by R. L. Stine
What was it? What was she trying to picture? She couldn’t quite get a hold on it.
Andrea stood up. She ran her finger down one of the bedposts. “See? I told you you should’ve let me have this bed. It’s bad luck. And it’s giving you nightmares.”
Maggie stared at her as if she hadn’t heard. “The bed …” she said. That was it! She reached out and grabbed her sister’s hand. “Andrea, you’re right! The girl in the dream, the girl in trouble? She was sleeping in this bed!”
“That’s spooky,” Andrea admitted. “And she got…”
She let the question trail off. Maggie finished it for her. “Stabbed,” she murmured softly. “With a knife. Over and over. Don’t you see? I knew it was too good to be true,” Maggie moaned unhappily.
“What was?”
“The owners just leaving this beautiful bed behind. There had to be something wrong with it.”
Andrea shook her head. “This isn’t like you, Maggie.”
“Something is wrong here,” Maggie whispered, thinking out loud. “I can feel it.”
“Did you see the girl’s face this time?” Andrea asked.
Maggie shook her head. “No.”
“Hmm. What does she look like?”
“She has long blond hair. Ash blond.”
“Ash blond,” Andrea repeated thoughtfully.
“Why?” Maggie asked nervously. “You know who she is?”
“No,” Andrea said with a smile. “I was just thinking, I have no idea who she is.”
Maggie waited for Andrea to explain.
“Well, this’ll sound crazy,” Andrea continued. “But you want to know what I think is giving you nightmares?”
“What?”
“You’re putting yourself under too much pressure with the swim team. It’s like you have to be number one or else.”
Maggie frowned. “So? I want to do well. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Don’t get defensive.”
“I’m not getting defensive,” Maggie insisted.
“Well, that’s all I’m saying,” Andrea said. “I just think that could be what’s causing this. Maybe with Dad, and the move to this house, and the competition—it’s all too much for your brain. It’s on overload.”
“What does swimming have to do with a girl getting stabbed?” Maggie demanded, her voice rising.
Andrea shrugged, as if the connection were obvious. “Maybe you want to stab the rest of us so you’ll be the winner.”
“That—that is totally stupid!” Maggie protested.
“Okay, okay,” Andrea said quickly. “Forget I brought it up. I’m no shrink. How am I supposed to know what your dumb dream means?”
Maggie regretted raising her voice. Andrea was only trying to help. “Who knows,” Maggie said. “Maybe it is the swim team that’s got me so stressed. But what am I supposed to do? Drop swimming because I had a couple of nightmares?”
“No, but you could ease up a little. Not push yourself quite so hard,” Andrea suggested.
Maggie laughed scornfully. “Right. Take it easy. So you can swim the two-hundred IM instead of me, right?”
Instantly, Andrea’s eyes became dark with anger.
Uh-oh, Maggie thought. What did I say?
“You really are disgusting!” Andrea cried, shaking her head bitterly. “No matter what I do, you always think the worst of me, don’t you?”
“Andrea, what are you talking about? I—”
“You think I said that because I want to beat you in swimming? You think this was all some kind of trick?”
“No, Andrea, I was just jok—”
“Believe me, Maggie, swimming isn’t all I think about. Get a life!”
“I didn’t say you did, I just—”
Andrea stabbed the air with her forefinger to stress her point. “I don’t need tricks to beat you. Because I can swim faster and better than you. How do you like that?”
Maggie sighed. “Andrea,” she said. “You’re taking this all wrong. I didn’t mean—”
Andrea was on her feet now. “Don’t do that,” she snarled.
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t start acting all innocent and sweet after you insult me. You always do this. Always!”
“Always do what?”
“You make a crack,” Andrea said. “And then when I get mad, you pretend you have no idea why I’m angry, so I’ll look crazy.”
“Andrea, you are crazy!” Maggie cried in frustration. “You’re making up this whole fight out of nothing.”
