Can You Keep a Secret?

by R. L. Stine

How did this happen? Did I totally blank out?

  Didn’t Sophie realize there was something wrong with me?

  I forced the questions away, struggling to make sense of everything. It took a few seconds for my eyes to focus. I’d been here before. I squinted into the wash of moonlight over the front of the square white house. The dark shingles appeared to glow at the sides of the wide front window. A bike leaned against the wall of the front stoop.

  Riley’s house. Yes. As it all came into focus, I realized I was standing in Riley’s front yard.

  Sophie huddled close beside me. She had the car keys tight in her fist. She had her other hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay, Emmy? You looked weird in the car. I was going to pull over, but—”

  “Where is Eddie?” I asked, still struggling to shake away the fog in my brain. “Did we beat Eddie and Danny over here?”

  Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m as confused as you are.”

  I took a deep breath. “Should we go knock on the door?”

  Sophie nodded.

  I took a few steps—then stopped. My eyes locked on the low hedge that ran along the front of the house. What was that draped over the hedge? Hanging so awkwardly over the hedge top … arms spread … legs folded …

  Oh. Oh. Oh no. I opened my mouth in a shrill scream of horror.

  Face down over the hedge. Riley.

  Riley on his stomach, his legs spread at a weird angle, arms hanging out at his sides. Face down. Riley face down. Face buried under his hair, buried in the hedge branches.

  I staggered forward for a step or two. Sophie clung to my side. Another step. And then I screamed again.

  Riley’s clothes had been ripped away. His skin ripped away.

  He’s been clawed to pieces!

  I clapped my hands over my face. I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t pry my eyes away.

  His bare shoulders had long claw lines over them, all caked with gleaming red blood. His shirt was in strips. The skin on his arms had been clawed raw and red.

  I gasped as I pictured raw meat. A huge hunk of raw meat. One of those hunks of beef they hang on those big hooks in meat lockers. And the dark stain over the hedge.… the dark stain was Riley’s blood.

  Unable to keep my balance, I lurched forward—and glimpsed his face, half-hidden under his hair. A pulpy mass, like hamburger meat.

  Sophie grabbed me around the waist and tried to tug me away. “Don’t look!” she cried. “Emmy—don’t look!”

  Too late. Too late.

  I couldn’t stop gaping at the maimed and butchered body. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the most horrifying sight I’d ever seen in my life.

  25.

  At Riley’s funeral three days later, I stared at the closed coffin. And I pictured the shredded body inside, mangled and torn, glistening red meat and strips of skin.

  I couldn’t stop picturing it. It stayed in the front of my mind, the first thing I saw when I woke up. The last thing I saw when I closed my eyes at night.

  I heard the sobs and sighs at the funeral. I didn’t hear the minister’s words, and I didn’t hear the words Riley’s brother spoke. I didn’t hear the hymns his family had chosen. I heard the crying and I pictured Riley’s body sprawled over the hedge, and I thought about the past few days. And the police officers and their questions … hours of questions. And the bits of frightening news that came to us a piece at a time.

  Did the police have a clue as to how Riley was murdered?

  They had a theory.

  The front lawn had been soft from an early rain. And in the soft dirt, the police had found animal tracks.

  Wolf tracks. In the dirt all around the low hedge and along the front of the stoop.

  And so the police concluded that Riley had been attacked by a wild animal. Their guess: It had been the same wolf that had attacked a dog in Shadyside Park.

  No human could have caused the body this kind of damage, they said. The tracks and the trail of blood on the lawn gave the police a few clues. Riley had been attacked as he stepped off his front stoop. He had struggled with the wolf, but he was no match for it. The creature attacked Riley, clawed him until he stopped moving, then left him draped over the hedge.

  The wolf had to be rabid, a veterinarian said on the news. Wolves don’t attack humans, even when provoked. The wolf must be sick, crazed.

  The police called Sophie and me to the station and questioned us with our mom across the table. We were the only ones there that night. His parents were at the movies. Eddie and Danny hadn’t arrived yet.

