A Midsummer Night's Scream

by Stine, R. L.

  Whenever tragedy struck, we sank into a deep depression for days. Then how did we pull ourselves out of it? We went out to eat something sinful.

  Okay. I know it’s lame. Tell me about it. But come on. Haven’t you ever wanted to drown your sorrows in cheesecake?

  If only we had boyfriends. I know, that’s not the answer to anything. But, wow, they could have distracted us from our dreary thoughts.

  All week, Jake acted totally wrecked by Annalee’s death. Maybe he really cared about her. But the way he kept trying to get Delia to comfort him made me wonder.

  I tried to get his attention. I went over to his house to have a serious talk with him. But Shawn was there, getting in my face, being annoying.

  Finally, I snapped at him, “Shawn, what do you want?”

  He flashed me a toothy grin. “I want to rock your world.”

  Oh, gross.

  Why can’t guys take a hint and get lost when you want them to?

  As for Jake, I was ready to give up. The whole situation made me think of one of my mom’s weird expressions: “You’re barking up a brick wall.” And that’s what I was doing with Jake. Barking up a brick wall. Two magic potions hadn’t helped me. What a mistake they were. He is into Delia, and thinks of me as a sister, and what else is there to say about it?

  “I should have gotten the cherry cheesecake,” I said. “It’s even more sinful.”

  “We’ll order some of that when we finish this,” Delia said, wiping a chunk off her chin. “Is it possible to get high on cheesecake? I think I’m totally high on it.”

  And then … I don’t know how it happened. I can’t explain it. Suddenly, my shoulders shook, and I started to cry.

  I was totally surprised. The fork slipped from my hand, and I sobbed, loud, wracking sobs. I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t stop my shoulders from jerking up and down. Sob after sob escaped my throat.

  I turned in the booth, turned to the wall. But people had already seen me. I didn’t really care. I just wanted to stop crying. I’m not the kind of person who goes out of control, and I hated it.

  I felt an arm around my shoulders. I hadn’t realized that Delia had slid in beside me. She hugged me tight, and as I turned, I saw that she was crying, too.

  Tears burned my eyes. I choked, trying to breathe. We held on to each other and cried. We’d seen so much horror, so much death in the past few weeks.

  I didn’t cry at Annalee’s funeral. I forced it back. I bit my lips and forced my tears back. I kept telling myself I didn’t like her.

  I didn’t like Annalee. But what happened to her was horrifying and wrong. Still, I wasn’t going to cry at her funeral.

  And then my whole body trembled and I couldn’t stop shaking at the sight of her parents standing over her grave, both of them wailing at the top of their lungs, tossing their hands above their heads and wailing, wailing out their grief.

  And now all the horror was coming out. I couldn’t hold it inside. All my fright, all the hideous things I’d seen, the people dead, young people … All too horrible to understand.

  And there I was squeezed beside Delia in the red vinyl booth, the half-eaten hunk of cheesecake in front of me, sobbing, struggling to stop, sobbing, painful, wrenching sobs.

  “It … was supposed to be me,” I whispered. “Not Annalee. It was supposed to be me. My neck. My head. It could have been, Delia. It was supposed to be me.”

  I swallowed hard, swallowed again, trying to get control. My cheeks were hot and soaking wet from tears. My throat ached from crying.

  I suddenly realized someone stood at our booth. I gazed up to see the waitress standing there, hands clasped in front of her.

  “Is something wrong with the cheesecake?” she asked.

  Delia started to laugh. Soft at first but then a high, trilling laugh. And I couldn’t help myself. I joined in. It was so absurd.

  Something wrong with the cheesecake?

  The laughter rose up from deep in my chest. And now, Delia and I were holding on to each other, laughing and laughing until more tears rolled down our faces.

  The waitress stood watching us, her lips pressed together, a stern expression on her face. She was a big girl, short blond hair, small eyes close together on a round, not-pretty face. Her uniform was tight around the middle. She’d probably been sampling a lot of cheesecake.

