by R. L. Stine
The nearness of the park made it an afternoon hangout for just about everyone who didn’t have an after-school job. It was great for meeting friends, relaxing, enjoying after-school picnics or impromptu parties, studying, making out, playing endless games of Frisbee, taking an afternoon siesta, or just staring at squirrels or the slow-flowing river.
But not tonight. The wind was cold and gusty, and it swirled tangles of brown leaves in fast circles over the parking lot. Zipping their down jackets against the unexpected cold, Cory and Lisa looked up to a sky that was heavy and dark, a November sky, a snow sky.
“Let’s go the front way,” he said. They headed around toward the front of the school. She leaned against him as they walked. He figured she was trying to keep warm.
“Guess it’s really winter,” she said.
They turned up Park Drive and headed toward North Hills, a walk they had made together thousands of times. Tonight seemed different to him somehow. He guessed he was just in a bad mood.
They were silent for a long time, leaning up the hill, the gusting wind first behind them, then blowing hard in their faces. Then they both spoke at once.
He: “Have you seen a girl with blond hair and—”
She: “Are you doing anything this weekend? Saturday night?”
They both stopped talking at the same time, then started again at the same time.
She shoved him. “You go first.”
He shoved her back, but not as hard. “No. You.”
A car horn honked at them. Probably someone from school. A dark blue Honda Accord sped by. It was too dark to see who was inside.
“I asked if you were doing anything Saturday night,” she said, leaning against him again.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“I’m not either,” she told him. Her voice sounded funny, a little tense. He decided it was just because of the wind.
“Have you seen a girl with blond hair and big blue eyes?” he asked.
“What?”
“A very pretty girl, but strange-looking. Kinda old-fashioned. Very pale.”
She let go of his arm. He didn’t see the disappointed look on her face. “You mean Anna?” she asked.
He stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression suddenly excited. The streetlights flickered on. It looked as if he were lighting up because of her answer. “Anna? Is that her name? You know her?”
“She’s a new girl. Very pale. Blond. Has her hair just brushed straight back with a barrette in front? Wears dresses all the time?”
“Yeah. That’s her. Anna. What’s her last name?”
“I don’t know,” Lisa snapped, then regretted revealing how annoyed she was. “Corwin, I think. Anna Corwin. She’s in my third-period physics class.”
“Wow,” he said, still not moving, the trees casting shadows across his face as they bent in the wind. “You know her. What’s she like?”
“No, Cory, I don’t know her. I told you. She’s a new girl. I don’t know her at all. She never says a word in class. Sits in the back row, as pale as a ghost. She’s absent a lot. Why are you so hot to know her?”
“What else do you know?” Cory asked, ignoring her question. “Come on.”
“That’s it,” Lisa said impatiently. She started walking on ahead of him, taking long strides.
He ran to catch up. “I thought I made her up,” he said.
“No. She’s real,” Lisa replied. “She doesn’t look real. But she’s real. You in love with her or something? Oh. I know. David and you made a bet to see which one could get a date with her first.” She shoved him again, nearly knocking him off the sidewalk. “I’m right, aren’t I? You two always pick on the new girls.”
Again he didn’t seem to hear her. “Don’t you know anything else about her? Whose homeroom is she in? Where does she live?”
“Oh. Yeah. I did hear that. She transferred here from Melrose. Her family moved into a house on Fear Street.”
“Fear Street?” Cory stopped short, suddenly chilled.
Fear Street, a narrow street that wound past the town cemetery and through the thick woods on the south edge of town, had a special meaning for everyone in Shadyside. The street was cursed, people said.
The blackened shell of a burned-out mansion—Simon Fear’s old mansion—stood high on the first block of Fear Street, overlooking the cemetery, casting eerie shadows that stretched to the dark, tangled woods. Terrifying howls, half-human, half-animal, hideous cries of pain, were said to float out from the mansion late at night.
People in Shadyside grew up hearing the stories about Fear Street—about people who wandered into the woods there and disappeared forever; about strange creatures that supposedly roamed the Fear Street woods; about mysterious fires that couldn’t be put out, and bizarre accidents that couldn’t be explained; about vengeful spirits that haunted the old houses and prowled through the trees; about unsolved murders and unexplained mysteries.
When Cory and Lisa were kids, their friends liked to dare one another to go for a walk on Fear Street at night. It was a challenge few kids were willing to accept. And those who did never stayed on Fear Street for long! Now, even though Cory was older, the words Fear Street still brought a chill.
“I think Anna belongs on Fear Street,” Lisa said, giving Cory her half smile. “She could haunt one of those old houses as good as any ghost.”
“I think she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he said, as if he felt he had to defend her against all attacks.
“So do you have a bet with David or what?” she asked.
“No,” he snapped, lost in thought.
They reached their houses, dark shingled ranch houses, almost identical, set back far from the street behind tall hedges of evergreens, on wide manicured lawns, as were most of the houses in North Kills, the nicest section of town.
“About Saturday night—” she tried again.
