by R. L. Stine
He gazed hard at her, wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans. “I remember you,” he said. “From the restaurant, right?”
Cally realized he didn’t remember her name. “Cally,” she told him. “Cally Frasier. My sister and I—”
“Oh. Right.” He smiled. “How’s it going?” He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt. Cally saw that he had blades of cut grass clinging to the bottoms of his jeans. And somehow, blades of grass had become tangled in his dark hair.
“That’s my brother James,” Cally said, pointing.
“Did you see a dog?” James demanded, hanging back by the garage. “A little black Lab?”
Anthony shook his head. “No.”
“We’re searching everywhere for him,” Cally explained. “Do you live here?”
“No way,” Anthony replied seriously.
His answer caught Cally by surprise.
“Let’s go,” James urged. He ran over to Cally and tugged at her arm. “Let’s check out the next yard.”
“In a second,” Cally replied, removing her arm from her brother’s grasp. She turned back to Anthony. “What do you mean?”
Anthony’s dark eyes remained serious. “My family is too superstitious to live on Fear Street,” he said.
“I don’t understand,” Cally confessed.
“Oh. Yeah. You just moved here,” he said, gripping the handle of the now-silent lawn mower. “No one told you about this street, huh?”
“Told me what?” Cally demanded.
“Let’s go!” James cried impatiently.
“One second!” Cally told him sharply. “Told me what, Anthony?”
“Well . . . there are all kinds of stories about this street,” he replied reluctantly, staring down at the mower. “Weird stories.”
Cally let out a shrill laugh. “Give me a break!” she replied playfully. “Just because I’m new in town doesn’t mean you can scare me with that dumb—”
“I’m serious,” Anthony interrupted.
“So you don’t live here?” Cally repeated, gesturing toward the house.
Anthony shook his head. “I mow lawns on Saturdays. You know. For extra money. I live in Old Village. Have you been there? It’s pretty nice.”
“I haven’t seen much of town,” Cally replied thoughtfully. He’s so cute, she found herself thinking. Even when he’s sweaty and covered with grass.
“Let’s go!” James insisted, tugging on Cally’s arm again.
“Okay, okay,” Cally replied.
Anthony wiped his forehead again with his sleeve. “Hot today,” he muttered. “But I’m almost finished. Where do you live? On this block?”
Cally nodded. “Yeah. Ninety-nine Fear Street.”
His dark eyes locked on to hers. “You’re kidding—right?”
“No, I’m not kidding,” Cally replied, confused. “What is your problem, Anthony? That’s my address. Ninety-nine Fear Street.”
He swallowed hard. He continued to stare hard at her. “Cally,” he said quietly, “don’t you know about that house? Didn’t they tell you?”
Chapter 10
“Tell me what?” Cally demanded.
“Let’s go!” James cried, pulling her arm hard with both of his hands. “Come on, Cally—you promised!”
“Okay, I’m coming, James,” she said sharply. She turned back to Anthony. “You’re almost finished here? Want to come over for lunch?” she blurted out. “You can tell me about the house.”
Anthony raised both hands as if shielding himself. “I don’t think so,” he said, a nervous smile forming on his lips. “I mean—”
“Are you actually afraid to come to my house?” Cally challenged him.
He grinned sheepishly. “Well . . . not really. I mean—”
“Don’t be silly. Come over as soon as you’re finished,” Cally told him. She tossed her hair back behind her shoulders. “I can’t wait to hear your story,” she added lightly.
But Anthony’s expression turned solemn. “I don’t think you’ll like it,” he said softly. “I really don’t.”
“Cubby? Cub-by!” James frantically called the dog as he pulled Cally into the next yard.
• • •
“I can’t believe you invited him here!” Kody exclaimed angrily. “Look at me! I’ve been painting the porch all morning. I’m a total mess!”
“He isn’t coming to see you!” Cally replied nastily. Why did Kody always have to give her a hard time? Couldn’t she forget her jealousy for one minute?