  She didn’t get the joke. And she probably thought we were really high, not just on cheesecake.

  I think she was ready to call the manager or throw us out or something. I didn’t blame her. We were crying and laughing at the same time, acting like total nuts.

  Ross Harper slid into the booth across from us. I hadn’t seen him since his pool party. Startled, Delia and I both stopped our insane laughter.

  “What’s the joke?” Ross asked, settling into the booth. “Let me in on it. Must be a pretty good one.”

  “There’s no joke. Really,” I said, wiping my wet cheeks with a napkin.

  The waitress turned to Ross. “Get you anything, sir?”

  He glanced down at our half-eaten cheesecake slices. “No thanks. Just some sparkling water.”

  She gave us a final stern look, then walked off to get the water.

  Ross picked up Delia’s fork and sliced up a chunk of her cheesecake. “Do you mind?” He started chewing it before she could answer. “You should have gotten the Rocky Road.”

  “We didn’t know you were coming,” Delia said. “We would have ordered your favorite.”

  Ross took another bite. “I heard your horror film is history. Over.”

  “Like my movie career,” I said, sighing. “That didn’t last long, did it?”

  “Shut up,” Delia said. “You’re talented. You’ll get other parts.”

  “Maybe in a movie where everyone doesn’t die,” I said.

  She shoved me toward the wall. We were sitting practically on top of each other.

  Mopping my wet eyes with the napkin, I turned to Ross. “You weren’t at Annalee’s funeral.”

  He swallowed. “I couldn’t. My dad took us all up to Sonoma. On a wine-tasting thing.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Seriously? Your dad goes on those touristy wine tours?”

  Ross took the last bite of Delia’s cheesecake. “You’re joking, right? This was with the owner of the winery. He took us to this private dining room where they have all these secret reserve wines no one ever gets to drink. You know my dad. He wouldn’t go unless it was top-of-the-line high-class. Then he can brag to all his douchebag friends.”

  “And he let you drink wine, too?” I asked.

  “Are you kidding? He let my little sister drink. Amy is only ten.” Ross snickered. “She threw up in the car.” He slid my plate in front of him. “Why were you two laughing so hard?”

  “Because we’re crazy,” Delia said.

  He nodded. “I know. Everyone knows that.”

  “We’ve been kind of … messed up,” I said. “The whole thing with the movie. It was horrible.”

  “Now it’s over, right?” He started in on my slice.

  I nodded. “My parents and Jake’s parents … everyone decided to stop the movie. The police are all over the studio. FBI, too.”

  “They’re talking like it could be murder,” Delia said. “Like someone deliberately caused the accidents.”

  Ross set down his fork. “For real?”

  “How else can you explain what happened?” Delia said. “You don’t believe in the Curse of Mayhem Manor, do you? It had to be some sick creep murdering us one by one just like it happened in the first movie.”

  “Whoa.” Ross lowered his eyes to the table. “Whoa. And you two could have been next.”

  A long silence followed. I mean, what can you say?

  Finally, Ross sat up straight and stretched. He swept a hand back through his hair. “Claire, is your party still on?”

  I nodded. “Still on.”

  “And it’s still at the studio?”

  “My par
ents insisted,” I said. “They say they want me to have the biggest birthday party in history. You’re coming, right?”

  “For sure. Wouldn’t miss it.” He glanced at his phone. “But you’re not having it at Mayhem Manor, are you?”

  “No way,” I said. “No one is going near that horrible old place. I promise.”

  Ross started in on my cheesecake again. Delia was texting someone on her phone. My cheeks itched from all the tears. I knew I must look awful. I slid out of the booth. “Be right back.”

  Ross nodded, happily pigging out.

  I gazed around till I saw the sign for the restrooms. I followed it down a long, narrow hall. I could see the ladies’ room at the back.

  I edged to the side when I saw someone walking toward me. He came really close before I recognized him.

  Puckerman.

  His black hair poked out in all directions on his head. He wore a tight, sleeveless t-shirt that revealed the curly black hair on his chest and his arms. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his baggy pants.

