by R. L. Stine
Eddie has slate gray eyes that don’t look real. People think he wears contacts, but he doesn’t. People notice his eyes right away.
He’s lanky and tall and his serious expression makes him look more like a man than a boy. He has a scar on his chin that he doesn’t remember how he got, and it makes him look a little tough. But he’s generally calm and has a soft voice and an easy manner. He’s very confident. Little things don’t bother him.
I think that’s why we’re a good couple. Sometimes I can be like an emotional volcano, and he’s always smooth and steady. When I’m feeling really troubled about something, he always knows how to calm me down.
Ha. Here I am talking like we’re an old married couple. I should be talking about how I don’t really know Eddie. I mean, we’ve been going together for less than a month.
Eddie was watching me, waiting for me to enter the pet cemetery. I grabbed the handle to the gate—and stopped.
I felt a sudden chill. A coldness in the air … I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. My senses felt alert. A kind of warning. My skin bristled, as if all my nerves were standing on end.
I let go of the gate handle and gazed around. No one there. I couldn’t see anything that would make me feel this frightened.
But I felt it. I felt I was in the grip of something very wrong.
I suddenly realized I was holding my breath. Holding it against a strong, putrid odor that seemed to be pouring through the entrance gate.
What smells so awful here?
“Emmy? What’s up?” Eddie’s shout burst into my thoughts.
I took a deep breath, pulled open the gate, and stepped inside. The backpack stuck on the iron frame and I had to tug it free. The gate slammed behind me as I hurried over to Eddie.
“Eddie, there’s something wrong here,” I said breathlessly. “I don’t think you should work in this place.”
His strange gray eyes flashed. “Hello to you, too,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry. Hello,” I said. “But there’s something evil here, Eddie. I can feel it.”
He shrugged his slender shoulders. “It’s a cemetery, Emmy. There’s a lot of dead dogs and cats here. It’s not supposed to be the Magic Kingdom.”
“I-I know,” I stammered. I was beginning to doubt my own strong feeling. But the cold lingered on the back of my neck, and the sickening smell had grown even stronger on this side of the fence.
“Thanks for bringing the backpack,” Eddie said. “You can drop it by that tree.” He pointed. He turned and strode back to a rectangle of dirt between two low gravestones. “Mac has me digging a grave. It’s like a hundred degrees. I’m totally drenched in sweat.”
“Is that what smells so bad?” I said, making a joke.
“Funny,” he muttered. He dug the shovel blade into the dirt.
“Mac is your boss?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. And he owns the place. That’s his office over there.” He motioned with his head to a two-story shingle building across the field. “Mac lives above the office. Do you believe it? He lives in a pet cemetery.”
“Weird,” I said. Then I saw the large green trash bag under a tree. “Eddie,” I said, “what’s in that? Is it—?”
“Yeah. A dead dog,” he said. “Killed last night.”
I blinked. “Oh, wow. Last night?”
Eddie tossed a shovelful of dirt aside. “The owner said it was attacked by a wolf.” He turned to me. “Do you believe that? A wolf in Shadyside Park? So close to your house?”
He kept his gaze on me. “Hey, Emmy? What’s wrong? You’re shaking like a leaf.”
5.
Before I could answer, I heard a shout. Eddie and I both turned to the voice. I saw a big man in a baggy gray sweats trotting toward us. “Hey, how’s it going?” he called.
Eddie introduced him. Mac Stanton, the owner of the place. He was tall and wide with a big pouch of a belly poking against his sweatshirt. He had a perfectly round face with a shaved head, a silver ring in his right ear, and a black neck tattoo I couldn’t make out.
“Hey, Emmy—welcome to Pet Heaven.” He had a hoarse voice, scratchy and kind of high. His smile revealed a gold tooth in front. “I’m putting this dude to work.” He slapped Eddie on the shoulder.
“I’m almost finished with this one, Mac,” Eddie said, mopping the sweat off his forehead again.
