Party Games (9 page)

But then his expression changed. He seemed to freeze. His eyes went wide, and he made a gurgling sound.

“Brendan? Are you okay?” I called. “Are you
choking
?”

“Omigod,” he murmured. “It can't be. It
can't
be.”

The room grew quiet again. Brendan's hands were shaking. He grabbed the edge of the food table to steady himself. “Great-Aunt Victoria,” he said, his voice cracking.

We drew closer. I could barely hear him.

“Did I ever tell any of you about my father's great-aunt Victoria?”

No one replied. Eric flashed me a look, like:
What's up with Brendan
?

Brendan picked up a bottle of water and took a long swallow. Then he turned back to us.

“My dad told us the story. You see, Victoria Fear inherited this house a long time ago. I don't know exactly when. Dad said she was a very weird person. She didn't like other people. She didn't get along with anyone. She lived here alone for many years.”

Brendan finished the water in the bottle and tossed the bottle to the floor. “Victoria had only one thing in life that she enjoyed. It was taxidermy. You know. Stuffing animals after they died. She collected
hundreds
of animals. No exaggeration. Hundreds. And she spent all her time in her taxidermy room, stuffing animals, putting them back together, mounting them. And—”

“What does this have to do with what happened to us?” April interrupted.

“I'm getting to it,” Brendan replied. “This is the weird part. Sometimes other members of the Fear family would come to the house to visit. This was supposed to be a summer house for the whole family. But Victoria never wanted to share it with anyone. And many times, my dad told me, visitors would find a dead animal under the sheets of their bed. It was crazy Victoria's way of telling them they weren't welcome.”

April opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. No one spoke.

Brendan tapped his hand tensely against the tabletop. “You probably don't believe in ghosts,” he said. “But if you were a member of my family, you would believe. And I know it's totally insane, but I really think—”

Eric spoke up. “You think the ghost of Victoria Fear put dead animals in their beds to tell us to stay away from this house? Do you also believe that fairies and elves have a midnight dance in the woods under the full moon?”

Brendan shrugged. “I know what it sounds like. But you have to remember about my family … About this house.”

“Give us a break, Brendan,” Geena said, shaking her head. “
You
put the roadkill in our beds. So we'd all be scared and get in the mood for your scary party.”

“No way!” Brendan cried. “That's sick. I wouldn't do anything like that. How
could
I? When? When could I do it? I was at the Tigers' game. Isn't that right, Kerry? You saw me at the game—right?”

Kerry nodded. “Yeah. I saw you there. About halfway up the bleachers.”

“I just want to have a fun party,” Brendan said. “I don't want to scare anyone. You don't have to believe in ghosts. But you have to believe me. I didn't do it. Maybe someone else was out to scare you, someone who didn't want you to come to Fear Island.”

He paused for a moment. “Just let me tell you the rest of the story,” he said finally. “No one knows how or when Victoria Fear died. But my dad said that one summer, probably in the 1920s, a distant relative named Dennis Fear came to this house to see Victoria. No one answered the door. He stepped inside and found room after room cluttered with stuffed animals.
Real
animals.

“He searched the house for Victoria. And in a bedroom upstairs he found her. She was standing in front of a fireplace, eyes glowing. He called to her, but she didn't move. Dennis walked over to her and discovered the most horrifying thing he'd ever see in his lifetime.

“Victoria had been stuffed. The job was perfect. She looked totally lifelike. Dennis couldn't believe it. His eyes moved from her face down. And then he saw the long needle in her hand. And he started to scream—because he realized that
Victoria Fear had stuffed HERSELF.
”

 

13.

“WORRY MUCH?”

 

I lingered behind as the teams headed out of the ballroom, holding their scavenger hunt lists, talking mostly about Victoria Fear. Brendan walked over to me. “Ready?”

“For sure,” I said. “So, you like to tell ghost stories?”

He didn't smile. “My family has enough of them,” he said softly.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You didn't make that story up?”