  He grinned up at me. “Hi, Claire.”

  I gasped. “What are you doing here?” My voice came out a choked whisper.

  The smile faded beneath his thick beard. “Thanks for coming to Mayhem Manor the other night. You passed the test.”

  “So you were there!” I cried. “Why—?”

  “Don’t ask questions. We haven’t finished our movie,” he said in a low growl. Then I saw a flash of gray. It took me a few seconds to realize he had sprinkled something on me. On my hair. A powder. A fine gray powder.

  “What is that? What did you just do?”

  “Claire, it’s an invitation. A dose of my summoning potion. It will bring you to me.”

  “But—but—Bring me to you when?”

  “On Midsummer Night’s eve, of course.”

  “No. No way. You can’t—”

  “You can’t escape. We have to finish the film—don’t we?”

  34

  MIDSUMMER NIGHT

  MY PARENTS WENT WILD, TURNING the studio into an awesome party-land for my big night. I think they’d do anything to make it look like a happy place again. You know. Get people laughing and oohing and ahhing and thinking they were like at Disneyland and maybe not think about the horrible deaths for one night.

  Sure, there were more security guards at the gate than usual. But once you drove inside, you were overcome by dancing lights and sparkly fairy wings on all the trees and people walking around in weird Shakespeare-type costumes.

  The studio had been transformed into a dream of fairies in the woods, and people floating by in glittery robes and crowns, a fantasy world of music and mist and fun.

  Before the party, my parents gave me a bright-red VW Jetta. They said it was a good starter car. I wasn’t expecting a car, and I went a little nuts when they handed over the key. I mean, was I a bit emotional? Maybe.

  I insisted that Delia and I test it out, so she and I took a drive up into the Hollywood Hills, and I admit it—I drove like a crazy person. Those NASCAR dudes need to take lessons from me. Delia left wet fingerprints on the dashboard. Really.

  Somehow we made it back. But whipping around the hills like it was a thrill ride, I just had the powerful, overwhelming feeling I had to break free. Ever feel like that?

  For sure, I’m a little wired these days. Can you blame me?

  Anyway, party night. The studio looked amazing. A dance floor had been built in the plaza near the exec parking lot, and by eight o’clock, kids were already dancing under moving green laser lights to a band of five or six long-haired guys in white tuxedos.

  I wore a perfect white party dress Delia and I had picked out at Barneys. The skirt only came down to midthigh, but the dress was loose and just flowed, and I thought it looked very Shakespearean, in keeping with the theme of the night.

  Jake and Shawn arrived early. Shawn kept following me around like he was my date for the evening. Fat chance.

  I danced with him once just to get him out of the way. He was a terrible dancer. He had no sense of rhythm at all and kept clapping off the beat as he danced.

  “I know these dudes who have a guitar band,” he said. “I mean, like all guitars, and they play the most awesome surf rock. I mean classic. Like Dick Dale or The Surfaris. They would have been perfect for tonight. I tried to call you, but—”

  “People can’t dance to that stuff,” I said.

  He squinted at me. “You mean people really want to dance to this electro-synth-euro-pop stuff?”

  I kissed him on the cheek. You know. Give him a thrill. And I hurried away.

  Where was Jake? I moved through the crowd, searching for him. Outside Soundstage A, I saw Ace, in all his mutt glory, surrounded by kids. The dog was bopping around on his hind legs, hamming it up like always. He knew he was a star, and he made the most of it. No joke. He lapped up all the attention.

  My mom says the dog is a better actor than half the people who work at the studio.

  A girl was feeding biscuits to the cute little guy, and he kept dancing for more.

  The sparkly white lights glimmered as a warm breeze shook the trees. Two beacons, the ones they use at movie premieres, sent rays of light high in the sky. A spotlight was aimed at a movie marquee, which proclaimed: SWEET SEVENTEEN, STARRING CLAIRE WOODLAWN in bold black letters.

