by R. L. Stine
She nodded her head but had no expression that I could read as I told her about my first night at Harry’s house. But she stopped walking and crossed her arms in front of her when I came to the part about the demon-creature leaping out the window.
I finished telling her about Harry hiding in the closet and about how I decided not to tell Brenda what had happened. Dr. Shein slid back into her desk chair and pulled herself close to the desk. She scribbled some notes on a yellow pad, her head bent over her work.
I waited to hear her reaction.
Was she going to be like Mom and Nate and not believe I saw what I saw?
Finally, she raised her head and set down her pencil. “This is all going to take time, Lisa,” she said softly.
I stared at her. Did this mean she didn’t believe me?
“Your brain suffered a terrible shock,” she continued. “This has resulted in vivid nightmares, as we both know. And sometimes, your nightmares have been so vivid, they have seemed to come to life.”
“Does this mean—” I started.
But she cut me off with a quick wave of her hand. “You saw something at the Hart house that triggered a frightening image in your subconscious,” she said. “These episodes are not hard to understand and are not unusual.”
“Episodes?” I said.
She nodded, still toying with the locket.
“You don’t think I saw what I saw?” I demanded, my voice growing shrill.
“I think you saw something,” she replied. “I know you’re not making it up, and I know you’re not crazy. It’s our job to get you past these episodes, to make you feel stronger and less afraid. That’s why I’m going to suggest a couple of medications I think will help you, dear.”
My chest suddenly felt all fluttery. “Medication? But isn’t that a step backward?”
“No, not at all,” she replied, shaking her head. “We have all kinds of things we can try to get you back on track.” She tapped the pencil eraser on the glass desktop. “You have to understand what’s happening, Lisa. The accident jarred all kinds of feelings loose from your subconscious. Feelings of guilt because of losing your father. Feelings of extreme fear. That’s where this creature you saw is coming from.”
I opened my mouth to disagree, but changed my mind.
“This isn’t unusual,” she continued. “I don’t want you to be afraid. If you feel you would like to try it, I can prescribe some drugs that calm you a bit. They might make it easier to get through a day without these disturbing fantasies.”
“I don’t know. I—”
“I’d never prescribe anything unless you were comfortable with it,” she said. “Go home and think about it. Discuss it with your mother. I want you to be completely fine with anything we do to get you over this.”
She bent her head again and concentrated on writing notes on the yellow pad. This meant our session was over.
I stood up but I didn’t leave. I felt as if my brain was ready to explode. I wanted to keep talking to her. I wanted to ask a hundred questions. I wanted to tell her that I knew I wasn’t hallucinating at Harry’s house. What I saw was real.
I saw the creature’s face too clearly for it to be imaginary. I saw it leap out the bedroom window. I heard the thud as it landed in the backyard.
I needed Dr. Shein to believe me. Mom didn’t believe me. Nate didn’t believe me. She was my last hope.
“See you in two days,” I muttered and made my way out the door.
I don’t think I ever felt so alone. Would I be able to persuade Dr. Shein in our next session? Could I convince her I was getting better? My mind was getting clearer? I knew the difference between hallucinations and what was real.
At least, I thought I did.
Until I returned home—and had another insane hallucination.
I stepped into the living room. Blinding yellow sunlight flooded the room from the front windows. I raised one hand to shield my eyes from the glare—and imagined—for the hundredth time—that Morty was sprawled on the living room carpet.
I uttered a sharp cry. Isn’t this ever going to stop?
But the shocks weren’t over.
25.
I tried to blink the image of the big, white dog away, but I couldn’t get it to disappear. The dog rolled onto its haunches. Its eyes caught the sunlight and flared bright red.
And then my hallucination came running toward me, big paws padding the carpet, furry tail swinging hard behind it. I didn’t realize the dog was real until he leaped onto me, forcing me to stumble back onto the couch. And then he was licking my face, and I screamed.
“Morty? Morty? Is it really you?”
