by R. L. Stine
“I came to welcome you,” the real estate agent said, finally turning his gaze to Cally’s parents. “But just as I pulled up, I saw the branch fall. I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, but his smile didn’t fade.
“We’re okay,” Cally’s father replied. He shook Mr. Lurie’s hand. “The kids are seeing the house for the first time.”
“And you’re disappointed?” Mr. Lurie asked, staring again at Cally.
“A little,” Cally confessed. “It’s kind of dark.”
“And run-down,” Kody answered glumly.
“I’m sure your parents will do a wonderful job with it,” Mr. Lurie replied. “It’s basically a very solid house. It just hasn’t been lived in.”
“How come?” James demanded. “How come no one ever lived here?”
Mr. Lurie’s smile faded. “Just unlucky,” he muttered, lowering his eyes to the ground.
Cally didn’t understand what he meant. Did he mean the owners were unlucky? The house was unlucky? The real estate people were unlucky?
Who was unlucky?
She started to ask, but Mr. Lurie was handing her father an extra set of keys and saying his farewells. “I won’t keep you,” he said, backing away. “I just wanted to say welcome to Shadyside—and best of luck.”
With a quick wave, he headed down the driveway, walking briskly, swinging his arms sticklike at his sides. Cally watched him until he disappeared into the shadows of the trees that lined the street.
Then she picked up the carton of china and shook it. The shattered plates made a jangling sound inside. “Sorry about that,” Cally told her mother.
“Put it down and let’s go inside,” Mrs. Frasier replied. “I want you to see your new home.”
• • •
The inside of the house was even less inviting than the outside, Cally thought.
As the family explored their new house, Cally couldn’t help but notice every stain on the plaster, the cracks in the walls, the loose floorboards that creaked and groaned as she stepped on them.
The house is so dark, Cally thought unhappily. So dark and damp. It feels as if the sun has never shone on it, as if the house is blanketed in darkness.
Cally shivered. How will I ever feel at home in this ugly, dark place? she wondered.
“Cally—what’s wrong?” Her mother’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“Huh?” Cally blinked hard. “What, Mom?”
“You were making the sourest face,” Mrs. Frasier said, putting a hand on Cally’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Sure, Mom,” Cally answered quickly. She didn’t want to say that the house could be a set in a horror movie. What would be the point? Her parents had bought it. They were stuck there. “I’m just tired, I guess,” she told her mother.
“Well, come see your room,” Mrs. Frasier said, pushing open the door.
The floorboards creaked as they all trooped into Cally’s new room. Cally stopped in the doorway. The walls were dark and peeling. The closet door was warped and stuck open. The brown carpet had a round black stain in the center of the room.
“Big, huh?” Mr. Frasier asked eagerly, smiling at Cally.
“Yeah, it’s big all right,” Cally replied without enthusiasm.
“It’s a lot bigger than my room,” Kody complained. “How come Cally got the biggest room?”
Cally struggled to close the closet door. But it was too warped to move. “Want to trade rooms?” she asked her sister.
“Well—no,” Kody decided. “But I don’t see why you should automatically get the bigger room.”
“Stop complaining, Kody,” Mrs. Frasier said sharply. “We’re all tired. And I know this house is a bit of a shock. But it’ll feel like home before you know it.”
“Right,” Mr. Frasier agreed quickly. “A little paint, a little wallpaper, some new carpet, and—”
“Where’s my game room?” James interrupted. “We’ve seen all the bedrooms. So where’s the game room?”
“Well—there isn’t really room,” Mr. Frasier replied. “I’m sorry, James, but—”
“How about the basement? Could we have a game room in the basement, Dad? Remember Billy Marcus’s house? He had a Ping-Pong table and a pool table downstairs. Remember?”
“I don’t know,” Mr. Frasier said thoughtfully. “The basement in this house isn’t finished. It would take a lot of work, James.”
“Let’s check out the basement!” James exclaimed. He shoved Cally out of his way as he burst toward the door. “Come on! Let’s check it out! I’ll bet there’s room for a pinball machine and everything down there!”