“Right,” Andrea snapped. “It’s all my fault It’s always all my fault. You’re Miss Perfect. Right?”
Maggie raised her hands helplessly. “Did I say that?”
“I came in here because I was worried about you,” Andrea said, her voice trembling. “I came in because you sounded upset. And this is the thanks I get!”
“Please, Andrea,” Maggie said. “Look how angry you are because of one stupid remark I made about the swim team. What’s the big deal here? You and I both know that you don’t exactly wish me the best of luck on the swim team.”
“And what about you?” Andrea cried furiously. “Who’s the one dreaming about a girl getting stabbed, huh? Dreams are all wishes, right? That’s what I learned in psych class. So who do you want to stab? Who do you want to be dead? Who?”
Was Andrea right? Maggie wondered, suddenly cold all over.
She couldn’t be.
The dream can’t be telling me I want to stab someone.
It can’t be telling me I’m going to stab someone!
Because when I’m in the dream, Maggie realized, I’m not on the side of the attacker. I don’t identify with the attacker.
I identify with the victim!
chapter
9
Maggie spun the dial on her combination lock for the third time. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t focus her eyes.
Was it left to 22? Or right? She ought to know. She had only opened her lock about a zillion times.
She pulled down hard, and the lock finally popped open. She loaded her history and math books onto the top shelf.
It was Friday. TGIF, thought Maggie wearily. Why was she so tired? Because she hadn’t been sleeping well.
Every night when she went to bed, she worried about dreaming again. The dream hadn’t returned. But the thought of having it scared her so much, she tossed and turned every night. Every sound in the house became amplified and scary. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since they moved to Fear Street.
Maggie shoved her English textbook far into the locker. The assignment for that day had been to read a story about a boy who keeps thinking it’s snowing. Turns out there is no snow. It’s all in his head. He’s going insane.
Just what I needed to read! she told herself sarcastically.
She pulled out her notebook for Mrs. Harrison’s geology class, snapped her lock closed, and followed the stream of students through the noisy hallway. Only one more period to go.
And then she had swim. She was so tired, her feet felt like lead. Forget finishing first in any race. She’d probably sink straight to the bottom of the pool!
Geology class was down one flight. She joined the crowd in the stairwell. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows of the hallway. It caught a flash of red hair up ahead.
“Andrea!” she called.
She hurried to catch up to her sister. There was no way to push through, and her voice was drowned out by the loud conversation and laughter.
Then, a few yards ahead, she saw Dawn, laughing happily as she started down the stairs with a couple of guys on the basketball team.
“Excuse me, excuse me—” Maggie forced her way forward.
She had no idea why. She suddenly felt very uneasy. She pushed harder. “Hey,” someone said. “Watch it. No shoving!”
Her heart started to pound. Why was she feeling so strange?
“Dawn!” she called again.
&
nbsp; Moving with the crowd, Maggie now started down the stairs too.
“Hey—Dawn! Oh!” Maggie cried out as she saw Dawn start to lose her footing.
She heard a sharp cry.
And saw Dawn start to fall.
It all happened in an instant, but that one instant seemed to go on endlessly, as if the whole world had gone into slow motion.
Dawn tumbled forward, down the concrete stairs.
Her books flew out in front of her.
Her head bounced on the concrete with a deafening crack—louder than the startled shrieks and cries of the crowd.
Another loud crack as she finished rolling and hit the floor.
Her legs twisted under her.
Her jaw fell open lifelessly. Her eyes stared blankly.
Dawn didn’t move.
chapter
10
Maggie’s Trapper Keeper fell from her arms and bumped down the stairs. She raised her hands to her eyes to shut out the ugly picture of her friend lying twisted at the bottom of the stairs.
“Dawn—Dawn—” she muttered.
The stairwell echoed with shouts and cries. A crowd had circled around Dawn.
From near the top of the stairs, Maggie saw Dawn begin to writhe in agony. “My arm!” Dawn screamed. “It—I think it’s broken!”
