by R. L. Stine
“Not much,” he said.
“Well, it gets crazier,” I said. I hesitated. I didn’t want Robby to think I was crazy. But I had to tell him the insane, impossible part of the story.
“There was a photo on the wall behind the front desk,” I said. “An old photo of the lodge workers, from 1924. And . . . And I swear, Robby, the desk clerk and the parking guy I talked to—they were in that old photo.”
Robby nodded. His expression didn’t show any surprise. His eyes locked on mine.
I waited for him to react. To say something. Anything. But he didn’t move a muscle.
A cold feeling tightened the back of my neck. “Do you believe me?” I asked, gripping his arm. “Please say you believe me.”
“Did you see me in the photo?” he said finally. His face was slack and his eyes bored into mine. “I was the bellhop in the long red coat and bow tie.”
Thirty-Two
I let out a growl and punched his shoulder. “Not funny. Come on, I’m serious. I’m trying to tell you—”
He pushed my hand away. “You know, the lodge is six thousand feet up. Sometimes a high altitude can mess with the oxygen to your brain.”
I wanted to kill him. I tried to confide in him, to tell him a truly frightening thing that had happened to me. And he had to act like I was crazy or overcome with altitude sickness.
“Look, Robby—” I started.
The plane hit a bump. I grabbed the bottle of water I had on the tray in front of me.
“Were you telling me about a Twilight Zone episode you saw?” Robby said. “You can’t really expect me—”
“Yes, I did,” I snapped. “I expected you to listen to me and believe me and help me figure out what happened.”
I didn’t realize I was shouting until I saw two people turn around to stare at me. Down the row, Mom didn’t lift her head from the magazine she had finally opened.
Robby tapped his fingers on the chair arm. The plane bumped again. “Okay. Let’s see. You saw Aiden, even though he vanished last year and had no business being at the wedding. And then you talked to some hotel workers from 1924. Did I get that right?”
“Look. I know it sounds insane. There’s got to be an explanation, right?”
He didn’t reply. He gazed out the window. The sky was a solid blue, bright and clear. “Say something,” I insisted.
“I don’t know what to say, Harmony. I’m just thinking about those weird jokes you played. Those spells you cast.” He raised his eyes to mine. “The fact that you . . . you’re a witch.”
I uttered a short cry. “I am not, idiot. I’m not a witch. I’m a Fear.”
“And that means exactly what?”
“I taught myself how to do that stuff from books in our attic,” I told him. “You could do it, too.”
He shook his head. “No way. I don’t want to get into that kind of stuff. Maybe you are crazy.”
He turned in his seat to face me. “You know why you did those things at the wedding, Harmony?” he said. “Because you’re so jealous of Marissa. Don’t deny it. You know you’ve always been jealous of her.”
“Robby—”
“In your twisted mind, you just wanted to win something. You wanted to show Marissa. Show her who had the power, I guess.”
“You’re insane,” I said.
“No, I’m not. And I’d never hurt Marissa. I’d never cast spells like those. I’d never try to spoil her big day like that. And I’d never stir up whatever”—his voice dropped to a whisper—“whatever evil our ancestors were up to back in the day. Because that’s what it is. Evil. Maybe that’s why you’re drawn to it.”
Robby’s words really stung. I felt a throbbing pain in my chest, and I felt like I was going to burst out sobbing.
“That’s totally unfair!” I cried, again loud enough to make people turn around. “I played some mean tricks. I shouldn’t have done it. But I would never hurt Marissa. You . . . you don’t suspect me, do you? You don’t think I made her disappear?”
Robby’s expression was hard and cold. “I don’t know what to think.”
I could see that I’d made a terrible mistake. What made me think that I could confide in Robby? Even though he was my twin, he was on Marissa’s side in just about every argument. Even when we were little kids.
Well, none of that mattered now.
Marissa was gone. Our family was broken. Most likely, what lay ahead for us now were tears and horror and years of sadness.
