by R. L. Stine
“Catherine—where are you? What have you done to me?” Lea cried.
“It will be fine,” the voice inside Lea’s head said mysteriously.
“You—you’re inside me!” Lea realized with horror. “Inside my brain!”
She was still standing in the attic room. At least, she thought she was standing. She couldn’t feel her legs, she realized. Or her arms. Or anything.
Catherine has taken over my body, Lea thought. I’m still inside—but I’m no longer in control.
“It will be fine,” Catherine repeated. This time the words came out of Lea’s mouth—in Lea’s voice!
“Catherine—please!” Lea pleaded. “I’m frightened. I feel so strange.”
“I’m frightened too,” Catherine replied in Lea’s voice. “I’ve never been outside before. I won’t hurt you, Lea. I promise. And I’ll separate myself from you when we reach Marci’s house. It doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“No,” Lea admitted. “It just feels so strange. I feel so light, so weak. So out of control.”
“I’m sorry if it frightens you. But it would be impossible to travel any other way,” Catherine said, speaking softly through Lea’s lips. “It would take all my energy. I’m not strong enough to travel any distance on my own.”
“And you promise you’ll get out of my body when we reach Marci’s?” Lea asked warily.
“Of course,” Catherine reassured her. “I am forever in your debt, Lea. You are so kind to invite me out. I don’t want you to be frightened.”
Catherine’s words calmed Lea. In a few seconds she was descending the ladder, a passenger in her own body. A few seconds after that, she had pulled on her down jacket and was walking toward Marci’s house.
“Marci lives on Hawthorne Drive, just a few blocks from here,” Lea informed Catherine.
“It’s so beautiful out here,” Catherine said.
Lea’s feet crunched over the carpet of brown leaves that covered the ground and sidewalk. The sun had already lowered, leaving only a few traces of pink and scarlet in a graying sky. The sweet and pungent aroma of burning wood filled Lea’s nose. Someone down the block had a fire going.
“Everything is so magical, more beautiful than I ever imagined,” Catherine said. Lea could feel warm tears sliding down her cheeks.
“I guess I usually take it all for granted,” Lea admitted.
They turned onto Hawthorne. Marci’s house was just a few houses down the tree-lined block. The houses here were rambling and old, in style not much different from the houses on Fear Street, only in better condition, the lawns carefully manicured and raked clean of leaves.
“It’s so exciting to be in a real body again!” Catherine exclaimed. “To feel the air on my face. To feel the cold. Just to feel!”
“I’m glad,” Lea replied with less enthusiasm than she had intended.
If Catherine likes being in my body so much, will she leave it when we get to Marci’s? Lea wondered, her fear returning. Will she keep her promise?
What will I do if she refuses to leave?
“Here we are,” Lea said as they walked up the gravel drive. Marci’s house was white shingled, the shingles recently painted, with black shutters framing the windows, a sloping red roof on top.
As they stepped onto the front porch, Lea began to feel strange. For a brief moment she felt again as if she weighed a thousand pounds. And then she could feel the weight floating up, up, up from her body.
She raised her arm.
Lea was in control again.
She felt perfectly normal.
“Catherine?” she whispered.
“I’m right beside you,” Catherine, invisible, whispered back. “I’m so excited, Lea. This is the happiest day of my life.”
Catherine kept her promise, Lea thought with relief. I guess I can really trust her.
She rang the doorbell. “Now let’s see if we can ruin Marci’s day,” she whispered.
Despite her excitement, Lea was suddenly filled with doubt. What am I doing here? she thought. This is crazy. Insane. I let my anger control me. I just wasn’t thinking clearly. This can’t work.
But then she thought of Marci in the hall at school, making up stories about her, and she remembered the two girls who snickered as she passed. Her doubts faded to the back of her mind.
Lea rang the bell again. She heard rapid footsteps approaching from inside. The porch light went on above her head. Then the door was pulled open halfway, and Marci poked her head out, surprise on her face.