“Get a teacher!” somebody yelled. “Somebody—call 911!”
Kids took off in all directions. Maggie heard frantic cries for help.
Someone tried to help Dawn sit up. But she shrieked in pain when she was touched.
“My arm—my arm—” she cried shrilly. “Somebody pushed me!”
Maggie took a deep breath and made her way down the stairs, gripping the railing tightly. She spotted Andrea at the outside of the circle.
Andrea turned and gazed at Maggie. She had the strangest expression on her face. Half smile, half bitter stare.
“Dawn, are you okay?” Maggie asked. “What happened? Did you trip?”
Dawn’s reply made Maggie turn away. “No. I told you. I was pushed. Did you do it? Did you push me?” Dawn cried through her tears.
“Huh?” Maggie wasn’t sure she had heard correctly.
“Maggie—” Dawn insisted weakly, her arm bent behind her, tears flowing down her pale cheeks. “I heard you call me, Maggie. Then—then you pushed me.”
Horrified, Maggie started to sputter. “Huh? Dawn—no! I—I couldn’t! I wasn’t near you. I mean—”
Maggie turned to Andrea for help. But Andrea was staring down at the floor. “Tell her I didn’t do this, Andrea,” Maggie begged.
“I—I didn’t see anything,” Andrea stammered.
All around her, Maggie felt the accusing stares of the other students. Maggie glared back at them in disbelief. Did they really think she would push someone down the stairs? Didn’t they know her better than that?
With an angry sob, she picked up her Trapper Keeper, turned, and pushed her way back up the stairs. No one made it easy for her to pass.
By the time Maggie reached the upstairs hallway, she was crying. Fighting back her tears, she started to run.
The final bell rang for class. But Maggie ran straight into the girls’ room. She shut the door hard and leaned against it. At least she was alone.
She turned and saw her tear-stained face in the mirror.
The dream. As she stared at herself, the dream popped into her head.
Dawn has blond hair. The girl in the dream has blond hair.
Andrea had guessed the girl might be Dawn the first time she heard about her.
And in the dream, the girl always fell backward, smacking her head hard against the headboard. Dawn had just smacked her head against the concrete, just like the girl in her dream.
In the mirror, Maggie saw her own eyes widen with fear, and the tight-lipped horror on her own face scared her even more.
Was the dream coming true?
Andrea’s words came back to her: Dreams were wishes.
Could Maggie have caused Dawn’s accident somehow? Even without meaning to?
She made it through geology class, but her mind was somewhere else the whole time. Mrs. Harrison was going through plans for the field trip scheduled for the next Wednesday.
About a forty-five-minute ride out of Shadyside was Glenn Rock Mountain. The caverns at Glenn Rock were a popular tourist attraction.
Maggie didn’t really listen to what Mrs. Harrison was saying. Halfway through the period, she asked to be excused to go check on Dawn.
Maggie went to the principal’s office. The news didn’t cheer her up. Dawn had a broken arm. And possibly a concussion.
After school, Maggie ran into Tiffany in the hallway. “Do you believe what happened to Dawn?” Tiffany asked quietly. “She could’ve been killed!”
“Tiffany—you’ve got to believe me! I didn’t do it!” Maggie blurted out.
Surprised, Tiffany studied her with her large eyes. “I never thought you did.”
Maggie gratefully squeezed Tiffany’s hand. Tiffany lowered her eyes. “Listen. Dawn had a concussion. She wasn’t thinking clearly. That’s why she accused you. She’ll be better—don’t worry.”
“I hope so,” Maggie replied, shaking her head, trying not to cry again. “It was so awful, Tiffany. Everyone was shoving. You know how it is on the stairs between classes. I’m sure it was just an accident.”
“Of course,” Tiffany replied. “But you can understand where Dawn’s coming from. I mean, you have a pretty good reason to want her out of the way.”
“Tiffany,” Maggie said, trying to keep the sound of pleading out of her voice, “you know me better than that. Do you really think I’d hurt Dawn just to make sure I swim the two-hundred IM?”
