The Best Friend

by R. L. Stine

  “No. Lilah and I are going for a long bike ride,” Becka told her, tossing her backpack over the handlebars of her bike. “We’ve been sitting around for weeks. We need a workout.”

  Honey frowned. “I’ve got to get a bike. I want one just like yours. It’s a ten-speed, right?”

  Becka shook her head. No. A twenty-one speed.”

  “I like your hair that way,” Lilah said to Honey.

  “Will you be home tonight?” Honey asked Becka. “Yeah. I guess. I’ve got to work on my research paper for science.”

  “Me too,” Honey said. “I’ll call you, okay?” “Okay,” Becka said, backing her bike out of the rack.

  “See you,” Honey said. She stood beside the rack, her hands crammed in the pockets of her windbreaker, watching as Becka and Lilah pedaled away.

  They made their way out of the parking lot and turned right onto Park Drive. The curb was still puddled with melting snow. Their tires sent up a spray as they rolled past.

  “Did you see the look on Honey’s face when you said she couldn’t come with us?” Lilah called, pedaling hard a few yards ahead of Becka. “She looked as if you’d just killed her puppy.”

  “She’s very emotional,” Becka replied, leaning forward over her handlebars. “One minute she’s ecstatically happy, the next she’s ready to weep bitter tears.”

  “Weird,” Lilah said.

  They rode past the front of the school, the flag hanging limp on this windless afternoon, and headed through the neighborhood of big houses and tree-filled front yards known as North Hills.

  “My legs ache already,” Becka complained.

  “We haven’t even reached the good hills yet,” Lilah said, pedaling harder.

  “I’ve just been so lazy lately. This really feels good,” Becka said.

  “We’re supposed to go skiing this vacation,” Lilah said, staring straight ahead as the road dipped to the east. “But we may not go. My dad may have to go to Akron on business.”

  “Akron? For Christmas?” Becka cried, pumping hard to keep up with her.

  “No, he’d be back by Christmas. But we wouldn’t be able to go away.”

  “What a drag,” Becka groaned. She took her hands off the handlebars to unzip her jacket.

  The sun was an orange ball just over the tops of the trees. In the center of a yard across the street lay a top hat and a straw broom, the remains of what must have been a pretty fancy snowman.

  Becka pedaled rapidly to catch up to Lilah, and they biked side by side for a while. “Here come the hills,” she warned.

  “The first one is downhill. No problem!” Lilah cried.

  “Watch out. There are still a few patches of ice,” Becka said, pointing.

  She stopped pedaling as they started to roll down the hill toward the intersection with River Road. The hill was steep, and they started to pick up speed.

  Becka saw the brown delivery truck first. It was speeding toward the intersection, its engine roaring.

  “Look out!” Becka warned. She pressed her hand brakes and started to slow.

  But not Lilah.

  It all happened so quickly.

  In a second. Maybe less.

  Becka saw the panic on Lilah’s face.

  “My brakes!” Lilah shrieked.

  Becka squealed to a safe stop.

  Still picking up speed, Lilah flew over her handlebars into the intersection.

  Becka shut her eyes.

  Then she heard a loud thump. Followed by a sickening crunch.

  chapter

  9

  The sun was behind the trees now. The air carried a bitter winter chill.

  The red lights on the top of the ambulances circled around and around.

  Becka sat on the curb and stared as the red lights rolled over the ground, over the street, over Lilah’s bent and mangled bike, still lying in the middle of the intersection.

  Over the dark circle of blood in the street.

  She heard a high-pitched voice talking rapidly, excitedly.

  It was the truck driver, a young man in a denim work shirt and black jeans, with a red bandanna tied around his forehead. He was explaining to a grimfaced police officer what had happened. Gesturing wildly. His voice kept cracking as he talked.

  Becka didn’t look at him. She kept her gaze on the sweeping red ambulance lights.

  The lights were comforting somehow. Hypnotic. So regular. So mechanical.