  Other spotlights poured white circles of light over the crowds of kids. It was brighter than daylight. Unreal. Two bearded elves in dark tights and leafy tops ran by. And a woman with wide rhinestone-sparkly wings appeared to float along the exec cottages.

  It really is like a dream, I thought.

  Like being in a distant land. Or maybe in the Shakespeare play, all a fantasy with strange creatures floating and flying. Magic.

  Two more elves scampered by. And a tall bear-creature carrying one of those shepherd hooks. A ska band was playing outside the commissary. Kids were lined up to get inside for food. I saw another line at a taco truck set up at the side of the building.

  No sign of Jake.

  I hung out with friends from school. I danced with some guys I knew. I had a slice of pizza and a few tacos and a lot of other junk. A million kisses and hugs and birthday wishes.

  I guess hours went by. I kind of lost track of the time. That’s how good the party was.

  But then … then …

  How did we decide to go to Mayhem Manor?

  It’s all kind of a blur. It was like the strings of twinkling lights and the music and the voices rocked my brain. Everything became a white, bright blur, shimmering and shaking in my head.

  I actually think it was my idea. Yes. Really. I think it was.

  Shawn and Jake came bopping up to me. I was dancing with a guy from school. Jake stepped between us and pulled me aside. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said.

  “Really?” That brought a smile to my face. “I’ve been looking for you, too.”

  “This dude sold me a cooler of Rolling Rock,” Shawn interrupted. “We can’t let it go to waste, right?”

  “How did he get it through security?” I asked.

  My parents wanted everything to go perfectly smooth tonight, so they didn’t want anyone drinking. They were playing it more careful than ever. The security guards were told to take away anything that looked suspicious.

  “We’ve got to find a place where no one will get in our faces,” Shawn said. “Then we can par-tee.” He glanced around. “Where can we go?”

  I stared at him. “How about Mayhem Manor?” I said.

  Where did the idea come from? I didn’t even think about it. I felt pulled there, as if I’d been summoned. Weird.

  “Huh?” Jake squinted at me. “You really want to go there? I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it,” I said. “I feel … I feel … like I have to be there tonight.” I flashed Jake a smile. “Like … it’s calling to me.”

  Delia looked unhappy. She said something in my ear. I couldn’t hear her. “Nothing ba
d can happen on my birthday,” I told her. I turned to Jake. “Maybe I’ll get my birthday wish tonight.” Hint, hint.

  “Maybe,” he said. I could see he had no clue what I was talking about.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Shawn disappeared behind the taco truck and returned carrying a Styrofoam cooler. The four of us made our way to the back lot, where all the twinkling lights stopped.

  The air grew way colder. We were moving through darkness now, the party far behind us. I thought there might be security guards, but I didn’t see any.

  I could feel my excitement rising as we tore down the yellow police tape at the front of the old mansion. I felt totally pumped. I felt giddy. I felt crazy.

  I tried the door.

  It opened easily. So dark and cold inside. I slid my hand along the wall until I clicked on ceiling lights in the front entryway.

  And there we were. The four of us inside the old mansion. The scene of so much horror. But tonight, just a celebration.

  I slid my hand under Jake’s arm and led the way toward the front room. Suddenly, I had an idea. A crazy thought that popped into my head from out of nowhere.

  I let go of Jake and spun back to the front door. “I’ll be right back,” I said. “Save me a beer.”

  And then I took off, trotting to the door, my party dress swirling around me as I ran.

  I heard Delia start after me. “Claire?” she shouted. “Where are you going? Claire? Come back!”

  I burst through the open door and kept running.

  35

  MAGIC TIME

  WHY DID I SUGGEST WE BREAK in to Mayhem Manor? That’s the last place I wanted to be. I didn’t even think before I heard the words spilling from my mouth.

  Go to Mayhem Manor? Really? It was as if someone had cast a spell on me, had forced me to go back there.

  And then I had another bad idea. So bad it was good.

  The magic of the whole night, the whole dreamy movie studio setting had washed over my brain. The lights, the elves and other creatures darting through the crowd, the fairies floating in the trees. It was my fantasy night, a night anything could happen.