Up till that moment, I’d forced myself to stay optimistic about finding Marissa. But now, sitting silently beside Robby, the two of us avoiding each other’s eyes, I gave in to the darkness, gave in to the idea that our lives were ruined forever.
And then, when we landed in Shadyside and the taxi pulled up to our driveway, the darkness lifted in an instant.
“The car!” Mom cried.
Yes, Marissa’s blue Fusion stood halfway up the driveway.
“It’s here!” Mom scrambled out of the taxi, nearly falling on her face in her rush to the house. Robby scurried around to her side to help her gain her balance.
My heart jumped into my throat. But only for a second. And then I sighed. “Wait. Her car was always here,” I reminded them, my voice breaking. “She didn’t take her car, remember?”
A groan escaped Mom’s throat. Her whole body slumped. Robby held her up.
I hoisted the suitcases from the trunk of the taxi. The driver helped me carry them to the front walk. I paid him and watched him walk back to his car. Mom and Robby were still halfway up the driveway.
“Oh.” I murmured my surprise when I saw someone move in the front window. Sunlight reflected off the window glass. The room was dark behind it.
But I saw someone move. Saw a face, just for an instant. A shoulder. A flash of white. Yes. A white top. And someone walking quickly, caught for a second in the golden glare of the window.
I tore up the front stoop. Fumbled in my bag for the key. Tugged the door open wide and leaped into the entryway.
“Marissa?” I shouted. “Marissa? Where are you?”
Thirty-Three
Mom and Robby crowded behind me. It was warm inside the house, and the living room smelled of floor polish or some kind of cleaner.
“Marissa?”
I heard the rapid tap of footsteps in the back hall. My heart tapped along with each beat. I strode forward, eager to see her, to throw my arms around her, to feel her warm cheek against mine.
I stopped when the blond woman in the white top came into view. “Ada?” Her name burst from my mouth, high and shrill. “Ada?”
She smiled. “You’re home early. How was the wedding?”
Mom and Robby gazed at her in silence.
Ada Barnes. Our tall, beautiful housekeeper who should be a supermodel. I hadn’t remembered that she’d be working today.
Her smile faded. She brushed a hand through her short, wavy hair. “You all look exhausted. Is everything okay?”
“Not really,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her the whole story. My head was spinning. Pain throbbed at my temples. The hope of seeing Marissa home and safe had crashed, and my mind and body were crashing now, too.
“There were some problems,” Mom said, tugging off her jacket. She draped it over the back of the couch. “The wedding didn’t happen.” Her face crumpled. She looked about to start crying again.
Ada gasped. Her big round blue eyes went wide and she pressed a hand over her mouth. “Oh good Lord.”
“I forgot the bags,” Robby said. He turned and hurried out the front door to get them.
“Ada, do you think you could make me a cup of tea with lemon and bring it to my room?” Mom asked, her voice weak, just above a whisper.
Ada nodded and spun away, heading back down the hall toward the kitchen, her shoes clicking on the wood floor.
I checked my phone. No message from Dad. “Should I call Dad?” I asked. “See if anything has happened?”
But Mom was al
ready halfway up the stairs. She didn’t hear me.
I froze with my eyes on the stairway. I knew that Mom would have to pass Marissa’s room to get to her bedroom. I hoped Marissa’s door was closed. I hoped Mom wouldn’t have to look into that silent, empty room.
Marissa, where are you?
Later, Robby was desperate to see Nikki.
“But I need the car to buy groceries,” I said. “The fridge is completely empty.”
“Can you drop me off?”
“Someone should stay with Mom,” I said. “She really isn’t doing well. Especially since Dad hasn’t called.”
“Mom is asleep,” he said. “I peeked in on her a few minutes ago. Besides, Ada is here. I won’t stay long, Harmony. Just drop me off at Nikki’s, okay? You can pick me up on your way home from the grocery store.”
Something about how desperate Robby was made me smile. True love. And for a moment, I had this sad feeling, realizing that I didn’t have anyone I cared about as much as Robby cared about Nikki.