“What are you doing here?” Marci asked coldly, her breath smoking against the evening air.
“I—I want to talk to you,” Lea stammered.
Marci’s coldness, her obvious hatred, made Lea want to shrivel up into a tiny ball and roll away.
“I’m kind of busy,” Marci said, looking Lea up and down, her face showing her obvious disapproval.
“Just a few minutes,” Lea insisted, her anger returning, helping to restore her confidence. “I think we should talk about a few things.”
“Write me a letter,” Marci snapped, and she pushed the door hard to slam it.
But the door didn’t slam. It remained open a few inches.
Marci was pushing against it, but the door wouldn’t close. She checked to see if Lea’s foot was blocking it, but Lea was standing a foot back from the door.
“Hey! What’s going on!” Marci cried, confused. “The door is stuck.”
Catherine is doing a great job already, Lea thought, secretly pleased. She pushed past Marci and stepped into the front hall, ignoring Marci’s hostile, suspicious stare.
“There’s a reason I live on Fear Street,” Lea said darkly, raising her eyes to Marci’s. She had rehearsed that line all the way home from school.
“What do you mean?” Marci asked.
The front door slammed shut behind Marci. She jumped, startled by the noise. “What’s with that stupid door?”
Lea laughed, nervous laughter she tried to disguise as evil.
“I want you to stop telling lies about me,” she told Marci, staring into Marci’s pale blue eyes.
“What? Why would I ever talk about you?” Marci asked scornfully. “Who are you anyway?”
“I heard you,” Lea said, feeling surprisingly calm. “I don’t know what you have against me, but I want you to stop.”
“Have a nice night. You know the way out,” Marci said, and started to move off.
As she passed the hall table with a tall, blue enamel flower vase on it, the vase suddenly floated up into the air.
“Hey—!” Marci cried. She stopped short, her back against the wall, and raised both hands as if to shield herself from the flying vase.
“I told you,” Lea said, enjoying Marci’s being frightened, “there’s a reason I live on Fear Street.”
“What do you mean?” Marci cried, watching the blue vase descend back to its place on the table.
“I have powers,” Lea said. “You picked the wrong person to have as an enemy, Marci.”
“Now, listen—” Marci started.
But the coat closet behind her suddenly sprang open, and a khaki raincoat came dancing out, waving its arms, twirling rapidly.
“No!” Marci screamed. “Stop it!”
“I want you to stop,” Lea said quietly, trying to keep a straight face.
Catherine is great at haunting people! she thought.
“This is all a stupid trick,” Marci said uncertainly.
The raincoat collapsed lifelessly to the floor at Marci’s feet.
“Get out of here, Lea. Go on. Get out,” Marci insisted angrily, her back still against the wall, waving her finger at the front door.
“Oh!” Marci’s mouth dropped open and she uttered a cry of terror as her feet suddenly left the floor and she floated up three or four inches.
Wow, thought Lea admiringly. For such a little girl, Catherine is really strong!
Marci kicked and struggled. “Let go!” she shrieked, her face br
ight red, her eyes round with terror. Twisting her body and thrusting her elbows back against her invisible captor, she broke free and fell heavily to the floor.
Panting, she scrambled to her feet. “Mom!” she screamed, pushing past Lea to get to the stairway. “Mom—help me!”
Uh-oh, thought Lea. Maybe Catherine went too far. Maybe picking Marci up was a bad idea.
“Marci—wait!” Lea called.
Marci was racing up the stairs, taking them two at a time, screaming hysterically, calling for her mother.
Lea watched from down below as Marci reached the second-floor landing, where a narrow balcony with a low railing stretched the length of the house. Doors opened off it. Marci started to run down the balcony.
“Mom!” she cried.
Marci’s mother appeared from one of the bedrooms. “Marci, what on earth—!”
Marci was running toward her mother when suddenly, with a loud cry, she tripped and stumbled, grabbing at the wooden railing as she fell against it.
