by R. L. Stine
She lowered her feet to the floor and stood up. It was cold in the room. The old windows rattled from the stiff breeze outside. Her radiator was silent. Outside the bedroom window she could see only solid blackness.
“Josie? Are you coming?” Rachel’s voice was a pleading whisper now. Josie could barely hear it over the static.
She made her way through the darkness to the hallway. The floorboards creaked with every step.
I hate this old house, Josie thought. I hate the creepy sounds it makes. The groans. The creaks. This house moans as if it were alive.
Josie shuddered, suddenly afraid.
The kids at school told such frightening stories about Fear Street. About ghosts and evil spirits. About murders and disappearances.
Most of it probably wasn’t true. But some of it was.
Fear Street certainly hasn’t been lucky for us, she thought bitterly.
Rachel’s room was at the far end of the hall. Josie dragged one hand along the wall as she made her way through the dark, creaking hallway. The wall felt cold. Unnaturally cold.
A cold breeze ruffled her nightshirt.
Where was it coming from? she wondered. There were no windows in the hallway.
A ghost’s cold breath. The words popped into her mind, causing her to shiver again.
Don’t get carried away, she scolded herself.
The floor was cold through the thin carpeting. She jogged past the bathroom, past the guest room. The house groaned and sighed, as if warning her, telling her to go back to bed.
Rachel’s room was dark and silent. The door was half-open.
Josie pushed it open all the way and slipped inside, breathing hard. She was chilled and frightened. “Rachel?” she whispered.
No reply.
The room was so dark, she could barely make out the outline of the bed.
“Rachel? Did you call me?” Josie’s voice came out a frightened whisper.
No reply.
Josie crept up close to the bed. Closer.
“Ow!” She stubbed her toe against the leg of the bed.
“Rachel?”
Josie could hear her twin’s soft breathing. Steady. Slow.
She squinted into the darkness.
Rachel was asleep. On her side. Head resting on the pillow, her long hair loose. A smile on her face.
“Rachel? Did you call me?” Josie whispered.
Rachel didn’t stir.
What’s going on? Josie wondered, shivering. Did she call me, then fall back to sleep? Did I dream that the intercom came on?
Wrapping her arms around herself, she took a last, lingering look at her sleeping twin. She looks so peaceful, Josie thought. So happy. So normal.
She hurried out of the room, tiptoeing silently. She half-walked, half-ran through the cold blackness, holding her breath until she safely got back to her room.
Sliding into bed, Josie pulled the covers up to her chin and shut her eyes.
I’ve got to get to sleep, she thought. I’ve got two exams tomorrow.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She opened her eyes and stared wide-eyed at the dark ceiling. The light fixture over the bed seemed to be reaching down for her, reaching to grab her.
Again she scolded herself for having too much imagination.
Why doesn’t the heat come on? she wondered. Why does it have to be so cold in here? Why can’t I fall back to sleep?
She had just started to feel drowsy again when the intercom crackled to life. Josie sat up with a start, listening to the loud static.
“Josie, please come.” She could barely hear Rachel’s voice over the crackling.
“Huh? What’s going on?” Josie cried aloud.
“Josie. Please. Hurry.” Rachel sounded strange. Frightened. Her voice very tight.
Josie quickly made her way past the buzzing intercom, out into the hall, the floorboards groaning with each step.
Her bare feet padded over the thin carpet as she hurried down the narrow hallway.
“Rachel? What’s wrong?” She stopped in Rachel’s doorway, her heart pounding, and pressed her hands against the door frame to steady herself and catch her breath. “Rachel?”
No reply.
“Rachel? Why’d you call me?”
Silence.
Josie moved silently to the bed. Rachel still hadn’t moved. She was sound asleep, on her side, the same faint smile on her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing gentle and slow.
Josie lowered her face to her sister’s. “Rachel?” she whispered. “Are you playing a joke on me?”
Rachel didn’t stir.
