More exciting. Like if the lab teacher brought in a giraffe? Wouldn’t that be a lot more exciting, to dissect a giraffe?”
I chewed for a while. I knew he expected me to laugh or at least smile. But I thought it was a terrible idea.
“What else have you got?” I asked.
He squinted at the iPad. “I’ve been working on this routine about a girlfriend. See, I’ll say I have this real bossy girlfriend. She always has to get her way. Then maybe something about how she even tells me when I can go
to the bathroom. Like, she has a special hall pass for me at her house. Stuff like that.”
You don’t have a girlfriend, I thought.
“That’s a lot more promising,” I said. “We should work up some more bossy-girlfriend jokes.” And then, without thinking, I blurted out, “Are you going out with Morgan?”
I could see that my question surprised him. He lowered the iPad to his lap. “No, I’m not. I asked Morgan if she wanted to do something this weekend. I asked her last night at Benson’s. And she said she was busy.”
Yancey groaned and pressed his body closer against Zane’s leg. Zane scratched the back of the dog’s ears.
He leaned closer to me. “You know about the bet, right? I mean, Amber heard about it. I’m sure she told you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I know about the bet. You guys are so mature.”
“Well, I think Winks won,” Zane said. “I think Winks and Morgan are going to be a thing. He—”
“Everyone knows about the bet but Delia,” I said. “If it’s true, Delia will be heartbroken. You know she’s totally in love with Winks.”
Zane sighed. He tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch. “Winks says it’s over between him and Delia. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“You mean he hasn’t told her?” I said, raising my voice. “He’s breaking up with her, and he hasn’t told her?”
“Pretty much,” Zane replied. He avoided my gaze, kept his eyes down on Yancey.
“This is bad news,” I said. “Delia will be seriously messed up.”
Zane didn’t reply for a long while. It was so quiet in the room, I could hear the clock ticking on the mantel.
“You guys are ridiculous,” I said. “That bet is just . . . juvenile. Not to mention piggish. None of you would be interested in her if she wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous.”
“You’re right,” Zane said, still avoiding my eyes. “So what’s your point?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know what my point is. But—”
“You should tell Delia,” he said, finally turning to me. “You should do it, Julie. You’re Delia’s friend.”
“No way!” I cried. I jumped to my feet. “Winks has to step up, Zane. You have to talk to Winks and tell him to stop being a baby and just be straight with Delia.”
Zane rubbed a hand through his short brown hair. “I don’t know . . .”
“You have to do it, Zane,” I said. “Delia has to know—uh—”
I stopped because Delia stood in the den doorway.
I blinked, making sure she was really there. Zane made a startled gulp sound.
“No one answered the door,” she said, “so I just came in. Did I hear someone mention my name?”
I opened my mouth to answer.
“Uh . . . We were just trying to figure out a comedy routine,” Zane said first. “It’s about these three girls who make a bet they can be the first to get this guy.”
“Sounds very sophisticated,” Delia said sarcastically. “Not your kind of thing.”
“Oooh.” Zane motioned a knife going into his chest. “I think I’ve just been trolled.”
“Has anyone heard from Winks?” Delia asked. “Do you know where he is? I’ve been trying him all night, and I can’t reach him.”
16
DEAR DIARY,
Sometimes I wish I was a better writer so that I could completely express what I feel. How to capture the horror and the mystery and the sadness of being dead, yet not? How to capture all my feelings and thoughts about having no heartbeat, but walking among the living?
Yes, it’s a heavy secret to keep. And yes, I have to be aware of everything I say, every move I make. It’s a secret I can’t reveal in any way, or my so-called life with these people will be over.
And then where will I go?
I’m not a ghost. I’m not a zombie. I know what I am. Believe me, I know what I am. I don’t like it, but I can’t change it. As the expression goes, it is what it is.
So I have no choice. I work harder and harder at hiding my real self and keeping my secret.
And speaking of secrets, Diary, there is one I don’t like to think about, but there’s no escaping it. One secret that consumes me, that fills me with all kinds of longing.
No, I don’t mean that kind of longing. Although, I crave affection like any living human. I crave the warmth of another person, the touch of their skin on my skin. I’m not dead to desire.
But the secret I try to push to the back of my mind is a different kind of longing. It’s the hunger I feel when I’m with my new friends. I am hungry all the time I am with them. Hungry as if I were alive.
It’s an overwhelming feeling, Diary. And yes, it even makes me dizzy, the intense craving, the growl of my stomach, that driving urge to feed and feed and feed until I am filled with the living blood. Until I am filled with it and the blood is me.
