by R. L. Stine
The waves were high that night, crashing onto shore in different directions, so we passed on the night swim. It was about ten o’clock, and we were walking back to the house to get trashed on red wine and watch some bad TV.
All the lights were on. I headed to my room.
“Maybe The Godfather is on,” Ann-Marie called. “It’s always on somewhere, right? I haven’t seen it in at least a week.”
Thinking about movies reminded me of Colin. He was so passionate about films, so entertaining and interesting. But now I even had second thoughts about that. Was his fantasy life so important to him because his real life was so screwed up?
I stepped up to the low, two-drawer dresser against the wall. I’d brought out a long, flowing cotton beach cover that would be perfect to wear now.
I slid open the top drawer. Empty.
Had I packed everything in the second drawer? I closed the drawer and tugged open the bottom drawer. Empty.
“Oh no.”
My heart started to race. I suddenly felt cold all over.
My clothes were gone. All of them.
“Oh no. Oh no.”
Did Colin follow me out here?
“Ohmigod,” I cried. “Who was here? Who was here?”
45
Ann-Marie came running in. “What’s wrong?”
Speechless, I motioned to my empty dresser drawers. We searched the closet in my room. Then we examined the small suitcase I’d brought out with me for the weekend.
Empty. The clothes had been stolen.
Was the thief still hiding in the house?
We opened the door to Luisa’s room and clicked on the light. Her clothes were tossed over the bed and strewn on the floor. Normal for Luisa. Not evidence of an intruder.
Ann-Marie crept up to her closet and slid it open. No one lurking inside.
Where was he? Waiting in the tall grasses outside my bedroom window?
“I . . . I have to get out of here,” I stammered. “I can’t stay in this house. Just drop me at the jitney. You and Luisa stay. I can’t think straight now. I mean, I have no police protection out here. Someone was . . . in my room. Someone—”
Ann-Marie grabbed my hand. “Take a breath, Lin. You’re ice cold. Let me get you some wine.”
“No.” I pulled away. “I have to get out of this house. I don’t feel safe here.”
“Come with me,” Ann-Marie said. She grabbed my hand and pulled me. “Hurry.”
I hesitated. “Where are we going?”
“Just follow me.” She picked up a large, metal flashlight. She pulled me to the front door and then outside, and I had to run to catch up with her as she jogged toward Dune Road. Why were we going back to the beach? My head was spinning. Nothing made sense. Did she just want to get me away from the house?
She was being kind to me, I realized. She was trying to be a good friend, and I needed a friend right now.
So many weeks of fear and worry. I thought the little house on the beach was my escape. But it had all followed me out here, right to my room.
“Why did he empty my dresser drawer?” I asked, shaking my head as we jogged across the street and onto the soft, cool sand. The beach lay deserted now, except for a few fat gulls wandering in circles close to the shore, then hopping back as white foamy water lapped over the sand. “Why come all the way out here to empty my dresser drawer?”
“That’s an easy one,” Ann-Marie said, stopping suddenly and turning to me. “It was a warning that you weren’t out of danger.”
I grabbed her arm. “Please—not so close to the water.”
“Sorry.” She turned and we began walking across the beach, the ocean roaring to our right. She beamed the flashlight ahead of us, and we followed the darting circle of yellow light, our bare feet crunching in the cold sand.
“But who would do it? Who would follow me all the way out here?” I asked.
“I did,” Ann-Marie said softly. She grabbed my wrist with her free hand. “Let’s put an end to your confusion, Lindy. Let’s end it once and for all. Let’s take that late-night swim those guys suggested.”
I stared at her, the ocean roar suddenly so loud I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. “I don’t understand. Ann-Marie, what are you saying?”
Her hand tightened around my wrist until it hurt, and she spun me toward the waves.
“Let go!” I screamed. “Hey—what are you doing? Let go!”
Her nails cut into my skin. Her grip was so tight, I couldn’t free myself. She shoved me closer to the water, bumping me with her body, her eyes glowing coldly now, locked on mine, her whole face set in an angry mask.
“Did you think I didn’t know about you and Lou?” she screamed, spitting the words in my face.
She gave me a hard shove toward the shore. Cold ocean water frothed over my feet, up to my ankles. My breath caught in my throat. I could feel fear taking over, paralyzing me. A tall wave crashed a few feet from me. I tried to duck away from the water, but Ann-Marie held me in place, and the water roared over me.
“I knew everything!” she shouted. “I heard him telling you how much he loved you. How he stayed with me just to be close to you.”
