by R. L. Stine
“Friends for life!” Sammy squeaked. He touched knuckles with Eduardo.
JJ shook his head. “You’re joking, right?”
Eduardo’s eyes narrowed. His smile faded. “It’s not a joke, man. It’s serious. That’s the initiation.”
JJ let out a long whoosh of air. “Too heavy for me, man.” He started to his feet.
Maria tugged him back down. “We all did it,” she said.
“You telling me you all killed someone to join your club?”
“It’s easy, man,” Sammy said. “We’ll give you the gun and everything.”
“I don’t think so,” JJ said. He realized his chest suddenly felt fluttery. His stomach churned.
Maria ran a fingernail down his cheek. It made his whole body tingle. “You can do it, baby,” she whispered. She let her hair brush his cheek again.
“We’ll be there for you, man,” Sammy said. “Friends for life. Really.”
“Here’s what you do,” Bony said, pulling up more grass, letting it fall in his own lap. “Pick someone, right? Pick some jerk you really don’t like. Wait till he’s alone. Make sure no one can see. And—POP. That’s all there is to it. It’s cake.”
Maria squeezed his hand. Her breath tickled his face.
“This is the gun,” Eduardo said. He held up a tiny pistol, not much bigger than a cell phone. “Cute, right? But it does the damage.”
“We’ve all used it,” Sammy said. “POP. That’s it. Then you bring it back to us.”
“I used to shoot back in Texas,” JJ said. Why did his voice suddenly sound so tight, so shrill? “But I used real guns. Not toys like that.”
“It’ll do the damage,” Eduardo repeated. “It’s loaded for you, man. It’s ready.”
JJ took the pistol from him and rolled it in his hand. It felt cool and light. Like a toy. He pictured Florian.
POP.
Florian.
POP.
Florian.
POP.
Florian.
POP.
“Okay,” he told them. “I’ll do it.”
Sometimes days fly past like the wind. Here it was, three nights later, and JJ, sweating despite the evening cool, found the four Killers at the familiar place in the park, deep shadows playing over their expectant faces.
“I did it.” The words burst from his mouth in a breathy explosion. He raised the pistol in front of him. It glinted in a narrow beam of moonlight. “Friends for life, right?”
He waited for them to react. To congratulate him. Some high fives. Some knuckle slaps. So, why the silent treatment?
“You don’t believe me?” JJ shoved the pistol back into his jeans. He leaned against a tree trunk and stared down at them. “I did it. Just like you said. I killed Florian. Shot him in the head.”
More silence. Sammy and Eduardo exchanged glances. Maria bit her bottom lip.
“I waited for the restaurant to close,” JJ said. “There was no one around. The parking lot was totally dark. I walked up behind him and shot him in the head. He dropped onto the trunk of his car. Didn’t know what hit him.”
Maria let out a gasp. She looked away.
“You shot him?” Bony said finally. He kept blinking. “You really shot him?”
JJ nodded.
“But we loaded the gun with blanks,” Sammy squeaked.
“Yeah. Tell me about it,” JJ said. “I took the pistol to a firing range to try it out. All six chambers were loaded with blanks. So I bought a box of bullets for it. Guess you guys messed up.”
“No way,” Bony said, shaking his head. “It was supposed to be blanks, JJ. You weren’t supposed to kill anyone. It was just a joke, see. The whole thing was a joke.”
JJ’s eyes grew wide. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“It was a joke, dude,” Eduardo said. “We’re not killers. We didn’t kill anyone. You’re the new kid. You looked so desperate. We thought we’d have some fun with you, that’s all.”
“Fun?” JJ said in a whisper. “Fun?”
“We were messing with you, man,” Bony said. “We were punking you.”
“Why did you put real bullets in the gun?” Maria cried. “You weren’t supposed to!” She had tears in her eyes, and her chin quivered. “You weren’t supposed to kill anyone.”
JJ slammed his open hand against the tree trunk. “Oh, please . . . Oh, please, oh, please. I killed Florian. You told me I had to. Now you tell me it’s a joke? But it’s NOT a joke! I killed him!”