“Girls—go with him,” Mrs. Frasier ordered.
“And be careful,” their father added. “It’s probably filthy down there.”
Cally and Kody obediently hurried after their brother. James was already halfway down the stairs to the first floor, the banister swaying slightly as his hand slid over it.
They found the stairs to the basement behind a door in the back hallway. James clicked the light switch, and a dim lightbulb flickered on at the bottom of the stairs.
Holding on to the walls, the three of them made their way down the narrow, steep wooden stairs. Cally led the way, followed by James, then Kody.
It took Cally a moment to realize why her face had started to tingle and itch. “Yuck! Cobwebs!” she cried, frantically trying to brush the sticky webbing off her face.
“This is really creepy,” James said softly.
They stopped under the cone of yellow light from the bare lightbulb. Cally had brushed most of the cobwebs off, but her face still itched. She stared into the gray basement that stretched around them.
Cobwebs hung down from the metal beams that dotted the large room. Against the far wall, a huge dust-covered furnace hovered, its vents reaching up to the ceiling like arms.
Cally heard the scratching sounds first.
“What’s that?” she asked, grabbing James by the shoulders.
“Huh? What’s what?” he cried.
“Shhh. Listen,” Cally ordered.
“I hear it,” Kody said.
Soft, scratching sounds.
Cally gasped as three rats scuttled into view. Their eyes glowed red in the light. Their long pink tails swept the concrete floor as they ran.
“Ohh!” Cally heard Kody utter a low cry right behind her.
“Rats!” James exclaimed.
Eyes glowing angrily, the three rats charged forward, hissing as they ran.
“They—they’re attacking!” Kody shrieked.
“Get upstairs!” Cally shoved James toward the steps.
And then she let out a terrified wail as the biggest rat leapt onto her leg.
Chapter 3
“Noooooo!”
Ignoring her terror, Cally kicked out with all her might.
The rat hissed shrilly as it went flying, its four legs scrabbling in the air. It hit the floor with a disgusting plop.
Cally stumbled to the stairs as the other two rats darted toward her. Kody and James were ahead of her, screaming all the way up the stairs.
Up the narrow stairs. Into the hallway. Breathing hard, her chest heaving, Cally slammed the basement door behind her.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Mr. Frasier called, hurrying into the hall. “What’s all the screaming?”
“Rats!” All three of them shouted at once.
“Rats in the basement!” Cally cried breathlessly.
“One of them jumped on Cally’s leg!” James exclaimed excitedly. “It was fat and disgusting!”
“Three rats! They attacked us!” Kody added.
“Did they bite you?” Mrs. Frasier cried, appearing behind her husband. “Are you okay?”
Cally shook her head. “It didn’t bite me. It just jumped on me.”
“I never heard of rats doing that!” her mother said, shaking her head fretfully.
Mr. Frasier sighed. He pulled off his eyeglasses and rubbed his eyes. “One
more problem to add to the list. We’ll have to get an exterminator here right away.”
“Yes. Right away,” Mrs. Frasier echoed, biting her lower lip. She forced a smile. “Is anyone hungry?” Mrs. Frasier asked. “We should go into town and get some food.”
Before anyone could answer, the doorbell rang.
“Now, who could that be?” Mr. Frasier asked, frowning.
Cally followed the others to the door. Her heart was still racing. She shuddered. She could still feel the rat’s spidery legs gripping her leg, still hear its shrill hiss.
Mr. Frasier pulled open the front door. A young man smiled in at them from the other side of the screen door.
He had straight black hair down to the collar of his gray T-shirt. He wore gray denim overalls. His eyes were small and black beneath bushy eyebrows, and he had a black mustache.
“Can I help you?” Mr. Frasier asked.
“I saw the U-Haul,” the man said, pointing. “You just moving in?”
Mr. Frasier nodded.
The man shifted his weight. Cally saw that he was big, very athletic looking. “My name is Glen Hankers,” he said, his dark eyes peering in through the screen door. “I’m a handyman. I mean, I do all kinds of work. I wondered if—”
“There’s lots to be done here!” Mrs. Frasier exclaimed, not waiting for Hankers to finish. “We could probably keep you busy for months, Mr. Hankers!”
