by R. L. Stine
“Luke is not boring!” Rachel insisted, gripping the reins more tightly as she posted out of time with her fast trotting horse. “Take it back, Josie.”
“Dave isn’t boring either,” Melissa offered.
“I can’t believe you’re still going out with Dave Kinley,” Josie said dryly. “How come you go for all my rejects, Melissa?”
Melissa smiled. “You have so many rejects, Josie. It’s impossible not to!”
Rachel and Melissa laughed. Josie didn’t join in.
“You’ll dump Dave too,” Josie said seriously. “Just like I did. You’ll see. He’s so immature.”
“Everyone is immature according to you,” Melissa replied, her smile fading. “But I like Dave. He’s kind of wild, but—”
“Immature,” Josie interrupted.
“There are worse things than being immature,” Rachel called back.
“Name ten,” Josie joked.
“Let’s stop yakking and ride,” Melissa urged impatiently. “We can decide who’s immature later, okay?”
Josie and Rachel agreed. The three girls rode on in silence, moving single-file along the twisting path, riding between sunlight and shadows under the tall trees.
The only sounds were the whispers of the trees and the steady, gentle thud of hooves. Melissa found herself becoming hypnotized by the rhythmic rocking, the insistent clip-clip-clip, the shifting shadows, the darting golden rays of light poking through the dense foliage.
She found herself thinking dreamily about Dave. Josie was wrong about him, Melissa decided. Josie was a good friend, but she was often wrong about people.
Melissa could see why Josie accused Dave of being immature. He had a wild side, an angry side. Dave could be as moody and childish and unpredictable as Josie, Melissa realized.
They obviously couldn’t get along because they were too much alike.
They both had their cruel sides too, Melissa thought. Josie had been really cruel to Dave when she had broken up with him.
Dave had been hurt, Melissa knew.
Melissa raised her eyes to glance at Josie, who was several yards ahead of her on the path. She watched Josie’s short dark hair bob up and down in a steady rhythm under her helmet.
Josie didn’t seem to care if she hurt boys, Melissa thought. She could be sensitive and caring when she wanted. She had helped Melissa through some bad times, and she was very loving to her sisters Erica and Rachel.
But when she had made up her mind to dump a guy, she dumped him. That was that. As if the guy were some sort of doll or stuffed animal, to be tossed aside.
“Look, a hummingbird!” Rachel called from up ahead, pointing to a low shrub.
Her voice shook Melissa from her thoughts. She turned her eyes to the blue-green blur buzzing above the shrub, its wings fluttering so fast she could barely get the bird in focus.
“It’s so tiny. It looks like an insect!” Josie called.
As if insulted by Josie’s remark, the hummingbird raised itself up and darted silently away.
The woods suddenly ended and in a flash of harsh afternoon sunlight, the girls found themselves back on flat grassland. The path straightened out and grew wider as it completed its circuit back toward the riding stable.
Melissa saw Rachel, far ahead, yank hard on her reins. “Whoa!” she was calling. “Hey, slow down, horse!”
Rachel turned back to her companions, a troubled expression on her face, her mane of red hair streaming behind her. “I can’t make him slow down!” she cried, alarmed.
“Just keep pulling back on the reins!” Melissa advised, shouting over the thudding of the horses’ hooves.
“Whoa! Whoa!”
The dog seemed to appear from out of nowhere. It was a large gray dog, a shepherd of some kind. It ran right in front of Rachel’s horse.
Melissa didn’t see it until Rachel’s horse reared up. The horse whinnied in alarm, a hideous, terrifying sound.
It reared up on its hind legs, then quickly lowered its front hooves, dropping its head.
As it came down, Melissa saw Rachel’s saddle fly off.
She and Josie both screamed as the saddle flew over the horse’s head. Rachel, her arms thrashing the air in frantic surprise, flew with it.
And as the horse’s front hooves came back to earth, Rachel hit the ground with a sickening crack.
The dog began to bark ferociously.
