by Stine, R. L.
A small white trailer stood in the shadow of the wardrobe building. I blinked at it. It had no sign, no markings on it at all.
Strange, I thought. Les told me the makeup trailer was at the side of Mayhem Manor.
I decided they must have moved it. I let out a long breath. The old skirt was tighter than I’d thought. Maybe it would encourage me to lose some weight.
I climbed the three metal steps to the trailer door, then hesitated. Should I knock? I decided to go right in.
I pulled open the door and leaned inside. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust after the bright sunlight. Inside the trailer, I saw a wall of shelves filled with bottles and jars, all different colors.
Yes. This must be the right place, I decided. I stepped through the doorway and pulled the door closed behind me. I turned—and saw the creature sitting behind a low desk.
I gasped.
It took me a few seconds to realize it wasn’t a creature. It was a very hairy little man. I felt my face grow hot. I was embarrassed that I had uttered a gasp.
But he was a strange-looking little dude. He had to be no more than five feet tall, and he was covered in hair. I mean, he had like a black shrub falling over his head, poking out in all directions. And a stubbly black beard on his round face. And his sleeveless blue wifebeater shirt showed off hairy black arms and a lot of black chest fur.
OMG. Anybody could have mistaken him for a bear or something. Trust me. He was a real hairy bowling ball.
I backed against the door. In case the beast attacked.
But when he spoke, he had a soft, high voice, and he smiled, and I could see he was human, after all. Or at least almost human.
“Welcome, welcome,” he said. “What can I do for you today?”
He had tiny hands with curly hair on the backs, and he plucked at the front of his tight shirt as he gazed up at me.
“Simon Ferris sent me,” I said. And then I stopped. And squinted at him. “Have I seen you somewhere before?”
He scratched his beard. “I don’t think so.”
“Haven’t we met?” I had the strongest feeling.
“No,” he said. “Who are you?”
I studied his face. He had dark eyes under heavy black eyebrows and a flat nose. His mouth was lost somewhere in his beard.
“From Mayhem Manor,” I said. “I’m Claire Woodlawn. I’m playing Darlene.”
He murmured something under his breath. It sounded like, “Darlene was a nice girl.” But I knew I hadn’t heard right.
“I’m Benny Puckerman. Everyone calls me Puck.” He nodded his head as if taking a short bow.
My eyes darted over the shelves all around him, the small bottles and jars. Hundreds of them. I realized none of the jars or bottles had labels.
“What is all this?” I asked. “Is this makeup? This is the makeup trailer, right?”
He snickered. He scratched his beard. “No, I don’t have any makeup here.”
“I-I’m in the wrong trailer?” I stammered. I wished he would stop staring. He didn’t blink. The hairy little guy was giving me the creeps. “Well, what is in all these bottles?”
“It’s my potions,” he said. He stood up. He kept his eyes on mine. “Do you believe in potions, Claire?”
“No. No way. I mean … well … I don’t know. I mean…” I tried to back up but there was no room. I bumped a shelf of bottles behind me.
“Well, I do,” he said. “I believe in them because I know they work.” He snickered again. Not a pleasant sound. He picked up a small blue bottle and rolled it in his pudgy hand. “They work. They work.”
I wanted to get out of there. He took another step toward me. I wondered if Delia was coming soon. “Wh-what kind of potions?” I stammered.
A smile spread under his black beard. “All kinds.”
He set down the blue bottle and picked up a tiny jar next to it. He raised it to my face. It had a glittery gray powder inside. He shook it in front of me.
“It’s a love potion,” he said. “You interested? Maybe try it on someone?”
I couldn’t hold back my laugh. This dude was insane. “A love potion? For real?”
He nodded. The strange grin appeared frozen on his face. “It works. It really works.” He held it close and gazed at the gray powder.
“You pour it on someone, see. It only takes a little bit. You spill a few flakes on them. Then they will fall in love—madly in love—with the first person they see.”
I laughed again. Nervous laughter. Was he kidding me?