Josie stared at her for a long time, squinting in the darkness, waiting for a sign that Rachel was really awake, that she was only pretending to be asleep.
Rachel was definitely asleep.
What’s going on? Josie wondered as she turned and crept from the room. What is going on?
She felt frightened and confused.
She hadn’t dreamed the voice on the intercom, the pleading whisper over the crackling static. The voice had been real. Rachel’s voice.
Had Rachel been talking in her sleep? She had never done that before.
Was Rachel playing a mean joke? She had never done that before either.
What is going on?
Josie thought of running downstairs to her parents’ bedroom and waking her mother. But she decided against it. Mrs. McClain was such a sound sleeper. She was impossible to wake. Besides, she had to get up so early to go to work. Josie decided not to disturb her.
Instead, Josie returned to her room and dived into the safety of her bed, shivering as she pulled the covers up high. She shut her eyes tight and tried to concentrate on getting to sleep.
But what was that sound?
Was the intercom still on?
Was that someone breathing?
Was that soft laughter she heard?
♦ ♦ ♦
“Ow. You’re brushing too hard.”
“Sorry,” Erica muttered. She pulled the brush through Rachel’s hair with long, gentle strokes. “I was thinking about something else.”
“I like when you brush my hair,” Rachel said, smiling. She sat in the chair in front of her dressing table mirror, watching Erica’s reflection.
Erica stood behind Rachel, raising the brush to the crown of Rachel’s head and pulling it all the way down through the beautiful, thick hair, then raising it again, lifting the hair with her free hand as she brushed.
Erica frowned, thinking angry thoughts about Josie. Josie had promised to take care of Rachel this afternoon. She had sworn she wouldn’t forget or duck out this time. So Erica had arranged with Mr. Peters to hold a special tryout for her after school.
But after last period, Josie was nowhere to be found. She had completely disappeared. Erica had called home from the pay phone outside the gym, hoping that Josie had gone home. No answer.
Josie had obviously slipped out, forgetting about Rachel once again. She was probably somewhere with Steve.
Erica had no choice but to apologize to Mr. Peters and hurry home to wait for Rachel. She had spent the last fifteen minutes brushing Rachel’s hair, thinking about what she would say to Josie, growing angrier with every brush stroke.
“Is Josie coming to see me?” Rachel asked suddenly.
It’s as if she was reading my mind, Erica thought, startled. “No, Josie isn’t home right now,” she told her sister.
“Brush harder,” Rachel said, staring up at Erica’s reflection in the rectangular mirror.
“Okay.” We need to have a family meeting, Erica thought angrily. I can’t let Josie do this day after day.
“I was very smart in school today,” Rachel said, grinning like a little girl.
“That’s good,” Erica replied distractedly.
“The teacher said I was very smart,” Rachel said.
“That’s very good,” Erica told her, pulling the brush through the straight red hair.
Rachel’s expression
turned thoughtful. “Josie is my sister, right?” she asked, wrinkling her forehead in concentration.
“Yes,” Erica replied. “Josie is your sister. Your twin sister.”
Rachel thought about this for a long while. Then she surprised Erica by saying, “Josie doesn’t like me anymore.”
“No!” Erica protested, letting the brush slip out of her hand. She bent down to pick it up from the carpet. “Josie still likes you, Rachel. Why would you say such a terrible thing?”
“No. Josie doesn’t like me. Josie doesn’t talk to me.”
“That’s not true—” Erica started, but Rachel interrupted.
“Well, I don’t like Josie anymore!” Rachel cried, her green eyes lighting up. “I hate Josie!”
“Rachel, calm down!” Erica scolded, putting a firm hand on Rachel’s trembling shoulder. “Calm down. Don’t get all excited.”
“I hate Josie!” Rachel repeated. “I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.”
“Don’t say that,” Erica insisted. “Shhh. Just calm down. Let’s brush your hair some more. Okay?”
The phone rang.
