First Evil (4 page)

Bobbi smiled at her sister. She settled back in her seat, happy and excited.

The past two weeks had been difficult. The other girls were aloof at first, even resentful. But Bobbi was confident that she and Corky had won most of them over. Kimmy and Debra were still cold to them, still acted as if they were unwanted intruders. But she felt sure that she and Corky would eventually win those two over too.

As the bus rattled down Park Drive away from the school, the rain pounded harder. The trees and shrubs exploded in a white flash of lightning. The thunder seemed to crack right above them.

Heather and Megan began chanting, “Rain, rain, go away.”

Jennifer turned in her seat to face the rest of the
cheerleaders. “It's not going to last,” she announced. “It's just a flash storm. They said on the radio it's going to pass quickly.”

Another loud thunderclap made two girls scream.

Everyone else laughed.

The big wipers scraped noisily, rhythmically, across the windshield, which was covered with a curtain of white steam. Simmons didn't seem to mind—or notice—the poor visibility.

Holding on to the seat-back, Jennifer stood up. “I have a few announcements to make,” she called out, shouting to be heard over the driving rain.

Kimmy and Debra were giggling loudly about something. Jennifer waited for them to get quiet. “First of all, unless it's still drizzling, we'll do the fire baton routine at halftime as planned,” Jennifer said, cupping her hands like a megaphone.

Simmons made a sharp turn onto Canyon Road, causing Jennifer to topple back into her seat. She pushed herself back up, flashing the driver an annoyed look, which, of course, he didn't see.

“If the storm doesn't blow over—” Jennifer continued.

“Oh no!” Corky cried. “The fire batons!”

All eyes turned to the back of the bus.

A flash of lightning seemed to outline Corky and her sister.

“We have to turn around!” Corky declared, shouting over the clap of thunder.

“What?” Jennifer called, her face filled with confusion.

“We have to stop at my house,” Corky explained.
“The fire batons. Bobbi and I brought them home to practice. We forgot them. Can we turn around?”

Several girls groaned, Kimmy the loudest of all.

“It's only a small detour,” Bobbi said, coming to her sister's defense.

“No problem,” Jennifer said, her expression troubled. Standing in the aisle beside Simmons, she tapped him hard on the shoulder.

No reaction.

So she tugged his ponytail. “We have to make a stop on Fear Street,” Jennifer told him.

“Huh?”

“Fear Street,” Jennifer repeated impatiently. “Just turn here.”

Simmons turned the wheel, and the bus skidded into a turn over the wet pavement. Holding on to the seat-back, Jennifer turned back to Corky and Bobbi. “Direct us when we get to Fear Street, okay?”

The two sisters agreed, apologizing again for the detour.

“Oooh, Fear Street,” someone said, uttering a spooky howl. Some other girls laughed.

Kimmy made some kind of wisecrack to Debra, and the two girls giggled together.

The rain fell in heavy sheets, driven by unpredictable, powerful wind gusts. For some reason Simmons sped up. In front of him the big wipers swam mechanically across the steamy windshield.

Jennifer resumed her position in the aisle beside him. “I have just a few more announcements to make,” she shouted.

Staring out the window at the storm, Bobbi saw the
passing houses and trees grow darker, as if a heavy shadow had lowered itself over them, over the whole world. Trees bent in the strong wind. The rain suddenly shifted and blew against the window, startling Bobbi and blocking her view.

Up at the front, Jennifer continued with her announcements. Bobbi couldn't hear her over the pounding rain, the thunder, the angry rush of wind.

Suddenly Simmons reached out and pulled the lever to open the door. The sound of the rain grew louder. Cold, wet air cut through the bus.

“Why did he open the door?” Corky asked her sister.

“I guess to see better,” Bobbi replied thoughtfully. “The windshield is totally steamed.”

“Are we near home?”

The bus sped up. Simmons had his head turned to the open door, his eyes on the cross street, which passed by in a gray blur.

Bobbi stared hard out the rain-blotted window, trying to read a street sign.

Suddenly she realized that something was wrong.

The bus—it began to skid.

There was no time to scream or cry out a warning.

One second they were moving along through the rain. The next second they were sliding, sliding out of control toward the curb.

“Whoa!” Simmons shrieked over the squeal of tires. “The brakes—!”

The tire squeals grew to a roar in Bobbi's ears. She covered them with both hands. She tried to scream, but the sound caught in her throat.

The impact was fast and hard.

What had they hit? A tree? A rock? The curb?

The bus seemed to bounce, to fly up off the road, to bounce again.

Staring in horror and surprise at the front, Bobbi saw Jennifer's eyes open wide. And then as the bus jolted and spun, she watched as Jennifer flew out the open door.

Jennifer's startled scream was drowned out by the squeal of the skidding tires.

By the crunch of metal.

By the shatter of glass.

I
t all took a second. Maybe less.

Bobbi blinked—and it was over.

The screams swirled around her, surrounding her.

She wasn't sure whether she was hearing the squeal of the tires or the cries of the cheerleaders.

And then the world tilted on its side.

With a silent, choked gasp, Bobbi toppled onto Corky. And the two of them, arms flailing helplessly, fell sideways toward the far window.

Which was now the floor.

No time to scream.

It took only a microsecond. Or so it seemed.

The window glass beneath them cracked all the way down the pane like a jagged bolt of lightning.

And still the bus bumped and slid, metal grating against pavement, invading their ears.

Bobbi felt another hard bump. A stab of pain jolted her entire body, made her shake and bounce.

And then all movement stopped. Such an abrupt stop. Such a shattering stop.