“That’s Shakespeare,” I said. “Nice try, Mr. Puckerman. But we read that play in tenth grade. The fairy puts the love potion on the girl’s eyes so she’ll fall in love with the guy who’s crazy about her. But when she wakes up, the first thing she sees is a guy who’s been turned into a donkey. And she falls madly in love with the donkey. We read it last year.”
Puckerman shook his head. “That’s just a play. This is real.”
I gazed at the jar in his hand. “What is it really?”
He frowned. “I don’t make up stories. And I don’t lie.” He waved a hand, motioning to the shelves. “These potions are the real thing. Let me demonstrate.”
He moved quickly. Before I could duck out of the way, he dove toward me, raised a furry paw above my head, tilted a small bottle, and shook powdery silver flakes onto my shoulders.
“N-nooo,” I stammered in total panic. “What did you do? What is that?”
“It’s the love potion,” he answered.
I felt a tingling in my shoulders, like a mild electrical shock. My skin prickled as the feeling ran down my whole body. The bottles and jars became a blur of color all around me.
“What did you do to me?” I cried, my voice muffled, distant. “What did you do to me?”
11
HOUSE OF DEATH
I GAZED DOWN AT THE LITTLE MAN, at his adorable black beard, at the awesome wild tuft of hair on his head, at his beautiful face with its softly glowing dark eyes and gleaming smile.
A strong emotion swept over me. I wanted to grab him in my arms and pull him close, wrap him in a tight hug and tell him how wonderful he was.
“Claire, you and I have things to do later,” he said in that sweet, sweet voice. “Not yet. Not yet. But soon.”
I’d never felt this way about anyone. My heart was pounding. My hands were clammy. I couldn’t resist him.
I squeezed my hands over his thick shoulders. He had beautiful spiky back hair poking out from his t-shirt. “Can I … Can I…” I worked up my courage. “Can I kiss you? Can I hold you?”
He slid out of my grasp. “I’m just demonstrating the potion to you. Next time, you won’t question my power.”
“Please—” I begged, my voice trembling with feeling. “I just want to hold you close to me. I want to kiss you. I want to feel your beard against my face. Please—”
He raised his arm and sprinkled another powder, this time on my hair. The room blurred again. I felt my throat tighten. My stomach gurgled and growled.
Puckerman slowly came back into focus. He had beads of sweat on his ugly beard. His eyes were wet like oysters. He scratched his greasy hair. Gross.
“Get away from me,” I snapped. “What did you just do?”
“I’ll be calling you soon,” he said. “Believe me, you won’t enjoy it.”
“Explain it to me—”
“You have to face your fate, Claire. You do believe in fate, don’t you? Mayhem Manor is a house of death. When you enter a house of death, you must expect to die.”
“You—you’re crazy!” I cried. “You’re sick. I’ll call security. Really. I’ll call the studio guards.”
His dark eyes burned into mine, like he was trying to hypnotize me. “No, you won’t,” he said softly. “You won’t call security.”
Again, his hand flew over my head. This time, a black powder rained onto my hair. Again, my head tingled and itched.
I tried to twist away. But there was
no room. I was totally trapped.
“That’s a forgetting potion,” Puckerman said. He spun the cap back over the little bottle. He flashed me a toothy smile. “You’ll forget this happened, Claire.”
I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, my whole body shaking. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.
The room suddenly went out of focus. Like a bad photograph. I squinted hard, struggling to make it clear again.
No, I thought. No way. I won’t forget. I won’t forget. I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw hurt. I struggled against the potion.
“You’ve forgotten already, haven’t you,” Puckerman said.
I pretended to be confused. “Forgot about what?” I said. It was a lie. I remembered everything.
Without warning, he pushed open the trailer door and gave me a gentle shove outside. I stumbled down the stairs and before I could regain my balance, bumped into Delia.
“Is this the makeup trailer?” she asked. “Why do you look so weird?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I … I mean, no. It’s not. Wrong trailer.” I wanted to think about the whole thing before I told Delia about it.
