The Dead Boyfriend

by R. L. Stine

  I was edgy, alert to everything, so tense my skin prickled. I knew the police would be back. I knew they’d be coming to arrest me any day. Arrest me for murdering Blade, and I had no way to prove I wasn’t responsible. No way to prove that I was being controlled by Deena Fear.

  Maybe, I could plead insanity.

  Which was quite possible. I mean, my being insane.

  Yes, I was insane for getting involved with Deena Fear. Insane for falling into her trap. Insane for going along with her scheme to bring poor dead Blade back.

  Insane.

  Was there any other word for it?

  I hadn’t heard from Deena since we had fled from the North Hills chapel. We had stared disbelieving into the empty coffin. Then we ran out the back door without saying a word to one another.

  Deena ran to her car, expecting me to follow. But I took off down the street, running full-speed, the cool wind brushing my hot cheeks, the ground solid and real beneath my pounding shoes. I needed something real.

  I needed to get away from her, away from the horror. My brain was exploding with questions. Had someone moved Blade’s body earlier from its coffin? Perhaps refrigerated it or something to keep it in good shape? Had he been buried after all? Or had Deena brought him back to life the night before without realizing it?

  That was truly crazy. But she said she’d been up all night preparing, doing whatever magic she did.

  No. No. I refused to believe it.

  For two days, I kept checking the local news websites. Waiting for the story of the missing body, the corpse stolen right out of the chapel. Every morning, I grabbed my dad’s copy of the Shadyside Citizen-Gazette at breakfast and pawed through it, searching for the story.

  But it wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere. And no one wrote about his funeral, either.

  Dad looked up from his toaster waffles. “Since when are you interested in the news?”

  “Uh … I thought my friend might be in it,” I said.

  He took the paper back and folded it to the sports section. He didn’t ask why my friend might be in the news. Dad doesn’t like to talk in the morning until his second cup of coffee.

  I didn’t see Deena in school. I felt too distracted to be there. I couldn’t listen to any of my teachers, and then Ms. Ryan, the gym teacher, called me away from our volleyball game and asked if I was feeling well.

  I avoided Julie and Miranda. They wanted to be sympathetic and fawn over me and tell me they knew how bad I felt and how tragic the whole Blade thing was (if they only knew!) and ask what they could do to cheer me up.

  Nothing. Nothing could cheer me up.

  They were my best friends, and they meant well. I mean, they really did care about me. But I couldn’t bear to eat lunch with them. While everyone marched to the lunchroom, I slipped outside.

  A warm April day, more like summer than spring. I took a long walk behind the school, past the student parking lot, and the stadium.

  Shadyside Park stretches behind the school. I sprawled on a bench, tilted my head into the sun, shut my eyes, and tried not to think. I thought of how you erase a whiteboard. Just wipe it clean, wipe everything away.

  Start all over …

  Of course, I couldn’t do that. How could I wipe away all the horror that had come into my life?

  I sat there in the sun, in the quiet park, daffodils popping through the ground, tiny new leaves unfurling on the still-wintry trees, half in a daze. I think I would have sat there all day. Except two women pushing baby strollers came ambling by, and one of the babies was crying.

  The shrill sound snapped me out of my hazy daydreams. I jumped to my feet, shook myself like a dog, turned, and made my way back to school.

  I searched for Deena Fear in the halls and waited for her by her locker after school. But she didn’t appear.

  I didn’t really want to see her. I hoped I’d never have to see her again. But I needed to talk to her. I needed to find out if she knew anything. If she’d heard anything. If she knew why Blade’s body wasn’t in its coffin and why no one was reporting it missing and … and…? My brain was spinning with so many questions. “Deena? Where are you?” I shouted to the empty hallway.

  * * *

  And now here I was. Making my way through the movie theater lobby. Back at work for the first time.

  Of course, Ricky came running over as I stepped into the lobby. His face was filled with concern, his eyes wide, his mouth twisted in a pout of sympathy.

  He grabbed both my hands in his. “Oh, Caitlyn, I’m so sorry. So sorry to hear about your friend.”

