The Dead Boyfriend

by R. L. Stine

  “Caitlyn, you saw the books in the library. The books told me how to do it. My family—we know things. We can do things.”

  “This is crazy,” I said. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I don’t know why I came.”

  “I do,” she said, moving to block the doorway. “You came because you want to help me.”

  “N-no,” I stammered. “That’s not true. I don’t want to help you. Because it’s crazy, Deena. If you’re serious, you need help. If you seriously think you can bring Blade back to life…” My voice faded. I was trembling.

  She took a few steps toward me, lowering the amulet to her side. “If I prove it to you?”

  “Huh? Prove it?” My head was swimming now.

  “If I prove I can do it, will you help me? I don’t have the strength to do it alone. Will you help me if I prove I can do it?”

  “No. You can’t prove it,” I said. “I’m sorry, Deena. This is too disturbing. You have to find someone to talk to. You’re not making sense. I can’t help you. I’m really sorry.”

  I started to the door. Deena grabbed my elbow and spun me around. “Watch. I can do it. I’m not crazy, Caitlyn. I’m a Fear. I can do terrible things. I can do frightening things. You have to believe me. Watch.”

  “Deena, wait—”

  She grabbed the parrot around its middle. The bird squawked in surprise. She squeezed her fingers around it and swung it off its perch.

  “Deena—stop!” I cried. “What are you going to do?”

  The parrot squawked and twisted its head, struggling to escape. Deena carried it to the aquarium—and plunged the bird down into the water. Pushed it to the bottom and held it underwater.

  “Deena—no! What are you doing?”

  I rushed at her. I grabbed her arm. I tried to pull the bird up from the aquarium. But Deena pushed down with all her strength, and I couldn’t move it.

  “What are you doing?” I cried. “What are you doing?”

  “Drowning the parrot,” she said.

  21.

  The bird struggled, kicking its claws, twisting its head. Deena pressed it to the aquarium bottom.

  I leaped back in horror. The water tossed and splashed. A few seconds later, it was still.

  The parrot slumped in Deena’s hand. She pulled it up. Water dripped off the beautiful feathers. It didn’t lift its head. It didn’t move.

  “The parrot is dead,” Deena said without any emotion at all. She squeezed the bird like a sponge, and water ran off it into the aquarium.

  At that moment, at that horrifying, sickening moment, I realized how dangerous Deena was. And at the same time, I realized that I could be in danger, too.

  She wasn’t just crazy. She could take a beautiful bird—her pet, her favorite—and drown it in her hand and not feel anything.

  I gripped my throat. I felt sick.

  “Now watch,” Deena snapped angrily. “Are you watching, Caitlyn? What’s wrong with you? I’m showing you something.”

  “Sorry,” I said. My eyes were on the door. I didn’t want to look at the dead bird. I pictured it in her hand, at the bottom of the aquarium. Struggling. Twisting and struggling. Little eyes bulging. Filling its lungs with water. Taking its last breath.

  Deena set the parrot down on the worktable. Water rolled off its body, forming a puddle around it. She raised the silver amulet in front of her. She pressed it against the belly of the bird.

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to breathe normally.

  Deena was chanting now, repeating and repeating words in a language I’d never heard before. She shut her eyes and held the amulet over the parrot. And chanted, her lips moving rapidly, the words repeating so softly I couldn’t hear them.

  Sweat formed on Deena’s forehead. Her eyeglasses actually steamed up. The amulet quivered in her hands as she continued to chant. A ray of sunlight through the window made the silver bird ornament glow.

  I gasped when the parrot uttered a weak cry. The bird opened its eyes. It raised its head.

  Deena continued to chant. Sweat ran down the sides of her face. Her voice became brittle, raspy.

  The parrot uttered another squeak. It shook its head hard, tossing off water. It tested its wings, then climbed unsteadily to its feet.

  Deena stopped chanting and opened her eyes. She mopped her perspiring face with the sleeve of her shirt. Gently, she lifted the parrot off the table and returned it to its perch.