Mom came into the room, carrying a large pot of geraniums. “I was next door,” she said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you the good news.”
“It’s really Morty?” I cried. I gently shoved him away before he licked all the skin off my cheeks. “Is it?”
“A nice young woman found him on the highway near Martinsville,” Mom said. “She brought him back while you were at the doctor’s.”
“I can’t believe it!” I screamed. I hugged Morty around the neck and held him close to me. “See, Mom? Things are definitely turning around for me.”
“I hope,” she murmured softly.
* * *
“You must be feeling better,” Saralynn said. “I didn’t think you’d come with us tonight.”
“She’s a glutton for punishment,” Nate said, behind the wheel. He turned the car onto the River Road. The three of us were on our way to hear Isaac’s band.
The sun had gone down, leaving a blue evening tint over everything. Tall trees leaned over the curving road, blocking the moonlight, making it appear that we were driving over deep puddles of darkness.
“I just felt like getting out of the house and hearing some music,” I said.
“Music? Then why come see Isaac’s band?” Nate joked. He put an arm around my shoulder and tugged me toward him.
“Drive with two hands, please,” I said.
“They’ve been rehearsing like crazy,” Saralynn said from the backseat. “Maybe they got better.”
“Maybe I won’t need the earplugs I brought,” Nate said.
“You have a bad attitude,” I said.
Once again, I pictured Isaac kissing me in his driveway. Was Nate watching? Was that why Nate was so down on Isaac lately? His jokes about Isaac were all nasty and hostile, as if they hadn’t been best friends for years.
“I offered to give the whole band Frankenstein masks from my collection,” Nate said. “They could call themselves The Young Frankensteins or something. See? That way, when they played, no one could see their faces. So they wouldn’t have to be embarrassed by how bad they were.”
“Nice guy,” Saralynn said sarcastically.
“Stop making jokes,” I told Nate. “We’re going there to support Isaac.”
He grunted something I didn’t hear. We drove on for a while, following the road as it curved along the Conononka River. The dark water flowed silently beside us, occasionally glimmering under silvery moonlight.
“The club won’t sell beer to anyone under eighteen,” Nate said. “But I brought a fake ID that’s worked before. Try to look old.”
“That’s why I put my hair up,” Saralynn said. She had dressed in her club outfit—a short, red pleated skirt over silver tights, a shiny vest over a silky silver top.
I don’t have a club outfit. I wore a silky gold-colored top over jeans that had rhinestones on the pockets. “I look twelve. I can’t help it,” I said, sighing.
“Well, try not to be conspicuous,” Nate said. “They won’t care tonight. It’s going to be all kids from our school.”
He turned into the wide, paved driveway. The Hothouse is one of three clubs close together on the River Road. It’s a music club—not a dance club. They usually book two or three bands a night. On most nights, you have to be eighteen to get in. But on nights when they have a teen band, they open the p
lace up to high school students.
It was early. We knew Isaac’s band was going on first. I saw only four or five cars in the parking lot. For Isaac’s sake, I hoped more kids would come.
We climbed out of the car. Hip-hop music rang out from speakers on high poles around the lot. The neon Hothouse sign crackled as we stepped around it to get to the front entrance.
We each paid a five-dollar cover charge to a guy at the front door with a shaved head and an awesome tattoo sleeve of snakes and dragons. Inside, the lights pulsed, red then black, red then black. The walls and ceiling were red. The banquettes along the sides were red. You get the idea. The place had a very basic color scheme.
The aroma of beer floated over the club. Three or four people waited in line for drinks at the bar at the back. Peering into the blinking foggy light, I recognized some kids from school at one of the banquettes and waved.
The stage was a square, open area at the far end of the club. Isaac and his friends were setting up, hooking their instruments to the club amps and speakers.
When Isaac saw us walk in, he came trotting over. He wore faded jeans ripped to shreds at the knees and a black-and-red Daft Punk T-shirt. He bumped knuckles with Nate, then turned to Saralynn and me.