“JJ, sit down,” Maria said, tears running down her cheeks. She patted the grass beside her. “We have to talk about this. All of us.”
JJ didn’t move from the tree trunk. “I’m a murderer,” he uttered in a low, trembling voice. “A murderer, all because of a joke.”
“But no one saw you, right?” Sammy asked. “There’s no way anyone knows it was you, JJ.”
JJ shut his eyes tight. His jaw clenched and unclenched. The others watched him in silence. “No. No one saw me,” he said finally. “No one knows . . .”
His eyes opened wide. “Except you guys. You’re the only ones who know I killed him. You’re, like, witnesses or something.”
He stepped away from the tree. His whole body stiffened. He jammed his hand into his jeans pocket and brought out the pistol.
“Hey, don’t get crazy,” Bony said. He jumped up from the grass. He took a step toward JJ. “We’re not going to snitch on you, man.”
“No, you’re not going to snitch on me,” JJ said softly. He pointed the pistol at Bony. “I won’t let you snitch on me.”
Maria scrambled to her feet and took a few steps back, eyes wary. “JJ, what are you doing? JJ—please. Put it down.”
“I can’t trust you,” JJ said. “I can’t trust any of you. Everything you told me was a lie.”
“Listen to us. It was supposed to be a joke—” Bony said.
“I’m a murderer because of you,” JJ repeated, sweat pouring down his forehead. He waved the pistol from Bony to Maria, then down to the other two boys, still hunched tensely in the grass. “A murderer—and you’re the only ones who know.”
“We won’t tell. Promise!” Sammy whined.
“JJ—don’t,” Maria pleaded. “Put down the gun. This is crazy.”
JJ shook his head. “You understand me, right? You all have to take a bullet. I can’t trust you. No way. I can’t take a chance.”
He aimed the pistol at Bony. His arm tensed.
Maria let out a scream.
Bony jumped at JJ. He made a wild grab for the gun.
JJ swiped it out of Bony’s reach—and fired.
POP.
Bony uttered a groan. His face showed more surprise than pain. He grabbed his stomach, dropped face-first to the grass, landed with a soft thud, bounced once, then didn’t move.
Maria screamed again. The scream ended in a choking gasp.
Sammy and Eduardo were on their feet. They had their arms outstretched, partially in surrender. Their faces were twisted in fright.
“Who’s next?” JJ barked, hoarse, excited. He swung the pistol from one to the other. “Who’s next?”
“Please—” Sammy wailed. “Please—”
“Don’t kill us,” Eduardo said. “You can trust us. Really. We won’t tell anyone.”
Maria stared at him silently, her hair falling over her face. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving up and down. “JJ—no.” Her voice a faint whisper.
“Please don’t kill us,” Sammy said again. “We’ll be your friends. Really.”
JJ laughed. He lowered the pistol to his side. “Guess your initiation is over. You made it.”
Sammy and Eduardo froze. Their eyes bulged, studying JJ. Maria hugged herself tightly, her whole body shuddering.
“Initiation?” Sammy finally choked out.
JJ nodded. “Yeah. If you want to hang with me, you have to pass my initiation. Bony and I cooked it up.” He spun the pistol on his thumb. “All blanks. Nothing but blanks
.” He chuckled again. “That got a little tense, huh?”
The other three still weren’t taking it in. You could almost see the thoughts whirring in their heads.
“You punked us?” Eduardo said finally.
JJ nodded. “Bony and I. It was kinda his idea.”
“You didn’t kill Florian?” Maria asked, brushing her damp hair off her forehead. “That was a lie?”
“A lie,” JJ said. “All a joke. I should be an actor or something, right? I was pretty good.”
“You’re both creeps!” Maria shouted. “You scared us to death!”
“Is the initiation over?” Eduardo asked. His gaze was on the pistol in JJ’s hand.
“Yeah. It’s over,” JJ said. “Friends for life, right?” He turned to Bony, still on his stomach on the grass. “Get up, man. We’re done. It’s a done deal. We punked these dudes. They’re still shaking.”
