by R. L. Stine
Pam groaned. “Well, I can’t even get a vacation job there.”
“Huh?” Clay tossed the stolen can to Mickey, who missed. It dropped onto the street.
“You heard me,” Pam said bitterly. “I said I couldn’t get a job at Dalby’s. My cousin said—”
“But Mitch Castelona called me just before I met Mickey,” Clay told her. “Mitch said your cousin Reva was giving out jobs. Mitch got one and so did Lissa.”
Pam felt her throat tighten in anger. “Reva gave them jobs?” she asked shrilly. “When?”
“Tonight,” Clay told her.
Pam let out a cry of disgust. “She gave them jobs tonight?”
Clay nodded.
Pam furiously tossed the end of the muffler back over her shoulder. “I’m going to get Reva,” she said in a low voice she didn’t recognize. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. But somehow, I’m really going to get her.”
Chapter 5
REVA’S LITTLE JOKE
Reva maneuvered the silver Volvo with her left hand, leaving her right hand free to push the radio buttons. They play the worst music at Christmastime, she thought, stabbing quickly from station to station. If I have to hear “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” one more time, I’ll scream!
It was a gray Sunday, cold and damp. The sun had come out briefly in the morning, then retreated behind a thick curtain of clouds.
Feeling tense and out of sorts, Reva had driven to her health club, intending to jog and work out for a while and then take a swim. But the pool was closed because of some sort of filter problem, and so her plans were frustrated.
Now, as she was driving past sprawling Shadyside High School, Reva wondered how she could fill up the rest of the afternoon. The tall evergreen near the main entrance to the school had been decked with twinkling Christmas lights, which were turned on even though it was the middle of the afternoon. The school was closed and dark. No sign of life.
Just six more months and I’ll be out of there forever, Reva thought with a mixture of emotions, eagerness and relief, tinged with sadness. She had been accepted at Smith, her first choice, and would be heading there in the fall.
She was thinking about how senior year was turning out to be the longest year of her life when she spotted someone she knew loping along the sidewalk. Hitting the brake, she pulled over to the curb and lowered the passenger side window. “Hey—Robb!”
Robb Spring had been walking with his hands in his coat pockets, leaning into the wind, his bare head lowered. He looked up as Reva called to him and smiled when he recognized her.
“Hi!” Reva called, smiling back. She had always liked Robb. For years he’d followed her around like an adoring puppy. He was nice and funny, a lot of fun. But she’d never go out with him because he was overweight.
I just couldn’t go out with such a buffalo, Reva told herself. She hadn’t been very subtle about turning him down, and eventually he had given up.
She hadn’t really talked with him in months. He had a girlfriend, she knew, and he was very involved with a jazz quartet he had formed. She had heard that he was a very talented pianist but had never heard him play.
“Reva, how you doin’?” He came trotting over, his breath steaming up in front of him. Robb’s curly brown hair was unbrushed, as usual. His brown eyes, which always seemed to be laughing, peered into her car.
“I’m doing okay,” Reva said. “How are you doing?”
He shrugged and laughed. “Okay, I guess. Just running some errands for my mom.”
“You’re such a good boy, Robb,” she teased.
“I can be bad too,” he replied suggestively, leaning into the car with his head lowered.
They chatted for a while, catching up. Then, as they talked, Reva had an inspiration.
Robb would make a great store Santa, she thought. Daddy said one of his Santas quit and he needs a replacement. Well, Robb would be perfect. He’s so jolly. He has just the right personality for it. And he’s so roly-poly, he wouldn’t even need any padding!
“Hey, Robb, do you need a job this Christmas?” she asked, pleased as she thought about how happy her dad would be with her.
“Yeah. I guess,” Robb said. “I planned to pick up some money shoveling driveways for people. But it’s been a little slow . . . since it hasn’t snowed. I offered to shovel anyway. You know, for half price. But no takers.” He grinned at her, his round face pink from the cold.
“No. I’m serious,” Reva said. “My dad said I could hire some people to work at the store. You know. Dalby’s.”
