Broken Hearts

by R. L. Stine

  The clock said it was seven-thirty. Josie still had a lot of homework to do.

  I’m so tired, she realized. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Because of that intercom.

  Because of Rachel. Calling me. Calling me again and again.

  Asleep all the while.

  A shiver crept down Josie’s back.

  She glanced at the rectangular gray box on the wall, and as she looked at it, it clicked on. She heard a cough, then Rachel’s soft, pleading voice. “Josie, can you come to my room?”

  “No!” Josie shouted, startled by her own outcry. “No! Not again! Not again!”

  “Josie, please come to my room,” Rachel’s voice pleaded softly from the small speaker.

  “No!” Josie cried. “Erica is there, Rachel. Erica will take care of you.”

  I’ve got to get out of here, she decided. I can’t take this tonight. I really can’t!

  She grabbed her blue down jacket from her bed and hurried out of the room. The intercom speaker buzzed and crackled. Rachel’s pleading voice seemed to follow Josie down the stairs.

  She didn’t breathe until she was outside. She slammed the door behind her. At last Rachel’s voice disappeared.

  Was Rachel really calling me?

  Was it a trick?

  Am I cracking up?

  Josie didn’t care. She just had to get away. Away from all the anger. Away from all the pain.

  It was a clear, cold night. The snow crunched under her feet as she made her way to the car in the driveway. Her breath steamed up, gray against the black night sky.

  Somewhere down the block a cat cried, sounding like a human baby.

  Steve, Josie thought. I’ll go see Steve. He’s the only one who understands.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “This was a good idea,” Josie said, flashing Steve a warm smile. “I was so upset. But now I feel calm.” She grabbed his gloved hand and pulled him along with her.

  “You’re a good skater,” Steve said, struggling to catch up to her.

  Josie’s skates glided almost silently over the ice. She loved to skate, sliding so fast, feeling so weightless and free. She let go of Steve’s hand and, moving gracefully, started around the circular rink.

  There were only a few other people at the Shadyside Indoor Rink, a couple of younger kids stumbling over each other with their mother cheering them on, and another teenage couple, dressed in bulky sweaters and wool ski caps, not from Shadyside High.

  Josie completed her circuit, gliding effortlessly, enjoying the slicing sound her skates made on the ice. “Watch this,” Steve said, grinning. He started skating backward.

  “Not bad,” Josie told him, grinning. She skated up to him as he backed around the rink, smiling at her.

  “Can you do this?” he asked, challenging her.

  “I don’t think so,” Josie admitted. “You know who’s the really good skater in my family? Erica. She’s not at all athletic. But she can really skate.”

  “Next time I’ll invite her!” Steve joked.

  Thinking of Erica made Josie think of Rachel. Her smile faded. She shook her head hard as if trying to shake away her thoughts.

  “Can we sit down for a bit?” she called to Steve.

  Seeing the change in her expression, he agreed.

  A few minutes later they were sitting in a corner of the small skating rink café, sipping steaming hot chocolate from white cardboard cups.

  “Thursday’s a good night to come here,” Steve said, glancing around the cavernous building. “There’s no one here. It’s almost like having our own private rink.”

  Scooting his chair in, he accidentally banged the tiny metal table with his knee, causing a little of Josie’s hot chocolate to spill over the side of the cup. “Sorry,” he apologized. “That was klutzy.”

  “I don’t care,” Josie said, distracted. “Coming here was a great idea. A real life saver. I just had to get out of the house.”

  He locked his eyes on hers. His smile faded. “Things are tough at home?”

  “It’s just so depressing,” Josie said, her voice catching in her throat. “I-I’m just so unhappy at home. All the time.”

  She took a sip of the hot chocolate. It burned the roof of her mouth, but she didn’t care. She could feel her unhappiness welling up, about to burst out of her.

  Should she hold it in?

  No. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  She had to talk to someone. Steve was a good listener.

  Steve squeezed her hand. “You’re depressed because of Rachel?”

  Josie nodded. “Because of Rachel. Because of Erica. Because of everyone.”