Bony didn’t move. His hands were tucked beneath him, still gripping his stomach. His face was down in the dirt.
JJ gave him a gentle kick in the side. “Come on, Bony. Stop clowning. Get up, man. Let’s get out of here.”
Bony didn’t move.
JJ gave him another soft kick with the toe of his boot.
Bony’s body bounced once, then settled back in place.
“Bony, no! No! Bony?” Maria began to scream.
JJ dropped to his knees. He grabbed Bony’s jacket and flipped him onto his back. Bony’s hands fell limply away from his body. A lopsided puddle of dark blood stained the front of his T-shirt.
“Bony—no! No! Bony—no!”
Bony’s eyes gazed blankly at the sky, glassy and unblinking.
“What happened?” JJ wailed in a high, shrill voice. “They were blanks. They were all blanks. What happened?”
“Y-you killed him!” Sammy whispered. “You shot Bony in the stomach!”
A hoarse cry escaped JJ’s throat. “No. I couldn’t. They were blanks. I know they were. All blanks. Bony and I cooked it up. It was a joke!”
Shaking his head, JJ began murmuring to himself in a panic. “Oh, wow. Oh, wow. Bony dead? I killed Bony? It couldn’t happen. It couldn’t. Oh, wow. Oh, wow.”
Bony laughed. He blinked a few times and sat up with a grin on his face. He slapped JJ’s arm. “Gotcha, dude. That was your initiation!”
JJ made a choking sound. The others burst out laughing.
Sammy helped Bony to his feet. “Good one, dude.”
JJ stood up on shaky legs and narrowed his eyes at them. “You were all in on it? From beginning to end? You all knew about this . . . this joke?”
Maria wiped tears from her eyes. This time, they were tears of laughter. The others slapped knuckles, tossed their heads back, and howled at the moon.
“They were all in on it, dude,” Bony told him. “Don’t you get it? It wasn’t their initiation. It was your initiation!”
“You were punked, JJ!” Eduardo cried.
“You should have seen the look on your face!”
They howled some more. Bony hugged Maria around the waist. Sammy and Eduardo did a wild victory dance around the tree.
They stopped when they saw someone running toward them. Her hair flew wildly behind her head, and the wind lifted her coat as she stumbled over the wet grass.
JJ recognized her immediately. “Julie!” He turned to the others. “The waitress from the restaurant.”
He took a few steps toward her. She stopped, hands balled into tense fists. She took a few deep breaths.
“Julie—how did you find me? What’s up?”
“You won’t believe this, JJ,” Julie said, her jaw clenched, eyes wide. “Florian is dead.”
JJ heard Maria gasp.
“Someone shot him in the head,” Julie said. “They found him in the parking lot. He’s dead. Someone killed him!” Her body shuddered. She wrapped her arms around herself.
Bony stepped up to JJ and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “This is another joke, right?” His eyes burned into JJ’s. “The waitress is in on it, right? This is another initiation joke?”
JJ stared back at Bony and smiled.
SHE’S DIFFERENT TONIGHT
▼ HEATHER GRAHAM ▼
It was Halloween.
And what a Halloween.
You have to understand, I really, really, love Halloween.
Such a perfect night was truly rare. The weather was balmy, almost warm, but kissed with a cool breeze. The sky had been crystal clear all day, blue, beautifully blue.
And a full moon was about to rise high. It had begun its ascent already. Soon, it would be luminous across a black velvet heaven. I mean, conditions could not have been more perfect.
I was dressed like a football player, and it was the perfect costume for me, honestly. Not to sound too cocky, but I can pull off a jock pretty well. I have the old all-American, farm-raised, blue-eyed, wheaten-haired boy-next-door appeal; I’m pretty tall—six three—and I have broad shoulders before adding the pads in. I looked like the real deal. All-American, the boy-next-door. Funny. I was anything but.
She happened to be at the service bar just as I was, and since I’d seen her around before, I knew her to be usually shy and mild-mannered. She hung with a crowd that was kind of on the edge—close to, but not quite in with—the elite. The kind always hoping to get in. To get closer to those of us who glowed with the esteem and admiration we received from others. Knowing me would be a notch in her belt. She might be willing to do just about anything for the privilege of saying that we were . . . friends. That she had been with me, on Halloween night.