Mac studied the hole Eddie had dug, rubbing his double chins with stubby fingers. “I think a foot deeper,” he said. He pressed a fist into his back and stretched. “Normally, I’d help you out with this. But I got a kink in my back.” He winked at me. “I don’t want to tell you how I got it.”
“No problem,” Eddie said, shifting the shovel to his other hand. “I’m just happy to have the job, Mac. You know my family needs the money right now.”
Mac nodded. He rubbed his shaved head. “I gotta get out of the sun. I stroke easily.” He laughed at his own joke. “Nice meetin’ you, Emmy,” he said. He turned and started to trot back toward the office.
“He’s kind of rough, but he’s a nice guy,” Eddie said.
I watched Eddie dig the grave a foot deeper. It didn’t take long. I stared at the bulging trash bag. I pictured a big wolf attacking the dog. The wolf was black. Just my imagination again. Dreams don’t come true. Sensible Me knew that. But …
Eddie climbed out of the grave with a groan. Wiping his sweaty hands on the legs of his jeans, he grabbed the trash bag. He started to slide it down into the grave.
“Whoa!” He cried out as the bag broke. The dead dog tumbled onto the ground at my feet.
I let out a cry and stumbled back. The dog corpse was stiff and it already smelled sour. A black Lab, so messed up I could barely recognize it as a dog. Its eyes had sunken deep into their sockets. The fur … the fur … the fur on its back had been clawed away. Patches of dried blood clung to the shreds. The skin underneath was red and raw.
Like a hunk of rotting meat.
“Ohhhhh.” A moan escaped my throat. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t take my eyes off the disgusting thing.
But I couldn’t stand it. My stomach lurched hard and I started to gag.
“Are you okay?” I heard Eddie call to me. But he suddenly seemed far away. “Are you okay?”
No, I wasn’t okay.
“Urrrrrrp.” I forced my lunch down, swallowing hard. And holding my hands over my mouth, I spun around and ran.
6.
I wrapped my arm around a slender tree trunk. Panting, swallowing frantically, I forced myself not to vomit. The putrid smell lingered in my nose, and I couldn’t blink away the sight of that pink, furless body, covered in scratches and streaks of dried blood.
My whole body trembled. The waves of nausea wouldn’t quit. I pressed myself against the tree trunk, holding on tightly as if hanging on for dear life.
The dog was skinned. Skinned alive.
And much as I tried to force it from my mind, my dream of last night played itself once again in my mind. And I saw the black wolf with its terrifying blue eyes, saw it paw the muddy ground, snarling and drooling, baring its teeth. Saw it leap to the attack with a shrill cry from deep in its animal throat. Clawing and biting furiously.
Just a dream.
But I was a wolf in the dream. I was the blue-eyed wolf with the raven-black hair. I was the one on the attack.
This poor dog had died at the same time I was a wolf in my dream.
Am I making a crazy connection?
“Of course I am,” I told myself. “What possible connection could there be?”
A coincidence. A frightening coincidence.
Stop scaring yourself with crazy thoughts, Emmy.
I started to feel a little better. My stomach was still churning. But the waves of nausea had faded. My heartbeat returned to normal.
I turned to find Eddie behind me, his face solemn and filled with concern. “Emmy? You okay? I’m sorry you had to see that dog corpse. It upset you?”
I n
odded. “Yeah. It was so … red and raw.”
“Well, it’s gone,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I buried it.” He blinked. He had drops of sweat in his eyelashes. The sun was lowering itself behind the trees. But the air still felt hot and humid.
“I’m outta here,” Eddie said. “Come with me. I have to ask Mac something.”
He carried the shovel in one hand and kept the other arm around my shoulders as we walked through the rows of low gravestones to the office at the top of the sloping hill. Mac stood outside the glass door, leaning against the wall, his thumbs tapping rapidly on his phone.
He kept tapping for a long while, then finally looked up. “Eddie, dude—you finished?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Where does the shovel go, Mac?”
Mac pointed. “Just rest it against the side of the building. I’ll see you Monday after school, right?”
“Yeah,” Eddie said. He hesitated. “Listen, Mac … I have to ask you a favor.”
