Series 2000- Jekyl & Heidi

by R. L. Stine

  The road curved sharply. I still hadn’t passed a single person or car. My backpack bounced on my shoulders as I climbed.

  “Oh.” I uttered a sharp cry as Uncle Jekyll’s house suddenly came into view. The house—it did look like an evil castle from an old horror movie.

  Wet snow-drops from the trees blew into my eyes, blurring my vision. I wiped the snow away and stared up at the enormous dark stone mansion.

  My new home.

  A sob escaped my throat. I quickly swallowed it.

  You’re going to be fine, Heidi, I told myself. Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself before you even give it a chance.

  “It’s an adventure,” I murmured out loud.

  Yes. I planned to think of my new life as an adventure.

  My eyes on the house, I trudged up the steep hill. My shoes slipped in the wet snow. The wind swirled around me, roaring louder as I approached the top.

  A few minutes later, I stepped into the shadow of the house. The sun seemed to disappear. I blinked in the blue-gray darkness.

  And made my way onto the stone steps that led to the black wooden door. I pushed the doorbell.

  Why was I shaking all over? From the cold?

  I brushed wet snow-drops from the front of my parka and pushed the doorbell again.

  And waited. Waited. Trembling. Breathing hard.

  Finally, the heavy door creaked open.

  A head poked out. A pretty girl’s face ringed by long black curls.

  Marianna!

  “Hi—” I started.

  But I didn’t get another word out.

  “Get away from here!” she whispered furiously. “Get away while you can!”

  “Huh?” I gasped and nearly fell off the stone steps. “Marianna—what do you mean?”

  Her dark eyes flashed. She opened her mouth to reply.

  But she suddenly stopped.

  I heard the click of footsteps approaching on the hardwood floor. Marianna turned back to the house.

  A maid in a black uniform and white apron appeared. “It’s my cousin Heidi,” Marianna explained to the young woman.

  The maid laughed. “Well, Marianna, aren’t you going to let her in?”

  Marianna narrowed her eyes at me, as if warning me again. Then her face went blank, no expression at all. She pulled open the heavy door and motioned for me to enter.

  “This is Sylvia,” Marianna said, pointing to the maid. “She will help you unpack.”

  “Your bags arrived two days ago,” Sylvia said. “Did you walk from the station?”

  I nodded. I still had my parka hood up. I tugged it down and started to unzip my coat.

  “I reminded Dad this morning that you were coming,” Marianna said, shaking her head. “He probably forgot.”

  “You must be frozen,” Sylvia said, taking my coat. “I’ll make something hot to drink.” She hurried away, her shoes clicking on the floor.

  I glanced around. Marianna and I stood in a dark entryway. High overhead, a large glass chandelier cast pale light that hardly seemed to reach the floor. The walls were papered dark green. The aroma of roasting meat filled the room.

  I turned to Marianna. She was tall, at least six inches taller than me, and thin. Her black curls flowed down behind a heavy red-and-white plaid ski sweater. She wore black leggings that made her look even taller.

  Again—seven years later—I felt pale and colorless standing next to her.

  She crossed her arms over the front of her sweater and led me into a large living room. A fire blazed in a stone fireplace at one end. Heavy brown leather furniture faced the fireplace.

  Enormous paintings of snowy-peaked mountain landscapes covered one wall. The curtains were pulled halfway over the front window, allowing in only a narrow rectangle of light.

  “How are you?” I asked my cousin, forcing some enthusiasm.

  “Okay,” she replied flatly.

  “Are you on winter break?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah.” Her arms were still crossed tightly in front of her.

  “How is Uncle Jekyll?” I tried.

  “Okay, I guess,” she replied, shrugging. “Real busy.”

  Marianna is as shy as ever, I decided.

  But then I asked myself: Is she shy—or unfriendly?

  I kept trying to start a conversation. “Where is Uncle Jekyll? Is he home?”

  “He’s working,” Marianna replied, moving to the window. “In his lab. He can’t be disturbed.” She turned her back to me and stared out at the snow.