“Well, Mom and Dad aren’t here. They went shopping at the mall. What are you going to make for lunch?” Kody demanded.
“I’ll make tuna fish sandwiches,” Cally told her. “And I think there’s some egg salad from yesterday. What difference does it make? I want to hear Anthony’s story about this house—don’t you?”
“You’re not interested in his story. You’re interested in his bod!” Kody accused.
Silence for a moment. Then they both burst out laughing.
They never could stay angry at each other for long. Despite their differences, they were still sisters. Twin sisters.
Cally reached out and rubbed a smear of white paint off Kody’s cheek. “You look fine,” she told her sister.
“I’m covered with paint. I’m going to change out of these shorts,” Kody said, hurrying toward the front stairs. “No luck finding Cubby, huh?”
“No luck,” Cally replied sadly. “Poor James. He’s upstairs, probably crying his eyes out. I told him we’d search again after lunch.”
“Maybe I’ll come with you,” Kody called from the stairway. “I’ve got to get away from the paint fumes.”
The front doorbell rang. “It’s Anthony!” Cally exclaimed.
Kody disappeared up the stairs. Cally hurried to answer the door. “Be careful. Wet paint,” she warned.
Anthony entered the house reluctantly. He had brushed the blades of grass from his hair. He had obviously washed his hands and face with water from a garden hose. The front of his T-shirt was soaked.
As Cally led the way to the kitchen, he peered around the living room. “Kind of dark in here,” he murmured.
“You must be hungry after all that mowing. I’ve got egg salad sandwiches and potato chips,” Cally told him.
“Sounds good.” He had his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He looked so uncomfortable. “Maybe we could eat outside? It’s such a pretty day.”
Cally laughed. “You really don’t want to be in this house—do you?” she accused playfully.
Anthony’s reply was solemn. “No, I don’t. I really don’t.”
• • •
Cally, Kody, and Anthony sat in the shade of a big apple tree in the backyard and ate their lunch. Cally had brought a sandwich up to James, but he insisted he wasn’t hungry and slammed the bedroom door in her face.
“We’re cutting down some of these trees,” Kody told Anthony. “You know. To let in some sunlight.”
“It’s so dark back here,” Cally said, shaking her head. “The sun can’t break through.”
Anthony concentrated on his sandwich. “The grass hasn’t been cut in ages,” he commented. “Maybe your dad would like to hire me to mow it.”
Cally chuckled. “You sure you aren’t too scared to work here?”
“Tell us the story,” Kody insisted, setting her paper plate down beside her on the grass. “About the house.”
“It’s not a story. It’s true,” Anthony replied seriously. He locked his dark eyes on Cally’s. “A guy came to our class. He works in the library. He’s the town historian. He told us about it. He said—”
“He told you about our house?” Kody interrupted shrilly.
Anthony nodded. “Yeah. Ninety-nine Fear Street.”
“What about it? Is it haunted?” Kody demanded, glancing at Cally.
Cally leaned back against the tree trunk, her arms crossed in front of her. “Tell the story, Anthony,” she instructed him. “I want to se
e if you can keep a straight face.”
“I’m not putting you on!” he insisted. “Really. This historian told us the whole thing. I’m not making it up.” He shifted his weight, crossing his long legs in front of him.
Kody had a plateful of potato chips. She kept shoving them into her mouth, one after the other, eagerly waiting for Anthony’s story.
“There was this guy who lived in Shadyside about a hundred years ago,” Anthony began, brushing an ant off his arm. “His name was Simon Fear.”
“Is that who the street was named for?” Kody asked.
“Stop interrupting him,” Cally snapped.
“Yeah,” Anthony replied. “You know that burned house on the hill across from the cemetery? That was Simon Fear’s house.”
“I went by there yesterday,” Kody said. “I can’t believe no one has torn it down. You know. Cleared it away.”
