Fear Hall: The Beginning (13 page)

“Huh?” I heard Melanie react with surprise. “What did she say her name was?”

“Eden,” the cop repeated.

“Eden? I don't know any girl named Eden,” Melanie replied. “Are you sure you got the name right?”

The policeman was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Yeah. Eden. She said she and her three roommates lived in 13-B.”

Silence again.

Then Melanie said, “Roommates? She said she lived in 13-B and had roommates?”

“That's right,” the policeman grunted.

“A girl named Hope lives in here, Officer,” Melanie told him. “But, look—it's a single room. One bed—see? Hope doesn't have any roommates. She lives in here by herself.”

I
heard more footsteps. More voices.

I peeked into the room and saw Margie and Mary in the room. All three girls were talking at once. The two police officers had to ask them to be quiet.

“One at a time,” a cop said impatiently. I saw him check his little writing pad. “What about Angel and Jasmine?” he asked the three girls.

They all shook their heads. “I don't know any girls with those names,” Melanie said.

“Hope is kind of weird,” Margie added. “She always seemed to be having loud arguments. Sometimes we'd hear her talking till late at night. But she's always alone in here.”

“She works in a restaurant,” Mary offered. “Campus Corner, off Pine Street. She's a waitress there.
And once I saw her sitting in a booth, arguing with herself. Finally, the boss had to call her to the kitchen.”

“Hmmmmm.” I watched the cop write something on his pad.

“I saw Hope in the cafeteria the other day,” Margie chimed in. “She was sitting there talking to herself. It was pretty weird.”

“I've asked her if she's okay several times,” Melanie told the cop. “I mean, I thought maybe she needed help. But she never wanted to talk to me.”

Margie glanced toward the window. I pulled my head back.

“What about this boy, Darryl?” the other cop asked the three M's.

“Huh? Darryl?” Melanie replied. “I don't know anyone named Darryl. Does he go to Ivy State?”

“We were told he lives downstairs,” the cop said. “On the boys' floor.”

Margie and Mary let out startled laughs. “There aren't any boys in
this
dorm!” Mary cried.

“There
is
no boys' floor,” Melanie agreed. “It's an all-girls dorm.”

“Oh, wow!” Mary cried. “Do you think Hope made those other kids up? Did she imagine them?”

“Sounds like we have a loony,” one of the cops said. “A dangerous loony.”

“Maybe we've got a multiple personality here,” his partner replied. “Do you think this Hope is all four girls? And Darryl too?”

“Maybe,” the cop said softly. “The question is—did Hope cut up those two boys? Those boys aren't imaginary. Those two boys were real. And they were murdered by someone real.”

“We'd better find her—fast,” his partner said.

“I
knew
Hope was crazy!” I heard Margie exclaim.

“But can she really be a
killer?
” Melanie cried.

I didn't want to hear anymore.

I felt so angry—so
furious—
I wanted to dive back into the room and strangle Melanie and her two roommates with my bare hands.

How could they talk about me that way? How
could
they?

I pressed my back against the brick wall and turned to Angel and Jasmine. “They won't find us—will they, girls?” I whispered.

They both shook their heads.

“And by the time the police find us,” I continued, “Melanie and her roommates will be dead. They will pay for calling us crazy. They will pay—right?”

“Right,” Jasmine whispered.

“Right,” Angel agreed.

“Right, Darryl?” I whispered. “We'll pay the three M's back—right, Darryl?”

He appeared beside me. He always appears when I want him to.

That's one reason I love him so much.

When I need him, I only have to think about him—and he magically appears.

“We'll pay them back—right, Darryl?” I repeated.

“Right,” Darryl whispered in my ear.

And then I heard a sharp cry from inside the room. And a policeman shouted, “There she is! On the fire escape! Catch her!”

TO BE CONTINUED …

DON'T MISS THE TERRIFYING ENDING, IN

FEAR HALL: THE CONCLUSION

“Where do you get your ideas?”

That's the question that R.L. Stine is asked most often. “I don't know where my ideas come from,” he says. “But I do know that I have a lot more scary stories in my mind that I can't wait to write.”

So far, he has written over a hundred mysteries and thrillers for young people, all of them bestsellers.

Bob grew up in Columbus, Ohio. Today he lives in an apartment near Central Park in New York City with his wife, Jane, and son, Matt.

A
t the stroke of midnight…you are on Fear Street. Your footsteps echo as you walk past rows of houses. Houses with blank windows that seem to stare down at you. That seem to know your deepest, darkest secrets. Confide those secrets here…

Find out more about yourself, your friendships, your loves and your fears.

Take your first step onto Fear Street—if you dare.

Coming in mid-July

Available from Archway Paperbacks

Published by Pocket Books

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GOODNIGHT KISS

Collector's Edition