by R. L. Stine
Then Jack and Manny were both screaming and gesturing frantically, “Run! Get away!” And I saw Jeremy, his eyes wide with fright, push himself off the side of his car and start to run.
Hypnotized by the darting flames, Ivy and I lingered—too long—and when the flames reached the gas tank and the car exploded with a deafening roar, we felt the heat on our backs as we were running after Jeremy. I opened my mouth in a shrill animal scream as the force of the explosion shoved me into Ivy, and we both went down.
Am I on fire?
The horrifying question forced out all other thought. I rolled on the pavement, forced myself to sit up—and realized I was unharmed. My back still burned from the heat of the explosion. My skin tingled. My heart pounded so hard, my chest ached. But I wasn’t hurt.
Ivy and I helped each other up. We turned and watched the three cars burning. Flames rising high, clouds of black smoke curtaining the purple evening sky. The thunder-roar of the explosion fading in my ears, I began to hear the screams and shouts all around. And I saw the frightened faces as people ran from the burning cars, expecting another explosion.
“Here come the police.” Jack was at my side now, pulling me across the street, my legs not cooperating, stumbling, stiff.
“Is everyone okay?” I screamed. “Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay?” I don’t know how many times the cry escaped my throat. I couldn’t stop. Until I saw Ivy and Jeremy and Manny at the side of the old oak tree, the fat, gnarled trunk so familiar. I must have passed it a thousand times on the way to school. So solid and real while the screams and shouts and pounding footsteps were all a dream taking place across the street.
Someone else’s nightmare. No. Ours.
“Listen! Listen to me!” Jack desperately trying to corral us and get our attention. The flames were reflected on our faces, as if we carried them with us.
Jeremy leaned heavily against the tree trunk and lowered his head. He moaned. “I . . . feel sick.”
“Listen to me! Listen to me!” Jack still trying. I was so dazed, his voice sounded a hundred miles away. I saw dark-uniformed police circling the cars, moving the crowd back. And the high drone of fire-truck sirens, rising and falling as they came into view.
“This wasn’t a prank!” Jack screamed, trying to pull us together. I saw Jeremy being sick, hanging onto the tree trunk, turning his head away from us as he puked.
“Listen to me!” Jack was shaking Ivy by the shoulders, I guess trying to get the dazed-zombie expression off her face. Her hair was wild and tangled, but she made no attempt to straighten it.
All of us stood in wide-eyed disbelief, not talking, not looking at each other . . .
And this was my idea. This was all my fault.
I gazed at the crowd of people, the cars backed up along Division Street for miles. And a crazy thought flashed through my mind: At least Rose is standing there at school with no one in the audience.
Then I thought: dumb. Everything about this was dumb.
My idea . . . My idea . . .
And now, Jack, shaking his head, turned and crossed the street. I watched him step up to two police officers. They removed their caps and scratched their heads, almost in unison, as he talked with them.
A fire hose had been put into action. The flames were gone, and only the black smoke, the choking black smoke, remained, casting us in a dark fog. I could taste it, so bitter, on the back of my throat. Ivy began to cough. I pulled the scarf from around my neck and handed it to her to wrap around her mouth and nose.
Jack was gesturing to us, talking rapidly with the two officers. I waved a hand in front of my face, trying to clear a wisp of smoke away. Squinting across the street, I focused on Jack and the two cops. And I gasped when I thought I recognized the short, heavy one.
Was that the same cop who’d driven up beside me and stared at me from his patrol car?
“Oh, wow.” I realized he kept turning his head from Jack and glancing at me.
Yes. The same cop who wouldn’t answer me. Who’d just sat and stared. And now, here he came. He was trotting across the street toward us, his big stomach bobbing in front of him, his eyes on me.
Jack remained talking to the other officer. But this one was definitely coming for me.
What did he want?
What did he know?
14
Poppy Narrates
My impulse was to run. I backed up until I bumped the trunk of the oak tree. Jeremy had his arm around Ivy’s shoulders. Was she crying? I couldn’t see her face.
I took a deep breath and readied myself to face the policeman.
He was short and round with his stomach bumping up against his uniform shirt. As he came up to me, I saw the big droplets of sweat on his broad forehead. His eyes were dark. He had a wide, almost flat nose, with an untrimmed black mustache beneath it. I lowered my eyes and saw that he had a hand on his gun holster as he trotted closer.
“Poppy?” His voice was surprisingly deep.
I nodded. How does he know my name?
He stopped, dark eyes locked on my face, and took a few seconds to catch his breath. Then he gestured to the smoldering cars with his cap, revealing dark, curly hair. “Never seen one like this,” he said.
Was that suspicion in his eyes?
He shook his head. “How did it happen?”
I didn’t know what to say. “It . . . just happened.”
He nodded. I couldn’t read his expression. Had he already figured out the truth? Was he waiting for me to tell him it had started out as a fake, a stupid prank?
The silence was awkward.
Finally, he said, “Do you know who I am? I’m Benny Kline. Manny’s brother.”
“Huh?” A startled sound escaped my open mouth.
“Manny has told me a lot about you,” he said. He turned and motioned toward the cars, and I saw Manny beside Jack, talking to the other officer.