“People are afraid to,” Anthony said darkly. “Simon Fear was a bad dude. A real bad dude. And so was his wife. I forget her name. I think it was Angelica. Anyway, this was all woods back then, and they lived in a big mansion in the woods and did all kinds of horrible things to people.”
“You mean killed them?” Cally asked.
“There are all kinds of weird stories about them. Some people say they tortured people—and even killed some.”
“Yuck,” Kody whispered. She set down her plate of potato chips.
“What do the Fears have to do with our house?” Cally asked impatiently.
“Well, this town historian told us that when the workers started digging the foundation on this lot—it was about thirty years ago, he said—they dug up a bunch of old coffins.”
“Coffins? In our yard?” Kody exclaimed shrilly.
“They found all these old coffins with the Fear family crest on the lids. There were bodies inside them. Skeletons, I mean. The police figured that this was some kind of burying place. You know. For victims of Simon Fear and his wife. A secret place where they buried the people they killed.”
“Wow!” Kody uttered excitedly.
Cally made a disgusted face. “Happy Halloween!” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“I’m not making it up!” Anthony insisted. “I haven’t even told you the really gross part.”
“The gross part? Tell us!” Kody urged, grabbing a handful of potato chips.
“You won’t like it,” Anthony warned.
“You sure know how to build suspense,” Cally said dryly. She didn’t want to let on to Anthony that his story really was frightening her. She wrapped her arms more tightly, protectively, around herself.
“Well, the town historian told us about the family that built your house more than thirty years ago,” Anthony said, gazing through the tree at the gray-shingled house bathed in darkness.
He raised the Coke can to his lips and took a long drink. Then he continued, his eyes still focused on the house. “The guy who had the house built on this lot had a wife and two kids, a son and a daughter.
“When the workers dug up the old graves, they asked him what they should do. He told them to keep working. He said he didn’t care about a bunch of old bones.
“So the house was finished,” Anthony continued. “And the guy brought his family to see it. They were going to move in in a few weeks, and he wanted to show it to them.
“When they arrived, he heard workers finishing up one of the upstairs rooms. He went up to see what they were doing. He told his wife and two kids to wait downstairs. He didn’t want them to see the upstairs until it was finished. So they sat down on the floor and waited for him.
“The guy was upstairs for only a few minutes. But when he got back down, he—he found . . .” Anthony’s voice trailed off.
“What?” Kody demanded impatiently. “What did he find?”
Cally took a deep breath and held it, trying to slow her racing heart.
“His family was still sitting in the living room,” Anthony continued slowly. “But—they were dead. Their heads—their heads were missing.”
“What?” Cally shrieked.
She saw Kody’s eyes bulge open wide. Her mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.
“All their guts were pouring out,” Anthony continued, his face half hidden in the deep shade of the old tree. “It looked like their heads had been torn off their necks.”
“Where were their heads?” Cally demanded in a hushed whisper.
Anthony shrugged. “The town historian said the heads were gone. They weren’t in the house. They were never found.”
“So—what happened?” Kody asked, shuddering. “What happened then?”
“What happened to the guy?” Anthony asked. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to him. But the house—the house just sat there. No one ever moved in. No one wanted to move in. The whole town knew the story about what happened to the wife and the two kids, and about the hundred-year-old graves. And so the house stayed empty. No one ever lived here.”
“Until us!” Kody declared with a shiver.
Cally chewed her bottom lip as she studied Anthony’s face.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” he demanded edgily.
“I keep waiting for you to smile,” she told him. “I keep waiting for you to break up, to tell us it’s all a joke.”
“It’s no joke,” Anthony murmured, his dark eyes glowing as he returned Cally’s stare.
“I knew there was something evil about this house!” Kody declared. “I knew it from the moment we arrived!”
All three of them stared at the back of the house. The windows all reflected the dark trees.