“But, Annie—listen—” I pleaded. “Please—”
“I did listen! I listened to you and Lou right outside the apartment door. I heard you both.” She gave me another hard shove. I stumbled and fell, and another wave crashed over me, drenching me, soaking my hair, running down my face. I started to choke. “Annie, please—”
“Having three guys wasn’t enough for you?” she cried. “You had to have my guy, too? You with your blond hair and your high cheekbones and your perfect skin. Okay, so I’m Miss Plain Jane, and you’re Eye Candy. But I finally found a guy—and then you fucked me. You had to have him, too.”
“No! That’s crazy!” I screamed. “You’re crazy!” I hunched my shoulders to duck under a high, cold wave. The sand swirled beneath me. Ann-Marie kept the light in my eyes.
“Yes, I was crazy!” Ann-Marie shouted, bumping me further into the water. “Crazy about Lou. But you’re stupid. It made me laugh so hard seeing you say yes every time someone called you. It was so funny seeing you run out with these guys every night.”
I gave a hard push, trying to break free, but another wave crashed over me, sending me sprawling to the sand again. Gasping for air, I struggled to my feet.
“You—” I choked out. “It was you.”
She nodded, her eyes flashing in the circle of light. “You finally figured it out. See how stupid you were? Trying to blame the guys? I stole your underwear. I made the threats and pushed you into the river, and chased you, and frightened you, and—and—” She stopped for breath, her chest heaving up and down, staring at me with such hatred.
My friend Ann-Marie.
“ ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ It was so funny to see you saying yes to them all. It was just a joke, Lindy. That’s all I intended. I did it for laughs. I had so much fun seeing you in a total panic each time you had to go out with one of them. It was even worth cutting my arm. Believe me. It was such a riot. But then you had to ruin the joke, didn’t you. You had to say yes to Lou, too, you slut, you selfish slut.”
“No, you’re wrong,” I insisted. “Listen to me—”
But she wasn’t going to listen, I knew. She was going to back me into the ocean and drown me.
“I never planned to kill you,” she said. “It was just a joke. But then when I saw you and Lou snuggling together, I knew the joke had ended. That’s when I decided you had to die.”
“Listen to me, Annie—”
I was stalling for time. Trying to think straight, to figure out a way to save my life. But I couldn’t think. Nothing made sense. I just let go—and opened my mouth in a high, shrill scream, and ran at her, my arms outstretched. Tackled her around the knees. Brought her down to the sand, wriggling and screaming.
I shoved her hard. Struggled to free my arms from around her waist.
Too slow.
I saw her hand go up. I saw the metal flashlight swing toward me.
A groan escaped my throat as the flashlight cracked the side of my head. The pain made me yelp, like an injured dog.
I couldn’t see.
I couldn’t get up.
I felt myself sinking, sinking into the wet sand, the water rushing over me, silent now, no sound at all, just the cold tickle of the waves as I disappeared beneath them.
46
Strong hands pulled me up. Coughing and gagging, I spit out the salty, thick water. A strand of wet weeds circled my neck. The hands untangled the weeds and pulled them off me.
Drowning, I thought . . . Can’t breathe . . .
I heaved up more salty water.
Blinking, I turned to see my rescuer. Pain throbbed the side of my head. Water ran down over my eyes.
Colin?
I could make out two struggling people, wrestling on the sand. I heard their groans and angry shouts. The flashlight lay on the sand, its light pointed to the crashing waves.
Rubbing the pain at the side of my head, I climbed to my feet. I took a staggering step, then another, surprised my legs worked. I grabbed the flashlight and aimed it at the battling couple.
Colin?
No. Ohmigod. Shelly?
Shelly here on the beach?
Yes . . . Shelly. As he struggled with Ann-Marie, I could see the hospital band around his wrist.
He pulled Ann-Marie to her feet and wrapped his hands around her throat. Her mouth opened in a long horse whinny, and then she went silent. And he choked her, gleefully, triumphantly, his head tossed back as his hands worked.
“They said I can’t really kill!” he shouted to me. “They said I couldn’t do it for real. I could only write about it. But I can! I can!”
“Shelly, no—” I croaked, my throat raw and grainy from the salt water. “Shelly—”
He had Ann-Marie bent back over one knee, and he was strangling her, curling and uncurling his hands and then tightening them around her throat.
“Why won’t the eyes pop? Why won’t the eyes ever pop?”
“No!” I lurched across the sand. Grabbed his hands. Pried them off Ann-Marie’s neck. And held them. Held them as she crawled away, moaning.