Erica tossed the brush onto the dressing table and hurried to her room to answer it.
“I hate Josie! I hate Josie!” she could hear Rachel chanting.
“Rachel, please!” Erica shouted, reaching for the phone. She raised the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”
“Oh, hi. Is this Erica?” a boy’s voice asked.
“Yes. Hi.”
“It’s me. Jenkman.”
“Oh, hi, Jerry,” Erica said enthusiastically, revealing how pleased she was to hear from him.
“Is Josie there?” Jenkman asked.
Erica’s enthusiasm faded. For a moment she had thought Jenkman was calling to talk to her.
“No. Josie isn’t home,” she told him dispiritedly. “I don’t know where she is.”
“Oh,” Jenkman said, sounding very disappointed. Then, to Erica’s shock, he added, “Did Josie get my valentines?”
Chapter 8
MATH PROBLEMS
“Dave, you look terrible,” Melissa said earlier that same Thursday at school.
“Thanks for the pep talk,” Dave muttered, shaking his head.
They lingered outside the door to Mr. Millen’s classroom. Dave was leaning against the tile wall, his black hair scragglier than usual, his dark eyes red rimmed, ringed with dark half circles.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” Dave said, scratching his jaw. “This math exam. I’m really sweating it.”
Melissa tsk-tsked sympathetically.
“Hey, how’s it going, Kinley?” Donald Metcalf gave Dave a hearty punch on the shoulder as he headed into Millen’s classroom. “You going to ace this test?”
“Yeah. I’ll ace it if I don’t copy off you!” Dave replied, rubbing his shoulder. “Metcalf is really a big ox,” he whispered to Melissa.
“You’re in a great mood,” Melissa said sarcastically. “Metcalf is your buddy, remember? From the wrestling team?”
“I’m sorry I talked my parents out of getting me that math tutor,” Dave confessed, changing the subject back to the exam. “I really thought I could get this stuff. But I don’t understand it. I missed three days with the flu, and I’ve never caught up.” He yawned noisily and shifted his backpack on his shoulder.
The bell rang right over their heads, startling them both.
Josie McClain hurried past them into the room, diving into her seat as the bell stopped ringing.
“You’ll do okay,” Melissa told Dave softly, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“No, I’m dead meat,” he said forlornly. “Dead meat.”
“Millen’s tests are never that bad,” Melissa assured him. She tugged affectionately at a scraggly strand of black hair that had fallen over his forehead. “Come on. Let’s go in before Millen starts to howl.”
She grabbed the sleeve of his sweater and pulled him into the room. Dave slumped into his seat behind Josie. Melissa continued on down the front row and took her seat in the corner.
Mr. Millen began passing test papers back down the rows without saying a word. A few seconds later he gave the okay to start.
The room was silent, so silent Melissa could hear the buzzing of a fluorescent light on the ceiling above her head. Melissa read over the entire test. There didn’t appear to be any surprises. She dived into the first problem, scribbling calculations on lined paper, referring back to the test paper as she worked.
She was halfway through the fourth problem when she saw Josie walk up to Mr. Millen. Josie leaned down to speak to the teacher, who was slouched at his desk, poring over a magazine.
The teacher glanced up, startled. Josie began to whisper close to his ear.
From her seat in the front row, Melissa could hear Josie’s whispered words clearly. “Mr. Millen, would it be okay if I move my seat?” she asked.
“Move? Why?” Mr. Millen stared at her suspiciously.
“Well . . .” Josie whispered reluctantly, glancing toward the back of the room. “Dave Kinley is copying off my paper.”
Melissa could feel her face grow hot.
Dave is in big trouble now, she thought unhappily. I can’t believe Josie is doing this.
Josie and Mr. Millen whispered a bit longer. Melissa strained but couldn’t make out any more words. She saw Josie gather up her test and scrap paper and move to an empty seat by the window.
Melissa wondered if Dave knew he was in trouble. She returned to her test, struggling to concentrate.