She blocked my path. She wore a man’s starched white dress shirt over straight-legged jeans. Her costume. She grabbed for my hand. “What is that, Claire? What have you got?”
She pulled a slender gray pill bottle from my hand. She studied the unmarked bottle. “Did you get this inside that trailer?”
“Yes. I stole it.” I grabbed the bottle from her and spun it in my hand. “It’s a potion. I took it off a shelf in there.”
Delia rolled her eyes. “I should have known. Another one of your crazy—”
“No,” I said. “It’s real, Dee. I took it from the little guy in there. He tried to make me forget. But I concentrated. I fought off his spell. My mind is foggy, but … I—I took a love potion.”
She burst out laughing. “Give me some. I’ll try it on Shawn.”
I felt a surge of excitement in my chest. “And I’ll pour some on Jake,” I said. “No joke. We’ll get them together, and we’ll try it. We’ll try the potion on them.”
“Why not?” Delia said. “What do we have to lose?”
12
THEY TRY THE LOVE POTION
THE NEXT DAY, WE HAD A FREE DAY. The set was closed for tech rehearsal. Les Bachman was preparing for the first day of shooting.
I slept till noon. I would have slept later, but the two pool service guys were having some sort of argument outside my window. Something about chlorine tabs.
I pulled on a pair of white short shorts and a sleeveless yellow tee. Then I rounded up Delia, Jake, and Shawn, and I drove us all to Malibu. The four of us squeezed into a booth at Ruby’s Shake Shack on the pier.
What a day. The sun over the ocean. Chocolate milk shakes all around and maybe the best cheeseburgers in L.A.
Shawn was desperate to get to the beach. “My wet suit’s in the back of your car,” he said, wiping hamburger juice off his chin. “But I know a shack five minutes from here where they’ll rent you guys stuff.”
“Rent us what?” I said. “Shawn, did you notice we’re not wearing swimsuits?”
Shawn snickered. “We could find an empty beach. You won’t need bathing suits.”
“Shut up,” Delia said, but she grinned at him.
Shawn stared out at the white-capped waves. Jake tried to start a cheeseburger discussion: Whose is better—Ruby’s, The Apple Pan, or In-N-Out Burger?
“Jake,” I said, “we have the same discussion every time we come here.”
He grinned at me. “So?”
I tried to squeeze his hand over the table. But he picked up his cheeseburger with it. He had his eyes on Delia.
I felt totally tense. My lunch was sitting in my throat. I reached into my bag and wrapped my fingers around the little potion bottle.
Was I really going to do this?
I tried to signal to Delia with my eyes. But she was watching Shawn.
Suddenly, Jake stared at me, and his expression turned serious. “Listen, I found some papers on my mom’s desk,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. “I wasn’t supposed to see them. My parents never want to tell me anything serious.”
I squinted at him. “Papers? Like what kind of papers?”
“All sorts of financial stuff. It said the studio is going bankrupt.”
My mouth dropped open. “Shut up.”
“You’re joking,” Delia said.
Jake shook his head. “Mayhem Manor has to be a smash hit. Or our parents will go out of business.”
I could feel my face grow hot. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“It’s scary,” Jake said. “The papers said our parents have their own money invested in this thing. That means if the film goes into the toilet…”
Delia finished the sentence for him. “They might have to sell your houses? You might have to move away?”
I patted her on the shoulder. “That’s Delia,” I said. “Always looking on the bright side.”
“Are you going to finish that?” Shawn asked Delia, jabbing a finger at her plate. He obviously hadn’t been listening to a word we said. He didn’t wait for her to answer. He took the cheeseburger from her hands and tilted it to his face.
Jake’s phone bleeped. He pulled it from his pocket. “Hey, it’s a text from Annalee Franklin.” He read it out loud: “Where r u?”
I felt the blood pulse at my temples. Every time I thought of Annalee, I pictured her showing off her bod, swimming almost naked in Ross Harper’s pool.
