by R. L. Stine
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Maybe my brain was fried, Samantha. Let’s forget the whole thing, okay?” He reached for her, but she leaned back against the passenger window.
“Just take me home, okay?” she asked, tears in her eyes. “I’m really hurt, Bobby. Really hurt. Just take me home. Now.”
The next morning he saw Bree and Samantha outside their homeroom. They were standing close together, talking heatedly, both talking at once, both gesturing with their hands.
They stopped the instant they saw him.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he called, waving to them. “Looking good!”
They murmured replies.
Were they talking about me? he wondered. Is that why they stopped the moment I appeared?
Were they discussing who’s going to go out with me next time? he asked himself bitterly. He had spent hours the night before, lying in bed, trying to puzzle out the mystery of the tattoo. Finally he had fallen into a fitful sleep. Nothing resolved.
He made his way past them and headed to his locker to pick up some books. It was nearly time for the first bell. The halls echoed with slamming locker doors, laughter, and early morning conversations.
Bobby saw the sheet of white paper first. It was taped to his locker door. As he moved closer, he saw that it was a note.
THIS IS YOU INSIDE.
The words were large, printed in big block letters with a red marker.
As he gaped at the note, an unpleasant odor invaded his nostrils. Something smells here, he thought. Something smells really bad.
Where was it coming from? Inside his locker?
Holding his breath, Bobby turned the combination lock, pulled open the door—and gasped.
He saw the dark blood first.
The dark blood smeared on the locker walls.
Then he lowered his gaze to the locker floor and saw the monkey’s head.
Cut off just below the chin, the monkey head rested in a dark puddle of blood. Its tiny black eyes stared up lifelessly at Bobby. Its mouth frozen open in a silent cry of terror and pain.
chapter 20
“We Have to Kill Her”
With a low, horrified groan, Bobby lurched backward.
He felt his stomach knot and then toss, and before he could hold back or move away, he began vomiting up his breakfast.
He heard startled shrieks, then cries of concern.
When he had finished, he stood leaning with both hands pressed against the next locker, struggling to catch his breath.
“Ow, wow. I see you had eggs for breakfast.”
Bobby turned to see Arnie, shaking his head.
“Hey, no jokes, Arnie,” Bobby choked out. He pointed to his open locker. “Don’t look in there,” he warned. “You’ll lose your breakfast too.”
“Huh?” Of course Arnie couldn’t resist. He stepped in front of Bobby’s locker. “What a mess.”
When he saw the monkey head, Arnie uttered a startled cry. His pale face went even paler.
Then he reached down and pulled the monkey head off the locker floor. He held it in the palm of his hand and raised it to Bobby.
“Put it down, man!” Bobby screamed. “Are you crazy?”
“But it isn’t real, Bobby!” Arnie cried. “Look—it’s plastic!”
“Huh?” Bobby gaped at the monkey’s twisted mouth, its black, shiny eyes. “It’s not one of mine?”
“No, man,” Arnie replied, holding it closer to Bobby. “It’s plastic. It’s just a toy.”
Bobby stared at the plastic monkey head in Arnie’s hand, feeling a surge of anger rise up from his chest and spread over his entire body.
Without warning, he swung his fist hard against the monkey head, sending it flying down the hall. Two girls leapt out of the way, shrieking in surprise, as the head bounced over the floor.
“Who is doing this to me?” Bobby cried. “Who?”
“Where are you taking us?” Bobby asked.
He stared out of the car window at the thick woods. The trees shivered in a strong breeze. Fresh spring-green leaves shimmered like bright emeralds.
“A secret place,” Samantha replied, not smiling, her eyes on the road.
It was Saturday afternoon. Bobby had a date with Bree that night. But Samantha had called a little before noon and said she desperately had to talk to him.
Bobby had picked her up in his red Bonneville a few blocks from her house on Fear Street. Samantha insisted he let her drive. She promised she would take it easy, so he climbed out and let her get behind the wheel.