The horse whinnied again, its eyes wide with fear, its nostrils flaring as it took off for the barn.
Rachel lay sprawled facedown on the path. She didn’t move.
“She landed on her head!” Josie shrieked. “Melissa, Rachel landed on her head!”
“Josie!” Melissa cried, gasping for breath, struggling to keep her horse steady, the ground tilting up around her. “Josie, go get help! Go to the stable! Get help!”
Josie didn’t react. She stared down at Rachel’s unmoving body.
“Josie! Get help!”
But Josie didn’t seem to hear Melissa.
“She landed on her head!” Josie repeated, her dark eyes wide with horror. “She landed on her head! She landed on her head!”
PART ONE
THE FOLLOWING FEBRUARY
Chapter 1
A SURPRISE IN
THE MAIL
“Whoa!”
Melissa could feel the horse thundering beneath her.
It felt so solid, so massive, so strong. The hoofbeats thundered through the darkness. The horse was galloping out of control.
Out of control.
She could feel its muscles flex, hear its loud, steady breathing. She could feel its warmth, its heavy sweat.
“Whoa! Please!”
Through the darkness. Out of control.
She couldn’t stop it.
Faster it galloped.
She leaned forward, her jet black hair flying behind her, and wrapped her arms around its neck.
“Whoa! Please, whoa!”
Holding on tightly, so tightly she could feel the blood pulsing through the horse’s veins, feel it swallow, feel it gulp air as it surged through the night.
“Help me! Somebody, help me!” Melissa screamed.
She lay against the animal’s neck, leaning into its solid weight as she bounced wildly, frantically.
Out of control.
“Help me, somebody! I’m going to fall!”
Through the hot darkness.
She could hear each breath the horse took, each pulse of its heart, each thud of its hooves.
“Help me! Help me!”
She could still feel the horse galloping and its banging heartbeats as someone shook her and called her name.
“Melissa, wake up!”
But the horse wouldn’t stop.
Even as someone called Melissa’s name and tried to shake her awake, the horse wouldn’t stop.
Then she opened her eyes, still bouncing, still holding on so tightly, still out of control.
“Melissa, another dream,” her mother said softly, peering down at her in the blue-black light of the darkened bedroom, her eyes wet with concern. “Another bad dream, Melissa. Wake up.”
“The horse wouldn’t stop,” Melissa said.
Mrs. Davis wrapped her daughter in a hug. Her nightgown smelled of perfume, tangy and sweet.
My mom feels so cold, Melissa thought, staring wide-eyed but seeing nothing. I guess it’s because I’m so very hot.
“The horse wouldn’t stop,” Melissa whispered, pulling away, sinking back onto her damp pillow. “I was going to fall.”
“Five months later and you’re still dreaming about horses,” Mrs. Davis said softly. She leaned forward and clicked on the bedside lamp.
Melissa squinted against the harsh cone of yellow light. “Yeah. Five months later,” she said glumly, finally out of her horrifying dream.
The horse faded into the light. The rhythm of its hooves drowned out by a rush of cold wind through the open bedroom window.
“The same dream ov
er and over,” Melissa said, pulling the covers up to her chin. “It’s even the same horse.”
Her mother stood up, yawning. She crossed the room, the old floorboards creaking under her bare feet, and closed the window.
Melissa could see a half moon high in the sky, split in two by a black wisp of cloud.
“Eventually the dream will go away,” Mrs. Davis said softly. She came back beside the bed and stared down at Melissa tenderly.
“It’s always the same,” Melissa told her, trembling under the covers. “And it’s so real.”
Her mother leaned down and gently brushed Melissa’s thick black hair off her forehead. “Just a nightmare,” she said. The words sounded hollow—to both of them.
“The same horse,” Melissa muttered, picturing its dark back, its long-haired mane.
“Have you seen Rachel and Josie lately?” Mrs. Davis asked, pulling down the sleeves of her nightgown.