Tiffany tugged at a strand of hair. “Of course not. Besides, you’ll be in. Unless you totally blow the next three races. Anyway, there are two slots.”
“So I had no reason to push Dawn,” Maggie insisted. “Why did she accuse me? How could she? I’m so hurt, Tiffany. So hurt.”
Tiffany moved forward to give Maggie an awkward hug, “Just give Dawn a little time,” she whispered. “She’ll come to her senses. Just give her a little time.”
Maggie forced a smile. The two girls backed away from each other.
Maggie wiped a tear off her cheek.
Tiffany was right, she knew. Maggie would have to wait to talk to Dawn.
Maggie couldn’t face swim practice. She told the coach she was sick and went straight home.
As soon as she got there, she threw herself facedown onto the living room couch. She didn’t want to think anymore. She was just tired, worn out. She needed to rest.
That was the last thought she remembered. When she opened her eyes again, the room had grown darker.
Maggie groaned and sat up. She felt as if her brain were glued to her skull. The nap had made her disoriented and groggy. At least she hadn’t had the nightmare.
Then she smelled tomato sauce, heard it bubbling softly in the kitchen. Her mother came into view, in the kitchen archway, holding a wooden spoon. She waved the spoon and smiled. “You were sleeping when I got home from work. Dinner’s almost ready. Your favorite. Spaghetti with nonmeat meatballs.”
It wasn’t exactly Maggie’s favorite. She liked real meatballs. But Mrs. Travers was mainly a vegetarian.
“You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to disturb you,” her mother called. “The phone rang twice and you stayed dead to the world. I think you really needed the sleep, Maggie.”
Sleeping peacefully—for once! It was the first time that Maggie had slept well in the new house. What made this time different?
She knew the answer right away. She had slept on the couch—not in the canopy bed.
That night, she stood in her bedroom, staring at the beautiful old bed. She still had not been able to figure out why the owners had left it behind.
Could it be because the bed was haunted?
How her feelings about this bed had changed since th
ey first moved in! That first day, it had been the one good thing about having to move. She had loved it.
Now she feared it.
The backyard of 23 Fear Street was tiny, hemmed in by the lawns of three different houses. The previous owner had started a flagstone walk from the back door but had abandoned the project after laying only a few stones.
There was a rusty old swing set with two swings. Maggie sat on one. It was designed for a young kid, and she had to stretch her long legs straight out in front of her to swing at all. The rusty chains creaked overhead as she rocked back and forth.
It was Saturday morning. A hot, sunny day with small puffs of white cloud high in a blue sky.
Usually Maggie woke up feeling refreshed, ready to go. But now she felt as tired as when she’d gone to bed.
She’d been up all night—thinking about Dawn, thinking about the dream, and wondering if there was any connection.
Inside the house, she saw her mother moving in her bedroom. Maggie waved and tried to smile.
She got off the swing and started making her way along the row of scrawny shrubs that bordered the yard. She pulled off a few early red berries and squished them in her fingers, making a bloody pulp.
Come on, she scolded herself. You’ve got to shake this. Think about something else.
But that was hopeless. She couldn’t switch her mind off. What was the old game? You told someone not to think about an elephant. And then she couldn’t think of anything else!
She sat down and leaned back against the smooth trunk of a white birch tree. Gazing up, she could see the sky through the budding branches. A gentle wind blew the clouds slowly by.
So peaceful. So quiet.
Before long, Maggie fell asleep.
A restful sleep with no disturbing dreams. No knives. No girl in pink.
And then a hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes with a startled gasp.
And saw a frightening-looking man reaching for her throat. “This won’t take long,” he rasped.
chapter
11
Maggie pulled away with a terrified cry.
The man jerked back, his gray eyes wide with surprise.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “I—I asked if you’ve been baking long?” He pointed up at the sky. The late morning sun was climbing higher, heating up the backyard.