“But I don’t believe in ghosts!” Cally cried defiantly, as if directing the words to the ghosts themselves. “I don’t believe in ghosts and evil spirits.”
“I don’t either,” Anthony replied quietly. “But—”
He stopped short when he heard the screams.
They all heard them.
James’s shrill screams, coming from the house.
Chapter 11
“James! What’s wrong?” Cally shrieked.
She leapt to her feet and frantically started running toward the house.
She had a hideous picture in her mind—a picture of James’s head being ripped off his body by a dark, ghoulish monster.
“James! Are you all right? James?”
Kody and Anthony were right behind her.
The shrill cries continued.
And then James burst out of the kitchen door. The screen door slammed behind him. “Where is he?” James called. “Where is he?”
Cally watched her brother run desperately around the backyard, peering behind trees, under shrubs.
“James—what are you doing?” she cried as she caught up to him. She grabbed his shoulders and forced him to stand still.
“Where is he? Where is he?” James repeated, almost a chant.
“Where is who?” Cally demanded.
“Cubby! I heard him!” James told her, jerking out of her grasp, continuing his wild search.
“James!”
“I heard him barking!” James insisted. “I was in the kitchen. I heard Cubby barking!”
Cally turned to Kody and Anthony. “Did you hear a dog?”
They both shook their heads, their eyes revealing surprise and confusion.
“We didn’t hear any barking,” Cally said, following her brother as he ran to the tall hedge growing wild along the side of their yard.
“I heard him!” James insisted, his voice tight and trembling. “I heard Cubby.” He began to call the dog, cupping his hands over his mouth as he shouted.
“You heard him in the kitchen?” Kody asked. “Maybe he’s inside the house. Maybe you only thought he was outside.”
James hesitated, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“Come on! Inside!” Kody urged. “Let’s check it out!”
With Kody leading the way, they ran into the kitchen. Cally carefully pulled the
screen door shut behind her.
What was that racket?
She saw Mrs. Nordstrom leaning over the sink—and recognized the grinding roar of the garbage disposal. “Mrs. Nordstrom—did you hear Cubby barking?” Cally shouted.
The housekeeper clicked off the disposal and turned off the water. She turned to Cally. “What did you say?”
Cally didn’t need to repeat the question. She heard the high-pitched yips of the dog. Cubby.
“Hear it?” James demanded eagerly.
Everyone heard it.
“Someone go out and bring that dog in,” Mrs. Nordstrom said. She waddled out of the room.
“It’s definitely coming from outside,” Anthony said, listening hard.
The little dog sounded excited, frightened.
James burst back out through the kitchen door. Everyone followed. “Cubby! Cubby!” he called eagerly.
Cally lingered on the back steps. She couldn’t hear Cubby’s excited yips anymore.
They all stopped to listen.
Silence.
James’s shrill voice was the only sound as he shouted the dog’s name again and again.
“I can’t hear him!” Kody declared.
“He must be in the house,” Anthony suggested. He started back toward the kitchen.
Kody and Cally followed him. James remained in the backyard, scurrying frantically back and forth, shouting Cubby’s name.
Back in the kitchen, they could hear the little dog’s high-pitched barking clearly. “It really sounds like it’s coming from the backyard,” Cally said fretfully.
“But we don’t hear it out there,” Anthony replied, shaking his head.
“Let’s search the house,” Kody suggested. She pulled open the broom closet. “Cubby—are you in here?”
No sign of him.
The excited yips continued, mixed with sad howls.
Cally pushed the screen door open and stuck her head out. The sound disappeared. James was still searching desperately at the side of the garage.
Kody and Anthony were in the dining room, bending low to peek under the table and sideboard. “I can hear him,” Kody said, wrinkling her face in frustration. “But I can’t see him.”
“Cubby! Here, boy! Cubby!” Anthony called. He glanced at his watch. “Oh, wow. I’m late. I’ve got another lawn to mow.”