“Really?” His expression turned serious. “Well, that would be excellent, Reva. You know, things have been tough at my house. We could really use the money.”
“Well, great,” Reva said. “You can start Saturday.”
“For real?” he asked.
“Yeah, for real,” she told him, wondering why he never brushed his hair. She suddenly had another idea. Why not play a little joke on Robb too? He had a good sense of humor. He’d appreciate it. Eventually—maybe.
“Listen, I have a special job in mind for you,” she said, picturing him in a Santa Claus suit.
“Huh? What kind of job?”
“It’s a—uh—public relations job,” she said.
He looked doubtful. “Public relations? I don’t know anything about public relations.”
“Don’t worry,” she assured him, “you’ll be great at it. Really.” She couldn’t wait to see him sitting on Santa’s enormous throne with a sticky-fingered kid sitting on his lap, pulling at his white beard.
His dark eyes were lit up with excitement. “Thanks, Reva,” he said. “This is really nice of you.”
“See you at the store. About eight-thirty,” she said. As he thanked her again, she pushed the button to roll up the window and headed down the street.
What a hoot, she thought.
She couldn’t wait till Saturday morning. Robb would show up in a suit and tie, no doubt, ready to begin his important public relations job—only to be handed a bright red Santa costume, complete with beard, wig, and stupid pointy hat. And Lissa would be standing there in her glitziest dress and be sent to the stockroom to unload boxes and stock shelves.
They’ll be mortified, Reva thought, grinning from ear to ear. Mortified!
Congratulating herself on her cleverness, she pulled into her driveway, heading along the row of tall hedges to the four-car garage in back.
♦ ♦ ♦
That night, Reva’s father went out, leaving her to baby-sit for Michael. She played an endless hour of Chutes & Ladders with him, then settled him down with a cartoon tape on the VCR so she could have some time to herself.
She didn’t get him to bed until nearly ten, more than an hour past his normal weekend bedtime. He seemed nervous and clingy and kept making up excuses not to go to bed.
The poor guy is lonely, Reva thought. But what am I supposed to do about it? An entire hour of Chutes & Ladders is cruel and unusual punishment!
Finally Michael agreed to be tucked in only on the promise that Reva would wake him when their father got home so that he could say good night to him. Reva promised, with her fingers crossed, turned out the light on his dresser, leaving only the night-light on, and crept downstairs.
He’s sweet, but he’s a pest, she decided. I can think of better things to do at night than this.
She suddenly thought of Mitch Castelona and wondered what he was doing right then.
Out somewhere with Lissa, no doubt.
Well, enjoy it while you can, Lissa, Reva thought. In a few weeks you’ll be the one sitting home—while I’m out having fun with your precious Mitch.
She picked the new issue of Vogue up off the coffee table and sat down in a big, overstuffed armchair by the fireplace to thumb through it. She was nearly done, having stopped to read only photo captions, when she heard a loud knock on the door.
“Oh!” The sudden barrage of sound startled her.
She turned tow
ard the front hall. Who could it be this late?
She hurried to the front hall and put her face close to the door. “Who is it?” she called.
No reply.
“Who is it?” Reva repeated, listening hard to the silence, suddenly filled with dread.
Chapter 6
SURPRISE ATTACK
“Who’s there?” Reva repeated sharply.
“It’s me,” a voice said finally. A boy’s voice. Hank’s voice.
She made a disgusted face and reluctantly pulled open the door. A cold rush of air blew into the room as Hank, smiling, walked past her into the entryway.
“Hank, what do you want?” Reva asked coldly.
He wore a bulky, fifties-style overcoat, unbuttoned, revealing a gray sweatshirt underneath. His spiky, blond hair caught the light from above.
He continued to smile warmly at her, as if nothing had happened between them, as if she hadn’t broken up with him so cruelly. “Can we talk for a few minutes?” he asked almost shyly.
“What for?” Reva asked, blocking his way into the living room.