Perfect.
She was just perfect.
I’d been watching her, you see. I’d been contemplating this night. Then, tonight, I’d been watching again. Making sure she’d come alone, and was trying to fit in. Tonight, here, I’d been watching again with patience, knowing that I was stalking her, but keeping in mind as well that I needed to find the perfect date, to make sure that it was her.
The perfect date.
Someone who drew little notice.
Someone not easily missed.
And that was her. Usually.
This Halloween, though, it seemed she was playing against type.
And it worked for her. No more dowdy little school-girl, bordering on the nerdy. I was pleasantly surprised by her wickedly erotic appeal. The good girl, all dressed up as if she were bad.
Like I said, I’d seen her around before, I stalked her. She always had an armload of books. She usually wore glasses, and they were often slipping down her nose. She was the studious type. A mouse. She kind of hunched forward when she walked, hugging those books of hers. She was a good girl who had left home and gone on to college to do the folks proud. I always thought she must have come off a farm. You’d think nerd, and you’d be right. But I have to admit, though I hadn’t given it much thought before, there had always been something appealing about her. Something delicious in the scent of her. And tonight . . . well, she had almost pitch-black hair to begin with. Long and straight. And she had the kind of hazel eyes that— with the contact lenses she was wearing—really took on an honest-to-God, snakelike, vampire appearance. Very cool. She was wearing a dress that might have done Morticia or Vampira proud; it hugged her body, her every curve. It was as if she were breaking out of some kind of shell, and a better man than I might have been hard-pressed to resist. Who had ever imagined the figure beneath those books, beneath the gawky stance? And yet she was still . . . well, the same girl. The same girl who needed me.
And, as I already admitted, I had been watching. Eyeing her. Not quite imagining this, but planning out my moves, you might say.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied, just a little startled that I had talked to her.
“Great costume,” I said.
“You too.”
“It’s just a football thing,” I said.
Her lips curled in a smile. “One would think you might have dressed up like a wolf,
” she said.
Ouch. So she did have a sense of humor.
“Who’d have thought you’d be the sexy undead?” I whispered, my tone very flattering.
“Oh, well. Life can be pretense and dress-up,” she said. She sounded breathless. In fact, it was great. She almost looked as if she were going to swoon.
“Need some air?” I asked her.
She looked at me, surprised once again. I think she might have blushed—hard to tell in that makeup she was wearing. Fake lashes? Or were those her own, touched with mascara?
This was like a fascinating miracle. She was actually stunning tonight. Seductive and clever. Witty. And the way she looked in the tight getup, I hadn’t been lying. She was sexy. Sensuous. Hot.
She looked downward for a moment and I knew she was thinking quickly. Maybe her heart was even fluttering. After all, I was one of the most popular kids in school. Okay, I admit—I come from a lot of money. I drive a cool car. But the rest, I’d done on my own. I have a certain amount of charm and pure animal appeal. She was thinking, Wow, me! Vince Romero has singled me out of the crowd!
Okay, I think I’ve admitted, I might be a little on the cocky side, too.
She looked up at me. “Air,” she said simply.
“Yeah, it’s getting stuffy in here,” I said with a shrug. “Shall we slip away?” I was my most seductive self. I’d never quite imagined it like this. That I’d be more than playing, teasing. But I wasn’t jarred or thrown off. I was simply enjoying.
She stared at me for a moment. I almost smiled. She looked the part, but she wasn’t quite there. She was like a deer caught in headlights. She seemed to tremble. Then she nodded. Just as if she’d been hypnotized.
“Um, you did come alone?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Such a sweet, throaty note in her voice. “And . . . you? You came alone?” she asked.
Okay, so I usually had a blonde with size quadruple-D bazoongas on my arm.
I smiled. “I’ve been waiting for you all night. I’ve watched you, you know.”
“Oh,” she breathed, staring at me. “Really?”
“Really,” I assured her.