And now she was after Jake. I’d made the mistake of telling her that I was crushing on him. Annalee was such a jealous person. She always wanted everything I wanted.
She was always stealing boyfriends. And now she wanted Jake, who wasn’t even my boyfriend.
I’d known Annalee since kindergarten. I tried to like her. I really did. But she wasn’t a nice person. And now I watched Jake texting her back, and I wondered if the two of them had already hooked up.
Time for the love potion. Definitely.
I gripped the bottle and pulled it from my bag. I held it over my lap beneath the table. My heart started to flutter in my chest. As if I’d swallowed a hummingbird.
I leaned over to Delia, beside me in the booth, and whispered in her ear. “Potion time.”
We had concocted a plan. A genius plan.
Under the table, I twisted the cap off the potion bottle and dropped it into my lap. Then I quickly raised the bottle to the tabletop.
“Jake, look at me,” I said.
He crinkled his eyes. “Huh?”
“Look at me and don’t turn away,” I said.
I didn’t give him a chance to ask any questions. I dipped two fingers into the bottle, lifted out a few flakes—and dropped them onto the top of his head.
“Hey—what’s up with that?” he cried, eyes on the bottle in my hand.
I didn’t answer. I slipped the potion to Delia. She dipped her fingers into the bottle.
“Shawn, can you take your eyes off Claire for a minute?” she asked in a sexy whisper.
Shawn had been staring at me, but now he obediently turned, and Delia sprinkled a few flakes onto the front of his blond hair.
He laughed. “Was that pepper? Why’d you do that?”
“Just keep looking at me,” Delia instructed. She reached across the table, grabbed the sides of his face, and held him in place.
“Claire, is this some kind of joke?” Jake said. “I don’t get it.”
“You will,” I said, tucking the bottle into my bag.
Then Delia and I just sat there, staring at each boy, waiting … waiting for the love.
13
“CAN I HIT YOU?”
NO ONE SAID A WORD. We just stared at one another across the table.
I couldn’t take the suspense. I felt about to burst. I broke the silence. “Jake? Do you feel strange or anything?” My voice shook.
; “Who wants to know?” he snapped.
My throat felt dry. That wasn’t the response I expected.
Shawn scowled at Delia. “What are you looking at, fat face?”
Delia uttered a cry. “Huh? ‘Fat face’?”
I shook my head, trying to force away my confusion. “Jake, I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” I said.
“Shut up, jerk,” he replied. “Shut your ugly pie hole.”
“Wh-why are you saying those things?” I cried.
He stuck his face close to mine. “Because you’re dumb?”
Shawn laughed. “They’re both idiots.” He and Jake bumped knuckles. “Can we go get boards and ride some waves now? Why are we wasting our time with these losers?”
Delia flashed me a worried glance. Then she turned back to Shawn. She took his hand. She didn’t want to give up. “You know, I kind of have a thing about you.”
Shawn grabbed a French fry off his plate and shoved it into her nose.
Delia uttered a choked gasp and jerked back against the booth.
“Hey, now you’re starting to look good!” Shawn said.
Both boys hee-hawed.
“Stop it! Stop it!” I cried.
“Just shut up and go away,” Jake said. “Take a hike. Give us a break. Why not take a jump off the pier?”
“They both make me want to blow my lunch,” Shawn said.
Delia whipped around angrily and grabbed me by the shoulders. “What have you done?” she screamed. “Claire, what have you done?”
My heart was thudding so hard, I couldn’t breathe. “The potion—” I said. “Did I steal the wrong one? Did I—?”
I turned to see Jake on his feet, leaning over the table, waving his fist at me. “Can I hit you just once?” he said, in a low growl I’d never heard from him before. “Please? Can I hit you just once? I’ll fix your ugly nose for you.”
I could see he was serious. Delia and I were trapped in the booth. We couldn’t escape.
“Jake, please—” I said. “Sit down. Please. Do you remember who I am? Remember? I’m your friend?”
He shook the fist. He had a hideous hard expression tightening his features. “Just once. I just need to hit you once.”