“I-I’ve been trying to call you,” he said, his expression serious. “I left messages on your machine. You didn’t call me back.”
“I know,” Reva said, rolling her eyes. “Maybe you should’ve taken the hint.”
She walked past him to the front door, pushed open the storm door, and held it for him. “Good night, Hank.”
He brushed past her and went out onto the front porch. “I just want to ask you something,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “A favor. Not about us. Okay?”
Warily she followed him out onto the porch but didn’t say anything. Another blast of cold air made his heavy overcoat flap noisily. He pulled it tighter.
“What’s the favor? Hurry up. It’s freezing,” Reva said impatiently.
“I’m sorry, Reva. This isn’t easy for me.”
“What do you want?” Reva asked, unwilling to soften her tone. What was he doing here anyway? She was finished with him. Finished.
“I—uh—heard you were giving out jobs. I—uh—wondered if there are any left,” Hank said, blushing. “You know. At your father’s store.”
Reva laughed cruelly. “For you?”
“I could really use a job, Reva. This was hard for me—to come here tonight. You know? Okay, so you don’t want to go out with me anymore. All right. But if there are jobs available, I thought . . .” His voice trailed off. Reva’s cold glare wasn’t making it any easier for him.
“I don’t think so, Hank,” she said quietly.
“Huh?” He stared at her, not believing her casual cruelty.
“I don’t think so,” she repeated, not bothering to hide her amusement.
With an angry cry he grabbed her arm. “What is your problem?” he screamed.
“Let go of me,” Reva ordered.
But he gripped her arm even tighter. Seething with anger, he glared at her. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Let go!” she cried, more angry than frightened. And then suddenly she put her teeth together and whistled, a piercing, high-pitched, steady tone.
Hank’s eyes opened wide in surprise, in confusion, and he dropped her arm.
A second later the shrubs beside the house began to rustle.
Then they both heard a low growl, a frightening sound that rapidly became louder, closer.
And roaring out of the darkness came King, the Dalby’s guard dog, their well-trained Doberman, obeying his attack signal, Reva’s whistle.
The dog had ignored Hank earlier because Hank was a familiar guest at the Dalby house. But now this was the signal. Time to attack.
The dog’s eyes flared red. Then, snarling with automatic rage, the enormous Doberman raised its powerful front paws and leapt against Hank’s chest.
Hank cried out, stumbling two steps backward. “Reva—stop him!”
Ignoring Hank’s cries, Reva moved away, her eyes wide with excitement.
The snarling dog snapped its jaws against the sleeve of Hank’s overcoat.
Hank jerked his arm away, gained his balance, and took off across the lawn. The dog followed, furiously leaping at Hank’s back, biting at Hank’s legs.
Reva watched from the porch, waiting until Hank was all the way to the street before she gave a second whistle, signaling the dog to cease its attack.
Hearing the whistle, the Doberman stopped in its tracks as if its Power switch had been turned off. Panting loudly, it turned and stared expectantly up the lawn at Reva.
Hank pulled open his car door and started to climb inside. But realizing his attacker had been called off, he stopped and, holding on to the car door, stared back at Reva.
She could see the anger on his face illuminated by the light from inside the car.
“I’ll pay you back!” he yelled. “Reva—do you hear me?”
Reva laughed scornfully. “Don’t you like to play with King?” she called. She tilted her head back and whistled loudly again.
Instantly the Doberman sprang to life, deep growls signaling its violent intent.
Reva watched as Hank dove behind the wheel and slammed the car door. A few seconds later he peeled away, leaving the howling, disappointed attack dog at the curb.
Reva hurried back into the house, closed and locked the door behind her. She shivered.
Hank was so ridiculous, she thought. The look on his face when he realized the dog was after him!
What a laugh! Reva thought. What a laugh!
Chapter 7
REVA GOES TO WORK
Reva tried to suppress it, but she couldn’t help herself. She tossed back her head and let the laughter escape.