We climbed into Marissa’s car. I sighed. The car smelled like Marissa. She loved this little car. . . .
I cruised through North Hills, our neighborhood, and turned onto Park Drive, which leads to Nikki’s house near the high school. It was a warm, cloudy day, kind of damp, the air heavy, and droplets of drizzle dotted the windshield.
Robby cranked the radio up high and tapped his hands on the dashboard in time to the beat of some pop song. He’s not into that music. I guessed he just put the radio on so we wouldn’t have to talk about Marissa.
That was perfectly fine with me. I didn’t feel like talking, either.
Nikki’s family has a nice house on Kraft Avenue, a three-story brick home with a wide front lawn, and a tall evergreen hedge along the street. Robby clicked off the radio as I pulled into the paving stone driveway. He turned the rearview mirror to him and checked out his hair.
“You look stunning,” I said sarcastically.
“Shut up,” he muttered.
“How about thanks for driving you?”
“Thanks. I know it was a huge favor. I’ll try to repay you someday.” He can be sarcastic, too.
I stopped beside the front walk. He shoved open the door and leaped out of the car. He nearly tripped over one of the two round, white-painted stones that bordered the walk.
I shifted into reverse to back down the driveway. But I kept my foot on the brake and watched as the front door swung open before Robby reached the stoop.
Mrs. Parker, Nikki’s mom, stepped into the doorway. She was dressed in tennis whites, a long-sleeved V-neck top and a short pleated skirt, and she had her platinum hair pulled back in a single braid beneath a white baseball cap.
“Hey, Mrs. Parker. I’m back. I came to see Nikki,” Robby said, sounding a little breathless.
The passenger window was down, and I could hear every word.
Nikki’s mom held on to the front door. “Oh, I’m sorry, Robby,” she said. “You should have called. Nikki isn’t here.” She had a hoarse, scratchy voice. Robby told me she smokes a lot.
“But I did call,” Robby protested. His words came out almost in a whine. He had his back turned to me, but I could imagine the disappointment on his face.
“It was a last-minute thing,” Mrs. Parker said, still gripping the edge of the door.
“I . . . don’t understand,” Robby said. “What do you mean?”
She adjusted the cap over her hair. “Nikki went on a camping trip. With some other girls.”
Robby scratched his hair. “Nikki? Camping? But she didn’t tell me.”
“Like I said, it was a last-minute thing.”
Robby stood staring at her without moving. It was kind of an awkward moment. Like he didn’t know what to say, and she just leaned there with the door half open.
“Oh. Nikki said to tell you not to call her.” Mrs. Parker broke the silence.
“She what?” Robby turned, and I could see the alarm on his face.
“She said the phones don’t work in the woods. No cell towers, I guess.”
“Oh. Okay,” Robby said softly. “Well . . .”
“She knew you’d be worried,” Mrs. Parker added. “That why she said to tell you not to call.”
Another long silence.
“When will she be home?” Robby asked.
Mrs. Parker shrugged. “Probably in two or three days. Depends on the weather, I guess.” Raindrops began to patter the car windshield. “Sorry you came all the way over,” she said.
“No problem,” Robby replied. “My sister drove me.” He motioned to the car.
Mrs. Parker waved at me. Then she nodded good-bye to Robby and closed the front door.
The rain was coming down pretty hard, but Robby didn’t run back to the car. He sort of ambled, head down, hands in his jeans pockets. He slumped into the car, his face scrunched up, thinking hard.
“Roll up the window,” I said. “It’s raining hard. Or didn’t you notice?”
“Nikki is not an outdoors person,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or to himself. “She hates the idea of camping. This is weird.”
“Well . . . she’s unpredictable,” I said. “You have to admit she’s unpredictable—bit of a wild card.”
I backed down the drive and turned toward the Division Street Mall. “It’s not your day, Robby,” I said. “And now you’ll have to come grocery shopping with me.”
He groaned.
“It’s a very short list,” I said. “We can split it up and it’ll take half the time.”
He groaned again. He pulled his phone from his pocket.
