The Wish (Nightmare Hall)
Page 12
“And you gave Julie that mirror?”
Bennett looked blank. “Mirror?”
“What did you do to Kiki? How did you make Marty lose his voice?”
His face registered total bewilderment. “Alex, I didn’t do any of that. I don’t have that kind of power.” He nodded toward The Wizard. “It was him. I did the rest of it, though. For him.”
“Him?”
“Well, you don’t think I’d do something like that to Kyle on my own, do you?” He looked wounded. “Gee, Alex, I thought you liked me. Not as much as you like Marty, of course, but…”
“I do, I did, Bennett, but…”
“Well, I had to do it,” he said. He nodded his head toward The Wizard, implacable beside him. “He said it was the only way I could play football again. He’d make my knees better if I did what he said.” Bennett brightened. “And he did, Alex. You saw me in that game Saturday. My knees were fine.”
“Then why are you on crutches now?” she said sharply.
He flushed. “Well, I have to keep doing stuff for him. Every time I did something he asked me to, my knees got better. But they didn’t stay better.” His expression became sullen. “It’s not like I want to do all this stuff, Alex. I have to.”
“No, you don’t. We’re all your friends, Bennett. Football’s not more important than friends, is it?”
Then he shouted at her, “If I hadn’t played football in high school, I wouldn’t have had any friends! I was somebody in high school because of football. I was important. And when I couldn’t play anymore, all of that stopped. I hated that! I couldn’t believe it was all ending so soon. And,” he glanced gratefully at The Wizard, “then I found out it didn’t have to. I could play again. All I had to do was teach a few people a lesson or two. But then,” he said, glaring at her, “you saw me…on the tower, with Kyle.”
“And you had to kill me? Oh, Bennett….”
“You would have told! Anyway, Alex, The Wizard’s right, about the others, I mean. They’re never satisfied. Always wishing, always wanting more…they needed to be taught a lesson.”
It was too insane, too crazy….Bennett had done it for The Wizard? Crazy…
But The Wizard had communicated with her, too, hadn’t he?
“How…how did he tell you what he wanted you to do?” she asked.
“Alex,” Bennett said impatiently, “don’t you know anything about mental telepathy? The Wizard has lots of different powers. Mental telepathy is only one of them. I know what he wants. And he knows what I want.”
Alex tried to think. She couldn’t talk to Bennett rationally. He’d gone over the edge, and she pitied him. But he had hurt her. And she had a feeling he intended to do worse. He had such a strange expression on his face. She had to do something.
“How are your knees now, Bennett?”
He flushed again. “Pretty bad. That’s why…well, I don’t want to do this, Alex, you know I like you. You’re okay. But,” he shook his head, “The Wizard won’t help me again unless I do him another favor. And you made him awfully mad. So,” Bennett’s eyes gleamed, “the favor that he wants this time is getting rid of you.” He began moving toward her. “I don’t have any choice, Alex.” There was pain in his face, but she could tell that it had nothing to do with her. It was clearly physical pain. He was leaning on his crutches so heavily, she knew his knees were killing him.
But that wasn’t stopping him. He continued to advance.
I’m sorry, Bennett, she thought as she lifted the fishing pole and slashed it sideways, knocking his crutches out from under him.
Crying out, he tumbled sideways, slamming with full force into the metal booth behind him. There was a dull thud as his head hit. The booth shook. Bennett moaned, his eyes closed, and he slid to the floor, unconscious.
Just as Alex moved to grab the phone and call for help, The Wizard’s eyes caught hers. They were blazing again, a brilliant, heated blue that stopped her in her tracks. And a voice that wasn’t Bennett’s roared, “You will pay! You will pay!”
“No!” she screamed, as the booth began to rock wildly, whirring and clanking so loudly her eardrums felt like they would burst, “No, I won’t!”
And grabbing up one of Bennett’s crutches, she drove it through the glass of the booth. It shattered, glass flying everywhere, some of it landing in The Wizard’s tall silvery hat. The arms began waving frantically. The eyes rolled wildly. Crying, her hair flying around her face, Alex thrust the heavy crutch through another pane of glass, then another, and another, and when those had shattered, she drove it through the one remaining pane of glass.
When the glass was gone, she used the crutch on the pale-faced Wizard, hammering, pounding, slashing away. She hammered the nose away, watching the plaster crumble with satisfaction, slashed at the open red mouth until it disappeared, pounded at the cheeks, and then, in one final, desperate blow, smashed the head into a dozen pieces that fell, harmless, into the bottom of the booth.
The blazing blue eyes were gone.
The Wizard was no more.