  “What’s going on?” Steve asked, nervously tapping the metal tabletop with his fingers.

  Josie told him about the night before, about the intercom clicking on, about Rachel calling to her in that tiny, whispery voice, then appearing to be asleep.

  “I—I feel so guilty about Rachel,” Josie continued. “Every time I see Rachel I feel guilty. Every time I see that sweet smile, that childish expression. Every time I brush her hair. Every time I talk to her. Every time I realize that Rachel will always be like a child, that Rachel will never grow up. Never have a family. Never have a real life. Every time I see her, so beautiful, so—helpless. It just makes me want to cry, Steve. I feel so guilty. So helpless too.”

  Steve exhaled loudly, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say,” he muttered. “I guess it’ll just take time. I mean—”

  “Erica makes it even worse,” Josie interrupted. “All Erica does is try to make me feel guilty. Guilty about not spending time with Rachel. Guilty about not spending more time with her. Guilty about not taking care of Rachel. But I just can’t bear it, Steve. Why can’t Erica give me some space? I mean, she must realize that I feel guilty enough already.”

  “Don’t upset yourself,” Steve said uncomfortably. “Want to skate some more?”

  Josie shook her head. She could feel hot tears form in the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t care. She let them run down her cheeks without attempting to wipe them away.

  “I still love Rachel,” she said. “She’s my twin sister, after all. I love her, but I can’t stand to be with her, to see what’s happened to her. That’s why I stay away as much as I can. That’s why I only go home when I absolutely have to.”

  “It’ll get better,” Steve said lamely. “You’ll see.” He finished his hot chocolate. Then he tapped the bottom of the cup nervously against the tabletop. “Really. You’ll see, Josie.”

  She shook her head and wiped her wet cheeks with both hands. “Erica doesn’t understand,” she continued, ignoring Steve’s discomfort. “She thinks I’m just being mean. Irresponsible. But I’m not. She just doesn’t understand. Nobody does.”

  “Josie, really—” Steve started.

  “Look,” she interrupted. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans. “Look at this one.”

  She unfolded a card. Another valentine. A bouquet of red roses on the front. She shoved the card at Steve with a trembling hand. “Just look at this one.”

  He took the card and read the handwritten rhyme aloud in a sing-song voice.

  “Who’s sending these cards?

  Don’t bother to wonder.

  On Valentine’s Day

  You’ll be six feet under.”

  Steve stared at the rhyme, printed carefully in black ink. He narrowed his blue eyes thoughtfully. “Do you still think Jenkman’s sending them?” he asked.

  “Ever since I dumped him, he’s been following me around, pestering me like some kind of sick psycho.”

  “These have to be jokes,” Steve said, closing the card and handing it back to Josie. “Just stupid jokes.”

  Josie crumpled the card into a ball and shoved it into her nearly empty hot chocolate cup. “You think so?”

  “Jenkman is weird, but he’s not a murderer!” Steve declared. “It’s just a stupid joke, Josie. You shouldn’t take it seriously.”

>   “I—I don’t know how to take it,” Josie stammered. “This is the third one. They’re really starting to get me scared. What if he means it?”

  “Call him up and tell him to stop it,” Steve advised. “It’s just his dumb way of getting back at you for not going out with him.”

  “He’s impossible,” Josie said. “He follows me home from school. He’s always at my locker. He calls sometimes and—”

  She stopped abruptly. Her mouth dropped open. She pointed over Steve’s shoulder toward the ice. “Steve!”

  Steve caught the alarm in her eyes. “What’s the matter?” He scooted his chair back and turned around to follow her gaze.

  “There’s someone there,” Josie told him, her voice revealing her fear. “Someone is watching us. From behind the food stand.”

  Steve stared hard. “I don’t see anyone.”

  Josie jumped to her feet, knocking her chair over. It clattered noisily to the concrete floor. “There!”

  “I see a shadow,” Steve said, “but—”

  “Is it Jenkman?” Josie asked.

  “I don’t know.” Steve stood up too. He stepped around the table and grabbed Josie’s arm. “Do you want to go?”

