First Evil (12 page)

Is it a miracle? Did Jennifer just this second discover she could walk?

No. That wasn't likely. Then . . .

Has Jennifer been faking all along?

Why? Why would she fake paralysis?

Why?

Bobbi stepped back onto the stoop. She rang the doorbell.

She had to know. She had to ask Jennifer what was going on.

She leaned toward the door and listened for Jennifer's footsteps.

Silence.

She rang the bell again.

Finally the front door was pulled open, revealing a widening rectangle of light.

“Jennifer!” Bobbi cried.

S
tanding on the front stoop, Bobbi stared into the yellow light of the front hallway. Jennifer held the door open, her face filled with surprise.

“Bobbi—what's the matter?”

“Oh . . . uh . . .” Bobbi stammered. “Nothing. I . . . thought I forgot my gloves.”

Jennifer's face relaxed. She settled back in her wheelchair. She wheeled herself back a few inches, still gripping the doorknob. “Do you want to come in and look for them?”

“No,” Bobbi replied quickly. “I just remembered I didn't bring any gloves. Sorry.”

Jennifer laughed. “You're really in a state, aren't you?” “Yeah. I guess.” Bobbi felt totally embarrassed. And confused.

And worried.

Jennifer was in her wheelchair, a small blanket over her lap. Why had Bobbi imagined that she'd seen her pacing back and forth across the window?

Had Bobbi imagined it all, imagined the moving shadow, imagined the dark figure walking across the living room?

What's
wrong
with me? Bobbi asked herself, saying good night to Jennifer again and trudging back down the gravel driveway.

Her breath rose in puffs of white steam against the cold night air.

But Bobbi didn't feel the cold.

In fact, she felt hot. Feverish. Her forehead throbbed, a sharp pain just behind her eyes.

Why am I seeing things?

Am
I seeing things?

Am
I cracking up? Really cracking up?

The headlights seemed to skip and dance as she drove through the silent darkness back to her house on Fear Street. The house was dark except for the porch light. She realized everyone must have gone to bed.

Tossing her jacket onto the banister, she hurried up to her bedroom and, without turning on the light, shook Corky awake.

“Huh?” Corky cried out, frightened, and sat up stiffly.

“It's me,” Bobbi whispered. “Wake up.”

“You scared me to death!” Corky cried angrily. She never liked to be awakened.

Bobbi clicked on the bedside lamp. “I saw Jennifer walk!” she blurted out.

Corky yawned. “Huh?”

“I think I saw Jennifer walk. I'm not sure, but—”

“What time is it?” Corky asked crankily. “You must have been dreaming.”

“No. I wasn't asleep,” Bobbi insisted. “I was standing outside her house. I saw shadows.”

Corky stretched, turned, and lowered her feet to the floor. She brushed a strand of blond hair from over her eyes. “You saw shadows?” Her face filled with concern. “Bobbi, I'm really worried about you.”

“No! Really! I saw her,” Bobbi said, not realizing that she was almost shouting. She stood over her sister, her hands knotted tensely in front of her, feeling hot and trembly, the pain still pulsing behind her eyes.

“Maybe we should tell Mom and Dad,” Corky said, glancing at the bedside clock. “I mean, just stop and think for a minute, Bobbi. First you told me you saw all the lockers at school open and close when you walked down the hall. Then you told me you were paralyzed at practice this afternoon. You couldn't move. You couldn't even speak. And that's why you let Kimmy fall.”

“But, Corky—”

“Let me finish,” Corky said sharply, holding up a hand as if to fend Bobbi off. “Then there was that weird story about Chip, about how he froze, too, and couldn't move. And now you come home from Jennifer's and—”

“But it's
true!
” Bobbi cried. “It's all true. I mean, I
think
it's true. I think—I—Don't you
believe
me, Corky?”

Corky was holding her hands over her ears. “Stop shouting. You're screaming right in my face.”

“Sorry. I—”

“Let's go tell everything to Mom and Dad,” Corky urged. “I really think you have to go talk to a doctor or something. I think you need help, Bobbi. I really do.”

“You don't believe me,” Bobbi accused heatedly, bitterly, her head throbbing. “You don't believe me.”

Without thinking about it, she picked up Corky's pillow and heaved it at her angrily.

“Hey—” Corky cried, grabbing the pillow and tossing it back in its place.

“Just don't talk to me!” Bobbi snapped. “Traitor!”

“Oh, fine!” Corky screamed. “That's just fine with me! You're crazy, Bobbi! Crazy!”

Bobbi stormed over to the closet. “Shut up! Just shut up! Don't talk to me! Ever again!” She began to tear off her clothes, tossing them on the closet floor, muttering to herself.

Corky punched her pillow, fluffed it, and slid back under the covers, turning her back on her sister.

She's gone totally crazy, she told herself. She's just so weird!

Imagine—calling me a traitor because I think she should talk to someone and get help.

Me, a traitor.

And now she's gotten me so upset, I'll probably be up all night.