The railing gave way with a sickening crack.
As Marci’s mother and Lea cried out in horror and disbelief, Marci plunged headfirst off the balcony, her hands frantically grabbing at air, grabbing at nothing—until, a second later, a second that must have seemed an eternity, she crashed to the floor below with a loud cracking sound, like that of an egg breaking.
“Oh no! Oh, no! Oh, no!” Mrs. Hendryx was screaming over and over.
Lea reached Marci first. Marci was lying on her back, her eyes wide open, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Her head was twisted at an odd angle. One leg was pulled up behind her back, bent the wrong way.
Lea, feeling for a pulse, leaned over Marci and listened for a heartbeat. Then she pressed her hand under Marci’s nose to see if she was breathing.
“Mrs. Hendryx—I don’t think she’s breathing!” Lea shrieked.
“Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!”
Still chanting her horror, Mrs. Hendryx dropped down beside Marci and cradled her daughter’s head in her lap. “Call an ambulance! An ambulance!” she screamed.
Lea rushed to the phone and, her hands trembling, and pushed in 911.
“Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!” Mrs. Hendryx was seated on the floor, rocking back and forth with Marci’s head in her lap, Marci’s leg still twisted behind her, bent the way no leg should bend. “She’s gone. My baby is gone.”
She was still rocking back and forth holding Marci when four paramedics and two young police officers arrived ten minutes later.
“It was a horrible accident, a horrible accident” was all Mrs. Hendryx was able to say before collapsing on the floor in tears.
The paramedics swung into action, pulling out equipment from their bags, working feverishly, trying to shock Marci back to life. But it was no use. She was dead.
“Marci and I were talking. Well, actually we had an argument,” Lea told the police after the paramedics had called the family doctor for Marci’s mother.
“Did you see her fall?” an officer asked, scribbling rapidly in his steno pad.
“Yes,” Lea told him, choking back tears. “She ran up the stairs. She tripped, I guess. She fell against the railing and it—it broke. And she fell down here.”
The two officers stared down at the body, but Lea couldn’t face her. More uniformed men arrived. Marci’s body was covered with a canvas tarp, and finally the coroner arrived.
There were more questions. More furious scribbling in steno pads. A doctor arrived to help Mrs. Hendryx. “A horrible accident,” she whispered, her face blotchy and puffy from crying. She glanced at Lea as the doctor led her up to her room. “A horrible accident.”
Was it an accident? Lea wondered, watching Marci’s mother being helped up the stairs.
Was it an accident?
Or did Catherine murder Marci?
That wasn’t possible—was it?
“Miss, I asked if you’d like us to drive you home,” one of the officers asked impatiently.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Lost in her thoughts, Lea hadn’t heard him. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Follow me,” he said, heading for the front door.
As she started to follow him, Lea felt the heavy sensation again. The weight pressed down from the top of her head and sank down through her chest and into her legs, until she was completely filled with the heaviness.
Catherine had reentered her body.
Catherine, I need to talk to you, Lea thought as she felt herself become almost weightless.
Catherine, did you murder Marci?
There was no reply to Lea’s thought. Catherine was a presence, but silent.
Catherine, it was an accident, wasn’t it?
I hated Marci, but I never wanted her to die.
Catherine, please tell me it was all a horrible accident.
Silence.
The nearly bare trees whirred by against the clear black sky. A few minutes later the two officers helped Lea out of the backseat of their black-and-white and accompanied her to her front door.
The porch light came on, and the door was pulled open immediately. “Lea—what’s wrong?” her father asked.
Lea rushed into his arms. “Oh, Daddy. Something terrible happened!” she cried. “A girl I know—she died! She died!”
Lea, overcome with the horror of the afternoon, could feel herself growing heavier again for just a second, and then the weight floated up through her body, through her head, until it disappeared.
Catherine had left her, most likely to return to the secret bedroom in the attic.
