The Nightmarys (15 page)

The car brought them swiftly upward.

“Timothy!” cried Mrs. Chen softly when they

reached the room. Standing in the hal , she

grabbed him and squeezed tight. “You came.

I’m so glad.”

“Yeah, I skipped swim practice tonight.”

Mrs. Chen looked at Abigail and struggled to

hold on to her spontaneous smile.

“This is … Abigail,” said Timothy. “She

wanted to see Stuart too.”

“Abigail?” said Mrs. Chen. She’d obviously

heard the name before. That smile became

more of a struggle. “It’s … nice to meet you.

Please, come in.”

Stuart was sit ing in his bed, hugging his

knees, staring at the blanket. A large

snapdragon bouquet sat on the side table. Mrs.

Chen made her way to the table, conspicuously

silent, and began to ddle with the

arrangement. Timothy paused in the doorway.

When Stuart saw Timothy, he burst into tears.

When Stuart saw Timothy, he burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. You were right! I

was such a fart-slap.” Mrs. Chen inched,

pretending not to hear that.

Timothy froze. Abigail was hidden several

steps behind him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” said Timothy.

“Yes, I do. You don’t understand. She’s going

to come back if I don’t. And I don’t want to

think about what she’l bring next time.”

Mrs. Chen rested her palm on his forehead.

She looked nervously toward the door, as if

contemplating cal ing the nurse. “Now, Stuart.

Timothy came to see you. Calm down. Okay?”

“Who …,” Timothy began, “who’s going to

come back?”

Mrs. Chen threw him a look, as if to say,

Please don’t start. But Timothy couldn’t help it.

He needed to know.

“The girl.”

“What girl?”

Tears were streaming down Stuart’s face now.

Tears were streaming down Stuart’s face now.

“Please. You have to forgive me. That’s the only

way to make it stop.”

Mrs. Chen came toward Timothy and pul ed

him away from the bed. She whispered, “He’s

been having these delusions since they brought

him here. They’re running tests to see what

might be causing them.”

“They’re not delusions,” said Stuart, from his

bed.

“Can we …,” Timothy began, “can I have a

second alone with Stuart? I think I might be

able to help.”

Mrs. Chen glanced at Abigail, who was

standing in the hal way, stil outside Stuart’s

eld of vision. Abigail held her hands in front

of herself. She looked terri ed. “I suppose a

short time alone wil be al right,” said Stuart’s

mother hesitantly. “But if he starts throwing

things at … the corner of the room, please cal

me immediately.”

“The corner of the room?” said Timothy.

Mrs. Chen shook her head, then left and

Mrs. Chen shook her head, then left and

closed the door behind her. Once the latch

clicked, Stuart leaned forward again. “You

came,” he said. “That has to mean something.”

His pupils were large, as if he was sit ing in a

room much darker than this one.

“Yeah,” said Timothy. “Wel , I wanted to

make sure you’re okay. I saw Coach Thom pul

you out of the water.”

“You’re here,” said Stuart, ignoring what

Timothy was saying. “Everything’s going to go

back to the way it was before, now. Right?”

“Before?” said Timothy, sit ing on the end of

the bed. “Before what?”

“Before she came,” Stuart whispered.

“Who?”

“Abigail.” He said her name so harshly

Timothy felt a hole open in his stomach. What

would Stuart do when he found out she was

standing in the hal way?

Stil , Timothy answered, “Everything’s exactly

the same as it used to be.” It felt weird lying to

the same as it used to be.” It felt weird lying to

Stuart, but Stuart looked like he needed to be

lied to. “I’m here. It’s al good. Everything is

going to be ne now.” Stuart smiled a true

smile. “Hey, I have a favor to ask.”

Stuart leaned away, cautious. “What is it?”

“Tel me what you’ve being seeing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tel me about … your monster.”

Timothy was surprised at how easily Stuart

opened up. Randy Weiss’s story had been right.

Stuart believed he’d seen the Wraith Wars claw

monster at the bot om of the pool, that it had

dragged him under.

The rst night in the hospital, he began to

hear a voice from underneath his bed. It told

him that his “accident” had happened because

of what he’d done at the museum. Abigail was

angry at him now—a bad thing. The next

morning, after he told a nurse about the voice,

the doctors became even more concerned.

the doctors became even more concerned.

“They think I’m crazy,” said Stuart, “but I

know I’m not.”

Timothy nodded. “I know you’re not either.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve known you forever,” said

Timothy, with nality. “I mean, I’ve always

thought you were a lit le weird, but crazy?

Come on.”

Stuart smiled weakly. Then he continued his

story.

The night before, Stuart lay awake, expecting

the voice to return. Sometime after midnight,

he heard a noise at the foot of his bed. He sat

up and whispered, “Who’s there?” Slowly, a

tal , skinny girl rose up and clutched the bed

frame. Stuart was too frightened to even

scream. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out

her face, but somehow he knew she was

Abigail—a nightmare version even though he

was awake.

“Sorry yet?” Abigail had asked.

“Sorry yet?” Abigail had asked.

“Yes!” Stuart had answered. “Yes, I’m very

sorry. Please, leave me alone.”