  She brushed its wing feathers tenderly with one finger. The parrot tilted its head and nibbled at her finger.

  Then Deena raised her face to me with a strange, pleased smile on her face. “Back to life,” she said in a whisper.

  I couldn’t hide my shock. My mouth hung open as I stared at the parrot, preening its still-wet feathers. I struggled to think of what to say.

  “I … I still want to go home,” I said finally. “You are scaring me, Deena. I don’t need this.”

  Her strange, tight-lipped smile returned. “Yes, I’m scary. That’s why you’re going to help me, Caitlyn.”

  “I-I don’t understand,” I stammered.

  “You don’t have to,” she snapped. “Don’t try to understand. Just come with me. We don’t have much time.”

  “To bring Blade back to life?” My voice came out tiny. Fear tightened my throat.

  She nodded. “They didn’t bury him. He’s still in the chapel. We have to go there now.” She stepped away from the parrot perch. “You saw what I can do. We have to do it before it’s too late.”

  “But … why?” I said. “Why bring him back, Deena?”

  The parrot suddenly spoke up: “Why? Why? Why?”

  Deena’s eyes widened behind her large, round glasses. Circles of pink appeared on her pale cheeks. “Because I saw him first.”

  I gasped. “Huh? What does that mean? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I saw him first, Caitlyn, and now it’s my turn.” She started to the door. “This time he’ll be mine.”

  “Deena, wait,” I said, hurrying after her. “Wait. I’m not doing this. I can’t. I don’t want to bring Blade back.”

  She wheeled around, and her eyes bulged with anger. “Why not? I thought you loved him. I thought you were crazy about him.”

  “I … I thought so, too,” I said, my voice cracking. “But no. I can’t do it. I don’t want him back. It can’t happen because—”

  I stopped. I was about to confess why I didn’t want to see Blade back. I was about to tell her that I was the one who killed Blade. And if he comes back … if he comes back …

  I don’t know what Blade will do to me, and I’m too terrified to find out.

  I was about to confess. I was about to explain. I hesitated. I stood there debating, thinking hard. I didn’t want to confide in this strange, frightening girl. What would she do if she learned the truth about me, the truth about Blade’s murder?

  I knew I couldn’t tell Deena the truth. I knew I had to get away from her.

  I took a deep breath, spun to the door, and took off. I raised both hands and shoved her out of my way.

  Startled, Deena uttered a cry and staggered back a few steps, off-balance just long enough for me to escape. My shoes pounded the hard floor as I burst into the hallway, glanced right, then left.

  Which way? Which way had we come in?

  Shouting my name, Deena came running into the hall. I spun around and bolted to the right. The dimly lit hall gave me no clue as to the right direction to run.

  I passed rooms on both sides, their doors shut tight. A high window at the end of the hall let in a wash of gray evening light. It made me feel as if I was running in a fog.

  A mirror to my right gave me a glimpse of myself as I ran past, disheveled and frightened. At the end of the hall, another long corridor led in both directions.

  I took the right again. I remembered there was only one door to this strange, old guest house. Was I running to it—or away from it?

  Deena’s shouts followed me, ringing off th
e walls, repeating my name again and again.

  A sharp pain stabbed my side. I pressed my hand against it and kept running. The hall ended in black double doors. Not the entrance. I must have run the wrong way. And now I was trapped back here. Unless …

  I grabbed both door knobs and swung the doors open. I could see a large dark room, the darkness cut by two slender beams of light from the high ceiling.

  Deena’s cries in my ears, I slammed the doors behind me. I fumbled for a lock on them. But no. I couldn’t find any.

  Gasping for breath, I staggered into the inky shadow of the room. I gazed up at the twin beams of light. So mysterious. And then I followed the light down … down … straight down to the floor.

  I opened my mouth in a choked cry.

  And gaped at the twin glass display cases. Tall glass cases rising up from the floor, glowing under the lights. And inside the cases …

  Oh my God.

