by R. L. Stine
“Whoa,” Ms. Closter repeated. Her favorite phrase. “One word, girls.” She cleared her throat. “It’s our first practice without Hannah, and we all miss her—right? We all feel bad that she’s in the hospital.”
“I talked to her mother this morning before school,” Corky reported.
“And what did she say?” Ms. Closter asked, resting her hands on her slender waist. “How is Hannah doing?”
“She—she’s stable,” Corky replied, glancing at Kimmy. And then she added, “Whatever that means.”
Ms. Closter nodded solemnly. “I hope that means they’ve stopped the internal bleeding.”
Corky shrugged. “The doctor just said she was stable. Her mother said Hannah’s face was really cut up. She needed a lot of stitches. And she broke her collarbone. But she should come through it all okay.”
Debra let out a low sigh. Naomi and Heather shook their heads.
“It could have been worse,” Ms. Closter murmured, fiddling with the string that held her whistle. “She could’ve broken her neck. In a way, Hannah was lucky.”
“Yeah. Real lucky,” Debra muttered, rolling her eyes.
“I know this sounds a little cold,” Kimmy said, pushing back her dark bangs. “But we have to think about the Holiday Tournament. What are we going to do about replacing Hannah?”
Ms. Closter knitted her brow. “We’ll hold tryouts Monday after school. If you know anyone who’s interested—”
“But the tournament’s just two weeks away!” Heather protested. “How will the new person learn the routines?”
“Practice,” Ms. Closter replied, turning her cap around to the front. “A lot of practice.” She motioned with both hands. “Okay, everyone. Line up. Spread eagles. Again. This time with some energy. Think light. Light. You’re light as feathers.”
Naomi sneezed loudly. She rubbed her nose. “I’m allergic to feathers!” she cried.
The girls all laughed. Corky forced a laugh too. But her mind wasn’t on practice. She was thinking only about Hannah.
Ms. Closter said Hannah was lucky, Corky thought fretfully. I don’t think Hannah would agree.
And if Kimmy is right, if the evil has returned, then none of us are lucky.
Kimmy can’t be right, though, Corky decided.
She took her place at the end of the line. Shaking her head hard, she tried to chase away all scary thoughts.
Across the gym, the door to the boys’ locker room swung open. The boys’ basketball team came jogging out and began dribbling in wide circles.
Corky waved to Alex, but he didn’t see her. He and his best friend, Jay Landers, started passing a basketball rapidly back and forth.
“Same cheer!” Ms. Closter instructed. “Really shout. Make the backboards shatter!”
Ms. Closter’s words made Corky gasp. She saw the broken windshield. Hannah’s body sprawled over the hood.
The cheer started. Corky came in a beat late. She struggled to catch up.
Down the floor,
Shoot two more!
Down the floor,
Shoot two more!
Go, TIGERS!
Up into her spread eagle now. Her eyes on Alex. Why doesn’t he turn around? Corky wondered. Why doesn’t he watch?
A good jump. Her legs straight out. Down now. Into a split.
Yes! Looking good!
Everyone up at the same time. Jump. Clap. Cheer. And run off.
“Better!” Ms. Closter shouted over the drumbeat of dribbling basketballs. “A lot better. Let’s try it again. Debra, that was your best jump yet. Come on. Line up.”
“Uh—I’ve got a leg cramp,” Corky called to the coach. “Be right back. I need to walk it off.”
She pretended to limp as she made her way to the far side of the gym. “Hey—Alex!” she called.
Jay saw her first. Tucking the basketball under his arm, he flashed her a smile and waved. “Corky—looking good!”
Corky liked Jay. A lot of girls thought he was goofy, mainly because he was always grinning his toothy grin. And always cracking dumb jokes and giggling uproariously at them. Or deliberately walking into a wall for a cheap laugh.
With his long, crooked nose, tiny brown eyes, and short, spiky white-blond hair, Jay looked like a very tall chicken. But Corky thought he was fun. She always defended him when other girls talked about what a geek he was.