“Yeah. Right. See you tomorrow,” he said, and began jogging up the long, paved drive to his house.
Anna. Anna Corwin. The name repeated in his mind. What a nice, old-fashioned name.
* * *
“That’s right, Operator. The family’s name is Corwin. It’s a new number. On Fear Street.”
“I’m looking for it, sir,” the Information operator said. There was a long silence.
Why am I so nervous just calling Information? Cory asked himself.
He had thought about Anna all through dinner. Now, up in his room, he had decided to get her phone number. I know I’m going to be too nervous to call her, he thought. I just want to get the number. In case I want to call her someday.
There was a long silence. He sat leaning over the desk in his room, pencil poised over the yellow pad he kept near the phone.
“Yes, here’s the number. It’s a new listing.” The operator read him the number, and he scribbled it down.
“And what’s the address on Fear Street, Operator?”
“We’re not supposed to give that out, sir.”
“Come on. I promise I won’t tell anybody.” Cory laughed.
Surprisingly, the operator laughed too. “I guess it’s okay. It’s my last night, anyway. It’s Four Forty-four Fear Street.”
“Thanks a lot, Operator. You’re a nice person:”
“You’re nice too,” she said, and quickly clicked off.
Cory stood over his desk and stared at Anna’s phone number on the yellow pad. Should he call it?
If he called her, what would he say?
Call her, Cory. Go ahead. Don’t be such a chicken. She’s only a girl, after all. Sure, she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. But she’s only a girl.
He picked up the receiver. His hand was cold and clammy even though it was quite hot in his room. He stared at the number on the yellow pad until it blurred before his eyes.
No. I can’t call her. What would I say? I’d just stammer around and sound like a jerk. She already thinks I’m a jerk after seeing me standing on
my head in the lunchroom.
He put down the phone receiver.
No. I can’t. I just can’t.
Sure. Why not?
He picked up the receiver.
This is stupid. I’m going to make an idiot of myself.
He punched her phone number.
Put the phone down, Cory. Don’t be a jerk.
It rang once. Twice.
Maybe she won’t even remember who I am.
It rang again. Again.
Nobody home, I guess. Whew!
He let it ring four more times. He was just about to hang up when he heard a click at the other end, and a young man’s voice answered, “Yeah?”
“Oh. Hello.” For some reason he wasn’t expecting anyone but Anna to answer. His mouth was suddenly so dry, he wondered if he could speak.
“Yeah?”
“Is Anna there?”
“What?”
Who was this guy? Why did he sound so annoyed? Maybe Cory had woken him up.
“I’m sorry. Is this the Corwin house?” Cory asked.
“Yeah, it is,” the young man rasped in his ear.
“Could I speak to Anna please?”
There was a very long silence.
“Sorry. This is the Corwins. But there’s no Anna here.”
The phone clicked off.
CHAPTER 3
When Cory arrived at school the next morning, Anna Corwin was the first person he saw.
It was raining hard, a freezing rain driven by gusty winds. He ran into the building through the side door, his letter jacket pulled up over his head. His wet sneakers slid across the floor, and he nearly collided with her.
“Oh.” He grabbed the wall and stopped. He pulled down his jacket and stared at her. Her locker was the first one next to the door. She was pulling books off the top shelf and didn’t seem to notice that he had nearly run into her.
She wore a white sweater over a gray skirt. Her hair was tied back behind her head with a white ribbon.
She’s so pale, he thought. It’s like I can almost see through her skin.
Suddenly the young man’s raspy voice on the phone came back to him. This is the Corwins. But there’s no Anna here.
Well, here she was.
What was that guy trying to prove? Why had he lied to Cory?
Maybe it was a jealous boyfriend, Cory thought. Or maybe Cory had dialed the wrong number, and the guy was just pulling a mean joke.
“Hi,” he said, swinging his bookbag down off his shoulder. A stream of water poured from it, onto his already soaked sneakers.
She turned, surprised that someone was talking to her. Her eyes, those amazing eyes, looked into his, then quickly looked down. “Hello,” she said. Then she cleared her throat nervously.
“You’re new,” he said.
Brilliant line, Cory. Wow, that’s a real winner. You say two words to her and she already knows what a dork you are!
“Yes,” she said. She cleared her throat again. Her voice was little more than a whisper. But she seemed pleased that he was talking to her.
“Your name is Anna, right? I’m Cory Brooks.”
That’s a little better, Cory. Just calm down, man. You’re doing okay.
He reached out to shake hands. He had to touch her, to know for sure that she was real. But his hand was dripping wet. They both stared at it. He quickly brought it back to his side.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, turning back to search for something in her locker.
“You moved onto Fear Street, right?” It was almost time for the bell to ring, but he didn’t want to leave her. It had taken so long to find her.
She cleared her throat. “Yes.”
“You must be pretty brave. Have you heard all the scary stories about Fear Street? About the ghosts and things—”
“Ghosts?” Her eyes grew wide and her face filled with such sudden fright, he was immediately sorry he had said that. She seemed to grow even more pale. “What kind of stories?”