  She nodded. “Yes, let’s get out of here. Please!”

  They returned their skates and hurried out the door.

  As they stepped out into a cold, clear night, Steve pulled her close and kissed her. She leaned against the skating rink doorway and kissed him back. She raised her hands behind his head. His blond hair felt surprisingly soft. She held his head tightly, pulling him to her, forcing him to continue the kiss.

  She realized she didn’t want the kiss to end. She wanted to stay there like that forever. In the clean, cold wind. In the silent darkness. Alone with Steve.

  She didn’t want to think about who was spying on her inside the skating rink. She didn’t want to think about the scary, threatening valentines.

  Most of all she didn’t want to go home.

  A short while later she found herself saying good night to Steve in her driveway. The old house, bathed in an eerie yellow glow from the porch light, hovered in front of her, cold and uninviting.

  Josie leaned across the front seat of the car for one last good night kiss. Then, sighing, she pushed open the car door and reluctantly headed up to the front porch. She waved to Steve, pulled the front door closed behind her, and stepped into the dark front hallway. She could see the twin headlights of Steve’s car roll down the wall as he backed down the drive.

  “Anyone awake?” Josie called in a half-whisper.

  It wasn’t that late, she knew. Around eleven o’clock.

  She tip-toed past the intercom on the wall as if not wanting to awaken it. She could see a light on in the kitchen.

  “Who’s here?” she asked, making her way quickly toward the kitchen. “Erica? Are you up?”

  She took a few steps into the kitchen and stopped. No one there.

  Who left the light on? she wondered.

  There were some bowls beside the sink. Someone must have had ice cream, Josie decided.

  She took a few more steps. Stopped again.

  There was something sticky on the bottom of her sneaker.

  Had she stepped in gum or something?

  She leaned down to examine her sneaker.

  And saw what she had stepped in. A dark red puddle.

  Cranberry juice? Had someone spilled cranberry juice? And not wiped it up?

  No. There was too much of it.

  Another puddle.

  And another dark puddle, even larger.

  Josie followed the trail of puddles with her eyes across the linoleum to the kitchen door, which led to the backyard.

  Why was the door open?

  Staring in horror at the figure lying in the doorway, Josie knew at once what the dark puddles were.

  She raised her hands to her face and started to scream.

  Chapter 10

  SOMEONE IS HAPPY

  Staring in horror at the blood-soaked figure sprawled on the floor beside the open kitchen door, Josie screamed.

  She shut her eyes, but the hideous sight remained with her.

  “Muggy!” she cried. “Oh, Muggy!”

  Opening her eyes, she took a reluctant step toward the unmoving animal.

  “Muggy. Muggy,” she wailed.

  The little terrier was on its back, its head twisted to the side, eyes wide in a blank, unseeing stare.

  The wind battered against the glass storm door, startling Josie. She grabbed the Formica countertop for support as her entire body lurched in a tremor of horror.

  Josie felt sick. She started to turn away, but something caught her eye.

  What was that shiny thing in Muggy’s stomach?

  Pressing both hands over her mouth, she squinted at it. It took her a while to realize it was a letter opener. A silver letter opener. The letter opener from the desk in the den.

  “Who did this?” she cried out loud, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Her horror was rapidly turning to anger. “Who did this?”

  How had it happened? Had someone come to the back door? Had Muggy come running to investigate?

  Josie tried to picture it. Someone pulled open the storm door, came into the kitchen, and murdered the poor little dog with the letter opener from the den.

  But who? Why?

  “Muggy,” Josie cried, shutting her eyes again, shutting them so tightly they hurt. “Oh, Muggy.”

  Josie suddenly realized she wasn’t alone in the kitchen.

  Opening her eyes, her hands still pressed against her face, she turned to find Rachel standing right behind her.

  Rachel wore a long blue-flannel nightdress. Her hair was tied back and fell forward over one shoulder. She looked very pale in the fluorescent light of the kitchen.