  “Well … shouldn’t I tell him I’m here?” I asked. I picked up a small blue glass bird. Some kind of hawk. I needed something to do with my hands. The glass bird was surprisingly heavy. I set it back down.

  Marianna didn’t answer my question.

  “I walked through the village,” I said. “It’s pretty tiny. What do you do for fun? Where do you hang out? I mean … there are other kids our age, right?”

  She nodded, but didn’t reply. The gray light flooding in from the window made her look like a beautiful statue.

  When she finally uncrossed her arms and turned to me, she had the coldest expression on her face. Cold as stone.

  “Want to see your room?” she asked.

  “Yes. Definitely!” I replied. I followed her to the front stairway. I slid one hand over the smooth black banister as we made the steep climb.

  Marianna is just very shy, I decided. She must feel so weird, having a total stranger, someone her own age, move in with her.

  “I—I hope we can be like sisters,” I blurted out.

  A strange, snickering laugh escaped her lips. She stopped on the stairs and turned back to me. “Sisters?”

  “Well … yeah,” I replied, my heart suddenly pounding. “I know this must be kind of hard for you. I mean—”

  She sneered. “Kind of hard? You don’t know anything, Heidi.”

  “What do you mean?” I demanded. “Tell me.”

  She swept her black curls back over her shoulders and continued climbing. We reached the second floor.

  I stared up and down an endless hallway of darkly flowered wallpaper. The air felt cold and damp. Lights on torch-shaped wall sconces cast a pale glow down the hall. Most of the doors were closed.

  “That’s my room there,” Marianna said, pointing. It appeared to be a mile away at the end of the hall. She pushed open a heavy door. “And this is your room.”

  I shut my eyes as I stepped inside. I knew it was going to be gross. Dark and depressing.

  When I opened my eyes, I smiled in surprise. “Not bad,” I murmured.

  The room was totally cheerful. Afternoon sunlight poured in through airy, light curtains on two large windows. I quickly took in a single bed with my suitcases opened on it, a little wooden desk, a tall dresser, two modern-looking chairs.

  Not bad at all.

  One wall had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves jammed with books.

  Marianna stood in the doorway watching me. “You’ll probably want to take Dad’s old books out and put your own stuff on the shelves,” she said.

  “No. I like books,” I replied. “Did my computer arrive? And my CD player?”

  “Not yet,” Marianna replied.

  I moved to the window, pushed the curtains aside, and peered out. “What a great view!” I exclaimed. “I can see all the way down the hill to the village!”

  “Thrills,” Marianna muttered.

  I turned to face her. “Are you in a bad mood or something?”

  She shrugged. “Sylvia will help you unpack your suitcases, if you want.”

  “No. I want to do it myself,” I replied. I walked to a door next to the dresser. “Is this the closet?”

  I didn’t wait for her to answer. I pulled open the door and stared into an endlessly long closet with shelves and poles on both sides.

  “Wow!” I exclaimed. “This is awesome! This closet is almost as big as my whole room back home!”

  Back home …

  Th
e words caught in my throat. I was surprised by the wave of emotion that swept over me.

  Tears brimmed in my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away.

  I leaned into the closet so Marianna wouldn’t see me cry. Get over it, Heidi, I scolded myself. This is your home now.

  But I wasn’t over it.

  I wasn’t over the tragedy that had changed my life, that had brought me to this strange house in this tiny New England village.

  I’ll never get over it, I thought bitterly, picturing my parents’ smiling faces.

  I took a couple of deep breaths. Then I stepped out of the closet. “Marianna, this closet is really—”

  She wasn’t there. She had vanished.

  “What is her problem?” I asked out loud.

  I moved to the bed and started pulling Tshirts and tops from the first suitcase. I carried them to the dresser and began piling them in a drawer. The dresser smelled a little mildewy. I hoped my clothes wouldn’t pick up the smell.

  I filled up the first drawer, then stopped. I really should say hi to Uncle Jekyll, I decided. I really should let him know that I’ve arrived.

