by R. L. Stine
I switched off the engine and cut the lights. And sat there staring glassily out the window for a few minutes, not moving, just struggling to breathe normally and to force my heart from fluttering so hard in my chest.
Finally, I took a deep breath, pushed open the car door, and climbed out. The night air felt cool on my burning face. Low clouds covered the moon, but the tall halogen lights over the lot made everything glow nearly as bright as day.
My shoes crunching on the gravel, I made my way toward the entrance, double glass doors with a square of bright yellow light pouring out from inside. A car rolled by on Village Road, window open, hip-hop blasting through the air.
I gripped the door handle, pulled the door open, and stepped inside. Gazing around, I found myself in a waiting room. Wooden chairs and low round tables and a long bench against the wall. The room was empty and, turning, I saw that there was also no one at the high gray metal desk at the back.
I heard voices from the hall behind the desk. And a crackling police radio with a woman’s voice reading off numbers. A man’s voice shouted, “Where’s the coffee?”
I froze a few feet into the room. My eyes swept the chairs and the empty bench again. A folded-up newspaper on a table. Empty coffee cups. A sandwich wrapper.
But where is everyone? I thought.
Where are my friends? What’s going on?
How come I’m the only one here?
31
Poppy Continues
“Poppy?”
A deep voice stunned me from my thoughts. I turned to see Benny Kline standing behind the gray desk. His dark eyes were narrowed on me. His pale-blue uniform shirt was tight around his bulging stomach. He had several buttons open, and I could see the black hair that started high on his chest.
“Hi.” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hi, Benny.” I raised my eyes to his.
He rubbed his mustache. “I hear you have a story to tell me.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Not a happy one.”
He motioned with one hand. “Come on back. We’ll go to my office.”
I followed him into the hall. I gave one last glance behind me, hoping to see Manny or Jeremy and Ivy, Jack. Where was Jack? No sign of anyone.
Benny’s “office” was just a cubicle. It had low gray walls and was at the end of a long row of identical spaces. I saw two other officers standing at a long table against the wall, leaning near a coffee machine, and talking in low voices, both gesturing with their hands.
Benny pulled a chair into his cubicle. He had a small desk and a counter along one side of the wall, piled high with papers and files. The light from his computer monitor washed over him as he sat down, as if he was stepping into a spotlight.
“Talk,” he said, tapping a pencil on the desktop.
I cleared my throat. I wasn’t sure if I could speak or not. I don’t think I’d ever been as scared. After all, I was about to confess to a murder. I was about to end my life as I knew it.
“Um . . . I guess maybe I’ll begin at the beginning,” I started. My hands were clenched together in my lap, so tight they ached. “You see, we formed a sort of club. Just five of us, including Manny. We called ourselves the Shadyside Shade, and the idea was to do pranks. You know. Stunts. And put them online. Just for fun. But . . .”
An image of Mr. Harlow grabbing his head and sinking to the floor flashed into my mind and stopped me from talking. For the hundredth time, I heard the pistol go off, the pistol raised in my hand, and I saw the man collapse behind the counter.
“Poppy?” Benny’s voice broke into my horrified thoughts. “Are you okay? Please go on.”
Somehow I went on. I managed to tell him the whole story of the robbery.
He set down the pencil he’d been tapping. His dark eyes narrowed on me as I told him about killing Mr. Harlow, narrowed until they were accusing slits. He rubbed his moustache, massaging it, keeping his stare on me.
“I killed him. It was a total accident, Benny. Jack told me the gun wasn’t loaded. But it was. It was an accident, I swear. It was my fault, but I . . . I didn’t mean . . . I didn’t . . .”
The words choked in my throat. I couldn’t speak.
He kept massaging his moustache, his face expressionless. “So tell me,” he said finally. “You put this online?”
I nodded. “Yes. Manny did.”
He lowered his hand to the desktop. He glimpsed his monitor. “If it was online, why haven’t I received any phone calls? Why haven’t I heard from anyone?”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
He scratched his chest. “Poppy, if people watch a murder online, don’t you think some of them might call the police?”
“I . . . guess.” My head was swimming. I really felt as if I was underwater, struggling to pull myself to the surface.
Benny jumped to his feet. “Two of my guys are out sick. Let’s go visit the crime scene.” He motioned for me to follow him.
I climbed up unsteadily, still feeling as if I was battling ocean waves. “You mean—?”
“Let’s check out Harlow’s store. See what we can see.”
We drove to Harlow’s Pic ’n’ Pay in silence. The only sound was the droning voice on the police radio. The voice seemed far away. My frightened thoughts completely drowned it out.
The lights were on in the store as we turned into the parking lot. I expected to see patrol cars, but there were none. No sirens. No flashing lights. No yellow crime tape stretched around the building.
Benny pulled the car to the front entrance. He pushed open his door. “Let’s go.”
I felt sick. How could something this horrible happen to me? Just because my friends and I were bored? Is that really the reason I ended up killing a man?
Benny waited for me on the sidewalk in front of the store. “Are you okay?”
“Not really,” I choked out.
I started toward him. I didn’t see any other cars in the lot. Peering into the window, I didn’t see anyone in the store.