  “Thank you, Ricky,” I muttered. I was waiting for him to let go of my hands.

  “I know how you must feel,” he said. “Losing someone you were close to so suddenly.” He shook his head sadly. I thought he might start to cry.

  I slid my hands out from his. “Thank you,” I repeated. “I just thought … it would be better to get back to work.”

  He nodded. He had to squeeze my hands one more time. Then he turned and strode out of the lobby. He was just being nice, I thought. But that was way icky.

  I washed my hands, then stepped behind the concession counter. The popcorn machine was getting low, so I added some oil and started it up. It was a busy afternoon. The theater had a special Star Trek double feature starting at five, and it drew a pretty big crowd.

  I was wiping the counter down after the last customer had gone into the auditorium when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen. My friend Miranda.

  I raised the phone to my ear. “Hey. How are you? I’m at work.”

  “I think you’ve been avoiding me,” Miranda said. “I haven’t talked to you in days.”

  “I … I’ve been weird,” I admitted. “Sorry. It’s been tough, Miranda. You know.”

  “Well, if you want to talk about it, I’m here,” she replied. “I mean, if it would help at all.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m pretty messed up. I—”

  “Julie and I want you to come to the basketball game at school tonight,” she said. “Maybe it will help take your mind off things.”

  “I don’t know. I think—”

  “We could go to Alfonso’s and share a pizza afterward,” Miranda said. “Or maybe two. Like we used to.”

  I thought about it. I thought about how nice it was to have such considerate friends. Friends who were eager to help me.

  “Well … maybe…” I said.

  “It’s going to be a good game,” Miranda said. “We’re playing Green Valley. I know you’re not into basketball, but you should come, Caitlyn. We’ll have fun.”

  “Well … okay,” I said. “Okay. Thanks, Miranda. I’ll meet you in the gym at seven thirty.”

  I clicked off. Why not try to have some fun? I thought. It’s just a basketball game.

  What could happen?

  28.

  There had been a tenth-grade dance in the gym on Saturday night, and some of the red-and-blue streamers were still hanging overhead. A few stray balloons lingered in one corner near the coach’s office.

  I was early. The game didn’t start till eight. A few kids were already in the bleachers. They sat staring at their phones or talking with their friends.

  I recognized some guys from my class up in the top row of seats, passing around bags of tortilla chips. I saw Michael Frost, a guy I went out with a couple of times last year. He was sitting with Lizzy Walker, a new girl in school.

  Lizzy was a mystery girl. She arrived in the middle of senior year. No one knew anything about her. But the guys were interested in her because she was blonde and pretty and spoke with a sexy soft voice.

  She was sitting with her leg pressed against Michael’s, tossing her hair from side to side as she talked, her face close to his cheek. Even from this distance, I could see that Michael was entranced.

  I was still staring at them when Julie and Miranda arrived. They both wore maroon-and-white Shadyside Tigers T-shirts pulled down over straight-legged jeans. The
y spotted me right away, hurried over, and we hugged.

  “We’re so glad,” Julie said. “We didn’t think you’d come.”

  “Sorry I’ve been such a downer,” I said. “I just—”

  Miranda clamped a hand over my mouth. “Don’t talk about it. Seriously. Tonight is a fun night. Go, Tigers.”

  “Go, Tigers,” I repeated, trying to show some enthusiasm.

  Miranda sniffed my hair. “Mmmmm. Popcorn.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Tell me about it.”

  Julie guided me toward the bleachers. “Let’s sit up high so we can see everything. Hey, maybe those guys will share their chips with us.”

  We started up the bleacher stairs. “No, wait.” Miranda tugged me back. “You know I have a thing about heights. How about here? Right in the middle.”

  We squeezed past Michael and Lizzy who sat pressed together on the aisle and dropped down on the bench in the middle of the row. On the court, both teams were practicing, taking jump shots from all over the floor, the balls bouncing everywhere, pounding the floor like drumbeats.