“Hey, Lisa, I didn’t think you’d come,” he said.
“I didn’t want to miss it,” I said. “This is totally exciting, Isaac.”
“Who are those guys over there?” Nate asked, pointing to four or five guys entering from a back door, carrying instruments.
Isaac turned and squinted into the pulsing red light. “They must be the dudes in Psycho-Relic. It’s a seventies tribute band.”
“They any good?” Nate asked.
Isaac shrugged. “Never listened to them. But the club told us we could only do two songs tonight so their band can go on early.”
Nate snickered. “Do you know two songs?”
“Not really,” Isaac said, grinning. “We have one song that we don’t totally suck at, and then we play different versions of it.”
It wasn’t hot in the club, but Isaac had sweat glistening his forehead. His eyes kept returning to me, as if he was trying to tell me something. Or maybe he was just genuinely surprised to see me.
Saralynn gazed around. “Hope more kids come.”
“They’ll start coming in for Psycho-Relic,” Isaac said. “A lot of kids are into that retro stuff. And the band has some YouTube videos that get a lot of hits.”
Back at the stage area, I heard a loud pop. One of the amps erupted in a burst of yellow current, and the guy working on it jumped back with a startled cry.
“I’d better get back there and help before my guys electrocute themselves,” Isaac said.
“That would be an awesome opening,” Nate said.
Isaac ignored him. He gave us a quick wave and took off. “Later.”
I saw more kids from school drifting into the club. Kerry Reacher was walking toward the stage with Eric Finn. I looked for Patti Berger but I didn’t see her. Patti and Kerry are like Siamese twins. They’re never apart.
A group of four or five girls walked in together. They weren’t from Shadyside High. One of them had dyed pink hair and wore a purple-and-yellow Psycho-Relics sweatshirt.
Nate came up behind me and slid his arms around my waist. He nuzzled the back of my neck. It sent a chill down my back.
I leaned back against him. I felt a wave of happiness wash over me. It felt good to be out of the house and out with friends.
Saralynn tugged Nate away. “Are you going to get us beers or not?” she demanded.
Nate glanced around. “It isn’t crowded enough. We’ll be caught,” he said. He started to the bar. “Will you settle for a Coke?”
Saralynn rolled her eyes. “Living large.”
I laughed, watching him stride toward the bar. “I never knew Nate was such a chicken.”
Saralynn didn’t smile. “He got caught once,” she said. “Last year. With a fake ID. He got in a lot of trouble. His parents had to pull some strings to keep him from a juvenile hearing downtown.”
I blinked at her. “Seriously? I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot about Nate you don’t know,” she said.
I stared at her. What a weird thing to say. Why was she trying to prove that she knew more about Nate than I did?
There was definitely something I didn’t know about going on here. Of course, I was new in town. Saralynn and I had been friends for only a month. We spent hours talking, but I suddenly realized I didn’t know much about her.
Was she more interested in Nate than she let on?
Nate returned with the Cokes. On the stage, Isaac and his band picked up their instruments. “Hey, everyone,” Isaac shouted into the mike, “we’re The Black Holes and we came to rock your world!”
They began to play. The music was amped so loud, the floor vibrated, and I could feel the beats in my chest. Isaac’s lead guitar soared and wailed and roared. He lifted his face to the ceiling and played, his eyes shut tight.
Nate had one hand around my waist. With his other hand, he flashed a thumbs-down. Then he stuck his finger down his throat and made a gagging sound.
He was right. The band was terrible. Even the deafening sound level vibrating in your ears couldn’t hide the fact that the guys didn’t seem to be playing the same song.
At least twenty or thirty people stood and watched and listened. When the number ended, we all cheered and clapped and pretended we were into it. Isaac didn’t wait. He went into the next song. It sounded a lot like the first.
“This is painful!” Nate shouted in my ear.
This number went on for at least fifteen minutes. I had a feeling the band didn’t know how to end it. What made Isaac think they were ready to perform in public?