  We tried to tell them everything we knew. But how could we be helpful? We really didn’t know anything. We hadn’t seen a wolf—or anything—in the front yard or in the neighborhood.

  Of course, there was a lot we didn’t tell the police. The briefcase of money was never mentioned. But it didn’t have anything to do with Riley’s death—did it?

  Roxie was silent during the whole funeral. She kept to herself at the back of the church. She came to my house after the funeral, along with Danny and Callie and Eddie. Eddie kept his arm around my shoulders as we shared the armchair across from the couch.

  Roxie stayed by herself in the corner by the fireplace, as far from us as she could get. She kept her arms tightly around her chest. Tears ran down her cheeks in jagged rivulets. And her expression of anger and disdain remained on her face that entire afternoon.

  Danny was serious and quiet, which was a change. He tapped his fingers tensely on the arm of the couch. Callie clung to him, her green eyes misted by tears, her normally perfect blonde bangs matted and disheveled.

  Roxie kept her eyes down. She muttered something none of us could hear.

  “We know how terrible you must feel,” I said. “We’re all devastated, Roxie. I think we’re all in shock. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I haven’t been able to think of anything else since that—”

  “Bet you can think about the money!” Roxie snapped, jumping to her feet. “Liars. You’re all liars. You’re not thinking about Riley. You’re thinking about the briefcase and the money. I—I—” She raised her fists above her head. “I can’t stand any of you! I hate you! Liars!”

  She uttered a curse and stomped out of my living room. A few seconds later, the front door slammed behind her.

  The four of us sat in silence for a long moment. The sound of the door slam rang in my ears. I shut my eyes and pictured Riley’s clawed body.

  Callie squeezed Danny’s hand. She whispered something, and he nodded. Danny raised his eyes to Eddie. “You know what’s weird?”

  “What?”

  “The police searched Riley’s house, right? They probably went through every room, looking for clues I don’t know, looking for whatever? You know. Like cops always do.”

  “Yeah. Probably,” Eddie said. “What’s your point?”

  “Well … why didn’t they find the briefcase? If they searched Riley’s house, how come they didn’t uncover the money?”

  Eddie nodded his head, thinking about it.

  “Maybe they found the money and decided to keep it,” I said.

  Danny snickered. “You mean like crooked cops on TV?”

  “Yeah. Maybe,” I said.

  Eddie was still thinking about it. He turned to Danny. “You think maybe Riley didn’t keep the money at home? Maybe he hid it somewhere else?”

  Danny nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “But where would we start to look?” Eddie said. “We can’t exactly ask his parents if they saw him give a briefcase to someone.”

  Callie uttered a sob. “The poor guy. What a terrible way to die. I think we should forget about the briefcase and try to go on with our lives.” She turned away. I saw tears running down her cheeks.

  “We can’t just forget about it,” Eddie said. “The guy who stole the money … he’ll be coming for it. If we don’t have it … he’ll … he’ll…” Eddie’s voice broke.

  A hush fell over the room.

 
; Callie pulled Danny to his feet. “Let’s go. We need to take a drive or something. I … I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “But … all that money,” Danny said. “Are we really just going to forget about it?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We have no choice.”

  “Shut up! Everyone just shut UP!” Callie screamed, covering her ears with her hands. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” She went running to the front door. Danny glanced at Eddie and me and then chased after her.

  The front door slammed again. Eddie and I were left alone. We held each other, squeezed together on the armchair. We didn’t say a word. I don’t know what he was thinking. As I pressed my cheek against his, I was trying not to think at all. But, of course, it was impossible.

  The doorbell chime made us both jump. Who could that be?

  We jumped to our feet. Pushing back my hair, I trotted to the front door and pulled it open. “Roxie?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.

  Her expression was grim. Her face was paler than before, as white as cake flour, and her chin was trembling. She pushed past me into the living room.

  “Here,” she said. She raised the briefcase in both hands and pushed it at me. Eddie stepped up beside me, eyes wide with shock.