Mr. Hankers smiled at that.
Cally’s father studied Mr. Hankers’s face. “Do you have references?” he asked.
Mr. Hankers nodded. “I can supply them. I’ve done a lot of work for people on Fear Street.”
“Can you kill rats?” James piped up from beside Cally.
“James—!” Mrs. Frasier cried.
“Got a rodent problem?” Mr. Hankers asked, smoothing his mustache with the fingers of one hand.
“The kids saw rats in the basement,” Mr. Frasier reported unhappily.
“I can deal with them,” Mr. Hankers said. “I’ve got traps and I have a spray.”
“Well, we need someone to help,” Mr. Frasier told him, eyeing him suspiciously. “But if you’re expensive . . .”
Mr. Hankers shook his head. “I’m very reasonable, Mr.—”
“Frasier.”
“I’m very reasonable, Mr. Frasier. You can pay me by the hour, or by the week, or even by the month.”
Cally’s father glanced at his wife. She nodded. He turned back to Mr. Hankers, pushing open the screen door. “I think you’ve got yourself a load of work here. Beginning with killing those rats. When can you start?”
“Right away,” Mr. Hankers replied, smiling. He shook Mr. Frasier’s hand. “Just show me to the basement. Those rats are history.”
Later that night, her first night in her new bedroom, Cally sat in bed, writing in her diary.
Dear Diary,
I wish I could tell you how happy I am and how much I love my new house. But I can’t. I never expected such a run-down, dark, gloomy, tacky place!
Would you believe that my very first day here a tree nearly fell on my head—and I was attacked by rats?!! I get the deep shivers just thinking about it.
Kody seems just as miserable as I am. James is the only one who’s the least bit excited. But that’s James. He gets excited about a new flavor of bubble gum!
The movers arrived about an hour after we did. We all worked unpacking cartons tonight. What a mess! I’ve never seen everyone so stressed. Now I’m up in my big, ugly room, writing in bed.
Confession Time: All day I kept thinking about Rick. I’ve been in Shadyside only one day, and I miss him already. I wonder if he’s been thinking about me. A couple of times I started to tell Kody how much I missed him—but I caught myself in time.
I keep forgetting that Kody went out with Rick first. I keep forgetting that she accused me of stealing him away from her. I mean, they went out on only one date! And it was Rick’s choice to start seeing me. I didn’t force him or anything.
Poor Kody. I hope she’ll have a better time here in our new town. She has such a messed-up attitude. Always blaming me for her problems. I hate it that she’s so jealous of me! What am I supposed to do?
Tomorrow we’re going into town to look for summer jobs. I hope I find something great! I hope Kody does too.
Cally wanted to write more, but her eyelids were heavy, and her hand started to ache. She set the diary on the floor, turned out the light, and settled down under the covers.
The ceiling creaked above her. The house seemed to let out a long, low groan.
Why do old houses do that? she wondered sleepily. Probably just to scare the people inside?
Well, I’m not going to get scared, Cally told herself, shutting her eyes. I’m too sleepy to get scared.
The scrabbling sound made her eyes pop open. Quick, scratching noises. Above her head.
She shuddered. Were there rats in the attic too?
Ugly, hairy rats running around right above her head?
Was the whole house crawling with the disgusting creatures?
Mr. Hankers will have to check out the attic tomorrow, she told herself.
She ignored the soft, scraping footsteps and forced herself to think about Rick. A few minutes later she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
• • •
“Are you going to wear that to look for a job?” Mrs. Frasier exclaimed, rolling her eyes in disapproval.
Cally hunched over the card table her dad had set up in the kitchen. She blinked her eyes, struggling to wake up. “These jeans are clean,” she told her mother irritably. “And so is the T-shirt. The rest of my clothes are still packed.”
“I don’t think you’ll make a very good impression—” Mrs. Frasier started to say.