Melissa nodded. “I visit Rachel whenever I can,” she said, her voice breaking. “I think she’s happy to see me. It’s really hard to tell. She doesn’t say much. Just stares a lot.”
Her mother tsk-tsked, shaking her head sadly, her eyes wet with tears again.
“Sometimes Rachel seems pretty good,” Melissa continued thoughtfully. “Sometimes I think she understands what I’m saying. But then other times, I’m not sure. I mean, sometimes when I visit her, she talks crazy. She doesn’t make any sense at all. And sometimes . . . sometimes I don’t think she even knows who I am.”
“How dreadful,” Mrs. Davis said, her voice barely a whisper.
Melissa turned her eyes back to the window. The moon was completely lost in black clouds now.
She pictured the horse again. Felt its throbbing back. She heard its throaty gasps.
“And what about Josie?” her mother asked.
Melissa uttered a loud sigh. “I don’t know, Mom. Josie and I just aren’t friends anymore.”
Mrs. Davis’s eyes widened in surprise. She lowered herself to the edge of the bed and brought her face close to Melissa’s. “Why, Melissa?”
Melissa had to choke the words out. “Josie blames me. She blames me for Rachel’s accident.”
Her mother gasped. She squeezed Melissa’s hand. “But that’s so unfair!” she exclaimed.
Melissa closed her eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know . . .”
♦ ♦ ♦
“Steve, stop it! Don’t come any closer!” Josie exclaimed.
She backed up, her boots snagging in the shag rug. She eyed Steve Barron warily as he continued to stalk her, a strange smile on his face.
“Come on, stop!” Josie cried, her back colliding with the pine-paneled wall. “What have you got behind your back?”
Steve’s grin grew wider. His blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “Nothing,” he said softly. “What makes you think I have something behind my back?”
“Steve—” Josie started.
He swung his arm around, revealing the smooth, white snowball in his hand. Before Josie could cry out in protest, he grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed the icy snowball into her face.
“I’ll get you!” she cried, laughing and trying to squirm away.
He was laughing so hard she was able to grab the snowball out of his hand. She tried to hit him with it, but it disintegrated, dripping onto the carpet.
“You’re not funny!” Josie exclaimed, and wiped her cold, wet hand against his face. “My mom’ll kill you for bringing snow in the house.”
“She isn’t home,” Steve said, still holding her shoulder. His eyes lit up. A devilish grin spread across his handsome face. “Hey, she isn’t home!” he declared. He lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. Leaning against the den wall, Josie returned the kiss.
They were interrupted by high-pitched yapping from the doorway. Startled, Josie pushed Steve away.
“Muggy, what’s your problem?” she called to the little white terrier, who continued barking in alarm, his stub of a tail wagging frantically. “It’s only Steve.”
“Boo!” Steve shouted.
The dog yipped and started toward Josie, as if coming to protect her from Steve. But the wet snow on the rug distracted the little dog, and it stopped to sniff it, then lick it.
“How can you stand that little rat?” Steve teased. “Why don’t you step on it and put it out of its misery?”
Josie’s expression turned to mock outrage. “You’re disgusting. How can you say such a horrible thing about Muggy?” She stooped and picked the dog up, wrapping it in a tight hug against her pale blue sweater. “Don’t listen to him, Muggy.”
The terrier gave Josie’s face a fast lick, then thrashed its legs, struggling to escape from her.
“Yuck,” Steve said, shaking his head. “You let that rodent lick you? How do you know what he’s been licking before he came in here?”
“Don’t be gross,” Josie replied, setting Muggy down gently.
The dog sniffed the snow on the carpet again, then sneezed, before hurrying out of the room.
Josie glanced out the den window. The snow had stopped coming down. The snow-covered front yard glowed like silver under the late-afternoon sun.
Across the street, she could see Melissa’s house, patches of snow piled on the windowsills and clinging to the gray shingles. Melissa’s blue Firebird was parked in the drive.
Josie turned away from the window. “It’s cold in here,” she complained, rubbing the arms of her sweater. “I hate this drafty old house.”