“Hey, Alex!” she called.
Alex finally noticed her. He came dribbling over. Jay deliberately bounced his ball into Alex’s foot. Alex casually kicked Jay’s ball away. “What’s up, Cork?”
“Do you have your car?” Corky asked. She pushed a wave of blond hair off her forehead.
He nodded. “Yeah. You need a lift home?”
Corky hesitated. “Can we take a short ride? After practice?”
Alex narrowed his blue eyes in confusion. “A ride? I promised my mom I’d be home by dinnertime.”
“Just to the river and back,” Corky told him.
“Don’t drive with Alex,” Jay broke in, grinning. “He gets carsick.”
“Hey, Landers!” Alex protested. “I get sick only when I look at your face. It’s like someone drove over it!”
Jay shoved Alex out of the way. “I’ll take you to the river, Corky,” he offered, spinning the ball on one finger.
“You have a car?” Corky asked.
“No. But so what?” Jay opened his mouth in a high-pitched laugh.
Alex rolled his eyes. “Why do you want to drive to the river?”
Corky didn’t get a chance to answer. She heard Ms. Closter’s whistle. “Corky—no time-outs!” the coach called. “We’re waiting for you.”
“Okay. Meet me after practice,” Alex agreed. He turned, dribbled across the floor, stopped at the three-point circle, and sent the ball flying. It swished through—all net.
Alex turned back to Corky and grinned, the cute, boyish grin that always made Corky want to hug him.
“Lucky shot!” Corky heard Jay declare as she hurried back to practice.
♦ ♦ ♦
“How was practice?” Corky asked Alex, lowering herself into the passenger seat of his father’s white Sable and pulling the door shut.
“Better than yours,” Alex replied. “I heard Ms. Closter yelling at you guys.” He shook his head.
He’s so great looking, Corky thought. She liked the way his blond hair, wild and unbrushed as always, fell over his forehead. And she liked the tiny dimple that appeared in his right cheek when he smiled.
“We weren’t into it today,” Corky said quietly.
Alex pushed back the hood of his parka, then started the car. Corky gazed up at the late afternoon sky. A pale moon already poked over the winter-bare trees. It gets dark so early in December, she thought.
The charcoal-gray sky matched her mood. She slumped in the seat, raising her knees to the glove compartment as Alex pulled out onto Park Drive. Some of the snow had melted. But there were still patches of ice on the street.
“Did you see me reject Gary Brandt’s layup?” Alex asked gleefully. “His mouth dropped open so wide, he nearly swallowed the ball!” He laughed. “I can’t wait for the tournament. I think we’re going to kick some butt!”
The car slid as Alex turned sharply onto River Road. Corky adjusted the seat belt over the front of her blue down jacket. They rolled past three little kids having a frantic snowball fight in a wide front yard. “Hey—no ice balls!” Corky heard one of them yell.
“What was that big crowd around Jay?” Corky asked. “I saw you running over to him.”
“Gary and Jay collided. Jay thought he broke his nose!” Alex declared, snickering.
“Huh?” Corky lowered her legs and sat up. “Was he okay?”
“With his nose, who could tell?” Alex joked.
“He’s supposed to be your best friend,” Corky scolded playfully.
“Does that mean I have to like his nose?” Alex shot back.
They both laughed. Corky leaned cl
oser to Alex.
The road curved up along the Conononka River, past dark trees, shivering in a brisk wind. Through the trees, Corky glimpsed a solid blanket of white.
“The river is completely frozen over,” she murmured, feeling a little relieved.
“Why’d you want to come up here?” Alex demanded, pumping the brake pedal as the car started to spin at a curve.
“Slow down!” Corky instructed. “If we go over the side—”
Alex finished the sentence for her. “We’ll be dead—and my dad will go ballistic because I bent up his new car.”
The tires crunched over the hard snow. He eased the car to a stop at the side of the road before they made it all the way to the top of the overlook. Swaying tree branches cracked above them.