  There were two ambulances there, Becka knew. And several black and white police cars.

  The officers had wanted to talk to her, but she told them she wasn’t ready to talk. She wanted to sit on the curb, on the cold, solid concrete, and watch the lights go around for a while.

  Round and round.

  She looked up in time to see the white-jacketed medics lift the stretcher into one of the ambulances.

  The stretcher carrying Lilah.

  The stretcher slid silently into the back of the ambulance.

  Silent as death.

  And then the doors were closed with a bang.

  Lilah was alive.

  The officers had told her that Lilah was alive.

  She was unconscious. She was in bad shape.

  But she was alive.

  Becka shut her eyes. The sweeping red lights disappeared.

  She heard the thud again.

  And then she heard the crunch.

  When she opened her eyes, she was panting, her heart thudding in her chest.

  Will I hear those sounds every time I shut my eyes?

  Becka realized she was standing. She didn’t remember climbing to her feet.

  But she was standing now.

  Am I in shock?

  The officer had muttered something about shock.

  The red lights swept over her as she found herself walking toward the intersection.

  Round and round.

  I’m inside the red lights now.

  So cold. So cold.

  Will I ever be warm?

  The red is cold.

  And then she was lifting Lilah’s bike. It had jerked to a stop and then slid into the intersection after Lilah. So bent. So totally wrecked. The seat as flat as a sheet of cardboard.

  And the brakes—

  Huh?

  Becka’s mouth dropped open. She stared hard at the mangled bike in her hands as the red lights swept over her. Then there was darkness, then the red light again.

  One brake cable.

  One of Lilah’s brake cables.

  It’s missing, Becka saw.

  She searched the street. There were no pieces there.

  “My brakes!” Those were the words Lilah had screamed just before—before the bike slammed to a stop and she was thrown off.

  Lilah had no rear wheel brakes. No brake cable to her back wheel.

  The cable couldn’t have come loose from both ends, Becka knew.

  It couldn’t have fallen off from both ends.

  It had to have been removed.

  “Hey—her rear brake cable—it’s gone!” Becka shouted.

  Did anyone hear her?

  Did she really shout it?

  Or did she just imagine that she had shouted it.

  “Lilah’s brake cable! Where is Lilah’s brake cable?”

  Was she talking to herself?

  Wouldn’t anyone listen to her?

  Becka felt a hand on her shoulder. The hand was gentle. Protective.

  She raised her eyes to the face of a young police officer. “Your friend is on her way to the hospital,” he said softly, staring into her eyes with his wet blue ones. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I don’t know,” Becka heard herself say.

  “Would you like to go to the hospital too?” he asked, not blinking, not taking his eyes from hers. “Or would you like us to take you home?”

  “Home,” Becka said.

  “Lilah is still unconscious,” Becka whispered into the phone. “My mom just talked to her mom. The doctor said Lilah is stable.�
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  “Stable? What does that mean?” Bill asked on the other end of the phone line.

  Becka leaned over her desk. “I don’t know. I guess that means she isn’t getting any worse.”

  “And how are you doing?” Bill asked softly.

  “Okay, I guess. Better. I keep getting chills. Mom keeps bringing me soup. Like I’m the one who’s sick or something.”

  “You going to school tomorrow?” Bill asked.

  “Yeah. I guess. I don’t know.” She uttered a loud sob. “I just can’t believe it, Bill. Last night I was at Lilah’s and we had such a good time. We were trimming her tree. Everyone was so happy, and now—”

  “She’ll be okay,” Bill said soothingly. “I know she will.”

  Becka forced herself not to cry.

  She hadn’t cried at all. Not a tear.

  Every time the urge hit her, she forced it back.

  “You’ve been through a shock,” Bill said.

  “I’m keeping it together,” she told him, her voice breaking.

  “Lilah will be okay,” Bill repeated.

  He doesn’t really believe it, Becka realized. He’s trying to make me feel better.