  Tugging down the sleeves of my sweater, I hurried out into the hall and made my way to the steps. My heart started to pound. I hadn’t seen Uncle Jekyll since I was five.

  Would he be happy to see me? I hope he gives me a warmer welcome than Marianna, I thought nervously.

  “Heidi—where are you going?”

  I turned at the sound of Marianna’s voice from down the hall. She poked her head out of her room.

  “Down to say hi to Uncle Jekyll,” I told her.

  “He’s in his lab. You really shouldn’t disturb him,” she called.

  “I’ll just say hi and then hurry out,” I replied.

  I ran into Sylvia at the bottom of the stairs. She pointed me in the direction of my uncle’s lab.

  Down another long hallway. I stopped in front of the lab door.

  I raised my hand to knock. But a loud noise on the other side of the door made me jerk my hand back.

  It sounded like an animal grunt. A pig, maybe.

  I held my breath and listened.

  Another pig grunt. Followed by frightening cries. Like an animal caught in a trap. An animal in pain.

  I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  I pushed open the door.

  My uncle stood hunched over a long table with his back to me. His long white lab coat came down nearly to the floor.

  He dipped his head. And I heard another squeal. Not a human cry. An animal cry.

  It’s true! I thought, frozen in terror.

  He really is acting out the old Jekyll-Hyde story.

  Uncle Jekyll drank some weird chemicals. And he turned himself into a terrifying creature!

  And then as I stared at him from the doorway, he turned.

  Slowly, he turned to face me.

  And I uttered a horrified gasp.

  I couldn’t help myself. My mouth dropped open as I gaped at him.

  No. He wasn’t a monster.

  But Uncle Jekyll looked so old! So much older than how I remembered him.

  My mind quickly did the math. He must be in his early forties, I figured. But his hair had turned completely white.

  He had bags under his red-rimmed eyes and deep, craggy wrinkles down his cheeks. His skin was so pale and dried out, no color at all, as if he had been sick for a long time.

  “Heidi?” he cried out.

  He dropped the animal he had between his hands. A guinea pig, I thought. It hit the lab table with a PLOP. Then, squealing loudly, it jumped to the floor and scampered across the lab.

  “Oh. Sorry,” I murmured.

  The animal must have been making those grunts and howls, I realized.

  The surprise faded from Uncle Jekyll’s face, replaced by a smile. “Heidi—you’ve grown! You’ve become a young woman! But I’d recognize you anywhere!”

  He moved forward and hugged me. His skin smelled of chemicals. His cheek felt dry and scratchy.

  When he backed away, his chin was quivering, and his pale gray eyes were wet.

  He looks a hundred years old! I thought. What has happened to him?

  His smile faded. He slapped his forehead. “I was supposed to pick you up!” he groaned.

  “That’s okay—” I started.

  “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head. His long white hair looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in weeks! “My work. I’m so involved in the lab. …”

  “A boy at the bus station gave me directions here,” I told him. “It was no problem. Really. And Marianna showed me my room.”

  He sighed. “I’ve become such a mad scientist, sometimes I work in here for days and lose track of the time.”

  The equipment chugged and rattled behind him. I saw a wall of cages. Little white creatures, mice and guinea pigs, peered out from some of them.

  I heard a long, mournful cry from a room behind the lab. It sounded like the howl of a dog.

  “You’re doing important work here,” I said awkwardly.

  He nodded. “Yes. I hope to make a major discovery soon.” He sighed again. “But it has been very difficult.”

  He brushed a hand through the thick tufts of his white hair. His gray eyes studied me for a long moment.

  “Is your room okay?” he asked. “We tried to brighten it up, to make it cheerful. This old house is a pretty gloomy place.”

  “The room is fine,” I replied. “Marianna helped me—”

  “You will be good for Marianna,” Uncle Jekyll interrupted. “Marianna needs someone her age.”

  “She still seems so … quiet,” I blurted out.