Alex shifted the car into park and left the engine running. He rubbed his hands together, warming them in front of the heater vent. “So why’d you want to come up here?” he repeated, a smile crossing his face.
He leaned toward her, reached out, and pulled her close. Before Corky could resist, he was kissing her.
His nose felt cold, but his lips were warm. Corky snuggled against him, returning the kiss.
She ended it by gently pushing him back. “That isn’t why I wanted to drive up here,” she said softly.
He pursed his lips into an exaggerated pout. “You sure?” He reached for her again as Corky pushed open her door. And climbed out of the car.
The sudden cold surprised her, made her gasp. A gust of wind held the car door open. She struggled to close it.
Gripping the car keys in one hand, Alex came around the front of the car to join her. “If you’re thinking about a swim, forget it!” he joked, shivering.
She pulled the two sides of his parka together. “Why don’t you zip up?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Because I’m macho.”
“No. Because you’re stupid,” she corrected him.
He did his pout again.
She laughed and led the way through the trees, her Doc Martens crunching over the hard snow. The cold wind swirled off the river, making the trees creak and bend.
Alex hurried to catch up with her. He pulled the parka hood over his head and then took her hand. “N-nice day for a w-walk,” he said, shivering some more.
“I just have to see the river,” Corky told him. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Well, here it is,” Alex announced as they came out of the trees. “It looks like an ice rink.” He tugged her arm. “Can we go back now?”
“In one second,” she replied. The wind made her eyes water. She shielded them with a gloved hand and squinted out at the frozen river.
A solid sheet of ice from shore to shore.
The whipping wind sent sprays of snow up off the frozen surface.
Yes, it’s totally iced over, Corky saw, beginning to feel a little better. The evil has to be buried still down where I left it. Nothing could escape that solid block of ice.
Nothing. Not even the evil.
And then Corky’s eyes settled on something and she let out a low, startled cry.
And pointed in horror.
She gripped the sleeve of Alex’s parka. “What’s that?” Corky cried.
Chapter 4
NIGHT VISITOR
Alex’s eyes darted over the ice. “What’s your problem?” he asked, sliding an arm around her shoulders.
“What is that?” Corky repeated shrilly. The wind swirled wet snow in her face. She squinted, trying to see clearly in the fading light.
“You mean that hole in the ice?” Alex asked, bewildered. “It’s an ice-fishing hole.”
Corky took a step toward it, then stopped. The moon cast long tree shadows over the frozen river. The white ice glowed eerily.
Squinting hard, Corky could make out white steam, ghostlike against the dark sky, billowing up from the hole.
“It—it’s escaping,” Corky murmured, unable to hold in her horror.
“Huh?” Alex gaped at her, trying to figure out what had frightened her. “Corky? What’s wrong?”
She pointed again, her hand trembling.
“The steam?” he asked, confused. “That’s steam shooting up from the hole. It’s because the water below the ice is warmer than the air above the ice.”
No, Corky thought, gripping Alex’s sleeve. No, it isn’t steam.
But how can I tell Alex what it really is? How can I tell him that it is the evil swirling up to find a victim to inhabit?
I can’t.
The white vapor continued to rise up against the dark sky, twisting in the gusting wind. “Alex, let’s get out of here,” Corky pleaded.
♦ ♦ ♦
The cracks resembled a ladder, a very tall ladder tilting off into the distance. Lying on her back in bed, Corky gazed up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
She had tried calling Kimmy after dinner, but got the answering machine. Then she tried Debra. But her father answered, sounding confused. He said he didn’t know where Debra or her mother had gone.
Finally Corky telephoned the hospital to speak to Hannah. But a nurse told her Hannah was resting and couldn’t be disturbed.
Feeling shaky and alone, Corky had struggled to concentrate on her homework. Then she went to bed early, hoping to fall asleep and escape her frightening thoughts.
But she found no escape.
Wide awake, she stared up at the spidery cracks in the ceiling, thinking about Hannah, about the accident, about the evil, about her sister Bobbi, about the steam swirling up so eerily from the hole in the frozen river.
The ceiling cracks suddenly appeared to move.