Benny held the door open and motioned for me to go in first.
My legs were like rubber. My breath was coming in short gasps.
Somehow I managed to walk into the store. Benny followed close behind.
I turned and raised my eyes to the front counter.
And opened my mouth in a shrill scream: “No! I don’t believe it!”
32
Poppy Narrates
Mr. Harlow was leaning on the counter. At my cry, he stood up straight. He grinned at me. “Hey, Poppy. I’m back.”
I choked out another cry. “I—I—” I stared at him, speechless.
And when Manny, Ivy, and Jeremy popped up from behind the counter, I thought I was in a dream, a weird, twisted nightmare. They were cheering and laughing, and I couldn’t understand what was happening.
I could see they were enjoying my shock.
I glimpsed that weird guy, Lucas, back by the supply room. He had a grin on his face, too. He had his eyes locked on me, and his hungry expression gave me the creeps.
I mean, why was he enjoying this so much?
Benny moved to the counter to join them. Mr. Harlow stepped out. He strode toward me and gave me a hug. “Poppy,” he whispered in my ear, “you have some pretty cruel friends.”
I began to come down to earth. The floor felt solid again. The lights were still too bright and flashing in my eyes. But I was beginning to think again, to move out of my shock, to realize what was going on.
“You should see the look on your face,” Benny said. “You went so pale, we could almost see through your skin.”
“Did we really fool you, Poppy?” Manny demanded.
And now I realized everything. Now I knew what they had done. Done to me.
“You—you—” I pointed an accusing finger. I struggled to find the words. “You . . . played a prank on me?”
They nodded, grins stuck on their faces.
Why? Did they hate me so much?
“You . . . you made me t
hink Mr. Harlow was dead. You made me think I was a murderer. For a prank? Why? How could you do this to me?”
“It was Jack,” Ivy said. “Jack planned the whole thing.”
“Jack?” I cried. “But, why? And why did you go along with him?”
Their smiles faded. Mr. Harlow muttered something I couldn’t hear.
“Why?” I screamed, losing control. “Why? Tell me! Why would you let Jack do this to me? Why did you all do this?”
I was screaming at the top of my lungs now. My heart was pumping. I could feel the blood pulse at my temples.
How could they do this to me? I thought they were my friends.
“We never put it online,” Manny said. “Don’t worry, Poppy. No one saw it. I was just pretending to stream it. That’s why no one called the police.”
My head spun. It was never online. They kept the joke to themselves.
Jeremy stepped around the counter. He had his phone raised in front of him. “Jack didn’t give us much choice,” he said. “He can be convincing, you know. Like scary.”
“But, Jeremy—”
“Here.” He shoved the phone at me. “Take it. Look. Jack wants to talk to you. Maybe he’ll explain.”
I took the phone from his hand. My brain spun with confusion. Jack was on the phone? Why wasn’t he here to enjoy his big prank?
My hand was shaking. I raised the phone close. I saw Jack on the screen. Jack standing next to Rose Groban.
Rose clung to him, holding his hand, her arm entwined in his. She was leaning on him, her head tilted against his shoulder. She was wearing bright-red lipstick and her mouth was twisted into a cold smile. Her eyes sparkled, even on the phone screen.
“Jack?” I choked out. “Why—?”
“Gotcha back!” Rose exclaimed. “Your car accident ruined my play. But I got you back. Were you scared? Scared you were a murderer?”
She held on to Jack. He didn’t say a word. I couldn’t read his expression. Did he feel bad at all for me? Did he feel anything?
Jack and Rose. Jack and Rose.
Together.
And suddenly, I remembered her words of warning in the auditorium that day during auditions for the play. She whispered the words in my ear. Such a harsh, angry whisper. She told me to stay away from Jack.
I hadn’t gotten it then. I hadn’t realized Rose and Jack were a couple.
How stupid was I?
But now I knew. It was Rose and Jack all the time. They had always been together. Of course they had.
They played this awful trick on me.
All of them. All of them did this to me.
And realizing it, I felt myself explode. I just snapped. I could hear a wave rise up and roar in my brain. I could feel the red anger burst up in my chest, anger I’d never felt before.
I felt more than humiliated. I felt betrayed. Betrayed by the only friends I trusted.
With an animal cry, I heaved the phone at Jeremy. He fumbled it in both hands but caught it before it hit the floor.
I tilted back my head. I wanted to roar like a lion, like a beast in a horror movie. I wanted to roar and tear and scratch and attack, attack them all for what they’d done to me.
“Don’t you see what you did?” I cried.
They were still huddled behind the front counter. Mr. Harlow moved to the side so he was half-hidden by a Budweiser display. But the others stood and stared as I began to rage.
“I thought I would die!” I screamed. “I thought my life was over. How could you think this was a joke? How could you let Jack and Rose do this to me? Put me through such torture?”
I was gasping for breath. But I couldn’t stop screaming. I couldn’t stop the rush of fury bursting from my trembling body. “I thought you were my friends. I trusted you. I didn’t do anything to deserve this. How—”
Jeremy raised a hand to stop me. “Poppy, we’re sorry. We didn’t realize—”
“I hate you!” I wailed. “I hate you all!” I sucked in a wheezing breath. I took a few seconds to get myself together. My throat ached from screaming.