“What are you doing?” I asked, pausing at a stop sign.
“Trying Nikki.” He punched her number. One ring . . . two rings . . .
His phone was set loud. Even with it pressed tightly to his ear, I could hear clearly.
To his surprise, she answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Nikki. It’s me,” he said. “Where are you?”
I could hear her laugh. “Why do you keep asking me that? I told you before. I’m home.”
Thirty-Four
Robby blinked. He pulled the phone away from his ear, then pressed it back. “We have a bad connection,” he told Nikki. “I thought I just heard you say you were home.”
“But I am home,” I heard Nikki reply. “Where else would I be, Robby?”
“But . . . I was just at your house,” Robby told her.
I heard a loud click. “Nikki? Are you there? Nikki?” Robby cursed under his breath. “Lost her.”
He pushed her number again. This time it went right to voice mail. He slammed the phone against the dashboard.
“Hey, don’t have a fit,” I said. “Take a breath. Count to ten.”
He grabbed my arm. “Turn around. Turn the car around, Harmony.”
I nearly sideswiped a parked SUV. “Are you serious?” I snapped. “Let go of me. I promised Mom I’d do the shopping.”
“Go back,” he insisted. “Go back to her house. I don’t get this. I mean—”
“Okay, okay,” I said. I switched the wipers on to high. The rain was coming down hard now, swept with strong gusts of wind. I clicked the headlights on. It was nearly as dark as night.
“I just don’t get it,” he repeated.
“Maybe she told her mom she was going camping and went to stay with a friend,” I said.
“You mean another guy?” Robby’s voice rose to the low roof of the car.
“No. I mean . . . well . . .” I realized I’d said a stupid thing. “Uh . . . maybe Nikki’s mom got it wrong. Maybe Nikki plans to go camping next week or something.”
Oh, God. Why didn’t I just shut up? I wasn’t helping the situation any. Robby pushed Nikki’s number again on his phone and again it went straight to voice mail.
A truck sped by and sent a wave of water over my side of the car. I gripped the wheel tightly in both hands and turned onto Nikki’s street. I saw a jagged bolt of
lightning streak down in the distance.
I slowed as we drove onto Nikki’s block. A black SUV was backing down her driveway. I recognized Mrs. Parker’s white baseball cap and platinum hair. “Nikki’s mom is leaving,” I said.
“I’ve got eyes,” Robby muttered.
I knew he was upset. Otherwise, I would have slugged him.
He jumped out before I stopped the car. Ducking his head against the rain, he ran onto the front stoop, splashed through a puddle at the top step, and pounded with his fist on the front door.
I watched from the car, the windshield wipers sending a steady beat as background music. I wanted the door to open. I wanted Nikki to be there. I wanted for Robby not to be disappointed. I wanted him to find out the truth.
Someone needed to find out the truth about something. Because I felt like we were all living in a world of total confusion, a world of no answers, no answers at all. It was exhausting. And more than that, I felt myself on the edge of tears, ready at all times to break out crying.
I could feel my emotions on the surface, feel the prickling tension on my skin, all along my arms and legs, feel the tense tightness in my chest.
So I wanted Nikki to be there. I wanted something to have a happy ending.
But she wasn’t there. Robby pounded the door and rang the bell, shoving his thumb down on it and pushing like he wanted to destroy it. He stood there, rain soaking his maroon hoodie, staring at the door as if he could will it to open.
But no. No Nikki. Nobody at all.
And he slumped back beside me in the car, closed the door, and sat there with his head down for a long time, his rain-drenched hair matted to his head.
“Why did she lie to me?” he asked finally. He wiped rainwater off his cheeks with one hand.
Again, I thought he might be talking to himself. But I answered anyway. “Who knows? Could be a dozen reasons. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but you know she is a total flake.”
He scowled. “You’re so helpful. Thanks.”
“Well . . . maybe she’s in the woods somewhere like her mom said, and she doesn’t want you to worry about her. She thinks you’re still at the lodge. So she told you she was home.”