Steve took a step toward here. “Come here. I’ll warm you up.”
She started to push him away, then changed her mind and let him kiss her again. She stared into his eyes as they kissed. She didn’t like to close her eyes. She liked to watch him.
He’s so good-looking, she thought. In an all-American sort of way. Wavy, blond hair. Clear blue eyes. Perfect straight nose. Lopsided grin. Broad shoulders.
How long had she been going with Steve? Ever since she’d dumped Jenkman. That was right after Rachel’s accident. Last September. So she and Steve had been seeing each other for almost five months.
That’s a long time, Josie thought. For me, anyway. And I’m not the least bit bored with him yet.
What’s your secret, Steve? she wondered as she pressed her cold cheek against his warm one. Is it because you bring snowballs into the house? Because I can never guess what you’re going to do next?
He stepped away from her and raked a hand back through his blond hair. Then he straightened his maroon and white Shadyside High sweatshirt. “Are we going to the mall, or what?” he asked.
“Yeah. Sure,” she replied, untangling a long, dangling earring. She started toward the doorway. “I’ll go upstairs and tell Erica we’re leaving.”
“Is Erica going to give you a hard time?” Steve asked.
“She usually does,” Josie said.
She stopped just outside the doorway to the den. The mail had been piled on the narrow table against the wall. She picked up the stack and shuffled through it.
“Hey, something for me,” Josie said, pulling out a square envelope. She let the rest of the mail drop back to the table.
“Who’s it from?” Steve asked.
Josie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
She ripped open the envelope and pulled out a greeting card.
She read it silently, then gasped, her hand trembling, her eyes wide with fear.
Chapter 2
HAVE A HEART
“I—I don’t believe this,” Josie stammered, staring at the card.
“What is it?” Steve asked, turning away from the window.
“It’s a valentine,” Josie replied, holding it up.
“From who? I didn’t send you a valentine.” He made his way across the room to her.
“It isn’t signed,” Josie told him. “But it—it’s disgusting.” She shoved the card into his hand. “Here. Read it.”
Steve took the card from her and examined it. The
re was a satiny red heart on the front.
He opened it up. The printed words had been crossed out with a black marker. Written underneath them in blue ink was a short rhyme.
Steve read it aloud:
“Violets are blue
Roses are red.
On Valentine’s Day
Josie will be dead.”
Steve stared down at the card for a moment, scanning the rhyme again, silently this time. Then he closed the card and grinned at Josie. “It rhymes okay,” he said.
She gave his shoulder a hard shove. “Who cares? Can’t you take anything seriously?”
His smile faded. He looked hurt. “You don’t think this is serious, do you?” he demanded, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s too dumb.”
Josie pulled the card from his hand and glanced over the handwritten message again. “I don’t know how to take it,” she said. “I mean, it is stupid, but it is a threat.”
“It can’t be serious,” Steve said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s just someone’s idea of a joke.”
“What kind of joke?” Josie demanded heatedly. “I mean, what’s the funny part?”
“I don’t know. I don’t get it,” Steve said. He picked the torn envelope up from the table. “No return address.” He put the envelope back and turned to her. “So who sent it?”
“I don’t know,” Josie said, staring at the card. “Probably Jenkman.”
“Jenkman?”
“Yeah. Probably. He’s such a creep,” Josie said, frowning. “He still calls me, still pesters me. He can’t believe I broke up with him. He can’t believe that I don’t want to go out with him again.”
“You think he sent this?” Steve asked.
“You should see the way Jenkman stares at me in school,” Josie continued. “Like a hungry puppy dog. Mister Pitiful. He follows me, staring at me. Like I’m supposed to feel bad or something. Like I’m supposed to care.”
“Calm down,” Steve said softly.
“How can I calm down?” Josie snapped. “I broke up with him five months ago. And now he sends me this dumb thing. Is he crazy, or what?”
“You know what I think you should do?” Steve said seriously. “I think you should ignore it.”
