by R. L. Stine
“Honey, really,” Becka tried to cut in, but Honey insisted on continuing.
“I never said those things,” Honey said emotionally. “Really. Trish lied. I never told her or anyone else that you had a breakdown. Trish is a liar, Becka. You’ve got to believe me.”
Becka’s head felt as heavy as a bowling ball. She dropped back onto the pillow and shut her eyes. “Honey, I’m sick. I really have to sleep. Please—”
“Just say you believe me,” Honey insisted.
Becka took a deep breath. “Okay. I believe you.”
Anything to get her off the phone.
“Oh, thanks,” Honey cried gratefully. “Thanks, Becka. I knew you wouldn’t believe such a dumb story. It’s just that we had such a bad visit this afternoon. I mean, I could tell you didn’t like my haircut, and—”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Becka groaned. “I—it was just a shock, that’s all. I didn’t expect—”
“You mean you really do like it?” Honey asked.
“Yes, you look great,” Becka told her.
“But do you like it?” Honey pleaded.
“Yes. It’s wonderful,” Becka lied. “Listen, Honey, I really feel lousy. I’ve got to get back to sleep, okay?”
“Okay. I feel much better about everything. I won’t call again, Becka, but I’m here if you need me, all right? I’ll call tomorrow morning. I hope you’ll be well enough to go to school. It’s the last day, you know.”
“I know,” Becka said. “Good night.” She replaced the receiver without waiting for a reply.
Honey is driving me crazy! Becka thought.
Crazy!
She pulled the pillow over her and pressed it down over her chest.
What am I going to do about her?
She gripped the pillow tightly, holding on as if her life depended on it.
What am I going to do?
Honey had upset her so much, it took Becka nearly two hours to fall back to sleep.
Becka undid the combination lock and pulled open her locker door. She reached up to get a looseleaf binder from the shelf.
“Ow.” Her head throbbed when she looked up.
She still felt weak. She probably should have stayed in bed one more day. But she didn’t want to miss the last day of school before Christmas break.
“Oh! Becka, you’re here!”
Hearing a cry of surprise behind her, Becka turned around. “Oh, hi, Cari,” she said, balancing her backpack on one raised knee and struggling to stuff the binder into it.
It was her friend Cari Taylor, a petite, pretty girl with bright blue eyes and straight blond hair tied to one side in a short ponytail. Cari had the locker next to Becka’s.
“I—I didn’t think you’d be here,” Cari said awkwardly, studying Becka intently. “I mean, I heard ...”
“I had a virus or something,” Becka said, frowning. Her math textbook slipped out and fell to the floor. “I’m a little better today.”
Cari blushed. “I’m glad,” she said. “I mean, I’m not glad you were sick. I—I just heard you were really sick.”
“Who said that?” Becka snapped, bending to retrieve the math text. Her head throbbed painfully again as she reached down for it.
Cari shrugged. “Some kids said you’d had a breakdown,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper.
Becka shook her head. “No, I’m okay. Really.”
“A stupid rumor, I guess,” Cari said, obviously embarrassed. “Who knows how these things get started?”
“I know,” Becka muttered bitterly.
She zipped up her backpack. The first bell rang. Locker doors slammed all down the long hallway. Combination locks clicked. Kids made their way, talking and laughing, to their homerooms.
Becka snapped her lock and began walking down the hall with Cari.
Honey is a total liar, Becka realized, feeling her anger grow. Honey did tell everyone I had a breakdown.
She saw a cluster of kids waiting for the library to open. Their faces filled with surprise when they saw Becka pass by.
They must have heard the rumor too.
“What are you doing this vacation?” Becka asked Cari, trying to force her mind off Honey.
“Oh, Reva Dalby invited me to go skiing with her and her dad,” Cari answered, smiling. “They go skiing every Christmas, just about. I can’t wait. I’ve never been to Aspen. It should be really awesome at Christmastime.”
They stopped outside Cari’s homeroom. “What are you doing?” Cari asked.
“Not much,” Becka said. “We always stay around home. We have a million relatives to visit. And you know Trish is having a big party Saturday.”
The second bell rang.
“Yeah. I’m sorry I have to miss it. Bye. Have a good one!” Cari cried, ducking into the classroom. And then she added, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Becka dashed across the hall to her homeroom, tossed her backpack to the floor, and slid into her seat.
Is it just my imagination? she wondered. Or is everyone staring at me?
Did Honey tell everyone in the room that I had a breakdown?
She turned to look at Honey in the seat beside her. It was still a shock, a horrible shock, to see Honey’s short auburn hair, an exact copy of Becka’s haircut.
She’s wearing my silky blue top, Becka realized angrily. And she has my parrot pin on the collar.
Honey had a book open in her lap. She closed it and smiled at Becka.
“How are you feeling, Becka? You look so pale.”
“Not so great,” Becka muttered, frowning.
“I told you before we left your house you should’ve stayed home,” Honey scolded. “I would’ve brought you all your homework. I would have taken care of everything for you. Everything.”
What am I going to do about her? Becka asked herself miserably.