When the music stopped, my ears were ringing. The club had become crowded. A lot of people had come to hear the Psycho-Relics.
I pushed toward the stage. Isaac and his friends were unhooking their instruments. Isaac didn’t look happy.
I couldn’t get through the crush of people. I bumped a girl and almost made her spill her beer. I waved to Isaac but he had his head down and didn’t see me.
I turned and realized I’d gotten separated from Nate and Saralynn. Peering into the pulsing red lights, I couldn’t find them.
A hand grabbed my wrist. “Nate?”
No.
I turned and saw Summer Lawson gazing at me. Her coppery hair fell loose to her shoulders. Her green eyes reflected the flashing club lights.
She wore a white shirt with most of the buttons open, over a short straight black skirt and black tights. As usual, she had on an assortment of colorful plastic necklaces and long, dangling plastic earrings.
Every time I see her, my first thought is how beautiful she is. Like some kind of goddess. Seriously.
“Summer?” I tried to tug my hand away, but she held onto it.
She brought her face close to my ear. Her perfume smelled citrusy, like grapefruit or maybe lemon. “We need to talk, Lisa.”
Again, I tried to free my hand. Finally, she let go. “What do you mean?” I shouted over the loud voices. “What’s wrong, Summer?”
“We need to talk,” she repeated. “Seriously. About Nate.”
“Nate? What about Nate?” I cried.
Her eyes appeared to darken. She pressed her lips close to my ear. “You’re in trouble, Lisa, and you don’t know it.”
Someone bumped me from behind, and I stumbled into Summer. “Sorry,” I murmured.
I spun around to see Nate making his way around a couple of guys in gray hoodies. When I turned back, Summer had vanished.
Weird.
Nate stepped up beside me and handed me a fresh Coke. “Was that Summer?”
I nodded.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “What did she want?”
I shrugged. “Beats me. I don’t know what her problem is. But she really creeps me out. She keeps warning me about y
ou.”
Nate laughed. “Maybe she just wants to tell you how awesome I am.” He slid his arm around my waist and started to lead me to the exit. “Don’t even think about her, Lisa,” he said. “She’s just jealous. That’s all.”
He brought his face close and kissed me, a long, sweet kiss.
It wasn’t jealousy, I thought. It really was a warning. She’s trying to tell me I’m in trouble.
Suddenly, Nate’s lips felt cold to me. And I couldn’t keep a frightened shiver from rolling down my back.
26.
Monday afternoon, a gray cool day threatening rain, I picked up Harry at his aunt Alice’s house. I found them in the kitchen. Harry was on his knees on a tall stool, a spatula in hand, stirring the dark contents of a big bowl.
“We’re making brownies,” Alice said. “Well, actually, Harry is making brownies. I’m just helping.”
Harry dipped his finger in the chocolate dough, then ate a clump of it.
“Stop,” Alice scolded. “That’s raw dough.”
“I eat raw cookie dough,” Harry said. “What’s wrong with brownie dough?” He stuck his finger out and gave me a taste.
“If you eat all the dough, you won’t have any brownies,” Alice said. “Now keep stirring.”
She pulled me out of the kitchen, into the little office she had across the hall. “Harry really likes you,” she confided in a whisper. “He’s been talking about you a lot.”
“Nice,” I said. Alice had a smear of chocolate on her cheek. I pointed it out to her. She rubbed it away with two fingers.
“Brownies can be messy with an eight-year-old chef,” she said. “Anyway, I think you made a big hit with Harry on Monday.”
I felt a chill at the back of my neck. I suddenly pictured the demon-creature running across the landing at the top of the stairs. Harry hiding in the front hall coat closet …
“Did Harry say anything about … about…” I hesitated. “About anything weird happening?”
Alice squinted at me. “Weird? No. He just said he had fun.”
“My hand hurts. How long do I have to stir this?” Harry shouted from the kitchen.