  “Take it,” Roxie insisted. “Take it. Go ahead.” She shoved it hard into my chest. I staggered back a few steps, wrapping my arms around it.

  “I don’t want it,” Roxie said, scowling at Eddie and me. “I don’t want any part of it.” Her chin trembled harder. Tears filled her eyes. “Riley gave it to me to hide. But I don’t want it. I … don’t want anything to do with it. Or you.”

  “But, Roxie—” I started.

  She was breathing hard, her chest heaving up and down. “Riley … he … he … the poor guy. He only wanted to protect the money for the rest of us. That’s all he wanted. He … he wasn’t trying to steal it. He—”

  She couldn’t finish. Her whole body shuddered and she began to sob.

  I handed the briefcase to Eddie and stuck out my arms to hug her. But Roxie spun away from me. Still sobbing, she stumbled to the door and disappeared outside.

  Eddie and I stared at the front door. I turned to him. He held the briefcase awkwardly by the bottom, pressing it to his chest. I gazed at it until it became unreal … a dark brown blur.

  He opened it and peeked inside. “It’s in there. It’s all in there.”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, Eddie. What do we do with it now?”

  26.

  With all the horror, I completely forgot that Aunt Marta was arriving. Two days after Riley’s funeral, Mom picked her up at the airport.

  She had cherry red cheeks, and dark circles around both eyes, but her eyes were bright and alert and shiny. She wore her straight white hair pulled back in a bun, held together by a wide red ribbon.

  She was tiny. Like a miniature person. Like an old doll. When I stepped up to hug her, I had to lean down, nearly bending myself in half. She probably weighed eighty pounds at most.

  She didn’t wear “old lady” clothes. She wore a colorful flower-print skirt, pleated all around and down to her ankles, and a bright yellow peasant blouse many sizes too big for her narrow frame. A silver cross dangled down from a chain around her neck.

  Her “traveling clothes,” she said. She told us her six daughters sewed everything before her flight to Shadyside.

  “Six daughters!” Mom exclaimed. “I didn’t realize…”

  “Seven would be bad luck,” Marta said in her dry whisper of a voice. “Seven daughters in a house is too tempting for the Evil Ones.”

  Mom, Sophie, and I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “Six daughters and a son could lead to sunshine and good fortune,” Marta continued, gesturing with one bony hand. “But I didn’t want to take the chance.” She winked a wrinkled eyelid at me. “I’m a practical woman. But I know better than to tempt the fates.” She giggled, as if she had made a joke.

  * * *

  Sophie and I carried her suitcase and travel bag up to the guest room. “Why is Mom so awkward around Aunt Marta?” Sophie whispered.

  I shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe because Marta is so old and weird?”

  Sophie grinned. “Weird? What’s weird about bringing sticks from some kind of enchanted forest to hide under her bed? Everyone does that—right?”

  “Sshhh. She’ll hear you,” I whispered.

  “She doesn’t have any accent,” Sophie said.

  “You want her to talk like someone in a horror movie? I vant your blood.…” I whispered and walked toward her like the Frankenstein monster.”

  Sophie and I laughed so hard, we couldn’t stop. When we finally calmed down, Sophie said: “I’ve never seen Mom so tense. Did you see the look on her face when she spilled a little of Marta’s tea from her cup? And Marta had to chant some kind of tea prayer over it and stir her teaspoon twelve times?”

  I laughed. “Marta’s weird but she’s kind of sweet. She smells like cinnamon. Did you notice?”

  Sophie nodded. “Her teeth are so white. Do you think they’re real?”

  “Yuck. I don’t want to think about that,” I said. I hoisted Marta’s suitcase onto her bed. Sophie pulled the enchanted sticks or whatever they were from the travel bag and slid them under the bed.

  Then we went back downstairs to join Mom and Aunt Marta for lunch. Marta sat in a chair at the head of our kitchen table. She was so short, her feet didn’t touch the floor.