Why didn’t Dave ask me to help him with this stuff? she wondered.
Too proud, she decided.
Sometimes Dave was just plain weird. He never liked to let on that he had a problem, that he was human. He always liked to pretend that he was on top of things, that he had everything under control.
At least he could have asked me to study with him, Melissa thought, shaking her head.
Now what’s going to happen?
She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
When the bell rang ending the period, the test papers were passed to the front. Mr. Millen collected them all, then dismissed the class.
“Oh, Dave, could you see me for a minute?” he called, his face expressionless.
Melissa saw Dave hesitate at his desk. “S-sure,” he stammered.
Melissa closed her eyes. Poor Dave, she thought He’s dead meat, just as he predicted.
She gave him a worried glance as she passed him and headed out the door. She stopped across from the classroom, greeted a few friends who were passing by, then leaned against the wall to wait for Dave.
He appeared a few minutes later, his face bright red, his expression glum. “Josie turned me in,” he muttered and uttered a few curses.
Her head bowed sympathetically, Melissa began walking toward her locker. Dave followed, muttering angrily.
“Can you believe it?” he demanded. “Can you believe that little rat would do that to me?”
Melissa stopped at her locker and raised her eyes to his. “But did you do it, Dave? Did you copy off her paper?”
“So what if I did?” Dave snarled.
Melissa dropped back, startled by his anger.
“Are you going to get on my case too?” he cried.
“I just asked,” Melissa replied softly. She unsnapped her combination lock and pulled open her locker. “So what did Millen say?”
“That big jerk? He said he was giving me a zero,” Dave told her, his voice breaking. “That test counts for half the grade. So I get a zero for half my grade.” He kicked a locker angrily. “You know what that means? It means I get kicked off the wrestling team.”
“Oh no!” Melissa cried.
“Yeah, I get kicked off the wrestling team,” Dave repeated bitterly. He cursed some more. “And that means I don’t get my wrestling scholarship. And that means I can’t go to college. All because of that—”
At that exact moment Josie came walking
by.
Dave reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Ow!” she cried. Her eyes flashed at him. “Let go of me!” she screamed nastily.
“Why’d you do it?” Dave demanded, squeezing her arm.
“Let go of me!” she repeated shrilly. She jerked her arm out of his grasp.
“Why’d you turn me in?” Dave insisted, his dark eyes wide with fury.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Josie said coldly, glancing past him to Melissa. “I mean, what choice did I have? You were leaning over so far to see the answers, you were breathing on my neck!”
Dave sputtered in rage but no words came out.
Josie spun away and hurried around the corner. Several kids had stopped to stare at the angry confrontation.
Dave uttered an angry cry and slammed Melissa’s locker door shut, the sound echoing down the hall. “She’s wrecking my life!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “I hate Josie McClain!”
“Dave, stop! You’re totally losing it!” Melissa cried.
He didn’t seem to hear her. With another angry cry, he took off after Josie.
“Dave, come back!” Melissa screamed, terrified by his rage. “Come back! What are you going to do?”
Chapter 9
FIRST BLOOD
Josie stared at the social studies textbook. The words became a blur, shimmering black streams on the white page.
She’d been gazing at the same page for half an hour, unable to concentrate. She couldn’t get Dave Kinley out of her mind.
I can’t believe he and I used to go together, she told herself.
She thought of their angry confrontation in the hallway at school. All because she had told Mr. Millen that he was cheating. She didn’t want to get Dave in trouble, but what choice did she have? There he was, practically hanging over her shoulder, copying every answer. He was bound to get them both in trouble. And that wasn’t fair. She had studied hard for that test.
I did the right thing, Josie decided. So Dave is angry. Big deal. Dave is always angry about something. He’ll get over it.
She returned to her social studies book, but the words refused to come into focus. Feeling nervous, upset, she pushed her chair back from the desk and started to pace back and forth.