I'm okay, Bobbi realized. Her first clear thought.

She was on top of her sister, their arms and legs tangled.

Corky is okay too.

Corky stared up at her openmouthed, her green eyes wide with fear.

All sideways.

She heard muffled cries. Whimpers, like frightened puppies.

“Oh, man.” A loud groan from the front of the bus. From Simmons.

Bobbi pulled herself up. Simmons was trying to stand. But everything was tilted. Everything was wrong.

“Are you okay?” Corky asked in a tiny voice.

“Yeah. I think so,” Bobbi replied uncertainly.

“Then get
off
me!” Corky cried.

She sounded so angry, it made Bobbi laugh.

Hysterical laughter, she realized, and forced herself to stop.

Got to keep control. Control. Control.

Bobbi looked up to find a row of windows above her head.

“Oh,” she said out loud. She finally realized what had happened. The bus was on its side.

It had rammed into a tree or something, bounced off and toppled onto its side, then skidded to a stop.

“How do we get out?” She heard Kimmy call even though she couldn't see her.

In the darkness she saw a tangle of arms and legs.

She heard a girl crying. She heard groans and whispers.

“The emergency door. In back!” someone shouted.

Bobbi reached for the emergency door, and tried pushing it open. It was stuck.

“The windows are faster!” someone else cried.

Kimmy stood up, raised both arms high, struggled to slide one of the windows open. Bobbi, balancing uneasily, tried to do the same.

“Can't you get
off
me?” Corky asked impatiently.

“I'm
trying
, okay?” Bobbi replied, not recognizing her own tight, shrill voice.

The window slid open.

Raindrops hit Bobbi's upturned face. Cold. Fresh.

So clean.

“Is anyone hurt?” Simmons was calling, a tall shadow in the front. 44Is anyone hurt? Who's crying?”

Bobbi raised herself up, grabbed hold of the window frame.

“Is anyone hurt?”

The rain was just a drizzle now. The rumble of thunder was low and far in the distance.

Bobbi pulled herself halfway out of the bus.

The whole world was shimmering, glistening, wet. Fresh and clean.

The bus tires were still spinning.

Where are we? Bobbi wondered. It all looked so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Another face appeared. Debra was emerging from a window closer to the front. “Are you okay?” she called, squinting at Bobbi as if she were far away.

“I think so,” Bobbi replied. “You?”

“Yeah. My wrist—I think it's sprained. That's all.”

They pulled themselves out, smiled at each other, buoyed by the fresh air, the cool wetness, of being alive. Then standing on the overturned side that was now the roof, they leaned down into the windows to help other girls escape.

Time seemed to stand still.

Corky joined her sister, slid to the ground, stretched and yawned as if emerging from a long sleep.

The bus headlights, one on top of the other, cut through the air, casting twin spotlights on the jagged tombstones poking up through tall weeds.

Tombstones? Weeds?

Bobbi lowered herself to the ground, her sneakers sinking into the wet grass. Gripping Corky's ice-cold hand, she turned back toward the street.

Behind them, a tilted street sign read: FEAR ST.

“Oh.” She let go of Corky's hand. “Look.”

The bus had careened off the road and slid over the grass of the Fear Street cemetery. A thick yellow mist, catching the light from the headlights, lingered between the old gravestones, which rose up like arms and legs from the twisting, bending weeds.

“We're . . . in the cemetery,” Corky said, her voice a whisper, her expression stunned. “How?”

“We're only a block from home,” Bobbi said.

“Is everybody out?” Simmons called. He came toward them, taking long strides, his jeans stained at the knees, a bandanna wrapped tightly around a bleeding cut on his arm. “You okay?” he asked the two sisters.

“Yeah,” Bobbi told him.

“Everyone got out,” Simmons said. “No one's hurt too bad.”

Then Bobbi and Corky cried out at the same time: “Jennifer!”

Where was Jennifer?

In the horror of the crash, in the noise and tilting darkness of it, they had forgotten about her.

Jennifer. Bobbi saw her again. Saw her arms jerk up as she flew out the open bus door—almost as if being pulled out.

“Jennifer?” Corky began calling, cupping her hands over her mouth. “Has anyone seen Jennifer?”

“Jennifer. Jennifer.”

The word buzzed through the group of dazed, frightened girls as they huddled together, squinting against the bright headlights, trying to turn things right side up in their minds.

Trying to make sense of everything.

Trying to convince themselves that they were okay. That everything was going to be fine.

“Jennifer. Jennifer.”

And then Corky saw her.

From behind.

Saw her body sprawled facedown, her head resting on the earth in front of an old tombstone, her arms stretched above her head as if she were hugging the stone.

“Jennifer!” Bobbi shouted.

A sudden gust of wind made Jennifer's skirt ruffle. But Jennifer didn't look up, didn't raise her head.

Corky and Bobbi reached her before the others. Bobbi grabbed her shoulders to roll her onto her back.

“Don't move her!” someone yelled.

“Don't touch her! It isn't safe!”

Bobbi looked up to see Simmons standing beside her, staring down at Jennifer sprawled so awkwardly across the old grave site.

“Let's carefully roll her over and get her face out of the mud,” he said quietly.

They tugged her gently by the shoulders.

As they turned Jennifer over, the words etched on the old grave marker came into Bobbi's view: SARAH FEAR. The dates beneath the name had been worn away nearly beyond recognition: 1875-1899.

They laid Jennifer gently onto her back.

“Call an ambulance!” Heather was screaming. “Somebody—call for help!”

Bobbi leaned over Jennifer's unmoving form. “It's too late,” she said, choking out the words. “She's dead.”