  Green Valley is nearly fifty miles from Shadyside, so the guest team bleachers across the floor were only about a third filled. Over the thunder of the balls, I could hear some kids from the other school chanting, “Giants! Giants! Giants! Go, Big Green!”

  The team brought cheerleaders in their shiny, short green pleated skirts. And their mascot, a very tall, costumed character called the Jolly Green Giant. He did cartwheels along the front of the bleachers, and got a few of the Giants fans clapping and cheering.

  I’m not into basketball. Actually, tennis is my sport. But it was great to be kidding around with Julie and Miranda and to be in the middle of a happy, cheering crowd.

  The game started and the Giants quickly took an early lead. They had a couple of players who had to be eight feet tall. Well, maybe not. But they were a lot taller and wider than our players.

  The Giants played a very aggressive game. A lot of shoving and elbows and charging into players. They had several fouls called against them, but they also bullied their way under the basket to score a lot of points.

  Shadyside’s shooting was off. They have two awesome three-point shooters. But tonight, the ball wasn’t dropping for them.

  Our team was down by twelve points, and I found myself really getting into the game. I was cheering and screaming, waving my fists, urging them on. Julie and Miranda kept glancing at me. I could see they were happy that I was enjoying myself.

  And then the fun stopped.

  I saw the two men in dark uniforms enter the gym.

  I didn’t recognize them until they strode closer, edging their way toward the bleachers along the sideline. The police officers. Rivera and Miller.

  They walked slowly, stiffly, arms tensed at their sides. At their waists, I could see their holstered guns. They weren’t paying any attention to the game. Their eyes were on the bleachers.

  I knew why they were here. They had come for me. This was it. This was the end of my fun normal night. They had come to take me away.

  I read it on their faces as they scanned the crowd. Row by row.

  “Here I am.” I had the urge to shout.

  No way I could hide. No way they wouldn’t see me.

  Rivera’s eyes stopped on me. A soft moan escaped my throat.

  “Here I am. Here I am. The murderer. Here I am. Come and arrest me. Take me away.”

  29.

  My whole body tensed as I watched the two cops at the bottom of the bleachers. The cheers of the crowd faded from my ears. All sounds faded away until I heard only the pulsing of my racing heartbeats.

  Rivera turned and said something to his partner. Miller nodded. The two of them began to climb up the aisle.

  They’ve seen me. They’re coming for me.

  I had a strong urge to open my mouth and scream, to let out all my horror, all my fear, and just scream and scream until I had no voice or breath left.

  Somehow I held it in. I leaned forward on the bench, every muscle tensed, as I watched Rivera lead the way up the side of the bleachers.

  He stopped three rows below me and pointed. Miller nodded. The two of them squeezed into the row and took seats about a third of the way across.

  “Huh?” A startled gasp escaped my throat. I watched the two cops settle themselves and turn to focus on the game.

  Miranda turned to me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Uh … nothing. I … can’t believe that last whistle. Johnson didn’t foul that guy.”

  “Of course he did,” Miranda said. “He practically took his head off.”

  Julie laughed. “Hey, you’re really into this, Caitlyn.”

  I glanced at the backs of the two cops. “Yeah,” I said. Now that I can breathe again.

  I realized that I had to take my happy moments when I could. I knew it was only a matter of time before the police did come after me.

  I gazed at the scoreboard. Only a minute left in the first half. Shadyside had pulled to within four points of the Giants. Kids were standing now, jumping up and down and cheering. Deafening excitement. The bleachers were actually rocking.

  Julie, Miranda, and I jumped to our feet. A steal and a fast-break layup brought the Tigers within one basket. Someone called time out. I watched the players trot to their benches on the sidelines.

  A flash of color caught my eyes. I peered across the gym to the visitors’ bleachers.

  I nearly fell over. I grabbed onto Julie and Miranda to catch my balance. A guy in a red hoodie hunched in the second row. He stood out among the green jackets and shirts of the visitors.