The nectar is so rich and filling. I crave the taste of it, the heaviness of it on my tongue and down my throat. The feel of the red smears of it staining my cheeks and chin.
I could drown in it.
But I’ve been good, Diary. I’ve been careful. I’ve held myself back, held back my urges, my HUNGER.
These are my new friends. I can’t let them know. I can’t leave a single hint. But still . . .
I must feed.
And I feel that the time is near. I’m not going to hold back much longer. My craving is too strong.
I’m going to satisfy my hunger before I return to you.
17
Winks Narrates
Morgan is HOT. She’s so hot, she’s on fire. No, that’s not enough to describe her hotness. Okay, so I’m not a writer. I don’t have a vocabulary to give her full credit for being hot. But take my word, okay?
We were in the front seat of the Camry, going at it pretty well. I mean, we still had our clothes on, but WOW. She was all over the Big Guy.
We held one kiss till I couldn’t breathe—and she still didn’t want to let go! I mean, I was panting like a dog when I finally pulled my lips from hers.
“You’re awesome.” I think that’s what I managed to say, struggling to catch my breath. I tasted metal, like iron or something. I think my lips were bleeding.
That’s how intense Morgan was.
And then her mouth was against mine again, her hands pressing the back of my neck, and she was licking the blood off my lips.
Yes, it was a little weird, but it was so sexy. I mean, I felt chills all over. And I was so gone, I mean so into it, I thought I’d explode.
We were parked behind the old Piggly Wiggly that closed last year. No one ever comes back here. We were in our own world. And trust me, it was an awesome world.
I did wonder—only for a few seconds—why this amazing girl picked me. And I did think about Delia, poor little Delia, who is so sweet and quiet and clingy. Delia’s face seemed to fade away as I wrapped my arms around Morgan and pulled her closer to me.
Good-bye, Delia. It was nice while it lasted.
But Morgan is major-league awesome.
She didn’t shut her eyes when we kissed. Her green eyes locked onto mine. I ran my hand through her copper-colored hair, so smooth and soft.
I uttered a soft gasp as she pulled away suddenly, with a sharp tug of her head. I followed her gaze through the windshield. “Who is that?” Morgan whispered, still holding on to me.
The guy came closer, and I recognized him. Recognized him from his spiky white-blond hair and the weird blank eyes.
Cal.
Delia’s stepbrother.
“It’s . . . Cal,” I murmured.
Morgan squeezed my arm. “Do you know him?”
I didn’t answer. I saw that he had a baseball bat in one hand. He began swinging it as he came close.
“Hey—!” I shouted. I rolled down the window. “Hey—!”
He pointed at me with his free hand. “Didn’t I warn you?” he shouted.
“Warn me? Stop.” I gr
abbed the handle and shoved open the car door. “Hey—stop. What are you going to do?”
He raised the bat in both hands.
“Stop!” I screamed. “Are you crazy?”
He got this fierce look on his face as he swung the bat down hard on the trunk of the car.
It made a sick, cracking sound as the metal caved in under the smash of the bat.
A deep shudder ran down my back, as if I had been hit.
“Are you crazy? Are you crazy?” I shrieked.
Cal scowled at me, the silvery eyes narrowed. He didn’t say a word.
He raised the bat again and came at me.
“Winks—do something! Stop him!” I heard Morgan’s scream from inside the car. “Stop him. He’s going to kill us!”
18
Winks Continues the Story
I froze in panic for a moment.
Cal stood gaping at me with the bat poised.
I sucked in a deep breath, struggled to slow my racing heartbeats—and dove back into the car.
He took a few strides along the side of the car. Was he going to smash my window?
I fumbled with the key, finally turned the ignition, and slammed my foot on the gas. The car heaved forward, sending Morgan and me back against the seat with a hard jerk. We squealed away. It sounded like something in a Fast and Furious movie.
I raised my eyes to the rearview mirror. And saw Cal standing there, watching us roar away, his bat still raised in front of him.
“That was horrible!” Morgan cried, holding on to my arm. “He wrecked your car. Who was that?”
I didn’t want to tell her that Cal was Delia’s stepbrother. I didn’t reply.
“No. Really,” Morgan insisted. “Do you know him, Winks? He sure seemed to know you.”
I shook my head. “I think he’s just some crazy guy. I mean, maybe he escaped from a hospital or something. We should call the police.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “But . . . he said, ‘Didn’t I warn you?’ You must have seen him before.”
I swung the car onto Division Street. “No. Never. I’d remember someone like him, you know.”