“I don't have to make them up,” he answered. “Trust me. Let's go. We don't want to give everyone else a head start.”

I raised the list. “You really don't know where anything is?”

He raised his right hand. “I swear. Let's start on the third floor.”

“Why?”

“Because it hasn't been used in a lot of years, and it's filled with rows of empty bedrooms. Perfect places for hiding stuff.”

He put his hand on my back and led me to the ballroom door. “It'll be pretty dark up there. You're not afraid of the dark, are you?”

“Terrified,” I said. I gazed into his eyes. “Why do you keep asking me if I'm scared?”

He shrugged. “No reason.”

“I don't scare easy,” I said.

He smiled. “We'll see.” He held open the door for me, and we stepped out of the ballroom. I could hear kids down the hall. Some chose to start on the first floor. Others were climbing the broad stairway at the front entry hall.

“We'll take a shortcut,” Brendan said. He led the way down the hall toward the back of the house.

“This isn't fair,” I said. “You know the house better than anyone.”

He grinned. “Don't worry about it, Rachel. You want to
win
—don't you?”

Pale gray evening light filtered in from a tall, dust-smeared window at the far end. We passed the enormous kitchen with stacks of dirty plates and cups on a long counter. Warm air floated out from the kitchen, carrying the tangy aroma of the pizzas that had been baked there.

“I … I have to tell you something,” I said. “I was walking down the other hall, and I heard something. It was Randy, I'm pretty sure. And he was calling for help. I tried to go see him. But these two workers stopped me and—”

Brendan squeezed the back of my neck. A gentle squeeze, but it startled me “Worry much?” he said.

“Well, the workers blocked my path and—”

“Randy is fine,” Brendan said. “Antonio told me he's totally okay. He'll have a bump on his head, but he will be fine. Come on. Follow me. We have a game to win!”

I stared hard at him. I wanted to believe him. But how could I be sure that he was telling the truth?

We started walking again. The hall made a sharp turn to the right. The carpet ended and our shoes clicked on dark hardwood floors.

Brendan stopped and turned to the wall. I saw a door with a small round window in the center. He pushed a black button on the wall, and the door slid open.

“An elevator!” I cried. “You have an elevator in your house?”

He nodded and motioned for me to step inside. A small bulb in the ceiling sent a cone of orange light over us. The elevator was tiny. Maybe three or four people could squeeze in.

“My grandfather had it put in,” Brendan said. “In her last years, my grandmother was in a wheelchair. She couldn't use the stairs. So he would take her up to her room in this elevator.” He grinned. “
Every
house should have an elevator, right?”

“Not mine,” I said. “It's only one floor.”

He laughed. “Well, your elevator could go
sideways
.”

The door slid closed. He pushed a lever, and the car started to rise. It made a loud hum. We moved very slowly. The ceiling light flickered.

Brendan kept his eyes on the window. I saw a flash of light as we passed the second floor.
He's so cute,
I thought. And then, without thinking, I blurted out: “How come you invited me to your party?”

He spun around.

“I mean … we're in some classes together,” I said. “But we're not friends. I mean … I was glad, but…”

Please. Let me just swallow my tongue and choke to death on the elevator floor. How stupid am I?

Brendan didn't seem to notice how embarrassed I was.

It wasn't the first time I blurted out what I was thinking. Such a bad habit.

“I saw you hanging with Amy a lot,” he said.

“Yeah. She's my best friend,” I said. “You don't know her very well, do you?”

He frowned. “No. I don't. We've never been in the same classes and—”

I didn't hear the rest of Brendan's sentence, I shrieked as the elevator jolted. The light went out. The car stopped. I blinked into the total darkness. It was so dark, I couldn't see Brendan even though he was right next to me.

“Stalled,” he said calmly. “Stalled between floors.”

“Can you … d-do something?” I stammered.

“It hasn't been used in a long time. I should have tested it.”

“But, Brendan—”

My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. I watched him work the control lever back and forth. The car didn't budge.