  Of course, I thought of Blade. No way I could see a red hoodie and not think of him. I squinted into the glare of the bright gym lights, trying to see the guy more clearly. He had his head down and the hood pulled over his hair. I could see only the top of the red hood and his chest and arms.

  My two friends didn’t notice my alarm. They stood on both sides of me arguing about what kind of pizza to get after the game. Miranda liked to plan ahead. And she doesn’t like pepperoni. We have this conversation nearly every time we go for pizza at Alfonso’s.

  I didn’t join in. I was watching the boy in the red hoodie, waiting for him to raise his head. The buzzer rang, indicating the time-out was over.

  The guy raised his head, and the hood fell back to his shoulders. I leaned forward, studying his face, his dark hair.

  “Oh no.”

  Blade.

  It was Blade!

  He raised his eyes to the Shadyside bleachers. He was gazing right at me. The game started up. He didn’t look away. He stared at me intensely from across the gym.

  Before I could even think, I had shoved my way past Miranda and I was rushing to the aisle, stepping on feet, brushing kids back, everyone a blur, just a blur because I had the red hoodie in my eyes.

  “Caitlyn? Hey—Caitlyn?”

  “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

  I heard my friends calling after me in alarm. I didn’t turn back. I stumbled into the aisle, hurtled into a few kids blocking my way, and dove past some others.

  I made it to the gym floor just as the half-time buzzer rang out. A groan went up from both bleachers. No one wanted the game to stop. My shoes slipped on a wet spot on the gym floor, and I nearly fell onto the team bench.

  I took a deep breath and ran along the sidelines.

  Blade is back.

  I didn’t ask any of the obvious questions. Had Deena Fear brought him back? Did he come back to haunt me? To accuse me? To let everyone know that I was his murderer?

  I ran past the team bench where the players were grabbing towels and water bottles and heading to the locker room. I darted between two striped-shirt referees who were mopping their faces with towels, heatedly discussing some penalty call.

  I ran against the crowd of kids coming down off the visitors’ bleachers, making their way to buy hotdogs and drinks at the stand outside the gym.

  “Blade!
Hey, Blade!” I breathlessly shouted his name, my chest about to burst from running, from my shock. “Blade!”

  My eyes ran along the bleachers. To the second row. Empty now. Empty.

  No red hoodie. No Blade. He was gone.

  I spun around, my eyes searching every face.

  I’m not crazy. I didn’t hallucinate him. He was here.

  I felt a hard bump from behind. “Blade?”

  I turned to see a big red-headed kid in a green-and-yellow Green Valley jersey. “Hey, sorry,” he said. He had a large cup of Coke in each hand. “Didn’t see you. Sorry.”

  “No worries,” I said.

  Then Julie and Miranda appeared beside me. “Caitlyn? What are you doing over here?” Julie demanded.

  “You got up before halftime,” Miranda said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I-I saw him,” I stammered. “I saw Blade.”

  They both gasped. Julie wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “You mean someone who looks like Blade?”

  “No.” I stepped away from her. “Blade. I saw him. He was sitting right there.” I pointed to the middle of the second row, now empty. “He … was staring at me. Staring across the gym right at me.”

  Miranda and Julie exchanged glances. They weren’t prepared to deal with an insane person. They brought me here to snap me out of my depression, and now here I was, ruining everything.

  Miranda shook her head, her face tight with concern. “Caitlyn, you know it couldn’t be Blade. What made you think—”

  “He was wearing the red hoodie,” I said. “That’s what made me look at him. The hood slipped off and … and…”

  “Do you want to go home?” Julie asked. “Where’s your car? I could drive you—”

  “No!” I cried. “I have to find Blade. He’s here. I’m not making it up, Julie.”

  I pictured Deena Fear. Pictured Blade’s empty coffin once again. He was here. I knew he was here.

  I broke away from them and ran toward the gym doors. I pushed through the double doors into the hall. Nearly knocked a girl over. “Sorry. Didn’t see you.”

  My eyes searched up and down the hall. Several kids were lined up at the concession table. No. No sign of him. Their faces all blurred in front of me. No red hoodie. No Blade.