by R. L. Stine
Thanks, Bill. Thanks a bunch, Becka thought bitterly.
Now she was angry at Bill too.
Angry at the world.
But still the tears wouldn’t come.
She turned her head, pressed the side of her face against the smooth bedspread, and stared into the darkness.
Now what am I going to do? she thought bitterly.
Some great vacation this is going to be.
She had already laid out her clothes for Trish’s party. The short, silver skirt from that little shop in the Old Village. The sleek black catsuit to wear under it.
It was all waiting, ready, set out on the chair in front of her dressing table.
Merry Christmas to me, she thought miserably.
And to all, a good night.
Still the tears wouldn’t come.
There was a chill in the room. A sudden waft of cold air.
Had someone left her bedroom window open?
Becka sat up and turned toward the window.
And realized there was someone in the room with her.
chapter
20
The closet door inched open.
A dark figure moved toward the bed.
Silently. Slowly. As if floating.
I’m imagining this, Becka thought, staring into the darkness.
She pulled herself up and started to reach across the bed to click on the lamp.
But a hand shot out and stopped Becka’s arm.
“Hey!” Becka cried.
“Ssshhhh. It’s me,” a voice whispered.
A familiar voice.
Becka squirmed away and fumbled with the lamp.
Finally the light flickered on.
“Honey!” Becka cried.
Leaning out of the shadows, Honey grinned at her mischievously, one finger raised to her lips, a gesture for silence.
“Honey, how did you get in? What are you doing here?” Becka demanded in a loud whisper.
This can’t be happening, Becka thought. Honey hasn’t moved in? Has she? Has she moved into my room? Is she taking over my entire life?
“Sssshhhhh,” Honey repeated.
Becka scooted back across the bedspread until her back was pressed against the headboard. Honey stepped forward until she was inches from the bed.
Her gray eyes sparkled in the harsh lamplight. Her features were twisted in excitement. She was breathing hard.
How did you get in?” Becka repeated. She stared warily into Honey’s glowing eyes, unable to decide if she should be angry or afraid.
“I came to see you earlier,” Honey whispered. “Your mother said you were out.” Her smile widened.
Becka waited impatiently for her to continue.
“Your mother thought I went home,” Honey confided. “I slammed the back door so she’d think I’d left. Then I came up here to wait for you.”
“But, Honey,” Becka started.
“Just like when we were kids,” Honey interrupted. “Remember that time our parents were searching and searching for us? They thought we were outside, but all the time we were hiding in your attic closet?”
“I don’t have an attic closet,” Becka whispered wearily.
Honey didn’t seem to hear her. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to get home,” she said, assuming a scolding tone.
“But why?” Becka demanded. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to apologize in person,” Honey said, her eyes locked on Becka’s, her smile fading.
“Huh? Apologize?”
“Yeah.” Honey nodded, her short auburn hair catching the light. “I felt really bad. It just slipped out, Becka. I’m really sorry.”
“Slipped out?”
“About Bill,” Honey said, staring intently at Becka, not blinking.
Becka groaned. “I get it. Now, I get it.” She slapped both hands against the bedspread.
“Becka, I really—”
“You told my mom about Bill,” Becka said, forgetting to whisper. “You were the one.”
Honey swallowed hard. “It just slipped out.”
Now I get it, Becka thought angrily, turning her head to the window. Now I understand. This was Honey’s way of paying me back. This was how she paid me back for the scene in the girls’ room this afternoon.
She told my mom about Bill.
“I see,” Becka muttered keeping her eyes on the window.
“Really,” Honey insisted. “It wasn’t intentional. Your mother and I were talking, and it just slipped out.”
Yeah. Sure, Becka thought, feeling her anger tighten her throat.
“I’m so sorry, Becka. Really. I’m so sorry.” She reached forward and tried to wrap Becka in a hug. But Becka pulled back out of her reach.
Honey straightened up stiffly, breathing hard. “Please say you’ll forgive me,” she begged. “Please.”
Becka remained silent, avoiding Honey’s eyes.
“Please,” Honey pleaded with growing desperation. “Forgive me. You can forgive your best friend, right?”
Becka turned to Honey, her expression hard and cold. “You’re not my friend, Honey,” she said through clenched teeth.
Honey jumped back as if she had been slapped. “Huh?”
“You’re not my best friend,” Becka said, her voice trembling with rage. “You’re not my best friend and you’re not my friend. Trish and Lilah are my friends. Trish and Lilah are my best friends. My only friends.”
Honey stared at Becka thoughtfully, as if she were weighing Becka’s words carefully.
But her face revealed no emotion at all.
And when she finally spoke, her tone was bright and cheerful, as if she hadn’t heard Becka’s hurtful words.
“Oh. By the way,” Honey said, winking at Becka. “I broke up with Eric today. Just like you did.”
chapter
21
Becka , you’re here!”
Trish came hurrying across the crowded living room, pushing her way past groups of chattering, laughing kids.
“Hi, the place looks great!” Becka gazed around the room. A glowing fire cast soft orange light from the fireplace. Large stockings filled with candy canes hung down from the mantel beneath a beautiful Christmas wreath of pine boughs and cones.