  He’s sweet.

  “Let’s do something Saturday night,” he urged. “Try to take our minds off everything.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. The word tumbled out of her mouth. She was feeling so close to him now. He was being so understanding, so caring.

  She just agreed without thinking.

  “You’ll do it?” He sounded very surprised.

  “Yeah. I’ll just sneak out,” she told him. “It won’t be any big deal. I’ll tell my parents I’m going over to Trish’s.”

  “Better let Trish in on it,” Bill warned.

  “Hey, I’m not stupid,” she snapped.

  “I know. But you’re also not good at being sneaky.”

  “I can handle it,” Becka assured him. “I really do need to get my mind off this. Poor Lilah.” Again she choked back the tears.

  “We’ll go to a movie. A comedy,” Bill promised. “We’ll laugh all night. You’ll see.”

  “I don’t want to laugh all night,” Becka insisted. “I just want—”

  Becka suddenly had the feeling she wasn’t alone.

  She turned to her bedroom door—and cried out in alarm.

  chapter

  10

  “Honey!” Becka cried. “How long have you been standing there? How did you get in here?”

  Honey, her features tight with concern, stepped into Becka’s bedroom.

  “Listen, I’ve got to go. Bye,” Becka said hurriedly into the phone. She hung up the receiver and stood up.

  How much did Honey hear? Becka wondered.

  “Becka, I heard the bad news. About Lilah,” Honey cried. “You must feel awful!”

  “Yes,” Becka replied warily. “How did you get in here? Did my mom let you in?”

  Honey nodded, then bounded across the room and wrapped Becka in a tight, protective hug.

  “There, there,” Honey said in a low voice that was meant to be soothing. “There there there there there.”

  “Honey, please—”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Honey said, not letting go of Becka. “I understand what you’re feeling. That’s why I came running over the moment I heard. I knew my place was here.”

  “Well, really, Honey—” Becka struggled to free herself from Honey’s tight hug.

  Finally Honey let go and took a step back. She stared at Becka with an expression meant to be sympathetic and understanding.

  “How awful for you, Becka. How awful. But you can let it out with me. You can be yourself, express your feelings without being embarrassed. That’s what best friends are for, right?”

  Grateful to be out of Honey’s smothering hug, Becka made her way to the bed and dropped down onto her quilt with a weary sigh. “I really don’t want to talk about it, Honey.”

  “Of course. I understand,” Honey replied, crossing her arms in front of her, moving forward until she was standing directly over Becka.

  An awkward silence followed.

  Honey stared down at Becka who was sitting hunched over on her bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Becka avoided Honey’s stare, keeping her gaze focused on the evening darkness outside the window.

  “You don’t have to talk about it,” Honey said finally. “It must have been such a shock. Such a horrible thing to witness.”

  “Yeah,” Becka agreed, feeling her throat tighten.

  “Didn’t Lilah see the truck?” Honey asked.

  Becka sighed. “Honey, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Really, I don’t. But I really feel like being alone right now.”

  Honey’s dark lips formed a small O of surprise, but she quickly recovered her concerned expression. “Of course you do, Becka. You were always like that. Even when we were little. You always had to sit and figure things out by yourself.” Honey shook her head. “You were such a loner sometimes.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Becka said, feeling the urge to cry again and fighting it down.

  “Well, I’m going home,” Honey continued. “I just came to say that I’m here if you need me. You don’t have Lilah anymore, so I want you to know I’m right here for you. Whenever.”

  You don’t have Lilah anymore? Is that what Honey said?

  “What did you say?” Becka cried.

  “I said I’m right here for you,” Honey said, retreating to the door.

  No. I heard what you said. I heard what you said about Lilah.

  You don’t have Lilah anymore. Something about the way Honey said those words gave Becka a chill.

  Suddenly, before Becka even realized it, hot tears were rolling down her cheeks, her shoulders were heaving, and she was sobbing, loud sobs of utter grief.