“Is there an alarm?” I asked. “Can we call someone to help us?”

“No. No alarm.”

My heart started to pound. I could feel the blood pulsing at my temples. Sometimes I get really claustrophobic. “Well … is there enough air to breathe?”

“Probably. But it's already stuffy in here, isn't it.”

“People will notice. They'll miss us. They'll search for us.”

“Eventually,” Brendan said.

I stood there, silent for a moment, trying to force my heartbeats to slow down. Brendan turned to me. He slid his hands around my waist. Again, I thought he was going to kiss me.

And he did. Gently at first, then with more feeling.

His lips moved over mine. He shut his eyes. At first, I was hesitant. But then I kissed him back. So intense. I didn't want it to end.

Finally, he lifted his head and whispered, “That was nice.”

My heart was suddenly pounding. I could still feel the warmth of his lips on mine.

“But … the elevator—?” I said finally.

He grinned. “The elevator is fine. I just wanted to kiss you.”

“I … I don't
believe
you!” I cried. But the truth is, I was thrilled. “You scared me nearly to death just for a kiss?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much. Couldn't help myself,” he said.

I struggled to read his expression, half-smiling, half-studying me.

He turned and shoved the control lever. The ceiling light flickered on, and the car jerked, then began to rise again.

“I don't think you'll be a good partner if you just want to flirt with me,” I teased.

“I'll be a good partner,” he said. He squeezed my shoulder. “I promise.”

The door slid open, and I followed him into the third floor hallway. The air was hot up here, and it smelled sour, like old clothes. Again, the only light came from the darkening gray sky through a tall window at the end of the hall.

“I'll try the hall lights,” Brendan said. He flipped a switch on the wall. Then flipped it several times. “No. No lights. The generator must be off.”

I squinted at him. “This is another joke, right?”

“I wish.”

I gazed down the hall. It seemed to stretch on forever in a straight line with rooms on both sides. I couldn't see the end of the hall. Too dark.

The floor creaked under the thin carpet as we began to walk toward the first doorway. We were the only ones on this floor. The other guys were still exploring downstairs.

“I forgot about flashlights,” Brendan said. “I should have passed them out to everyone.”

I heard a fluttering sound from down the hall. Like curtains flapping in the wind? I followed Brendan into a small bedroom. At least, I
thought
it was a bedroom from the size. There was no bed or dresser. No furniture at all. Cartons were stacked in tall towers against one wall.

“Some of these rooms haven't been used in years,” Brendan said. He tugged the cord of a window blind and let some gray evening light wash into the room. “Rachel, do you have your list?”

“Yeah.” I pulled it out of my pocket.

Brendan was on his knees behind a tower of cartons. “Check this out.”

I stepped up behind him and gazed at the object he was holding. A gigantic egg.

“It's an ostrich egg,” he said. “Is it on the list?”

I raised the paper and gazed down the list. “No. No ostrich egg.”

“Too bad.” He set the big egg down on the floor. He pointed. “See if there's anything in that closet. Then meet me in the next room.”

I edged through two stacks of boxes and stepped up to the closet. I grabbed the knob, twisted it, and tugged. The door didn't budge. I tried again. Twisted the knob the other direction and gave a hard pull.

The door flew open. Startled, I stumbled backward. I caught my balance and stared into the closet. Empty. I took a few steps closer. I saw three shelves, all empty. The floor was coated with a thick carpet of white dust.

“Nothing here,” I said, then realized Brendan wasn't there. I pushed the closet door shut and stepped out of the room. “Brendan?” My voice sounded hollow in the long narrow hallway.

I heard the flapping sound again. I squinted into the gray light. Couldn't see anything. I stepped into the room across the hall. “Hey, Brendan?” No. The room was dark and empty.

“Brendan? Where are you?” I shouted.

No reply.

I heard the flapping again, and a high, shrill chittering sound. Mice? No. Mice don't flap.