They stood there staring at me in horror. Didn’t any of them think of how this would destroy me?
Pausing only made my anger stronger. “You picked the wrong girl to do this to!” I screamed. “The wrong girl. I’m warning you! I’m warning you now. I’ll pay every one of you back!”
I realized I was shaking my fist at them. They actually looked frightened now. “The wrong girl!” I shrieked. “You picked the wrong girl!”
Part Three
33
Poppy Continues the Story
A week went by, and how did I feel? Sad. Lonely without my friends. Still angry. Still ferociously angry. The anger burned in my chest. I couldn’t make it cool down.
Every time I saw Ivy in school, she avoided my eyes and her face turned red. I passed Jeremy in the hall several times, and each time he pretended he didn’t know me. As if he was the injured party. How ridiculous. And Manny . . . Manny kept wanting to talk, but I pushed the big idiot away.
I thought a lot about getting back at all of them, humiliating them in the same way they’d humiliated me. Punishing them for betraying me. Cruel ideas flashed through my mind, but none of them were good enough.
I knew I’d have to calm down before I could think clearly about it. Once my mind was more settled, I knew I could think of the perfect way to get my revenge.
On Wednesday afternoon, I saw Rose and Jack in the student parking lot behind the school. He had her pinned against the side of a car. Their arms were wrapped around each other and they were locked in a long, passionate kiss. I guess they didn’t care who watched them. Or maybe they were showing off.
I turned and stomped away in the other direction, my heart bumping and thumping, my hands clamped into tight fists. I knew I couldn’t live with this anger for long. I had to do something to force it away. I had to do something.
I spent a lonely weekend. At least having no friends gave me a chance to catch up on my homework. And I read a pretty good book about a girl with low self-esteem who wants to be with the most popular guy in school but can’t find a way to get to him.
Well . . . that’s not my problem. I don’t have esteem issues. I just kept wanting the girl in the novel to shape up and go talk to the boy she had a crush on.
Heather came into my room on Sunday afternoon. I was painting my toenails. The most awesome blue color I’ve ever seen. So awesome I wanted to go barefoot everywhere.
She was in her tennis whites. The short, pleated skirt made her legs look fat. She swung a tennis racket in front of her. “Want to play? We could get a court at Shadyside Park.”
I sighed. “I don’t think so.”
Behind her glasses, her eyes went wide. “Why not? You’re not doing anything else.”
“I just don’t feel like it,” I said. “Besides, why do you want to play with me? I beat you every single game.”
She spun the racket in her hands. “Just thought we could spend some time together. You know?”
“Well, sorry, but no thanks,” I said. Then I added, “Why aren’t you spending time with your new best friend, Rose Groban?”
Heather scowled. “Rose has no time for me. She’s with Jack all the time now. It’s like they’re glued together.”
I guess she’d gotten tired of Heather even more quickly than I’d thought.
Heather shook her head. “I wanted to tag along with them to the movie theater at the mall last night, and Rose practically told me to get lost. I don’t get it. A few days ago, we were friends.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’ve got my own problems.”
“Sure you don’t want to play? Just one set?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied, and I returned to brushing color on my toenails.
She turned and stomped out of the room, muttering to herself.
So, Heather was hurt. But I couldn’t feel sorry for her. I had my own issues. Besides, Heather had only wanted to get close
to Rose to make me angry. She knew that Rose was my enemy. So how could I feel sympathetic now that Rose had dumped her?
So . . . that was the weekend. The highlight was painting my toenails. And now it’s Monday after school and I’m at my new job. Yes, Mom made me get a new job. She wouldn’t get out of my face about the disaster at Lefty’s. She said I had to show that I was responsible.
So I’m sitting in this cramped, cluttered office, sitting here behind a gray metal desk with a three-line phone system, a laptop computer, and a special radio unit; I’m a taxi dispatcher.
The red-white-and-blue sign on the wall behind me says ALL-AMERICAN TAXI, and it’s shaped like a steering wheel, and there are plaques on all four walls. I guess they are awards the taxi company won from someone. I haven’t had time to really examine them.
My uncle David got me this job. And Mom says that makes it double-important that I don’t mess it up. Because we don’t want to embarrass Uncle David.
I won’t mess it up. It’s an easy job, much easier than being a waitress. I just answer the phone, then radio the drivers and give them the address of their pickup.
It’s mostly quiet. People don’t use taxis much in Shadyside. So I can put in my earbuds and listen to music and do my homework and read.
And . . . think of revenge.
Keith called that night, my first day on the job. I hesitated, staring at his name on my phone screen. I hadn’t heard from him or seen him in school for days. Actually, I’d forgotten about Keith, just swept him from my mind.
I accepted the call. “Keith? Hi.”
“Just calling to say hi,” he said. “How’s the new job?”
“You heard about it?”
“Yeah. I ran into Heather. She told me you were a taxi mogul now.”
I laughed. “A mogul? At ten dollars an hour?”
“So, Poppy, how’s it going?”
“All right,” I said. “It’s a boring job, but it’s easy.”