  Two people. A man and a woman. Dressed in black outfits, as if for a funeral. Standing very still. Eyes wide. Each one staring out of a display case, staring straight ahead, not at each other.

  The man had short, black hair and dark eyes. The woman had shoulder-length brown hair and bright blue eyes. Their faces were a strange orange.

  Store mannequins, I thought. Clothing store mannequins.

  But why were they here? Why hidden in a back room? Mannequins in glass cases with spotlights on them as if they were on display?

  Still struggling to catch my breath, I took a few steps closer. The man’s hands were at his sides. The backs of his hands were wrinkled, like real human hands. The woman had a diamond wedding ring on her left hand.

  Behind me, the doors swung open with a crash. I gasped and spun around.

  Deena stood in the doorway, holding onto the sides of the doors. Her gaze went from me to the twin cases. Then she locked her eyes on me.

  “I see you’ve met my parents,” she said.

  22.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I stared at her open-mouthed, my legs trembling so hard I started to fall.

  Finally, I found my voice. “That’s a joke, right? You’re joking?”

  She shook her head. “Not a joke. That’s Mom and Dad. In the flesh.”

  “But how?” I uttered. “I mean, why? I mean—”

  “They never should have let me take that taxidermy class,” she said.

  I’m in a nightmare.

  That’s what I thought, Diary.

  I turned my back on the display cases. I couldn’t bear to look at them now. I pressed a hand to my throat, struggling to keep my lunch down.

  “They are mannequins, right?” I said. “I know the stories about your family, Deena. But no way. No way I’ll believe that you stuffed your own parents.”

  “I don’t have time to explain,” she said. “They were very annoying people. I didn’t really have a choice.”

  She grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the hall. I must have been dazed or in shock or something. I let her pull me back to her room without a fight.

  The parrot bobbed up and down on his perch, excited to see us again. The tall weeds outside the wide window swayed in a shifting breeze.

  “You’re going to help me, Caitlyn,” Deena said softly. She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyelids. Her eyes looked so much smaller without her glasses. “You don’t have a choice.”

  I didn’t reply, just glared at her. The faces of the couple in the glass cases lingered in my mind. The woman did look a lot like Deena.

  “You’re coming to the chapel with me now,” Deena said, her voice low and steady. “We’re going to bring Blade back.”

  “No. I can’t,” I finally found my voice. “I can’t bring him back. I don’t want to bring him back.”

  And then, suddenly, I told her. It just came out of me.

  “Deena, I don’t want to see Blade again,” I said. “I can’t see Blade again. Because … because I’m the one who killed him.”

  Deena dove forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. She gave me a hard shake. A disgusted sneer spread over her face.

  “You idiot!” she cried. “You’re not the one who killed him. I did!”

  23.

  A shuddering cry escaped my lips. She gave me a shove, and I stumbled back a few steps. I caught my balance, but my head was spinning.

  I stared at her, sucking in breath after breath.

  Deena’s hair was wild about her head now, as if it had come alive. Her normally pale face was red, her mouth in a tight scowl.

  Was she lying? She had to be.

  “You—you were there?” I choked out. “In Blade’s backyard? When … when I stabbed him?”

  “I stabbed him,” she insisted. She crossed her arms in front of her black vest. “I mean, I made you stab him. You didn’t act on your own, Caitlyn. You … you were too much in love with him to kill him.”

  She couldn’t control her jealousy. She spat those last words, her face tight with fury.

  “But—why?” I demanded. “Why kill him? Why did he have to be killed?”

  “Because he betrayed us,” Deena replied, arms still tightly crossed in front of her.

  Us.

  “I followed you to Blade’s house that night,” Deena said. She swept back her hair with both hands. “I couldn’t let him get away with it. I didn’t know … I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. That girl Vanessa with the sweet smile and the mousy-soft voice. I wanted to puke, Caitlyn. Seriously. I just wanted to puke.”

  Behind me, Tweety the parrot chimed in again: “Why? Why? Why?”

  “So … you followed me?” I said.