The question had become an obsession, an endless refrain.
What am I going to do?
“What am I going to do, Trish?” Becka asked. It came out sounding more like a plea than a question.
Trish shivered and zipped her wool parka up to the collar. She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets and picked up her pace to keep up with Becka, her boots sinking into the soft ground.
It was lunch period. But Becka didn’t have any appetite. After much pleading, she persuaded a reluctant Trish to go for a walk behind the school.
It was a cold, gray day, heavy clouds hovering low. The air was wet. It smelled as if it might start to snow any minute.
“You shouldn’t be walking around outside. You’re sick,” Trish scolded.
“I had to get out,” Becka told her. “I just couldn’t bear the idea of sitting in the lunchroom, trying to choke down a sandwich with Honey staring across the table at me.”
They followed the walkway that led behind the stadium. The football field was silent and empty. One of the goalposts had been knocked over in a strong wind a few weeks before.
“Honey is ruining my life,” Becka moaned. “What am I going to do?”
“Why don’t we murder her?” Trish suggested.
chapter
15
Becka stopped and gaped at Trish.
Trish laughed.
“Oh, Trish,” Becka cried, shaking her head. “Honey has me so messed up, I actually believed you. I thought you were serious.”
“No, it was a joke,” Trish said, pulling her green wool cap down lower over her head, pushing her red curls inside it. “You really are in bad shape, Becka.”
They had circled the stadium. Behind them stretched Shadyside Park, wintry and bare, dark, leafless trees shivering in the wind. They turned away from the park and, with the wind at their backs, began to make their way slowly toward the student parking lot.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me out of lunch. I’m starving!” Trish complained.
“You’re not being very helpful,” Becka said. “I mean, about Honey.”
“And I’m f
reezing,” Trish continued, ignoring Becka. “This cold air is making my braces freeze up!”
Trish stopped first, her mouth dropping open in surprise. She raised an arm to halt Becka.
Becka followed her friend’s gaze to the parking lot.
There was Honey. She was walking slowly between the two rows of cars. Walking with a boy.
He had his arm around her shoulders.
They stopped and kissed.
“I don’t believe it,” Becka whispered, moving behind Trish as if to hide.
They stared in silence as Honey leaned her back against a car, and she and the boy kissed some more.
“Who’s she with?” Becka whispered.
“I can’t see his face,” Trish replied. “We’re too far away.”
Staying close to the metal chain-link fence that lined the football field, they made their way closer to the parking lot.
“Oh, wow! It’s Eric!” Trish declared.
“Eric who?” Becka demanded. “My Eric?”
“Yeah.” Trish nodded
Becka grabbed the metal wires of the fence and squeezed till her hands hurt.
“Well, you broke up with him,” Trish said. “I guess she has a right—”
“Trish! Look at her!” Becka cried heatedly. “Her hair is cut like mine. She’s wearing a down jacket just like mine. She’s wearing my blue top that she took home and never returned. And my parrot pin, the enamel pin that Bill gave me. And she’s standing there in the parking lot, kissing my old boyfriend!”
“Becka—”
“That’s sick! It’s just sick!”
“Becka, you’re screaming. Calm down, okay? Just chill!” Trish grabbed Becka’s shoulder and stared at her, concerned.
Becka hadn’t even realized she was screaming. She took a deep breath and held it. She let go of the fence and shoved her frozen hands into her jacket pockets.
“I knew we should’ve stayed inside,” Trish said, frowning.
“What am I going to do?” Becka asked once again, forcing her voice to stay low and steady. She returned her eyes to the parking lot. Honey and Eric were walking arm in arm along the walk, toward Becka and Trish.
“You’re just going to have to be honest with her,” Trish said, fiddling with her wool cap.
“Honest? What do you mean?” Becka demanded.
“You’re going to have to tell her you don’t want to be friends with her.”
Two large blackbirds swooped low overhead, cawing loudly, on their way to the park.
I wish I could fly away with them, Becka thought miserably, watching Eric and Honey approach.
“But if I tell Honey that, I don’t know what she’ll do,” Becka said. “She’s so emotional. She’s crazy. She’s really crazy. I mean, I even think she caused Lilah’s accident.”
Trish raised her eyes to Becka’s, her expression troubled. “Don’t you totally freak over this, Becka,” she warned quietly. “Don’t get totally paranoid. Honey may be a terrible pest. And a copycat. But if you start making crazy accusations ...” She didn’t finish her thought.
“You don’t know her as well as I do,” Becka argued.
Glancing up ahead, she saw that Eric had suddenly turned around and was hurrying back to the school building. Honey was approaching quickly, jogging toward them, waving.
Eric must be embarrassed or something, Becka thought.
“Hi, Becka!” Honey called. She stopped in front of Becka, breathing hard, her breath steaming up from her mouth, a big smile on her face.
“Hi,” Becka muttered with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.
“What are you doing out here?” Honey asked.
“Just talking with Trish.”
“Oh.” Honey seemed to notice Trish for the first time. “Hi.”
Trish nodded.
“Can I join you?” Honey asked Becka.