Crying, drained, still holding the crutch, Alex sank to the floor.
Chapter 22
THE STADIUM WAS PACKED. The marching band had spelled out SALEM U on the field. Half-time was nearly over.
Kiki leaned over and drew a handful of chips from the package in Alex’s hands. “So, are we going to win this one or what? Think Marty’ll play at all? I heard him begging the coach when I passed the bench on my way to get my hot dog.”
Alex nodded, fingering the small golden football worn on a chain around her neck. “Of course we’re going to win. And Kyle, Marty, and Gabe will probably all play. In the final minutes, like last week.”
“So,” Julie asked, “are we going to Vinnie’s after the game to celebrate?”
Alex could hear Vinnie’s mentioned now without trembling. She had thought that would never be possible.
But she knew now that anything was possible.
Anything….
Epilogue
“HEY, THAT’S PRETTY NEAT,” the man in the gray overcoat and dark hat tells the antique shop owner. “That wizard thing over there in the corner. What’ll you take for it?”
“That’ll come pretty dear,” the owner replies. “Genuine antique, you know. Had to put all new glass in it, but otherwise it’s in tiptop shape. Works, too. Full of them fortune-telling cards.”
“Tell you what,” the customer says, taking out a cigar and lighting it, “if we can strike a deal, I’ll take it. Opening up a hamburger place out there near the State University. The kids’ll get a big kick out of something like that.” He laughs. “They’re not afraid of the future the way we old folks are. Let’s sit down and talk turkey.”
They sit at a table. At no time do they look up and see the cold, blue eyes watching their every move, listening to their every word.
And so they do not see the red lips curve slightly upward.
A Biography of Diane Hoh
Diane Hoh (b. 1937) is a bestselling author of young-adult fiction. Born in Warren, Pennsylvania, Hoh grew up with eight siblings and parents who encouraged her love of reading from an early age. After high school, she spent a year at St. Bonaventure University before marrying and raising three children. She and her family moved often, finally settling in Austin, Texas.
Hoh sold two stories to Young Miss magazine, but did not attempt anything longer until her children were fully grown. She began her first novel, Loving That O’Connor Boy (1985), after seeing an ad in a publishing trade magazine requesting submissions for a line of young-adult fiction. Although the manuscript was initially rejected, Hoh kept writing, and she soon completed her second full-length novel, Brian’s Girl (1985). One year later, her publisher reversed course, buying both novels and launching Hoh’s career as a young-adult author.
After contributing novels to two popular series, Cheerleaders and the Girls of Canby Hall, Hoh found great success writing thrillers, beginning with Funhouse (1990), a Po
int Horror novel that became a national bestseller. Following its success, Hoh created the Nightmare Hall series, whose twenty-nine novels chronicle a university plagued by dark secrets. After concluding Nightmare Hall with 1995’s The Voice in the Mirror, Hoh wrote Virus (1996), which introduced the seven-volume Med Center series, which charts the challenges and mysteries of a hospital in Massachusetts.
In 1998, Hoh had a runaway hit with Titanic: The Long Night, a story of two couples—one rich, one poor—and their escape from the doomed ocean liner. That same year, Hoh released Remembering the Titanic, which picked up the story one year later. Together, the two were among Hoh’s most popular titles. She continues to live and write in Austin.
An eleven-year-old Hoh with her best friend, Margy Smith. Hoh’s favorite book that year was Lad: A Dog by Albert Payson Terhune.
A card from Hoh’s mother written upon the publication of her daughter’s first book. Says Hoh, “This meant everything to me. My mother was a passionate reader, as was my dad.”
Hoh and her mother in Ireland in 1985. Hoh recalls, “I kissed the Blarney Stone, which she said was redundant because I already had the ‘gift of gab.’ Later, I would use some of what we saw there in Titanic: The Long Night as Paddy, Brian, and Katie deported from Ireland.”
An unused publicity photo of Hoh.
Hoh with her daughter Jenny in Portland, Oregon, in 2008. Says Hoh, “While there, I received a call from a young filmmaker in Los Angeles who wanted to make The Train into a film. They ran out of money before the project got off the ground. Such is life.”
Hoh in 1991, addressing a class at the junior high she had attended in Warren, Pennsylvania.
A 1995 photo taken in Austin, Texas, with Hoh’s grandchildren. Says Hoh, “Although my deadlines for Nightmare Hall were tight, I made time for my grandchildren: Mike, Alex, and Rachel. I'm so glad they live here.”
A current photo of Hoh at home in Austin, Texas.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1993 by Diane Hoh
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
978-1-4804-2192-9
This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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