“Just stories,” he said quickly. “Not all of them are true, I don’t think.”
Nice going, Cory. Was that the only thing you could think of to say? How feeble can you get?”
“Oh,” she said softly. The fear didn’t leave her eyes.
She’s so pretty, he thought. Everything about her is so soft, so light.
His dream about her came back to him. It made him feel a little embarrassed.
“Hey, Cory—lookin’ good!” some guy called to him.
He turned to see who it was. It was just Arnie, giving him the okay sign from down the hall.
“Later, Arnie!” he called. He watched Arnie go into the wood shop, then turned back to Anna.
“I—uh—I called your house last night. I—I just wanted to say hi. Uh… a guy answered and said you didn’t live there. Did I have the wrong phone number, or—”
“No,” she whispered, closing her locker and locking it.
Then she turned without looking back at him and ran down the hall, disappearing into the crowd of kids heading to homeroom.
* * *
“Good mat routine,” Coach Welner said, giving Cory a hearty slap on the back. Cory, still breathing hard, grinned back at the coach. He knew he had done a good routine, but it was always nice to hear it from the coach. Mr. Welner, a stern, powerful-looking man with a body builder’s physique even though he was in his late fifties, was sparing with his compliments. So when he said something nice, it meant something.
Behind them the match against Mattewan, the first match of the season, continued. Cory looked to the bench for David, wondering if his friend had witnessed his near-perfect routine. Then he remembered that David had sprained his ankle at the last practice. David was somewhere up in the bleachers feeling sorry for himself and being miserable.
“Now, don’t press too hard on the rings,” Coach Welner warned. “You’ve been pushing yourself, trying to go too fast up there, and it’s been throwing you off your rhythm.”
“Yeah,” Cory said, still trying to catch his breath.
“You feel nervous?” the coach asked, staring at Cory as if trying to see the nervousness in his eyes.
“No. Not really. Just excited.”
“Good. That’s what we want.” Mr. Welner seemed very pleased. “Just remember—don’t push it. Easy does it.” He turned away from Cory and let out a loud groan. “Get up, Tobin. You can rest later!”
Arnie had just done the backflip to finish his mat routine and had landed flat on his backside. The twenty or thirty spectators in the bleachers were laughing their heads off. Arnie’s face turned bright scarlet as he pulled himself up and slumped off the mat.
Coach Welner closed his eyes and shook his head disgustedly. Arnie’s slip wasn’t going to help the Shadyside team score. And the floor routine was the best part of Arnie’s program. He was a complete klutz on the rings, and his parallel bar work was uneven to say the least.
The Mattewan guys were smaller compared to Cory and his teammates. But that gave them an advantage. They were light and strong and agile.
A guy like Arnie should be playing tackle on the football team, Cory thought. Whatever made him want to be a gymnast?
Whatever made Arnie decide to do anything? He was one of the flakiest guys Cory had ever known. He just grinned his way through life, seemingly without ever having a serious thought cross through his mind.
“Okay, Brooks.” Coach Werner’s voice broke into Cory’s thoughts. “Go show ’em how it’s done.”
Cory took a deep breath and headed to the rings. For some reason they always looked so much higher at a real competition than in practice.
He shut the world out as he started his routine. He didn’t need his brain. The moves were all locked in his muscles. After practicing these moves thousands and thousands of times, he was like a machine, a smoothly running machine.
Okay. Up. And over.
Very smooth, Cory. Now faster. Get ready. Here comes the hard part. Up, up…
Was it really Anna?
No. It couldn’t be—could it?
… And over. And again. Stop. Reverse…
No. It was another blond girl.
The eyes. Those were her eyes.
Yes. It was Anna. What a surprise! She was staring up at him with those blue eyes.
She’s watching me, he thought. She came to watch me.
He stared back at her. And he slipped. And dropped hard to the floor.
He didn’t feel any pain. He was just confused. He didn’t really fall, did he? He didn’t really blow the whole routine just because a certain girl had caused him to lose his concentration?
“I’m falling for her!” he said aloud, laughing as he slowly climbed to his feet.
“What’s so funny, Brooks?” Coach Welner was shouting.
“I’m falling for her,” Cory repeated to himself. It was the second time he had fallen because of her, the second time he had embarrassed himself in front of a lot of people.
Was that true love, or what?
“What’s so funny, Brooks?” Coach Welner looked concerned. “Are you hysterical or something? You didn’t hit your head, did you?”
“I’m okay,” Cory said, kicking the edge of a mat. “I just slipped, that’s all.”
“There’ll be other matches,” Coach Welner said. He suddenly looked very tired. “This one’s a comedy act. Go shower, Brooks. Then go home and forget about today.”
“Right, Coach.” Cory looked up to the bleachers.
He remembered just where she was sitting—in the center of the third row.
But she wasn’t there now. He stared at an empty space in the row.
His heart sank. Had she been there in the first place? He hadn’t imagined her, had he? Was he cracking up because of this girl?
No. Of course not.
“I have to talk with her,” he told himself. “I have to call her again.”