Becka shook her head. Not now, Honey. I really want to have a private talk with Trish.”
“Private?”
“Yeah,” Becka replied coldly.
Honey’s mouth dropped open. Her gray eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Becka?” she demanded, sounding hurt. “There’s nothing you can’t share with your best friend.”
“That’s why I’m talking to Trish!” Becka said pointedly.
There, Becka thought. That should be clear enough. Now maybe Honey will take the hint.
Honey’s expression became a blank. It revealed no emotion, but her face turned bright red.
She shoved her large hands into the pockets of her down jacket and turned away quickly. “Talk to you later,” she called behind her and began jogging to the school.
“That was subtle,” Trish said dryly. She chuckled. “I think Honey got the point.”
Becka didn’t smile. She suddenly found herself overcome with regret, with fear. “I shouldn’t have been so blunt,” she said, her voice a whisper.
“Yes, you should,” Trish insisted. “You’ve been patient for so long. It was the only way.”
“You’d better be careful, Trish,” Becka said, biting her thumb.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“You’d better be careful. I know it sounds crazy. I know it sounds paranoid. But I really think Honey could be dangerous. If she’s jealous of you, if she starts to really resent you, she might try to do something.”
Trish laughed and shook her head. “Chill out, Becka,” she scolded. “I mean, really. What can she do?”
chapter
16
“Take care of yourself,” Trish said as they stepped into the warmth of the building. “You can’t miss my Christmas party Saturday.”
“I’ll be okay,” Becka said, shivering. “Talk to you later, Trish. Thanks for walking with me.”
Becka waved to her friend, then turned and headed down the crowded corridor to her locker. She still felt achy and sick.
I probably shouldn’t have stayed out in the cold like that, she thought.
She waved to some kids, then turned the corner and kept walking. Glancing at a wall clock, she saw that there were still ten minutes left in the lunch period.
Good, she thought. It’ll give me time to go to the girls’ room and get myself together.
After stepping around a group of guys who were huddled together, laughing about something, slapping one another high-fives, she stopped in front of her locker.
“Oh.” To her surprise, the locker door was open a crack.
I know I locked it, she told herself.
She pulled open the door and gasped.
“Becka, what’s the matter?”
Becka turned to see Cari Taylor beside her, starting to open her locker. “Look,” Becka said, pointing.
“Oh, wow!” Cari exclaimed, moving over to peer into Becka’s locker. “Someone trashed everything!”
“Everything,” Becka uttered weakly.
Her textbooks, usually neatly stacked on the top shelf, had been tossed to the locker floor. Her binders had been torn apart, pages pulled out. The wool scarf she kept in the locker had been balled up under a jumble of loose papers. The note cards for her research project were scattered over everything.
“How gross!” Cari exclaimed. “Who would do this?” She put a hand on Becka’s trembling shoulder. “You’ve got to report this.”
“Yeah, I know,” Becka replied.
A wave of nausea swept over her. She forced herself to look away from the mess.
“Who would do this?” Cari repeated.
Several other kids had hurried over to see what the commotion was.
I know who did it, Becka thought bitterly.
I don’t have to guess.
Honey did it.
Of all the stupid, babyish things!
Just because I hurt her feelings, she had to pay me back instantly by messing up all my stuff.
“Aaaagh!” Becka uttered an exasperated cry and lurched away from the noisy crowd that had gathered in front of her locker.
“Becka, where
are you going?” Cari called after her.
“To the girls’ room,” Becka shouted.
She pushed her way through a group of cheerleaders, in their uniforms for some reason, and hurried down the noisy hall, voices echoing in her ears.
Into the girls’ room at the end of the corridor.
Breathing hard.
Gray light flooded in through the frosted glass of the tall window.
Honey stood at the sink.
Still in her down jacket.
“Oh!” Becka cried out.
Honey turned to her, also surprised. “Hi.” She turned off the water faucets and pulled a paper towel from the dispenser beside the mirror.
“Honey!” Becka screamed. She felt herself going out of control. She couldn’t help it. She’d been holding back too long. “How could you?”
Honey’s eyes opened wide in bewilderment. She stopped drying her hands. “Huh?”
“How could you?”
“What, Becka? How could I what?”
“You know, you liar!” Becka shrieked.
Honey crumpled the paper towel in her hand and let it fall to the tile floor. “Becka, you’re screaming,” she said, her bewildered expression turning to one of concern. “Are you okay?”
“No, Honey, I’m not okay!” Becka cried, taking angry steps toward Honey. I’m not okay, and you know I’m not okay.”
Honey, alarmed, took a step back toward the stalls. She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender.
“How could you?” Becka screamed, straining her throat. Her hands were balled into tight fists at her sides. Her temples throbbed. The white light from the window shimmered in front of her.
Honey sighed. She stood tensely, returning Becka’s stare. “Really, Becka, you’ll have to calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I really don’t.”
“Liar,” Becka said accusingly. “I’m talking about my locker, of course.”
“What about your locker?” Honey asked, innocent as innocent could be.
Becka took a breath, started to reply, found herself speechless. Too angry to make a sound.