Corky’s eyes grew wide. She lifted her head from the pillow, staring hard.
The cracks shimmered. But they weren’t moving.
Then Corky saw the steam floating across her ceiling.
A fine white mist moving silently as a cloud.
Silent as death, Corky thought.
The steam filled the top of her room, then started to curl down.
I’ve got to get out of here! Corky told herself, panic choking her throat, cutting off her breathing. Why can’t I move?
Why?
She lay frozen in place, gazing up in cold horror as the steamy blanket lowered itself on top of her.
And as it swept over the bed, over her body, descending over her face, she began to feel the anger build inside her.
Felt the anger burn her chest.
Felt the angry flames shoot out through her body. Until the anger turned to rage.
And she opened her mouth in a roar of hate.
I am a monster again! she told herself.
I am back, back for good.
Chapter 5
DARKNESS AT DEBRA’S
“Corky!”
“Corky!”
Voices called to her, tried to get through the billowing fog. Hot hands grabbed her roughly. Shook her.
“Corky!”
“Corky—please!”
She opened her eyes to find her parents beside her bed. Her mother held her by the shoulders. Her father leaned close, calling her name.
“Another nightmare!” Mrs. Corcoran murmured, loosening her grip but still holding on. “Corky—are you awake now?”
“That was a bad one,” Corky’s dad said. “You haven’t screamed like that in a long time.”
“Just a dream,” Corky managed to whisper, gazing up at her worried parents.
No drifting steam in her room. No evil cloud of vapor over her bed. No spirit lowering itself into her mind.
Of course. It was only a dream.
Wasn’t it?
She had the same nightmare at least once a month. Ever since the evil had inhabited her body, had used her for its plots.
In her sleep she had felt the anger return, felt the anger flame until it burst out of her in a howl of rage.
Just a dream. Of course, just a dream.
So why did it seem different this time?
Why did it seem so mu
ch more real?
♦ ♦ ♦
Alex slammed the table with both hands. “It was all my fault!” he cried angrily. “I blew it! I totally blew it!”
“Hey, superstar—” Jay reached across the table and playfully punched Alex’s jaw. “No one is blaming you.”
“Why not?” Alex demanded. “I let the guy shoot. I let the ball go in. I lost the game for us—didn’t I?”
“Nice weather we’re having,” Corky commented dryly. She wondered if she should just get up and leave. She could see that Alex and Jay were going to replay the basketball game for the rest of Friday night.
How dreary.
Corky felt the same combination of excitement and exhaustion she felt after every game. Her throat was scratchy from cheering. Her leg muscles ached. But her heart was still racing. And she wanted to cheer more or dance until she dropped.
They were squeezed into a booth in the back of Pete’s Pizza at the mall. Corky sat beside Jay. Alex slumped across the table from them.
A large pepperoni pizza sat in the middle of the white Formica table. So far, Corky was the only one who had taken a slice.
“I jumped too soon, that’s all,” Alex said glumly, resting his chin in his hands. “Otherwise, I would’ve blocked the shot.”
“Give me a break, Alex. He faked you out of your Nikes!” Jay shot back, letting out his high-pitched giggle. He had a Mighty Ducks cap pulled down over his short, spiky hair and looked goofier than ever.
“Are you trying to cheer me up or what?” Alex asked, scowling.
Jay pulled two round pieces of pepperoni off the pizza and covered his eyes with them. “Hey—do you think I need glasses?”
Corky laughed. At least Jay was trying to get over his disappointment. Alex continued to scowl and shake his head.
“So we lost in the last second,” Jay continued, removing the pepperonis from his eyes and popping them into his mouth. “Think of it this way, Alex, we won the first forty-seven minutes and fifty-nine seconds of the game!”
Corky laughed. Jay can always make me laugh, she thought. Alex picked up a slice of pizza, then set it down again.
“The game doesn’t even count!” Jay insisted. “We’re still going to the tournament, man! The tournament is what counts. That’s the top ten teams in the state! That’s the real season!”