  Rachel’s emerald eyes were aglow as she stared at Muggy’s corpse, and Josie was horrified by the evil smile on her twin’s face.

  “Rachel!” Josie cried, turning to face her.

  “There’s the puppy,” Rachel said brightly, her smile growing wider. Rachel pointed down to the gruesome sight. “There’s the puppy.”

  Why is she so happy? Josie asked herself, suddenly frightened. Why does she think this is funny?

  “There’s the puppy,” Rachel repeated in her singsong voice.

  “Rachel, you shouldn’t be down here,” Josie scolded, still gripping the top of the counter.

  “But there’s the puppy,” Rachel insisted, smiling, her green eyes shiny and excited.

  Without warning, Erica appeared behind Rachel. “When did you get home?” she asked Josie. And then her eyes fell on the murdered dog. “Oh no!” Erica cried weakly. Her mouth dropped open in horror.

  “There’s the puppy,” Rachel said, pointing.

  Rachel’s words seemed to break Erica out of her silent spell.

  “Oh, no,” she muttered. “Oh no, no, no, no.” Then Erica’s expression changed. She grabbed Rachel’s shoulders, her features tight with concern. “Come away, Rachel. Come with me.”

  “But there’s the puppy,” Rachel protested.

  “Don’t get upset, dear,” Erica told Rachel sternly. “Don’t get upset. Come upstairs.” She dragged the still-smiling Rachel out of the kitchen.

  Josie, left alone, shut her eyes once again. Why was Rachel so happy? she asked herself, suddenly feeling exhausted and drained. Why was Rachel so happy?

  And who came into my house and murdered my dog?

  Chapter 11

  “SOMEBODY HATES YOU”

  Melissa pushed back the curtains from her bedroom window and stared out into the night. The sky hovered low and purple, dotted with pale white stars. The trees in the front yard appeared to shiver from the cold.

  Across the street the McClains’ house was dark except for the yellow porch light. Melissa had been at her window a few minutes before, at a little after eleven. She had seen Steve’s car pull up the drive. She had seen Josie g
et out of the car and walk slowly up to her house.

  Josie’s spending all her time with Steve these days, Melissa realized. And as little time as possible at home.

  It must be hard for her, Melissa thought, surprised to be feeling any sympathy for Josie.

  Earlier in the evening Melissa had walked across the street and paid a visit to Erica and Rachel. Erica had been glad to see her. Rachel seemed preoccupied. She hadn’t even acknowledged that Melissa was there.

  Even during the short visit, it was easy for Melissa to pick up on Erica’s growing resentment and unhappiness. She was spending more and more time with Rachel because Josie was seldom home.

  If only the McClains could afford full-time help for Rachel. They had a nurse who came on weekends. That was all they could afford, Erica had unhappily explained. Mr. McClain’s hardware stores were struggling, and times were tough. Mrs. McClain worked long hours, but her salary barely paid the household expenses.

  After the visit Melissa had returned home. She had called Dave, but his mother said he’d gone out. She had no idea where.

  Melissa spent the rest of the night doing a little studying and a lot of pacing back and forth and staring out the bedroom window.

  She pulled the curtains back into place, glanced at the clock radio—nearly eleven-thirty—and decided to see if Dave had returned home.

  He picked up on the second ring.

  “Where’ve you been?” Melissa demanded, not intending to sound so shrill.

  “Huh? Nowhere,” Dave replied, surprised by her burst of anger.

  “I called you before. Your mom said you went out,” Melissa said, softening her tone. She stood in front of her dresser mirror as she talked, toying with her sleek, black hair, pushing strands off her forehead, tugging at strands on the sides. “I was over visiting Rachel. Then I came home and called you. I—I was worried about you.”

  “Well, I’m terrible,” Dave said glumly. “I’ve been cruising around all night. Just driving. I couldn’t even tell you where I went. I’m so deranged.”

  “You’re always deranged,” Melissa teased, trying to cheer him up.

  “Ha-ha,” he said bitterly. “Coach kicked me off the wrestling team after school today,” Dave said softly, so soft Melissa could barely hear him.