Cally’s father cut her off. “Cally looks fine,” he said curtly. “So does Kody.”
“Thanks,” Kody said, yawning. She had appeared in the kitchen wearing a pale pink polo shirt and crisp white denim jeans. Her short blond hair was neatly held back in a white headband.
“Cold cereal for breakfast,” Cally’s mother announced. “I have to go grocery shopping this morning. Also, I couldn’t find the bowls. So you have to have it on a plate.”
Cally laughed. “Cold cereal on a plate. It doesn’t get any better than this!”
“Very amusing,” her mother said, setting the box of cornflakes in front of Kody.
“I look gross,” Kody whined, staring down miserably at her reflection in her plate. “I couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing the scariest sounds. I know this place is haunted. I know it is!”
Cally ignored her sister. “I’m going to find a great job today,” she said, giving herself a pep talk. “I’m going to find a job where I’ll meet all kinds of interesting, glamorous people, and it’ll make me rich and famous before summer’s over!”
Cally’s parents laughed. They were used to her wild fantasies.
Kody continued to stare down at her plate. “I’m hoping maybe I can find a waitressing job,” she grumbled.
“Are you sure you’re twins?” Mr. Frasier demanded, reaching for the cornflakes box. It was a question he asked a lot.
“Where’s James?” Cally asked.
“Still asleep,” her mother replied, taking her place at the card table. “I think he’s afraid if he comes downstairs, we’ll put him to work unpacking cartons.”
“He’ll probably sleep all day!” Cally exclaimed.
They ate their plates of cornflakes in silence for a while.
“Know what we need in here?” Mrs. Frasier said, putting down her spoon. “This kitchen is so damp and cold. We need some fresh air.” She turned to Kody. “Would you open the window? Let’s see if it helps.”
“We’ll cut down that big maple in front of the window,” Mr. Frasier said as Kody walked across the kitchen to the window. “A little sunlight will help a lot.”
Cally watched Kody slide the window up. Leaning on the windowsill, Kody peered out in
to the backyard, taking deep breaths of fresh air. “It’s a pretty day,” she reported.
Cally turned back to her cereal. She was spooning cornflakes into her mouth when she heard the loud slam.
It sounded like a heavy knife blade slicing into a butcher block.
A second later Cally heard her sister’s scream of agony. “My hands! My hands!”
Chapter 4
Mrs. Frasier got to the window first. Her husband was right behind her.
Kody’s screams were softer now, hoarse whispers of pain. “My hands! My hands!”
Mrs. Frasier tugged the window up. Kody stumbled back, holding her arms out stiffly like those of a marionette.
Cally had her hands clamped tightly over her mouth. She felt sick. She lowered her eyes, praying that her sister was okay.
“Ohhh—my wrists!” Kody moaned, still holding her arms in that strange position, sort of like a begging dog. “My wrists—”
Mrs. Frasier hugged Kody. “How awful, how awful,” she murmured.
“Try moving your hands,” Mr. Frasier instructed. “See if you can move them. If your wrists are broken—”
“No. I can move them,” Kody announced. She winced in pain as she demonstrated, wiggling both hands.
“Thank goodness they’re not broken,” her father said, letting out a long whoosh of air. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb.
“We’ll put ice on them,” Mrs. Frasier said. She started to the refrigerator, but stopped. “Oh. We don’t have any ice. We haven’t made any yet.”
“I think they’re going to be okay,” Kody said, testing first one wrist, then the other. “I—I mostly was scared. It slammed down so fast. I don’t think my hands are too badly hurt.” She continued bending them, testing the wrists.
“How did it happen?” Cally asked, finally finding her voice.
“It was so strange,” Kody replied, returning to the card table. “The window was up. No problem. I was leaning on the sill to smell the fresh air. The window suddenly came crashing down—with such force—it was as if someone were pushing it!”
Mr. Frasier examined the window. He raised it, then lowered it a few times. “Weird,” he commented. “Seems okay.” He turned back to the others. “When he finishes with the rats, I’ll have Mr. Hankers take a look at it.”