An enormous Christmas tree, which touched the ceiling, shimmered in the corner. Its red and white lights twinkled on and off. Dozens of red ribbon bows were tied all along the branches. Silver tinsel made the tree glitter as if it were draped with thousands of sparkling diamonds.
Gazing quickly around the room, Becka recognized many of the smiling, talking faces. What a mob scene! Trish really had invited half the school!
“I really didn’t think you’d be able to come,” Trish said, shouting over the roar of voices and the blare of music from the stereo, some sort of old school Christmas album.
“My dad gave in at the last minute,” Becka told her, grinning. “He talked my mom into letting me come. You look great!”
Trish was wearing a scoop-necked green wool sweater over velvety black pants.
“Great sweater,” Becka told her.
“Did you finish yours?” Trish asked. “You know. The one you were knitting for your cousin.”
“Oh, sure,” Becka said, making a face. “I’ve had plenty of time to knit since I’m not allowed to go anywhere.”
Becka slipped out of her jacket. Trish took it from her, admiring her outfit. Becka was wearing the silver skirt over the black catsuit.
“You look awesome,” Trish exclaimed.
Becka smiled and thanked her.
“I’m just throwing all the coats on my parents’ bed,” Trish said, shouting.
“What is this music?” Becka shouted back. “I really don’t believe it!”
“I think it’s the Guns ‘n Roses Christmas album,” Trish replied, laughing. “Gary Brandt brought it. It isn’t mine.”
Becka took a deep breath. “Mmmmm. What smells so good?”
Hot apple cider,” Tr
ish said. “Go get some.” She pointed to the table near the dining room. “It’s such a cold, nasty night.”
“It’s nice and warm in here,” Becka said, glancing around the room. “Is Bill here yet?”
“Yeah. I think I saw him in the den. With David Metcalf and some guys.”
Trish hurried off with Becka’s jacket.
Becka made her way through the room. She poured herself a cup of hot cider, then stopped to talk with Lisa Blume, who was clinging cozily to a red-haired boy Becka didn’t know.
Someone changed the CD on the stereo. Suddenly Bruce Springsteen was singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”
Becka heard Ricky Schorr complaining to Trish that there was no beer. “How can you have a Christmas party without beer?” he kept asking.
Someone asked Trish where the mistletoe was hung. Trish pointed to the top of the doorframe over the dining room. Ricky told a crude joke about kissing that made everyone groan.
Eager to see Bill, Becka headed to the den. Deena Martinson stopped her just outside the door. “I love that skirt, Becka,” she said, taking Becka by the shoulders and making her turn around. “So sexy. I’ve never seen one like it.”
Becka thanked her.
“It looks like wrapping paper almost. Have you seen Jade?” Deena asked, gazing over Becka’s shoulder. Jade was Deena’s best friend. “I have her keys.”
“I don’t think she’s here yet,” Becka replied.
“You look great,” Deena repeated. “I heard you were—uh, sick or something.”
“No. I’m fine,” Becka said.
Bill poked his head out of the den.
“Talk to you later,” Becka told Deena.
She hurried to Bill. “Looking for me?”
“No. Looking for some more cider,” Bill teased. “But you’ll do.”
Becka leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “This is our big night,” she said. “Our only night. So don’t blow it.
His expression turned serious. “I’m sorry, Becka. But I brought a date.”
She believed him for a second.
But he couldn’t keep a straight face. He started to laugh.
She gave him a hard shove. He toppled backward against David Metcalf, who was just leaving the den. David, a Shadyside High wrestler, playfully gripped Bill in an armlock.
They wrestled around a bit before Bill cried “uncle” and David let go. “Lookin’ good,” David said to Becka, eyeing her up and down, before loping off to the refreshment table.
“Well, at least David seems to appreciate me,” Becka told Bill coyly.
“David appreciates anything,” Bill replied, grinning. “David appreciates a baloney sandwich!”
“Very funny,” Becka grumbled. She led the way to the apple cider.
Suddenly Bill grabbed her from behind, spun her around, and kissed her. Startled, Becka pulled back.
Bill grinned and pointed up at the cluster of mistletoe above their heads.
More Shadyside kids arrived. The party grew louder. Someone turned the music up.
Becka and Bill danced, although there wasn’t much room to move around in the crowded living room.
Becka felt happy. “This is the best party ever!” she told Trish. Trish agreed.
Later, Becka and Bill had become separated. Where had he disappeared to? she wondered.
She was making her way to the den when she ran into Honey.
“Honey?” Becka couldn’t hide her astonishment.
What is she doing here? Becka asked herself. Honey must have crashed the party. Trish would never invite Honey.
Honey gave Becka a hug, then backed up. “Look,” she instructed, grinning and gesturing to her outfit.
Becka gaped in shock.
Honey not only had Becka’s hairdo. She was wearing the same silver skirt as Becka, over an identical black catsuit.