The other stock clerks in the employees’ lounge turned to see what the commotion was. Lissa glared at Reva, then at Mitch. Then her face turned crimson, and she held her hands up to her face and gasped.
It was eight-thirty Saturday morning, and Lissa had just arrived for work wearing a gray wool skirt, silk blouse and blazer, and high heels. Before even saying good morning she noticed that the other workers were in jeans and sweatshirts and sneakers.
“Reva, what’s going on?” Lissa asked, her eyes surveying the others, who were now all staring back at her.
Reva, trying to keep a straight face, started to answer, but before she could say a word, Donald Rawson, the head of the stockrooms, walked over to Lissa and scowled at her.
That was when Reva lost it. She started to laugh.
Lissa, blushing hard, turned to Mitch for support. Reva could tell by the expression on Mitch’s face that he felt really bad for Lissa, but he avoided Lissa’s glance and didn’t say a word.
“We generally tend to dress down a bit in the stockrooms,” Donald Rawson told Lissa, rubbing the top of his bald head.
“I—I thought I was going to be at a perfume counter,” Lissa stammered. “I mean, Reva told me to dress glitzy, and—” She glared at Reva.
“I’m so sorry, Lissa,” Reva gushed. “I guess I got the information wrong. Can you ever forgive me?” Reva was dressed conservatively in a straight skirt, navy blue sweater, and pearls.
Some of the other stock clerks giggled loudly across the room.
Rawson flashed them a warning frown. “Miss Dewey, perhaps you’d better go home and change,” he suggested to Lissa. “But hurry back. Several trucks came in this morning. We have a lot to uncrate today.”
Lissa gave Reva one last angry glance, then bolted from the room, her high heels clicking across the concrete floor.
Almost as soon as she disappeared out the door, Robb entered, peering around the small room uncertainly. He was dressed in a brown wool sports jacket, dark brown slacks, a white shirt, with a green- and brown-striped tie.
He had a bright red Santa costume draped over his arm. He searched the room, spotted Reva, and angrily marched up to her.
“Reva—if this is your idea of a joke, it isn’t very funny,” he said, gesturing with the costume.
The hairy whi
te beard fell to the floor, and when he bent down to pick it up, the Santa hat fell. Everyone was laughing.
“I don’t believe you. I really don’t,” Robb said to Reva, ignoring them.
“Robb, lighten up,” Reva said, enjoying his distress immensely. “You’re perfect for Santa. You won’t even need any padding!”
More laughter. Robb’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.
“Reva, I see you’re up to your old tricks,” Donald Rawson said, shaking his head with disapproval.
“Who? Me?” Reva asked with exaggerated innocence.
“We’ve got to get to work,” Rawson said sternly, glancing up at the large wall clock above his head. “The store is opening at nine-thirty.” He turned to Robb, who was standing still and breathing heavily, obviously very upset. “Are you going to put on the costume?”
“I guess so,” Robb said grudgingly. “I’d like to forget the whole thing, but I really need the money.” He sighed. “Maybe it’ll be fun.”
“You were born to play this part,” Reva said enthusiastically.
“That’s enough, Reva,” Rawson said sharply. “Isn’t it time for you to get to the cosmetics counter?”
“You’re a salesperson?” Mitch asked, surprised, the first words he had said all morning.
Reva nodded with a smile. “Daddy wanted me to start at the bottom. But I refused.”
“Reva, please—” Rawson snapped. “I have to give the new workers their assignments.” He raised the clipboard he’d been holding at his side.
“Before I go upstairs, I just wanted to speak to you for a moment,” Reva said, grabbing Rawson’s arm and pulling him aside. She held on to the clipboard and studied it for a moment. Then she leaned forward and whispered confidentially to Rawson, just loud enough for Mitch to overhear. “I want to make sure that you put Mitch and Lissa in different departments.”
She watched Mitch’s eyes light up, then turned back to Rawson. “I see you’ve already done that. Thanks.” She let go of the clipboard and started toward the door. “See you later, Mitch,” she called softly, giving him her sexiest smile.
