First Evil (8 page)

“I thought it went a lot better, that last time,” Corky said, offering an encouraging smile.

“Liar,” Bobbi muttered.

Corky shrugged. “No. Really.”

“Thanks,” Bobbi said dryly, watching Jennifer and Miss Green still talking animatedly.

“You coming straight home?” Corky bent to scratch one knee. Her hair was damp from perspiration.

At least one cheerleader is really trying, Bobbi thought miserably. “Go on without me,” she told her sister. “I've got to get all my stuff.”

Giving her a quick, playful salute, Corky obediently headed to the door. With a sigh, Bobbi turned and saw that Jennifer and Miss Green had disappeared into the advisor's office in the corner.

She pulled the whistle from around her neck and, swinging it by its cord, began walking slowly toward the door. Being cheerleader captain is supposed to be
fun
, she thought regretfully.

Well, she told herself, I'll find a way to win them over. Maybe even Kimmy. Once again she remembered Kimmy's cold stare, and shuddered.

She stepped into the hallway, which was empty and silent. Her sneakers squeaked along the hard floor. She turned a corner, climbed the stairs to the first
floor, and headed to her locker to collect her books and jacket.

The long corridor stretched before her like a tunnel. The lights had been dimmed to save energy. Gray lockers lined both walls. The classrooms were dark and empty.

Bobbi coughed, the sound echoing through the long tunnel.

The loud crash behind her made her jump and cry out.

She spun around in time to see a locker door swing open, then slam shut.

“Oh!”

Another crash. In front of her.

She turned to see two lockers against the right wall swing open.

As she stared in disbelief, two more lockers pulled open. The doors seemed to hesitate, then slammed shut with deafening force.

Her mouth open in a silent cry, Bobbi gaped in astonishment.

Doors slammed, then swung open again.

Bang. Bang.

The sound echoed until it became a terrifying roar.

Bang. Bang.
Both rows of locker doors swung open at once, as if pulled by invisible hands.

“No!” Bobbi cried.

This isn't happening. I'm
imagining
this!

Her heart pounding, she dropped the whistle and began to run. Past swinging, slamming locker doors. Through the echoing sounds, a barrage like gunfire.

“No! Stop!”

The wall of lockers on her left swung open in unison, then slammed shut with a deafening
crash
.

“No! Please!”

She held her hands over her ears and ran.

And then she heard the screams.

A girl, screaming in horror.

High-pitched, shrill screams of anguish, of pain.

Who's there? Bobbi wondered, running between the slamming lockers. Who
is
it?

The girl screamed again, the sound rising above the thunder of the lockers.

And again.

Bobbi's sneakers pounded against the floor. She ran blindly through the dark hallway, locker doors swinging open, then slamming shut on both sides of her.

Another scream of agony.

Bobbi reached the end of the corridor, turned the corner, and stared in surprise.

N
o one there.

The front hall was deserted.

Silence.

“Hello?” Bobbi called.

No reply. No screams. The only sound now was that of her loud, gasping breaths.

“Hello? Anyone there?” she called out in a hoarse, choked voice.

Silence.

No one.

Confused and frightened, her hands pressed tightly to her burning cheeks, Bobbi turned back. And peered cautiously down the long, dim corridor.

The dark lockers along the walls were all shut tight.

Her ears rang from the crashing, banging sounds
they had made. But now they stood still and silent. She took a reluctant step, then another, expecting them to fly open again, to begin their frightening symphony.

Silence.

No lockers banging. No girl screaming in terror.

Her legs trembling, Bobbi made her way to her locker. She opened the combination lock with a shaking hand and pulled the door open.

She glanced down the hall. Still silent and empty.

The silence seemed to echo in her mind.

Am I cracking up?

Am I totally losing it?

She pulled out the things she needed, stuffed them into her backpack, locked the door, and ran.

♦ ♦ ♦

At home, in the upstairs room they shared, Corky didn't believe her. “You're very tired,” she said sympathetically from her desk, where she was trying to cram in a little homework before she had to leave for the game. “You've been under a lot of pressure.”

“You don't believe me?” Bobbi shrieked, immediately angry at herself for not keeping her cool.

Corky stared at her sister thoughtfully. “Locker doors flying open?”

“I know it sounds crazy—” Bobbi started.

“The hall was dark, right?” Corky interrupted, tapping her pencil against her open textbook. “It was late. You were tired. Practice was rough. You're nervous about the game tonight.”

Bobbi started to protest, then changed her mind. With a loud sigh, she tossed herself onto her bed. “I
wouldn't believe me either,” she muttered softly. “I wouldn't—”

She stopped and gasped in horror, staring across the room.

Corky followed her sister's frightened gaze.

Both girls watched in silent terror as the closet door swung open.

“I
t's—it's happening again,” Bobbi uttered, her voice a choked whisper.

Corky raised her hands to her face, her eyes wide with fear, and stared openmouthed as the closet door continued to move.

And Sean stepped out, a triumphant grin spread across his face, his eyes sparkling with evil glee. “Hi,” he said, giving them a nonchalant wave.