I hate her. I really hate her, Corky thought darkly, struggling to get comfortable. She just makes me so mad.

♦ ♦ ♦

Corky might have been more sympathetic. She might have been more understanding. More caring. More believing.

But Corky had no way of knowing that this was the last night she would ever spend with her sister.

“O
kay, everyone—some aerobics to warm up!”

Bobbi trotted enthusiastically onto the gym floor, clapping her hands, trying to get the girls up for their after-school practice.

But they lingered against the wall, clustered in pairs, talking quietly.

“Come on, everyone—line up! Let's warm up!”

Bobbi's eyes wandered from girl to girl. Where's Corky? she wondered, and then remembered that Corky had to stay late in Mr. Grant's science lab. She saw Jennifer wheel herself in, concentrating as she maneuvered her wheelchair through the double doors. Jennifer saw Bobbi and smiled, giving her a little wave.

“Line up!” Bobbi insisted.

“Where's Miss Green?” Kimmy asked, stepping forward slowly, holding her wrist with the white cast on it awkwardly.

“I don't know,” Bobbi told her. “Are you going to warm up with us? Or does your wrist—”

“My wrist is no concern of yours,” Kimmy snapped. “I'm not quitting the squad because of it, if that's what you mean.” Her eyes burned angrily into Bobbi's.

“Let's warm up! Come on, everyone!” Bobbi called out, ignoring Kimmy's anger.

Slowly the girls moved away from the wall and formed a line in front of Bobbi. Bobbi started up the tape player. They began their aerobic exercises, the same routine they had followed since school began.

But they performed halfheartedly, grudgingly, without enthusiasm.

“Come on—let's work up a sweat!” Bobbi cried, working doubly hard, as if to make up for their feeble effort. But the girls ignored her. Debra and Ronnie, she saw, were carrying on a conversation while going through the motions.

Bobbi glanced toward the wall. Jennifer gave her a thumbs-up, but it didn't cheer her. The girls, she knew, were deliberately not cooperating.

She stopped the music. “Let's work on Steam Heat,” she suggested. “Ronnie, do you want to take the end this time?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want to take the end? You can lead it.”

“I don't know.” Ronnie shrugged. “Whatever.” She turned back to her conversation with Debra.

Without Corky, I don't have anyone on my side,
Bobbi realized, suddenly overcome by a powerful wave of depression. Only Jennifer, I guess. But even she doesn't want to speak up for me in front of the girls—not after what happened to Kimmy.

“Okay, line up for Steam Heat,” Bobbi called out, struggling to keep up a show of enthusiasm.

“I think we should wait for Miss Green,” Kimmy said defiantly.

“Yeah. Let's wait,” Debra added quickly.

“No reason to wait,” Bobbi said unsteadily. She glanced up at the scoreboard clock. Three forty-five. “We know what we have to work on, don't we?”

“I still think we should wait,” Kimmy said, a definite challenge to Bobbi's authority.

“Yeah. Wait,” Debra muttered nastily. Heather and Megan nodded in sullen agreement.

It's a mutiny, Bobbi realized, suddenly dizzy.

“Line up!” she insisted, glancing at Jennifer, whose smile had faded. She was watching the proceedings with a look of concern. “Kimmy, if you have something to say to me—” Bobbi started.

“I think Miss Green has something to say to you,” Kimmy replied smugly. Beside her, Ronnie snickered out loud.

The double doors swung open, and Miss Green entered, taking long, rapid strides, carrying a bulging briefcase. “Sorry I'm late,” she called out, heading to her office in the corner.

Seeing them on the floor, Bobbi by herself in front of the sullen-looking group, Miss Green stopped. “You've started?”

“Not exactly,” Kimmy told her, shooting Bobbi a meaningful glance.

“No one seems to be in the mood to work today,” Bobbi reported reluctantly.

Miss Green shifted the heavy briefcase to her other hand. “Bobbi—could I see you in my office for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bobbi replied, dread building in the pit of her stomach, her throat tightening.

“Everyone—let's cancel practice for today, okay?” Miss Green said, her eyes on Kimmy.

Uh-oh, Bobbi thought. She could feel the blood pulsing at her temples.

“We'll regroup tomorrow afternoon,” Miss Green said.

Talking quietly among themselves, the cheerleaders obediently moved off the floor and began to collect their belongings. Bobbi realized that all of them were avoiding looking at her. She caught a smug grin on Kimmy's face, but Kimmy quickly turned her head and walked away with Debra and Ronnie.

They all know what Miss Green is going to say to me, Bobbi realized.

And I know too.

As the gym quickly emptied out, Bobbi followed Miss Green to her office, her heart pounding, her legs suddenly feeling as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

Miss Green dropped the briefcase onto her desk. She sifted through a few pink phone-message sheets, then looked up at Bobbi. “Health forms,” she said, patting the briefcase. “They weigh a ton. You've got to be strong to be in the phys. ed. department.”