Honey’s grin grew wider. “Hiya, twin!” she exclaimed gleefully”.
chapter
22
I found that shop in the Old Village,” Honey said, shouting over the music. “I got the same skirt. I couldn’t believe they had another one!” She beamed happily at Becka.
Becka stared back at her, unable to speak.
Why is she here? Becka asked herself, feeling her anger rise. Why is she wearing my clothes? Why is she doing this to me?
“What do you say, twin?” Honey urged. “You haven’t said anything.”
I can’t take it, Becka thought. I can’t take it anymore.
Enough!
“Honey, go away,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Huh?” Honey’s smile faded. She leaned closer to Becka until they were nearly nose to nose. “I can’t hear you, Becka. It’s so loud in here.”
“Go away,” Becka repeated more loudly.
“What?”
Becka heard laughter. She glanced up to see two girls she didn’t know pointing in her direction. They were obviously commenting to each other about the identical outfits.
This is supposed to be a great night, Becka thought miserably. But instead, I’m being pointed at. Laughed at. All because of Honey.
Her unhappiness quickly turned to rage. Becka could feel herself losing control, but she didn’t care.
“Honey, leave me alone!” she shrieked.
Some couples stopped dancing and turned to see what the fuss was about.
“Becka, please! Calm down,” Honey said.
“Go away! Leave me alone!” Becka screamed. “You’re not my best friend, Honey. You’re not even my friend!”
“Becka, please!” Honey pleaded, embarrassed.
But Becka couldn’t stop herself.
“You’re not my friend! You’re not! Trish and Lilah are my friends, not you!”
“Becka, stop!”
“You look ridiculous!” Becka screamed, gesturing with both hands to Honey’s outfit. “You look gross! You look—pitiful!”
“Calm down, Becka. Everyone’s looking!” Honey begged.
“Go away and I’ll calm down. Go away, Honey! Leave me alone! I don’t want to see you any more!”
Honey’s mouth froze wide open. Her face turned pale.
She started to say something. Stopped. Uttered a loud sob.
Then her expression turned angry. Her face reddened. She whirled around, her silver skirt flaring, and ran to the stairs, pushing people out of her path.
Breathing hard, Becka watched her flee up the stairs. Then she turned away, her features still twisted in anger, her hands still knotted into tight fists.
Voices rose around the room. Nervous laughter. Questions.
“What was that about?” a girl asked from nearby.
“I heard she had a breakdown,” someone else said in a loud whisper.
“Why are they dressed alike?” Becka heard someone ask.
Someone replied, just out of Becka’s hearing. The reply was followed by raucous laughter.
Jokes at my expense, Becka thought miserably, feeling her face grow hot. Honey has turned me into a joke. Everyone’s talking about me. Everyone’s making fun of me now.
“Who was that other girl?” someone asked.
“Weird,” Becka heard someone else say.
She looked for Trish. She wanted to apologize for interrupting the party. But Trish was nowhere to be seen.
The music started again, a Christmas rap song. People started dancing. Becka moved to get out of the way.
Her eyes searched the room for Bill. Where has he gone? she wondered. Didn’t he hear me yelling at Honey? Is he still in the den?
As she searched for him, her eye caught Trish at the top of the stairs.
What was that Trish was holding?
Squinting to see to the top of the stairs, Becka saw that Trish was carrying a large Christmas yule log cake on a silver tray.
She saw Trish take a step.
Then she saw that Honey was at the top of the stairs, too. Right behind Trish.
Trish
took another step.
And then the enormous cake appeared to fly off the tray.
It took Becka a brief moment to realize that Trish was falling, toppling headfirst down the steep stairs.
A piercing shriek escaped Trish. The horrifying sound followed her all the way down.
The tray hit first, clattering loudly on the hardwood floor.
And then Trish landed with a sickening crack.
chapter
23
A frightening silence.
Everyone seemed to freeze as if caught in a snapshot. A snapshot of horror.
The fire popped noisily in the fireplace.
Someone screamed.
The room came back to life.
Becka was one of the first to scramble across the room to Trish.
Trish had landed face down, her chest on top of the cake. The dark icing and cream filling had splattered out across the floor.
Trish didn’t move. Her eyes were closed. Her head was tilted at a peculiar angle.
Becka raised her hands to her face, trying to stifle a scream.
Voices rang out. Frightened voices.
“Is she breathing?”
“Don’t move her!”
“Is she awake?”
”How did she fall?”
“Someone call nine one one!”
“Where’s the phone?”
“Dave is already calling!”
“Somebody call her parents!”
“Don’t move her!”
Her heart pounding, Becka leaned over her unmoving friend. “Trish?” she said, her voice trembling. “Trish, can you hear me?”
Silence.
Becka realized her knees were in the gooey white cake filling. But she didn’t care.
Trish’s head—it was tilted wrong. It shouldn’t be bent like that, she saw.
She had the strong urge to take it in both hands and straighten it.
She had the urge to turn Trish around, to sit her up, to hug her.
“Trish?”
Silence.
Behind her, Becka heard kids crying.
The room filled with confused, frightened voices.
“Did she fall?”