As soon as she pulled away from the curb, she opened all the windows and the moon roof. The warm wind blew through the car, making her black hair flutter behind her as she leaned over the steering wheel.
She looked very springlike, Bobby thought, in a white tank top and yellow-and-white-striped shorts. But her mood wasn’t as bright as her appearance. She had barely said a word as she guided the car out of town and into the woods.
Bobby realized he had been quiet too, lost in his own troubled thoughts. He watched the trees whir by, feeling the warm sun on the back of his neck through the open moon roof.
Suddenly Samantha turned sharply onto a narrow dirt road. The car bumped along for several yards. Then she pulled to a stop under a canopy of overhanging trees.
“Why’d we stop?” Bobby asked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the shade. “Where are we?”
“We have to talk,” Samantha replied, not answering his questions. She turned off the ignition and stared straight ahead. The breeze fluttered her hair.
“Talk? About what?”
“About the other night,” she replied softly. “About how you mixed me up with Bree.”
“Hey, I’m sorry about that,” Bobby said quickly. “_—”
“I asked you to break up with her,” Samantha interrupted. “Remember? Weeks ago.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bobby replied uncomfortably.
“Well, now it’s too late,” Samantha said, still avoiding his eyes, still staring out to the woods.
“Too late? What do you mean?” Bobby demanded.
“It’s gone too far,” Samantha murmured. “I don’t want to share you anymore. It’s too hard on me, Bobby. It’s too confusing. We’re both too confused. You know?”
“Well …” Bobby hesitated. He stared hard at Samantha, trying to guess what she was about to say. He always liked to stay at least one step ahead of the girls he was with. He didn’t like feeling ten steps behind, as he did with Samantha and Bree.
“We have to kill Bree,” Samantha said casually.
Bobby blinked. He knew he hadn’t heard her correctly.
“We have to kill her,” Samantha repeated. “We really have to.”
Bobby laughed. “I don’t get the joke, Samantha. You’re about as funny as Arnie today.”
She grabbed his hand, her eyes fiery in the shadowy light. “No joke. For real,” she murmured. She squeezed his hand in both of hers. “Let’s kill Bree, Bobby. Let’s really kill her. She’s such a total pain. You know she is.”
Bobby gaped at her, startled by her growing enthusiasm.
“We’ll kill her, Bobby,” Samantha continued. “Then it’ll be just you and me. It’ll be great! So great!”
Bobby stared intently into her eyes. Is she serious? Is she teasing me? Is this a joke?
No.
No joke, he realized.
Samantha was serious. She meant it. She really wanted to kill her sister.
She let go of his hand and grabbed his shoulders. “Okay?” she demanded, pulling him close. She began smothering his face with rapid kisses. “Okay, Bobby? We’ll kill her? Okay?”
She kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his chin. “Okay, Bobby? Can we kill her? Can we?”
“Okay,” Bobby replied. “Let’s kill her.”
chapter 21
Bree Confesses
Samantha smiled as she raised her hands to push back her hair. The strap on her shirt moved, and Bobby caught a glimps
e of the tiny blue butterfly tattoo on her left shoulder.
What is going on here? Bobby asked himself, gaping in shock at the tattoo. Samantha absently pulled the strap over it and settled back behind the wheel.
“I knew you’d agree,” Samantha whispered, the pleased smile still on her face. She started the car.
Bobby stared at her. “The tattoo,” he murmured. “You didn’t have it when we drove around. You—”
She locked her eyes on his. “What are you talking about? You know I have a tattoo.”
“Then Bree was pretending to be you!” Bobby told her. “Bree must have found out about you and me! She took your place and—”
“Bobby, you’re not making any sense,” Samantha said. “You’re getting all mixed up. All the more reason to kill Bree.”
She shifted the car and guided it onto the dirt road. “I want to show you a special place,” she said softly.
She’s totally crazy, he decided. Samantha is really nuts.
Why didn’t I realize it before? Why didn’t I figure it out?
She wants to kill her own sister, her own twin sister.