  Deena nodded. “I waited and watched. I saw how angry you were at him. Angry and hurt. And you had every right to be, Caitlyn. I saw him first. I saw Blade first. But you had every right to be out-of-your-mind angry. And when I saw that knife fall out of your bag…”

  Her voice trailed off. I could see Deena was picturing the whole thing in her mind as she described it to me.

  “I saw my opportunity, and I took it,” she said, eyes flashing behind the big eyeglasses.

  “You’re crazy,” I blurted out. “Earth calling Deena. How about a little reality check? You didn’t do anything. I picked up the knife. I held the knife. I stabbed him. I stabbed him and I killed him, Deena. Not you.”

  She crossed her arms again and smirked at me.

  “I stabbed him! I stabbed him!” I shouted. The words came out in sobs. My whole body shuddered. I was finally confessing. Finally letting my horrible secret out. “I stabbed him and stabbed him!”

  She shook her head. “Why are you such a pain? Didn’t I tell you we have to hurry to bring Blade back?”

  I wiped tears off my cheeks. I clenched my jaw, trying to stop the shudders that shook my body.

  “Here’s a quick demonstration,” Deena said. “Here is how I made you stab Blade, okay? I was in charge. You weren’t. I’ll show you, Caitlyn.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Another demonstration?” I shuddered and pictured her drowning the parrot again.

  She pointed to the glass wall at the back of the room. Outside, I could see the late afternoon sun lowering behind the trees. Tiny white butterflies fluttered over the wildflowers at the back of the house.

  Deena snapped her fingers, then worked them in some kind of code, almost like sign language. Then she pointed to the window again. “Go over there and do a cartwheel,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said.

  The parrot slid from side to side on his perch. I strode to the wall, stepped into a square of red sunlight on the floor, raised my arms above my head, and did a fairly graceful cartwheel.

  I landed unsteadily and nearly stumbled into the glass. But I caught my balance and turned to Deena.

  “Do another one,” she said, motioning again with her fingers.

  “No problem,” I said. I concentrated this time and did a much more athletic cartwheel. This time I landed perfectly. “Ta-da.”
>
  “Are you catching on?” Deena said. “Are you starting to see how I can make you do whatever I want? Do you see how I used you to stab Blade?”

  I felt confused. “Well…”

  “I’ll give you one more demonstration,” she said. “If that’s what it takes to convince you I’m telling the truth.” She did that thing with her fingers again. “Caitlyn, go over there, take the parrot, and drown him again.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  24.

  The parrot flapped his wings rapidly, ducked, and twisted his head. He seemed to sense what was coming. I wrapped my hand around his middle and lifted him off the perch. He squawked frantically and snapped his beak, trying to bite my hand as I carried him over to the aquarium.

  I curled my hand tightly so he couldn’t escape. I glimpsed six or seven goldfish in the tank, swimming slowly in a cluster. I lowered the parrot toward the water.

  The bird began to squawk like crazy, squirming and twisting frantically in my hand.

  “Okay, stop,” Deena called. “Put Tweety back on his perch.”

  I turned away from the aquarium and quickly obeyed. I set the parrot down carefully on the perch. He squawked and nodded his head several times, as if telling me off.

  “Tweety has had a tough day already,” Deena said. “Let’s give the dude a break.”

  I blinked. The room darkened as the sun dropped behind the trees. Somewhere far in the distance, I heard a howl. A hunting dog maybe.

  Deena stood in the doorway. I could see the impatience on her face. She was waiting for me to say something.

  “I understand,” I said. “I get it, Deena.” I let out a long sigh. “I see what you did. Mind control, right? You used me.”

  “It was for your own good,” she replied.

  My mouth dropped open. “Huh? My own good? Are you kidding me? You … you turned me into a murderer.”

  “He betrayed us,” she said. “He had it coming.” She turned and headed into the hall.

  “But what about my life?” I cried, hurrying after her. “My life might be over. I’m a murderer. If the police figure it out … If they arrest me…”