Party Games (22 page)

My hands still gripped the back of the chair. My chest felt as if it was filled with butterflies. As I watched the two cops collect the hunting rifles and lead the two men and Mac out of the ballroom, I wondered if I would ever feel normal again.

Would I see that rifle pointed at me every time I closed my eyes? Is it possible to get over the horror of someone aiming a weapon at you and threatening to kill you?

The door closed hard behind them. Brendan and I were left alone in the vast ballroom.

He stood watching the door, as if expecting them to burst back in. When he finally turned to me, he had a strange expression on his face. I couldn't read it. Was he actually
smiling
?

He walked up to me and led me gently away from the folding chair. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a hug. His cheek felt blazing hot against mine. I couldn't stop trembling, even in his tight embrace.

Finally, I stepped back. “Brendan,” I said, his warmth still on my cheek, “those policemen … How did they know to come here?”

“They didn't,” he said. His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“Huh? Did you call them?”

“No. The phones don't work here, remember?” he said.

“But then … How did they know we were in trouble?”

“They didn't know it, Rachel.” A wide grin spread over his face. “It was part of my game.”

“What?” I screamed. “The whole kidnapping thing—?”

He shook his head. “No, that was real. Dwight and Sal were really here to kidnap me. And they might have killed us. That wasn't a fake.”

“But the two cops?”

“They were part of my Panic game. They were supposed to burst in and arrest all the guests. But they were late, I guess because of the rainstorm.…”

My brain was spinning. My head felt about to explode. “Brendan, please. I'm totally confused. Those two cops…?”

“They're not real cops,” Brendan said, still grinning. “They're actors I hired.” He laughed. “They looked more surprised than the kidnappers. I could see them shaking. Couldn't you?”

“No,” I said. “No. I believed them. I believed they were real cops. I thought maybe they were just new.”

Brendan shook his head. “Their guns weren't even real. We got them at a theater prop store. But I guess they were real enough for Garland and his partner.”

“That's insane!” I cried. “The whole thing. Just insane! You're crazy, Brendan. You really are.” Impulsively, I threw my arms around him. I pressed my mouth to his.

He let go of me and started to the door. “We have to let the others out. They're going to be very confused.”

“I hope … everyone is okay,” I said, following him out to the hall.

He turned to me. “Now I have one major problem.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What problem?”

“What am I going to do for my birthday
next
year?”

 

43.

MORE HORROR?

 

A week later, I was back waitressing at Lefty's after school, trying to pretend that everything in my life was back to normal. I say
pretend
because it wasn't exactly true. I was having vivid nightmares every night in which I was being chased by someone who wanted to kill me.

And the short walk home after work now filled me with anxiety. Every leaf that blew against my ankle made me jump. Every moving shadow made me cringe with sudden fear.

“It'll take time,” Mom said. “But it's all over, Rachel. Just keep telling yourself it's all over.”

Well, I guess it
was
all over for me. And for Brendan, too. We spent hours in the police station explaining what had happened—to
real
police officers this time.

Dwight Garland and his partner, Sal, were charged with kidnapping and assault.

And as for Mac … Well, the situation was pretty messed up. He was being charged as an accessory to his dad's crime. But it hadn't been decided whether Mac's case should be tried in a juvenile court or adult court.

So, things weren't exactly normal even though I pretended they were. I didn't even take a day off. I went back to school on Monday and back to Lefty's as if nothing had happened.

I was mopping around a table after two little kids spilled most of their dinner on the floor when Amy walked into the restaurant. She wore a red hoodie over faded jeans. She gave me a wave and sat down in the first booth.

Amy had been a wonderful friend all week. She had been so understanding and kind when I described what happened on Fear Island. And she never once said, “I told you so. I told you not to go.”

She even said she liked my new short haircut.

It was a quiet night at Lefty's. The restaurant was nearly empty. Most kids from school were home studying for midterms. I walked over to Amy and dropped across from her in the booth. “Hi. What's up?”

“Did you hear about Mac?” Her eyes were wide with excitement.

“Good news or bad?” I said.

“Good news for him. The police dropped all charges. They said he wasn't an accomplice. Because he tried to stop his father.”

“Wow. That's good,” I said. “Did you hear? Is he coming back to school?”

“No. He and his mom are moving. Again.”

“Wow,” I murmured. I didn't know what else to say.

Amy brushed her hair off her forehead. “Have you seen Brendan?”

“We're going out next week,” I said.

“So you two are seeing each other?”

“Kind of,” I said. “We went through so much. I guess it made us kinda close.”

Amy nodded. “You mean like brother and sister, or what?”

I didn't answer. “He's so weird,” I said. “He confessed to me he was sorry he scared everyone so badly at his birthday party. But, know what Eric told me? Eric told me Brendan is working on a scary new game for his next party.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Another scary game? You're kidding.”

“That's what Eric said.”

“I warned you about him, Rachel. Seriously. I warned you about getting involved with someone in the Fear family. They're all totally weird. I mean it.”

I shook my head. “You're wrong, Amy. Brendan isn't
that
weird. Besides, we're taking it a day at a time.”

That was a lie. I still had a crush on Brendan. If only he could give up the games. The disaster at his party hadn't cured him at all.

“I just stopped by to say hi,” Amy said, climbing to her feet. “I'll be up all night studying for the Chem test. Call me later?”

“For sure,” I said. I heard the kitchen bell. I stood up and started to cross the restaurant. I glanced back in time to see Amy walk out the front door—and someone else enter.

At first, I didn't recognize her. She was too unexpected and too out-of-place. Impossible. But after a long moment of confusion, I realized I was staring at my sister, Beth.