I gripped them tightly, the hands that had saved me. Held them between my hands. Held them so tightly I could feel Shelly’s blood pulsing through his veins.
He gazed at me, calmer now, his eyes clear and bright. “Lindy, why don’t the eyes pop? Why don’t they pop like in my stories?”
“I’m sorry this isn’t a story, Shelly,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
If this was a story, I guess my epilogue would take place about a month later. How did I feel? Well, refreshed might be a good word.
Luisa and I had a new roommate, a cousin of Luisa’s from Florida who seemed nice and couldn’t believe she was living in the big city. Shelly was back in Bellevue and not ready to receive visitors yet. The police were dealing with Ann-Marie, who Luisa and I guessed would soon have a Bellevue suite beside Shelly. There was even news about Dad. He was dating a woman he’d met on the Internet!
When things had settled down, Luisa and I had a few long talks about Ann-Marie. We decided her jealousy had been building up for a long time. I remembered catching her more than once gazing longingly at Ben. Did she have a crush on him? And then I remembered some problems we had at the dorm at NYU, usually after I hooked up with some new guy.
I’d always thought we were such close buddies. I guess Ann-Marie was better than I imagined at hiding her resentment.
Could I put this all behind me? Not very likely. Ann-Marie had been a part of my life for so long.
But now I walked through a crisp, sunny Monday morning in the city, a cool start to August. And yes, I felt refreshed, energized. I knew my life was starting over. I was in such a good mood, I think I was even humming to myself as I took the elevator up to the offices of FurryBear Press.
When Saralynn summoned the staff into her office, I picked up a writing pad and my files for my book series. I had a bunch of new ideas that were certain to impress her.
Rita stopped me just outside Saralynn’s office. “I’m so psyched,” she whispered. “I think Saralynn is going to announce my promotion this morning.”
I couldn’t help myself. My mouth dropped open. I nearly gagged. “Promotion?”
“Oh. Didn’t you know? Sorry.” Unable to hide her grin, Rita turned and pushed open the door.
I slumped into the room filled with dread. But as it turned out, Saralynn didn’t intend to talk about my series or Rita’s promotion.
“You know that new sailboat my husband and I bought?” she said when we were all seated around the table in her office. “I’m sure you’re familiar with it since it’s all I’ve been talking about.”
She gave a little laugh as if she’d just made a joke. “Well, Jake and I have decided to break it in. We’re going to sail down to Tahiti and then who knows where.” Her eyes were sparkling. I’d never seen Saralynn so excited.
“How long will you be gone?” Rita asked.
“Probably forever,” Saralynn said, tossing back her hair. “I don’t know if Jake and I will ever come back. But here’s the really exciting news. Actually, I have good news and bad news.”
She leaned forward as if to let us in on a secret. “The good news is our little company has been purchased by Random House. Isn’t that exciting for FurryBear? They paid Jake and me so much money to get the rights to our chubby little bear!”
“And what’s the bad news?” I blurted out.
Saralynn’s smile faded. “You only have till five to clean out your desks.”
Actually, that was bad news and good news.
The bad news was that I’d lost my job. The good news—and it was really good—was the expression on Rita’s face. She jolted in her seat as if she’d been shot in the back, uttered a soft yelp, and her face turned bright red and went through at least seventeen different expressions of horror and grief.
That cheered me up.
That evening, Colin and I were supposed to go to some Sri Lankan film he was dying to see. But I pulled him to the Dublin House, the dark, quiet bar down the block from my apartment, and I told him my news over bottles of Red Stripe. “I think that means we have to cancel our Jamaica trip,” I said, holding his hands over the tabletop.
I hated to say it. We had been planning it for weeks— our first weekend away together.
Colin raised his beer. “This is as close as I’m going to come to Jamaica?”
“What can I do? I’m unemployed.”
“You think you’ll have trouble finding another job? With that bod?”
I pulled my hands away. “That’s a totally sexist remark. I do have other qualifications.”
“I know.” He grinned. “But you’ve got it made, Lin. You’re Eye Candy, remember?”
“Don’t call me that!” I snapped. “I mean it.” I leaned over the table and kissed him, a wet, beery kiss. “Don’t ever call me that again.”
“Okay. No problem. But I’m allowed to think it, right?”
“Don’t even think—” I started. But I didn’t finish because he kissed me again.
Also by R. L. Stine
THE SITTER
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Ballantine Book
Published by The Random House Publishing Group
Copyright © 2004 by R. L. Stine
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