  He nodded. “She is lonely in this big, old house with just her crazy father for company. And I spend so much time on my work. I hope you will not feel neglected, Heidi.”

  “No. I’ll be fine—” I started.

  “I hope that you and Marianna …” Uncle Jekyll’s voice trailed off. He lowered his eyes to the floor.

  “I hope so too,” I said quickly. “It … it’s like I’m starting a whole new life here, Uncle Jekyll. And I’m going to try my best to make it great.”

  He hugged me again. “So much trouble,” he murmured. “So much sadness.” When he stepped back, his chin was quivering again.

  What did he mean?

  Was he talking about my parents? About the accident?

  Or did he mean something else? Some other kind of trouble?

  I started to the door. But Uncle Jekyll’s words reminded me of Aaron. And of the strange story Aaron told me.

  I turned back to my uncle. “There is something I wanted to ask you about,” I said.

  Uncle Jekyll had returned to the lab table. He raised his eyes from a thick notebook. “What is it, Heidi?”

  “Well …” I hesitated. “This boy I met at the bus station … He lives in the village. I think he was joking with me. You know. Teasing the new girl in town. But he told me about a beast—”

  To my shock, Uncle Jekyll’s pale, pale face turned a bright tomato red. “No!” he screamed. “No! NO!”

  “Huh? I’m sorry!” I choked out, backing toward the door.

  Uncle Jekyll’s eyes bulged. His face darkened nearly to purple. “There’s no beast!” he shrieked. “Don’t listen to those crazy stories!” He slammed the table furiously with his fist. “No beast!”

  “So-sorry,” I stammered again.

  I turned and ran out of the lab. A few seconds later, the door slammed behind me.

  I stood there in the dark hallway, struggling to catch my breath. Uncle Jekyll’s angry words rang in my ears. And I couldn’t erase the sight of his purple face, his furious eyes, his fist pounding the table.

  Why did he totally lose it like that?

  Was he telling the truth? If he was, why did he have to scream?

  Or did Aaron tell the truth? Did the beast exist? And did it live inside this house?

  A hand squeezed my shoulder.

  I jumped
about a mile.

  I turned to see Sylvia. “I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Would you like me to help you unpack?”

  “No—” I told her. And then I had to tell her what had just happened. “Uncle Jekyll freaked out. I asked him a question, and he started screaming at me.”

  She nodded and brought her face close enough to whisper, “Your uncle is under a great deal of pressure.”

  My heart was still pounding. “But he went totally ballistic!” I cried.

  “He is a good man,” Sylvia said softly. “But his work sometimes drives him over the edge.”

  I stared hard at Sylvia. What was she trying to tell me?

  Over the edge?

  What did that mean? That Uncle Jekyll was the beast that Aaron had warned me about?

  No. No way.

  Calm down, Heidi, I scolded myself. Don’t let your imagination run wild.

  Sylvia tucked her hands into the pockets of her white apron and led the way up the long stairway to my room. I wanted to unpack by myself. But I let her help me. I didn’t feel like being alone.

  When we finished, I searched for Marianna. I knocked on the door to her room. But she didn’t answer.

  So I explored the old house by myself for a while. Uncle Jekyll’s bedroom was a few doors down from Marianna’s. I found a small study, crammed with shelves of books on all four walls.

  Another small bedroom was neat and cheerful. Probably a guest bedroom, I decided. I wondered if my uncle ever had guests.

  Most of the other rooms on the second floor were empty, except for dust and thick cobwebs. A few rooms had furniture covered with old sheets and blankets.

  Maybe I can have my own study, I thought. A little den where I can put my CD player and my computer. A place to hang out with my new friends.

  New friends …

  I wished the school was open. I felt so eager to meet some kids my age.

  I moved down the long hall, pulling open doors, exploring. I pulled open the door to a small closet—and startled a tiny gray mouse. The mouse stared up at me for a second, then scampered behind a broom.

  “Whoa!” I murmured. I shuddered. Are there mice in my room too?