I have got to do something. I agreed to help her, I went along with her just to get her quiet. Just to make her shut up about killing Bree.
She’s crazy. Totally crazy!
What should I do? He thought hard as the car bumped over the narrow dirt road, curving between trees, deeper and deeper into the woods until the sun was completely blocked out by the tunnel of trees.
I have to warn Bree, Bobby decided. That’s the first thing I’ll do. As soon as I get back to town, I’ll warn Bree. And then Bree can tell her parents or the police or whomever she wants.
Samantha chuckled happily as the car hit a hard bump. She hummed to herself as she drove even deeper into the woods.
Her whole mood changed when I agreed to help her kill Bree, Bobby realized, feeling his stomach knot up. She really is a sicko.
He suddenly wondered if Samantha was the one who had been torturing him, cutting his tires, messing with his guitar, putting that disgusting monkey head in his locker.
She’s dangerous, he decided. Dangerous and crazy.
He lurched forward as she braked the car to a sudden stop. “Here we are.” She flashed him a warm smile. “Our own secret place.”
They climbed out of the car. The air smelled fresh and piney. Bobby stared up ahead at a small, shingled cabin nearly hidden by the trees.
A wooden barrel stood against one cabin wall. A rusted barbecue grill lay on its side in the tall grass beside the barrel.
“Where are we?” Bobby asked, hesitantly following Samantha toward the front door.
“This is my family’s cabin,” she told him. “It’s a wonderful little hideaway.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the door. “We’ll bring Bree here. No one will find her for weeks.”
Bobby felt the knot in his stomach tighten. She has this all planned, he realized. That is so cold, so cold!
She stopped in front of the door and smiled at him. “It doesn’t look like much from the outside. But it’s real cozy inside. I’ll show you.”
A hornet buzzed around Bobby’s head. He ducked and tried to swat it away.
Samantha laughed. “You’re not afraid of bugs—are you?”
“Who, me? Of course not,” Bobby replied.
“You’ll have to force the door open,” Samantha told him. “I forgot my key.”
Bobby hesitated. “Force it?”
“Just lean on it real hard with your shoulder,” she instructed. “The lock is real flimsy. It should pop right open.” She gave him a playful push up to the door.
What am I doing here? Bobby asked himself. What am I doing here with this sicko?
“Go ahead,” she urged sharply.
He took a deep breath and obediently slammed his shoulder into the door. It bent but didn’t give. It popped open on the second try.
Bobby led the way into the tiny cabin. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, making the bare wood floorboards shimmer. Bobby saw an old vinyl couch, two canvas lawn chairs, a couple of plastic TV tables leaning in a corner. A framed yellowed map filled with Indian names hung above the small stone fireplace.
“It’s real rustic,” Samantha said, moving close to him. “But it’s perfect. There’s no one around for miles. That’s why my dad had it built here. We don’t start coming out here until July.”
Bobby sniffed the air. “It’s kind of musty,” he muttered.
“It’s been closed up all winter. But it’s cozy, isn’t it?” Without waiting for a reply, she threw her arms around him and kissed him with real emotion.
“So we’ll do it? You and me?” she whispered, nibbling his earlobe. “We’ll bring Bree here? We’ll kill her? And then we’ll be together forever and ever?”
“Okay,” Bobby replied again.
I’ve got to get back and warn Bree, he thought. He started to tell Samantha he needed to get home. But she pressed herself against him again and smothered him with kisses.
“Bree—I have to see you,” Bobby said urgently. He whispered even though he was closed up in his bedroom. “Now.”
“But, Bobby,” she protested. “You’re going to see me in a couple of hours, remember? You said we’re going dancing?”
“Bree, listen to me,” Bobby pleaded. “We have to talk. Right away.”
Her voice registered surprise. “What’s so important it can’t wait a couple of hours? My family is eating dinner now, Bobby, and we have cousins visiting.”
“Bree—please!”
“I’m sorry. Just hold your breath till tonight, okay? I’ve got to go. See you at eight.”