Mac lowered his phone to the pocket of his gray sweatpants. He squinted at Eddie. “Favor?”
Eddie glanced at me. He was normally so confident, but I could see he was nervous. “Mac, do you think I could have an advance on my pay?”
Mac’s expression didn’t change. He kept squinting at Eddie with his narrow dark eyes. Finally, he said, “You’re joking, right?”
“No—” Eddie started.
“You just started today,” Mac said. “You dug one grave. And you want me to advance you your pay?”
Eddie’s cheeks turned red. “I’m seriously desperate, Mac. I’m totally broke. I—”
“Here,” Mac said. He pulled a ragged leather wallet from the sweatpants pocket. “Here. You know I’m a good guy, Eddie. Your stepdad Lou is my cousin, and I’ll do what I can. Know what I mean? I mean, I gave you this job, right? Because you’re blood. You’re family.”
Mac grinned at me. “You got a good girlfriend here, Eddie. She’s class, I can tell. Not like those losers Lou told me you’d been going out with.”
That made Eddie blush even deeper. He lowered his eyes but he didn’t say anything.
“Here. Take this.” Mac handed Eddie a ten-dollar bill.
I saw the disappointment on Eddie’s face. “Mac, ten dollars won’t really help,” Eddie said. “Do you think—”
“Maybe Lou can fork over some money,” Mac said, tucking the wallet back in his pocket.
“You know Lou is on suspension,” Eddie said. “The police aren’t paying him until after his hearing. Lou is furious about it. He doesn’t have any money, Mac. He doesn’t—”
“I’m real sorry. That’s all I got right now, dude. Pay you next week, okay? You two have a good one.” He turned and disappeared into the office.
Eddie stood with the ten-dollar bill folded in his hand. He sighed. “Oh, well. It was worth a try.”
We started to walk toward my car in the front. “I guess he was trying to be nice,” I said. “But his wallet was filled with cash.”
Eddie frowned. “I need this job. I’m not going to start complaining about Mac.”
We walked along the edge of the cemetery. The tall old trees that dotted the graveyard shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight.
Suddenly, Eddie stopped walking and turned to me. He took me by the shoulders and pulled me close. He kissed me, a long lingering kiss.
“Hey, we’ll have fun tonight,” he said when the kiss had ended. “You didn’t tell your parents what we’re going to do—did you?”
“Of course not,” I said.
PART TWO
7.
After dinner, I packed my overnight bag quickly. I knew we were going into the Fear Street Woods. But I couldn’t decide what I’d need. So I just tossed in my hairbrush, a toothbrush, a sweater, and an extra pair of jeans.
The sun was almost down, and the sky outside the bedroom window was a beautiful clear violet color. A warm breeze fluttered the curtains. I felt fluttery, too. I’d never done anything like this.
Humming to myself, I stuffed a gray hoodie into the bag in case it got colder in the middle of the night. Then I struggled to zip the bulging bag. I didn’t even see Sophie in the doorway. How long had she been watching me?
“Oh, hi,” I said. “What’s up?”
She strode into the room with her arms crossed in front of her. Her blue eyes studied me, like they were trying to pierce my brain. “Where are you really going?” she demanded.
I played innocent. “Huh? What do you mean?”
She lowered her hands to her waist. “You told Mom and Dad you were staying over at Rachel Martin’s,” she said. “But I know Rachel is away with her parents.”
She had this triumphant gloating smile on her face. As if she’d just won some kind of contest. “You have to learn to stay out of my business,” I said softly.
She flinched. You’d think I slapped her. Sophie always tries to confront me with things. I guess being the younger sister she feels she has to stand up for herself, or maybe prove that she’s as good as I am.
She picks a fight and then she always backs down instantly. It’s such a weird pattern, and it happens all the time. She never wants me to be mad at her.
Her eyes went dull and she stuck out her lips in the pouty expression she always puts on. “Emmy, you never invite me to come along on anything fun,” she whined.
I frowned at her. Not this tired old speech again.