“I . . . I didn’t know,” I stammered. “I mean, I knew Manny had some older brothers. But I didn’t know you were one. I mean . . .”
He laughed, a quiet laugh. “Manny talks about you all the time. You’ve been friends for a while, right?”
Cars were honking. Headlights flashed on as the sun disappeared. The sky glared with red-and-blue lights from the circle of patrol cars. The black smoke had floated away, but the acrid smell remained. The police had convinced most of the crowd to return to their cars. But there was still nowhere for them to go.
“Yeah. Since eighth grade, I think.” I started to relax. Manny’s brother was just curious about me, I decided. He hadn’t hurried over to accuse me.
“There are six of us,” Benny said, tugging at his mustache. “Manny is the youngest. He’s the only one still living at home. He was always the most trouble.”
I blinked. “Trouble?”
“I’m kidding. Actually, all six of us were trouble. That’s why I became a cop. To keep an eye on my other five brothers.”
“Manny’s a good guy,” I said. “We have a lot of fun.”
Benny’s moustache drooped as his smile faded. “Well, this isn’t much fun here tonight,” he said, gesturing again to the ruined cars. “Hey, here come the tow trucks. We’ll get this all cleared away quickly.”
Ivy and Jeremy wandered over to us. Ivy still had that stunned expression on her face. Jeremy kept his arm around her. “I think Ivy may be in shock,” he said.
“I can radio for some medics,” Benny offered.
“No. No. Please,” Ivy said. “I’ll be okay. Really.”
“Have you called your parents?” Benny asked. “You’d better call them right away. And, listen, take photos. Take a lot of photos before they clear the cars away. You know. For insurance.”
A strange laugh burst from my throat. I covered it with a cough. Maybe I was in shock, too. I mean, this was supposed to be a joke, right? A fake accident to put online. And to keep everyone away from the play at school.
But now Division Street was insane with cops, and fi
refighters, and tow trucks, and our still-smoking, totaled cars, and angry drivers, and an ocean of other cars that couldn’t move. And Benny was telling us what to do for the insurance companies?
A cold feeling swept down my body. None of this would have happened if I’d left the smoke machine in its closet at school.
The whole disaster was all on me!
And how long would it be before my friends would realize that the huge blaze was all my fault? How long before my friends confronted me about it? Or turned against me? Or . . . Or . . .
My eyes darted from one to another. Jeremy standing with his arm around Ivy, talking to her softly, her whole body trembling, her cheeks tearstained. Manny with Jack, talking to some officers, gesturing wildly with their hands. I knew they had to be lying about how the accident had happened. I couldn’t tell if the cops believed them or not.
It seemed so unlikely that three friends in separate cars would have an accident. So unbelievable. I mean, if I were a cop, would I believe it could be an accident?
Suddenly, I found myself thinking about Keith. Quiet, safe, boring Keith. He would never find himself in a mess like this. He would never agree to be part of something so insane. I knew there were more urgent things to think about. But there I was, asking myself, Did I make a mistake by breaking up with Keith?
Then I watched Jack trotting over to us, his eyes on me, his walk as confident as ever, his expression calm, as if this were just a minor setback, nothing to lose your cool over. And I knew I’d made the right choice.
He gave me a quick hug. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I guess.”
Jack turned to the others, who had gathered around. Manny still gripping his phone. Jeremy with a protective hand on Ivy’s shoulder. Jeremy shook his head. “We blew it.”
“Could this be any more stupid?” Ivy said in a trembling voice. “I don’t think so.”
Jack gestured with both hands for everyone to calm down. “You’re right. You’re right,” he said softly. The red-and-blue patrol car lights reflected off his face.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m so sorry. Really.” My breath caught in my throat. “No more pranks.”
“No more pranks,” Ivy repeated.
“No more pranks,” Jeremy echoed.
We were all agreed.
But there was one more prank to come. One more prank . . . The most dangerous and devastating of them all.
15
Ivy Continues the Story
“I had to shampoo my hair three times, and I still can’t get rid of the smoke smell. It’s totally gross.”
I was in my room, a towel wrapped around my wet hair, stretched out on my back, fiddling with the belt on my bathrobe and talking with Poppy, who had called to share horror stories about having to confess to our parents.
She has only one parent. Her father is completely out of the picture, as far as I can tell. So I think that makes it easier for her.
When I phoned my parents and they came rushing to Division Street to see the smoldering remains of their car, they hugged and kissed me. Mom wiped away tears. They repeated again and again how relieved they were that I was okay.
Then they took turns saying how they would never be able to trust me again for the rest of my life. And they instantly teamed up in finding suitable punishments that would pretty much ruin every day of my life for at least my remaining days in high school.
“Listen, I can’t talk long,” I said. “My parents are downstairs waiting for me for another family conference. They’re busy dreaming up more ways to make my life a horror story.”
“My mom was very understanding,” Poppy said. Her words made me cringe. Understanding?
“Of course she was understanding!” I cried. “It wasn’t your car. We didn’t use your car—remember? Instead, we blew up my car.”