The line went dead. Bobby turned off the cordless phone and tossed it onto the bed in frustration. “I’m trying to save your life, you idiot!” he cried out loud.
He began pacing frantically back and forth, thinking hard. How was he going to explain this to Bree? He didn’t want to reveal to her that he’d been going out with Samantha. That would only cause more trouble.
But how could he just tell her that Samantha was planning to kill her? Why would Bree believe such a crazy story?
Who would believe it?
He paced back and forth in his room for a while. Then he threw himself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, feverish thoughts spinning in his brain. His parents called him to dinner, but he shouted down that he wasn’t hungry.
Finally it was time to drive to Fear Street and pick up Bree. She greeted him at the door, dressed for dancing in a silky green blouse and a short green skirt over black tights. “Good night, everyone!” she called into the living room.
Bobby saw Samantha in the kitchen doorway. “Have a good time, you two!” she called cheerily.
Bobby glumly led Bree to the car. “Are we still going dancing?” she asked.
Bobby locked his eyes on hers. His expression remained solemn. “Bree, I have to talk to you. I have something very serious to say.”
“Bobby, this is so sudden. I’m too young to get married!” she joked. She frowned when he didn’t laugh. “Wow, you are grim tonight!”
He backed down the driveway, headed the car down Fear Street for a few blocks, then pulled to a stop at the curb. “Listen,” he said, turning to her. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but you’ve got to believe me.”
Bree glanced out the window. “Why did you stop here? Beside the cemetery?”
“Just listen,” Bobby said impatiently. He began the story he had rehearsed in his room. “I was cruising around this afternoon, and happened to see Samantha. She waved to me, so I stopped the car. She climbed in and said she had to talk to me.”
Bree’s eyes widened in surprise. “Samantha wanted to talk to you? About what?”
“That’s what I’m going to tell you,” Bobby replied breathlessly. “She made me drive up to your family’s cabin in the woods. Then she told me—she told me—”
Bobby hesitated. Would Bree believe him?
Bree’s mouth dropped open in shock.
“I—I’m not making it up,” Bobby stammered. “I knew I had to warn you, Bree. Your own sister. Your own twin sister—she wants to kill you.”
Bree stared back at him, her mouth still open. Her eyes gazed back at him blindly. And then he saw them narrow in understanding. Her features tightened. She nodded her head, as if deciding something for herself.
“I have a confession to make, Bobby,” Bree whispered, avoiding his eyes.
“I—I just can’t believe your twin sister wants to kill you!” Bobby insisted.
“I have to tell you something,” Bree whispered solemnly. “You see, Samantha and I—we’re not twins.”
chapter 22
Jennilynn Must Be Back
Bree leaned closer to him, her face nearly hidden in shadow. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Her voice trembled as she began to explain.
“There’s a third sister,” she revealed, watching his startled reaction. “Samantha and I aren’t twins. We’re triplets.”
“Wow,” Bobby muttered, shaking his head. “I mean, wow.”
“Our third sister is named Jennilynn,” Bree continued, staring out at the Fear Street cemetery. “You must have been with Jennilynn this afternoon, Bobby. Not Samantha. Samantha was home all day with me.”
“Oh, man. I don’t believe this!” Bobby murmured.
He knew how serious this was, but Bobby couldn’t keep a thought from popping into his head: I’ve got to tell Arnie! Wait till he hears I’ve been out with triplets—not twins!
“Jennilynn is very dangerous,” Bree continued, her eyes on the crooked gravestones beyond the cemetery fence. “We never talk about her. She was sent to live with my aunt and uncle on the West Coast.”
“Why?” Bobby asked, sliding his hands around the steering wheel. “What did she do?”
“She was always terribly jealous of Samantha and me,” Bree revealed. “Anything we had, she had to have—or destroy. Jennilynn just couldn’t accept the idea that there were three of us and we had to share.”
Bree sighed. “My parents got her therapy and everything. But it didn’t help. Then, when we were thirteen, she went over the edge.”