  Mom had her phone to her ear. She lowered it and turned to us. “That was your dad. He’ll be home from Atlanta tomorrow.” She turned to Marta. “Jason is so sorry he wasn’t here to greet you, Marta”

  “He was always a day late,” Marta said, frowning. “That boy. I remember. Always a day late. I always said he’d be a day late to his funeral.”

  Sophie and I exchanged glances across the table. Marta seemed serious and a little scary We didn’t know whether to laugh or not.

  Mom served a tossed salad and tuna sandwiches for lunch. Aunt Marta ate hungrily, taking little chipmunk bites, her red cheeks moving as she chewed.

  “Emmy? Do you remember your visit to me when you were little?” she asked. But she directed the question to Sophie not me.

  “I’m Emmy,” I said. “Sophie was too little to remember much of our visit, but I remember a lot.”

  Marta nodded, taking another sandwich half. She sighed. “This is some age we live in. You jump in an airplane and it takes you to a different world.”

  “I think you’re very brave for making the trip,” Mom said.

  Marta squinted at her. “Brave?”

  “I mean … at your age. I mean…”

  Awkward.

  Marta turned back to me. “My village is still part of the Old Country, the world I grew up in. Very different. Very different. In the Old Country the real and the magical live side by side. The old ways and the new ways … we have them both.”

  Sophie lifted her phone off the table. “Do you have these, Aunt Marta?”

  Marta nodded her head. “Yes. But it’s not the only way we communicate. We communicate in ways you would probably think are not possible.”

  Very mysterious.

  The lunch continued like that. Marta was eager to tell us of the superstitions and traditions of her village. I was surprised that she didn’t ask Sophie and me more questions. She had traveled all this way, but she didn’t seem very interested in learning about us.

  I guessed that maybe she was nervous, too, about being in a new place. And that she would relax and be more natural as the days went by.

  After lunch, she went up to her room to unpack and take an afternoon nap. Mom seemed really relieved. “I’ll be so glad when Dad gets home tomorrow,” she said.

  I studied her. “Mom, why are you so tense?”

  She stared back at me, thinking hard. “I really don’t know.”

  I helped her with the lunch dishes. Then I went to my room where Sophie was alre
ady doing homework, and I sprawled on my bed and started texting some friends.

  That night, I had another wolf dream.

  In this dream, I was chasing two white wolves through the woods. Was I a wolf, too? I couldn’t see myself. I felt as if I was running on all fours. I could hear the slap of my paws on the leafy dirt floor. And I could smell the tangy fragrance of the deep woods. Even in the dream, I could smell the fragrance of the air, and it made the dream so much more real, so real I wanted to escape it.

  But I also knew that was impossible. I had to see where the dream led.

  I chased the two wolves through the dark passages between the tall trees. I could hear them panting, steady huffing as they trotted side by side, bobbing their furry white heads.

  And then suddenly, they spun around. They rose up on their hind legs, eyes wild, jaws opening, baring their jagged teeth.

  Before I could turn away, they attacked. Leaped at me with their forepaws raised, snarling their sudden rage.

  I screamed.

  And woke up.

  And found Great Aunt Marta sitting beside my bed. She leaned forward and brought her face close to mine. “So you have the dreams,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I knew you would.”

  27.

  I shook myself awake. The fragrance of the night air in my dream lingered in my nose. I felt half in the woods, half in my bed. I tried to blink it all away.

  Marta started to stand up, but I gripped her wrist and pulled her back down to my bedside. “What do you mean?” I demanded. “Aunt Marta, you have to explain.”

  She stared at me with her dark eyes, gleaming in the light from my bedroom window. I had the feeling those eyes could see right into my brain. See my thoughts. See my dreams.

  She gripped the silver moon pendant on my neck in her tiny hand. “The crescent moon,” she said. “I gave that to you. Do you wish on the moon, child? Has it granted any of your desires?”

  “Huh? No. I mean … no.”

  She set the pendant back on my skin and rubbed it three times. “I gave you the crescent moon because I knew you were the special one.”

  “But, tell me about the dreams. Why did you say you knew I would have them?”