“I don’t believe you. You don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it! I’ve never been sorrier.”

She laughed. “I’l know when you’re real y

sorry,” Abigail said. She glanced at the darkest

corner of the room, beside the drawn window

curtain. “He’l tel .”

“Who?” said Stuart. “Who wil tel ?” The girl

was gone, but Stuart knew he was not alone.

He strained to see beyond the shadows into the

far corner of the room, where the girl had

glanced before disappearing. His eyes adjusted

to the darkness. He nal y made out a gure

dressed in a shapeless black robe, propped

rigidly against the wal . Smal , shiny black eyes

stared out from a pale, hairless, and doughy

face. Terri ed, Stuart grabbed the glass of water

o the nightstand and ung it into the corner of

the room. It shat ered above the gure’s head,

but the thing did not move or even respond. It

only continued to watch him.

only continued to watch him.

Then the nurses came. They turned on the

lights. The corner was now empty. Stuart

screamed and struggled and fought, until the

nurses gave him a sedative that made him feel

sleepy and weak. He begged them to keep the

lights on, to stay with him awhile longer, and

they did. But later, even in his dreams, the

thing in the corner of the room watched him,

waiting until he was real y sorry for what he

had done.

No one believed his story. In fact, the more

he insisted on its truth, the more they wanted

to keep him there for observation.

Timothy sat at the end of the bed, stunned.

Stuart had seen an Abigail, the same way

Abigail said she had seen the Nightmarys.

Stuart glanced past Timothy and cringed.

Timothy turned. “Hi, Stuart,” said Abigail. She

stood just inside the room, looking

embarrassed. “Timothy and I came to see how

you’re doing.”

you’re doing.”

“Mom!” Stuart cal ed.

“She’s talking with a nurse down the hal ,”

said Abigail quietly. “She’l be back soon.”

“Please,” said Stuart. “Just take that thing out

of here.”

Anger ashed in Abigail’s eyes. “What did

you just cal me?”

“Not you,” Stuart pleaded. “The thing. The

thing you put in the corner of the room.”

Abigail glanced at Timothy. She raised her

eyebrow. “I’ve never been in this room until

me and Timothy came tonight. I promise.” He

now understood she’d overheard Stuart’s story.

They both looked at the corner of the room

near the window. To them, it was empty.

“Is he staring at you right now?” Timothy

asked. Stuart pursed his lips and nodded

discreetly. “Why don’t you just ask him to

leave?”

“He’l get mad. I know it.”

“But there’s nothing there,” said Abigail.

“But there’s nothing there,” said Abigail.

Silence fel . The three of them stared at each

other for a while before Timothy could think to

say, “We’ve al been seeing scary things this

week, Stuart. Not just you.”

“You have?”

Abigail nodded, then glanced to the corner of

the room. “Yes. We have.”

“We, who?” said Stuart.

“Me and Abigail,” said Timothy. “And Mr.

Crane.”

“Mr. Crane?” said Stuart. “Why? What kind of

scary things?”

Timothy thought of a simple explanation. “A

man has been fol owing me. And Abigail has

been seeing … ghosts. And Mr. Crane—”

“So you’re not making these things happen to

me?” Stuart asked Abigail.

She looked guilty but shook her head and

said, “I wouldn’t even know where to begin to

learn something like that.”

“Then how?” said Stuart. “Why?”

“Then how?” said Stuart. “Why?”

“That’s what we’re trying to gure out,” said

Timothy.

“We want to help you,” Abigail added,

almost reluctantly.

“Help me? Why would you want to help

me?”

“Because you obviously need it.”

Stuart nal y appeared to get it. Folding his

hands in his lap, he quietly said, “If you want

to help me, please, just accept my apology.”

Abigail came forward out of the doorway and

grabbed on to the end of Stuart’s bed. “It was

just a stupid water bal oon,” she said. “I’ve

already forgot en al about it.”

Red-eyed, Stuart licked his lips and glanced

into the corner of the room. “Then why is he

stil standing there?” he asked in a very smal ,

very frightened voice. “Why is he stil staring at

me?”

25.

“What’s wrong?” said Abigail. They were

standing at the bus stop, just outside the

hospital entrance. The wind had picked up.

Thunder rol ed across the river. “You haven’t

said a word since we said goodbye to Stuart’s

mother.” She was right, but Timothy was too

busy feeling overwhelmed to notice.

He suddenly felt a surge of indescribable

anger. “Hmm, let’s see. What’s wrong?” he

echoed Abigail. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s

that I just realized my best friend has lost his

mind, and I’m beginning to feel pret y much

the same way.” Timothy wiped his nose. “My

brother’s in a coma. My parents won’t talk to

me. And—”

“Hey,” Abigail said softly, “you don’t have to

snap at me. I’m just asking a question.”

“I’m not snapping,” Timothy continued,

knowing that was exactly what he’d been

knowing that was exactly what he’d been

doing. “I’m just … I’m just …” He final y

looked at her. She was squinting at him, trying

to gure him out, like she always seemed to be

doing whenever he caught her looking at him.

“I’m sorry.”

They heard an engine shift gears as two

bright headlights came around the far corner of