I recognized her smile first. I thought,
Beth can't be here
. But, there she was. She had a navy poncho over a short black skirt, and black fur-topped boots nearly up to her knees. Her dark hair was different. It had blonde highlights in the front.

Lefty hit the kitchen bell again, but I was racing down the aisle to hug my sister. We wrapped our arms around each other and held each other tight, as if she'd been gone for years instead of only a few months. She smelled of cinnamon. Her cheek was cold from the air outside.

“Beth—I-I don't believe it!” I stammered. “When did you get home? What are you doing here?”

She practically had to peel me off her. “I came to see you,” she said. “You look okay.”

“Yeah. I'm fine. But … how—?”

“I heard you had a bad time, Rachel. Mom called me. She told me all about it. She said I didn't have to come home, but I wanted to.”

“I'm so glad. I'm … stunned. Really. I … I missed you so much, Beth.”

She shook her head. “I'm sorry. I haven't been good at keeping in touch. I didn't know freshman year would be so challenging. I mean … it's so different.”

She looked just like Mom when she frowned like that.

“No worries,” I said, squeezing her hand. “How long can you stay?”

“Just till Sunday night. I can't miss my Monday classes. But we'll have plenty of time to talk. I want to hear everything, Rachel. I mean, you can tell me anything you like about what happened at that party.”

“Well…” I'd been dying to talk to her about it. But now I felt reluctant. I guess because it was pretty much over.

“I know,” Beth said, her eyes flashing. “We'll have our good old weekend, do everything we did back in the day. We'll hang out at the mall Saturday afternoon and laugh at all the weird people, and try on a million things we won't buy, and run into everyone we know. Then we'll call out for two pepperoni pizzas, and be total couch potatoes, and watch the
worst
horror movies all night on Netflix.”

My mouth dropped open. I grabbed Beth by the shoulders. “Horror movies?
Horror
movies? I don't think so.”

*   *   *

Beth and I had an awesome weekend. We spent so much time talking, laughing, and having fun, I didn't get to unpack my bag until after she left. That's when I discovered something missing.

In all the horror and excitement, and my eagerness to escape Fear Island, I'd left my tangerine jacket behind. The jacket I treasured because my aunt in New York had sent it. I remembered where I left it, in the ballroom when we came in from the rain. I called Brendan. “Did anyone find a jacket? The clean-up people? Did they bring back an orangey jacket?”

“No. No jacket,” he said. “It's probably still where you left it, Rachel.”

“Can we go get it?” I asked. “I really need it. I mean, is the house open?”

Brendan arranged for a motorboat and pilot to take us to Fear Island on Saturday afternoon. It was a dark day with heavy storm clouds low in the sky, a lot like the day of the party. A steady, cold wind pushed the waves high around us as we roared toward the dock.

Seeing it as we approached made me shiver.
Too many bad memories on this island.

It started to rain just as we reached the house. A jagged bolt of lightning crackled over the roof.

Brendan fumbled with the keys and finally unlocked the front door. “Go find your jacket,” he said. “I'll be right there. I want to check something in the garage.”

I pushed back the hood of my parka and stepped into the front entryway. The air was cold in the house. There were no lights. I glanced down the long hall to the big ballroom where the party had been held. The wood floors gleamed in the gray light from the hall windows.

The house was silent except for my footsteps as I made my way to the ballroom. I pulled open the doors and stepped inside. The room was bare. No furniture. No jacket.

Maybe I left it upstairs in that bedroom,
I told myself. I hurried back down the hall and took the stairway to the second floor. I stopped at the landing and gazed down the hall. Clean and silent and empty.

I turned and started to the first bedroom. The bedroom had been cleaned. The beds were made. The dresser top empty. No jacket. No sign of my jacket.

I checked the closet. I got down on the floor and looked under the bed.

No. Someone must have found it and … Maybe they hung it in the coatroom downstairs.

Stepping into the hall, I heard a sound. A scrape. And soft
thud
.

“Brendan? Is that you?” My voice rang out down the empty hallway.

No reply.

A rectangle of light slanted out from a bedroom doorway down the hall. I heard more noises. Was someone else here? Brendan said the house was empty.

I strode down the hall, slid the bedroom door open, and stepped inside.

I gasped when I saw the long table at the far end of the room. It was covered with animal parts. Squirrel legs. A bushy tail. A cat torso. A stuffed owl perched on a block of wood.

Oh, noooo.

Then I saw the woman behind the table. She had her back to me. I could only see her long, scraggly white hair flowing down her back. Flowing over … my jacket.

She was wearing my tangerine jacket.

“Excuse me!” I called out. “Hello?”

She didn't move at first. Then slowly … very slowly, she turned around.

And my mouth dropped open in a silent cry.

She had no face. The long white hair framed a grinning skull. A skull perched over my jacket. Her sunken eyes remained on me as she picked up a small knife—and plunged it into a fat squirrel belly.

I finally found my voice and uttered a shrill cry.

I heard running footsteps. From the hall.

I spun around. Brendan burst through the doorway. “Rachel? What's wrong?”

I turned and pointed. “S-She—” I stammered.

He squinted at me.

I gaped at the front of the room. No one there. And no dead animals. No animal parts. The table stood completely bare—except for my tangerine jacket, balled up on one corner.

“You found it. There's your jacket,” Brendan said. “What is your problem?”

Trembling, I grabbed his arm. “Brendan, this room. T-This house…” I stammered. “All those old stories. The house … it really is haunted.… It—”

Brendan laughed. He squeezed my hand. “Come on, Rachel,” he said. “You don't believe those crazy stories—
do
you?”

 

Also by R. L. Stine

 

SERIES

Goosebumps

Fear Street

Mostly Ghostly

The Nightmare Room

Rotten School

 

INDIVIDUAL TITLES

It's the First Day of School … Forever!