Mr. Carson, his arms around Lea, searched the officer’s face.
“Your daughter is okay,” one of them told him. “There was an accident. Her friend fell over a railing. It must have been a terrible shock for her.”
Lea allowed her father to lead her into the warmth of the house. She heard the front door shut behind them. Then she could hear the cruiser roar off down the street.
“Lea—what on earth!” her mother exclaimed.
“It was an accident,” Lea blurted out, unable to stop the tears that began to pour down her cheeks. “It was just a horrible accident!”
She tried to eat her dinner, but the cold chicken just wouldn’t go down, and the mashed potatoes tasted like paste.
“I’ve never heard you mention this Marci,” her mother said, sitting across from her, staring at her sympathetically.
“She’s just an acquaintance. I mean was,” Lea said.
“You’ve been through a terrible experience,” her mother said, reaching across the table and taking Lea’s hand. “You can eat later. Why don’t you go up to your room and lie down for a while?”
“Thanks, Mom,” Lea said appreciatively. She pushed her chair back and headed up the stairs.
But she didn’t go into her room. She listened in the hallway to make sure her mom and dad weren’t observing her. Then she silently climbed the ladder to the attic.
I have to know, Lea thought, pushing the ceiling door away. I have to know that it was an accident, that Catherine didn’t murder Marci.
Because if she did murder Marci, then I’m responsible.
If she did murder Marci …
Lea didn’t want to finish this thought.
It was freezing cold in the attic. Feeling very uncomfortable, she turned on the yellow attic light, then made her way to the secret room.
The door was closed.
Without announcing herself, Lea turned the key and opened the door.
Catherine was sitting on the bed, hands folded in her lap, as if she had been expecting Lea. A pleased smile crossed her face.
“Catherine—did you push Marci?” Lea asked without a greeting. A stern expression on her face, she stepped into the room and walked over to the bed, standing over Catherine.
Catherine’s smile didn’t fade. She looked up mischievously at Lea but didn’t reply.
“Catherine—answer me,” Lea demanded impatiently, hands on her hips. “Did you push her? Did y
ou murder her?”
Catherine shook her head, her golden ringlets shaking with it. “It was a dreadful accident,” she said, smiling up at Lea. “A tragic accident.”
“I don’t believe you,” Lea said angrily. “You pushed her, didn’t you!”
“You have no reason to say that,” Catherine said in her teasing, little-girl voice. “You didn’t see me.”
“You were invisible, Catherine. I want to know the truth.”
“I’ve told you the truth,” Catherine insisted, looking past Lea to the half-open doorway.
“No, I don’t think you have,” Lea said. “I really think you floated up those stairs and pushed Marci.”
Catherine rose to her feet and stepped away from Lea. She moved to the dresser against the back wall, then turned to Lea, her back against the dresser. “It worked out very well for you, didn’t it, Lea dear?”
Catherine’s tone, cold and hard, shocked Lea.
Catherine’s face hardened to match her voice. She no longer was the petite young angel. Suddenly she was very old.
“Well? Admit it, Lea. It worked out very well for you. I helped you.”
“You helped me?” Lea was staring hard at Catherine, astonished by the transformation.
“Yes, I helped you. And now it’s time for you to help me,” Catherine said, her face in shadow.
“Help you?” Lea took a step back. “Now, wait a minute, Catherine. I don’t—”
Catherine floated away from the dresser, across the room, until she hovered over Lea. “Yes. You will help me now,” she said, her voice hard, her eyes cold, her features frozen in contempt.
“No!” Lea shrieked and started to run. But the door slammed shut. Spinning around to face Catherine, she screamed at her, “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” Catherine tossed her head back and laughed, scornful, bitter laughter. “I want to be alive again.”
“But, Catherine—”
“I want to touch things from inside a real body, Lea. I want to walk around, feel the ground, smell the air.”
“But I can’t do that for you!” Lea wailed.