“Oh!” Bobbi jumped up, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

“You little creep!” Corky screamed. She grabbed Sean by the neck and pretended to choke him.

He collapsed to his knees in a fit of giggles.

“How long have you been in the closet?” Bobbi demanded, joining Corky in holding him down on the floor.

“It wasn't me. It was a ghost,” he said.

Both girls began tickling him furiously.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” he cried, squirming and laughing.

All three of them were laughing hysterically now, wrestling on the floor.

Digging her fingers into Sean's bony ribs, Bobbi glanced up at the clock. “Oh.” She rolled away and stood up. “Come on, Corky. We've got to eat dinner and change. We'll be late for the game.”

Corky gave Sean one last hard tickle, then climbed to her feet.

“Shadyside's going to lose,” Sean called after them, following them downstairs. “Shadyside stinks.”

♦ ♦ ♦

The excitement of the game, the cheers of the Shadyside fans who filled the stadium, the white lights cutting through the chill of the night, making the field brighter than daylight under the starless black sky, forced all thoughts of that afternoon from Bobbi's mind.

“Tigers growl! Tigers roar!

Do it again—more, more, MORE!”

Across the field the Winstead High cheerleaders, in their blue and gold uniforms, were clapping and cheering, rousing the few hundred Winstead fans in the away team bleachers. Their cries barely carried over the cheers and shouts that roared down from the Shadyside supporters, and the loud blasts and drumrolls from the Shadyside marching band in their own bleachers near the end zone.

“Tigers roar! Tigers growl!

We want a touchdown—now, now, NOW!”

Her eyes darting back and forth from the game on the field to the crowd in the stadium, Bobbi led the girls through their cheers. They were onstage now, in full view of everyone. The bitterness and rivalries that had created so much ill feeling in practice were all forgotten.

Bobbi was in charge, and no one questioned her commands. She called out the cheers and routines they were to perform as she carefully watched the action on the field.

“Go team, go team, go-go-go-go-go GO!”

The cheers thundered down from the stadium, punctuated by applause and excited shouts. Bobbi glanced quickly down the line of cheerleaders, catching a smile of encouragement from Corky at the far end.

Before the game, Ronnie had complained that she wasn't feeling well, that she thought she was coming down with the flu. But Bobbi saw that she was giving one hundred percent, cheering with her usual enthusiasm.

At the far end of the players' bench, Bobbi spotted Jennifer. She was in her wheelchair, a maroon blanket over her lap, waving her Shadyside pennant. Their eyes met. Jennifer, smiling happily, waved. Bobbi waved back.

Whistles blew on the field. Bobbi heard laughter
spread across the stadium bleachers. She turned to see the cause of the interruption. A white wirehaired terrier had run onto the field.

Two Shadyside players were trying to chase it to the sidelines. But the dog, enjoying the attention, ran in wide circles, its stub of a tail wagging furiously.

Finally one of the referees managed to pick the dog up. He jogged to the sidelines with it to a loud chorus of good-natured boos. Then whistles rang out for the game to resume.

Bobbi stared over the heads of the players on the bench, watching Chip lead the offense out of the huddle. The first quarter had been pretty even. Both teams had been able to move the ball, although neither team had scored.

Now, as the second quarter began, the Tigers were starting on the Winstead thirty-five-yard line. Good field position. The cheers grew louder. The noise level in the stadium rose as if someone had turned up the volume control.

Watching Chip step behind the center, Bobbi wondered what he was thinking. Was he thinking about the Winstead linemen staring at him from under their helmets, about to come charging toward him? Was he thinking only about the play he had called? Was he nervous? Was he scared to death?

She decided she'd have to ask him these questions when she met him after the game.

After the game. She forced that thought out of her mind. She couldn't think about that now. She had to concentrate, stay alert, stay on the ball.

She heard Chip call out the signals in his loud, high-pitched voice. Then she saw him take the snap from center. He took a few steps back. He raised his arm to throwing position.

Another step back, his arm ready to throw.

The crowd roared. Bobbi held her breath.

Chip seemed to freeze, his arm cocked, his feet planted firmly on the grass.

He stood there until two Winstead tacklers swarmed over him and pushed him to the ground.

Bobbi realized she had been holding her breath the whole time. She exhaled, turned to the cheerleaders, and called out a clapping cheer.

What had happened to Chip? she wondered, moving in line and clapping. The crowd responded half-heartedly. The cheer was drowned out by muttering and heated voices. People in the stands must be asking the same question, she realized.

Chip had had plenty of time to throw, but he hadn't even pumped his arm. He didn't seem to be looking for a receiver. And he hadn't tried to scramble away when the line came crashing in on him.

Oh, well, thought Bobbi, it's just one play.

She and the cheerleaders finished the cheer and turned back to the game. Some of the players on the bench had climbed to their feet, so Bobbi had to move closer to see the playing field.

The stadium grew quiet as Chip stepped up to the center, quiet enough for Bobbi to hear the Winstead cheerleaders on the far side of the field.

Again, Bobbi held her breath as Chip took the ball
and stepped back. It appeared to be a running play. Dave Johnson, the Tigers' big running back, came crunching forward, his arms outstretched.