Silence at her end for a moment. Then, “Ivy, you don’t have to shout. You know I feel terrible—”
“How terrible?” I snapped. I could feel the anger burning through me. It started in my chest, a red-hot feeling that tightened my muscles as it traveled over my whole body.
I sat up straight. I felt like I was about to explode. Like my car. Waves of black smoke would come pouring out over my room.
I tried to hold myself back. I tried to fight the red anger down, but it was even in my eyes now. Poppy was my best friend. But I had to say it. I couldn’t hold it in.
“It was your fault, Poppy.” The words tumbled from my mouth.
“Ivy, wait—” she started.
But it was too late. Too late. “The smoke machine,” I said. “The smoke machine. What were you thinking?”
“I—I—” She could only stammer.
“You didn’t offer your car,” I shouted. “We took my car instead.”
“I know, but—”
“But what?”
“Ivy, you’re blaming me for everything?” Poppy’s voice caught on the words. I could hear that she was hurt, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I had to get it all out.
“No,” I said. “It’s Jack, too. If you hadn’t brought him around . . . If you hadn’t made him part of the group . . .”
“Then what?” I could hear her getting angry, too.
“Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Listen, Ivy, you can blame me all you want. But you can’t blame Jack. I’m the one who wanted to teach Rose Groban a lesson. I’m the one who wanted to do something bad to Rose. It wasn’t Jack’s idea. It was mine.”
“He doesn’t belong in our group, Poppy.” I regretted the words as soon as I’d said them. I think I believed them, but I knew instantly it was a terrible thing to say.
“Jack doesn’t belong in our group?” Poppy’s voice went high and shrill. “Why? Because he’s fun?”
I took a breath. “No. Because he’s trouble.” With one hand, I rearranged the towel over my hair. I really had to get off the phone and dry it properly. This conversation had already gone on for too long. Way too long.
I wished I could rewind it and take out what I’d said about Jack. Because now Poppy was furious at me and even more upset than when she had called, which was plenty upset.
And now I was completely confused. Was I really angry at Poppy? Or was I just exploding because the whole night had gone so wrong and I was in so much trouble?
“Go ahead, blame me,” Poppy said, lowering her voice to a growl. “I can see you want to blame somebody. Well, fine. Blame me. The smoke machine . . . the revenge against Rose . . . using your car . . . it was all my idea. Blame me.”
“I . . . I’m sorry,” I said. “Listen, my parents are waiting downstairs to give me twenty lashes with a bullwhip and then boil me in oil. So I’ve got to go. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”
Silence.
“Okay?”
“Good luck with your parents,” she said coldly. Then clicked off.
I sat there, suddenly numb. I didn’t want to lose Poppy as a friend. We’d shared too many good times together. I never should have mentioned Jack.
The room was spinning around me. I had the feeling that I was on a merry-go-round, and it was going too fast for me to jump off.
I stood up, holding onto the bedpost, and waited for the room to stop twirling. I started to the hall. Might as well face my parents and get it over with.
But as I stepped out of my room, my phone dinged. I raised it to my face and stared at the text message that had just appeared. Blinking, I read it twice. I gripped the phone hard to keep it from slipping from my hand. And then I cried out: “Manny did what?”
16
Keith Narrates
I sat in my car and watched the video on my phone. I actually screamed when the flames burst from the back of Ivy’s car, and then I just sat there with my mouth open, unable to react when the car exploded in a burst of black smoke.
I couldn’t believe Manny had recorded the whole thing. And I couldn’t believe he put it online for everyone in the w
orld to see. Mainly because it looked like a stunt. It didn’t look like an accident. And if the police and other people started to figure out this was fake, just a prank that went wrong, my friends could be in major trouble. I mean, my former friends, of course.
Poppy wasn’t speaking to me. She just ignored me in the halls at school. I didn’t know what I had done to deserve it. After all, she broke up with me. I didn’t dump her. I tried hanging with Jeremy and Ivy, but they acted really awkward around me. And I never really liked them much anyway. So . . . forget them.
And now I was watching another dumb prank they had pulled. This one blew up in their faces, literally, and I was glad not to have been there, glad not to be part of that group of idiots and their stupid jokes.
And could there be anything more stupid than putting the whole thing online? What was Manny thinking?
Whoa. No way. Now the street was filled with cops and firefighters, and everyone was out of their cars just gawking and shaking their heads. And there were Ivy and Poppy looking so sad, as if they were totally innocent and had no idea how the whole thing could have happened.
I had thought Poppy and I were a good couple. I was really into her. I mean really. And when she dumped me for that clown, Jack, I guess I went a little crazy. I went into fantasyland for a while.
I never told anyone, but I kept imagining her coming after me and begging me to take her back.
I had whole long conversations in my mind with Poppy crying and pleading and telling me how awesome I was and how dumb she was to be attracted to Jack, even for a minute. Sometimes in my imagination, we made up, and we wrapped our arms around each other, and I actually had a real warm feeling from it.
But other times, I resisted her. I was smart. She had proven she was not a good person. She was too wild and impulsive and thoughtless and cruel. And in my imaginary talks with her I told her to go away. I told her I could never care about someone like her, someone who would throw me away like a piece of trash.