  No! No! I don’t want to cry! Becka thought.

  But she couldn’t stop herself now. Huddled on the bed, she let out loud, racking sobs, and covered her face with her hands.

  “That’s it. Let it all out.” Honey’s voice floated into Becka’s consciousness.

  She felt Honey’s arm go around her shoulders. Honey was beside her on the bed now, hugging her, holding her, whispering soothingly. “There, there. Let it all out. I’m right here, Becka. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

  “Becka—?”

  Another voice broke into Becka’s consciousness.

  A voice from the doorway.

  Becka wiped her eyes with both hands and stared at the doorway. Trish was standing there, looking surprised and uncomfortable.

  “Becka, are you okay?” Trish asked, taking a reluctant step into the room.

  Becka cleared her throat, tried to reply.

  Before she could answer Trish, Honey was on her feet and sailing across the room.

  Grabbing Trish’s elbow, Honey began to force her to leave. “Sorry, Trish, not now” Becka heard Honey say firmly. “Becka wants to be left alone.”

  Trish flashed Becka a helpless look. But Honey insisted. Holding her by the elbow, she led Trish out of the room.

  Becka heard them both go down the stairs.

  Then she buried her head in her hands and cried some more.

  chapter

  11

  Becka put her hands behind Bill’s neck and pulled his face to hers. She returned his kiss, a long, hard kiss, closing her eyes at first, then opening them to stare at the fogged-up windshield.

  She liked the smell of his leather jacket.

  She liked the softness of the long tangles of hair behind his head that she wrapped her fingers in, holding him close as they kissed.

  He started to pull away, but she pulled his face to hers and found his lips for another kiss.

  She didn’t want to let him go.

  Parked in her car on River Ridge, the windows all steamed, surrounded by the dark night, they were in their own world.

  Safe and warm.

  And silent.

  F
ar below, the Conononka River flowed quietly, slowly, its waters choked with ice. Beyond the river stretched the town of Shadyside, lights twinkling through the trees on a clear, cold Saturday night.

  But up on the high cliff known as River Ridge, pressed together in the front seat of the small car, Becka and Bill were alone. Far from everyone. Far from the people who would keep them apart.

  After a long while Bill reached up and removed Becka’s hands from the back of his head. “I—I can’t breathe,” he whispered, laughing giddily.

  Becka sank back with a sigh. She pressed her forehead into the shoulder of his leather jacket.

  “I like it here,” she said softly, still tasting his lips on hers.

  “Want to get out and look down at the town?” he asked, running a hand back through his hair, smoothing out some of the tangles.

  “No. I don’t want to move,” Becka replied. “Ever.”

  She squeezed his hand, then held it. With his free hand, he absently drew circles in the steam on the passenger window.

  “This is the first time I’ve been able to relax,” she admitted. “I’ve been so crazed all week.”

  He turned to her, his expression serious. “Because of Lilah, you mean?”

  “Because of everything,” Becka told him, snuggling against his big shoulder. Lilah. Honey. You.”

  “Me?”

  “Having to sneak out tonight,” she said softly. “Having to lie to my parents. I really hate it.”

  “Well, why don’t you just tell them you’re with me again?” Bill asked. I mean, I’m not such a bad guy.”

  Becka didn’t reply for a long while. Finally, she said, “You don’t know my parents very well. Once they get an idea about someone in their heads—”

  She let go of his hand and sank lower in the seat. “They’d probably give in after a while,” she told him, staring at the dark windshield. “After a lot of screaming and yelling and arguing. And I just haven’t felt—I haven’t felt like screaming and yelling. Know what I mean?”

  Bill nodded solemnly. “I guess. It’s different at my house,” he added thoughtfully. “There’s never any screaming and yelling at my house because no one cares.”

  “Well, my parents care too much,” Becka said, frowning. “Sometimes I wish they’d just back off, get out of my face. And then there’s Honey.” She groaned and ran her hands around the steering wheel.