“It’s because I don’t have a boyfriend—isn’t it,” she said.
I sighed. “It’s because you have to have your own friends, Sophie. You know. Your own life. I like to spend time with you—”
“No, you don’t.”
“Come on. I have a right to be with my friends and my boyfriend.”
Her mouth dropped open and her chin trembled. I could see how angry she was. But I didn’t care. I hoisted the bag onto my shoulder and edged past her and out the doorway.
* * *
I scooted around to the passenger side so Eddie could drive my mom’s car. He was in a good mood, laughing about his first day at the pet cemetery, joking about what a horrible job he had. It made me happy to see him like that. He’s usually too serious about himself and obsessed with his family’s problems. It was so nice to hear him laugh.
He looked ready for our all-night party in the woods. He wore a maroon-and-white Shadyside High sweatshirt over his jeans, and a baseball cap pulled down over his dark hair with the words GO, REDBIRDS across the front.
The last time he wore that cap, I asked him who the Redbirds are. He said he didn’t know. He found the cap on a curb when he was walking to school.
He squealed the car onto the turn to Park Drive and gunned it. There were no other cars in sight. But I began to think maybe Eddie was too psyched for our adventure tonight.
I grabbed his wrist. “Slow down.”
“Can’t wait to get to the woods,” he said. He leaned to the side and nuzzled my cheek with his lips.
“Eddie—please!” I cried, pulling away from him. “You’re not watching the road.” I had to shout over the music. Eddie has a Metallica Thrash Metal station on Pandora that he blasts so loud your ears wiggle. Seriously.
The sprawling houses of North Hills whirred past, their window lights yellow-orange against the darkening sky. Eddie clicked off the music. “Let’s play our game,” he said.
“You are in a good mood,” I said. He only likes to play the game when he’s feeling good. I gasped. “You just went through a stop sign.”
“No one around,” he said. He slowed the car to make the turn onto Fear Street. “Ready to play?”
Eddie’s game is called “Can You Keep a Secret?” It’s not really a game at all. The rules are simple. Each of us reveals some deep, dark secret that the other one must keep forever.
I think it’s fun. But it’s the kind of thing Eddie usually hates. We were at a party a few months ago before we were going together, and he refused to play “Truth or Dare.” Instead, he
walked out of the house, shaking his head.
I was going out with his friend Danny Franklin then. Danny told me, “Eddie hates to tell people anything about himself. He likes to keep it all to himself.”
“I think he’s just shy,” I said.
Danny shrugged and didn’t reply.
The old houses on Fear Street, set way back on tree-studded lawns, were mostly dark. Eddie slowed the car as we followed the winding road to the woods.
“I’ll go first,” he said. “Here’s my secret.”
“You’ve enrolled in astronaut school and you plan to spend the rest of your life alone on Mars,” I said.
He slapped my hand gently. “Don’t try to guess. That’s not the game. You’re not supposed to guess.” His dark eyes flashed in the light of an oncoming car. “But, yes, you’re right,” he said. “That’s my secret.”
I gave him a shove. “Seriously. What’s your secret?”
His smile faded. “I don’t have a driver’s license. I lost my license after I was in that accident on River Ridge last month.”
I stared at him, unable to hide my surprise. “For real?”
He nodded. “That’s my secret. Now you have to keep it.”
The trees of the Fear Street Woods rolled past, darker than the sky. Through my window, I glimpsed a sliver of a moon, still low over the trees. It looked just like the silver moon pendant I always wear, the pendant given to me by my Great Aunt Marta when I was little.
“What’s your secret?” Eddie demanded. “Stop stalling.”
“I wasn’t stalling,” I said. “I was looking at the moon.”
“Emmy, you can look at the moon all night. What’s your secret?”
“Well…” I hesitated. “You know how I’ve been trying not to eat meat. So … I have this huge craving for a cheeseburger.”
Eddie laughed. “Good secret.”
But I suddenly wished I hadn’t said it. I dreamed about being a wolf, I thought. And suddenly I have a strong craving for meat.
That isn’t like me. That isn’t like me at all.
