Fright Night

by Maren Stoffels

  I nod and quickly head upstairs with three glasses and a bottle of orange soda. Hester’s giving me time, but she still brings it up pretty often. I know she’s right. It’s not good that Quin’s the only one in the house who doesn’t know the whole story, but I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth. It could change everything between us, and I don’t want that to happen. I want to be his friend, not some kind of patient.

  At Quin’s bedroom door, I take a deep breath and then open it. The heat billows into my face again.

  “Where did you get to? I’m dying of thirst.” Quin snatches the bottle from my hand and fills the glasses.

  “Here’s to summer break,” says Sofia, raising her glass.

  “And to Fright Night,” Quin adds. “A night in the woods, facing our greatest fears. It sounds perfect.”

  It sounds like hours of EMDR therapy, but this is a much better and more exciting alternative. Plus, I don’t have to do it alone. There are three of us.

  “You sure you’re up for it?” asks Sofia.

  “Sure.” I nod. “Bring it on.”

  “This is going to be so cool.” Sofia puts her arms around me. Before I realize what’s happening, I feel her body against mine. We’ve never been this close before and her hair tickles my cheek. Startled, I splash soda over the edge of my glass.

  “I’m going to sign us up right now,” Quin says, grabbing his laptop.

  Inside my head, I can hear Hester’s voice. You can trust her.

  SOFIA

  Dylan’s body freezes as soon as I touch him. I instantly let go, but it doesn’t improve the sense of distance between us. Even worse, it makes me feel more distant from him than ever.

  “We need a team of five,” says Quin. “Or we can’t take part. If we sign up as a team of three, the organizers will match us up with another group that doesn’t have enough players.”

  Fright Night with strangers? I know Dylan won’t like that idea. Quin’s the one who’s always up for a challenge. Dylan prefers to stay in the background. At school, whole recesses go by without him saying anything. It’s barely noticeable, though, because Quin talks enough for two.

  “Let’s do it,” Dylan suddenly says, much to my surprise. First he agreed to Fright Night and now he’ll do it with strangers? I don’t get it.

  “We’re just in time—today’s the last day to sign up.”

  I go stand by Quin and look at the screen with him. “Do we have to give them any details?”

  Quin points. “They want to know our greatest fears. Are they going to use them against us later?”

  I think back to the beginning of this school year. I was new at school and didn’t know anyone. I’ve never been more afraid, but Fright Night probably can’t do anything with that. Maybe I should put down insects. I hate creepy-crawlies with their tickly little feet.

  “How long does this Fright Night last?” asks Dylan.

  “Four hours.” Quin is beaming. “I can’t wait.”

  I read through the information. They have actors who do all kinds of stuff to scare you. And special “Scare Zones”—each with a different theme. That’s where the actors take things “a step further.” What’s that supposed to mean?

  Dylan installs himself on his mattress again and picks a book up off the floor. He says heights are his greatest fear, but I have a feeling he came up with that on the spot.

  If I were him, I’d mostly be scared of something happening to my mom. He visits his mom every Sunday, and she’s too sick to take care of him. That’s why he’s been living at Quin’s for a year now.

  I don’t know exactly what’s wrong with Dylan’s mom. He’s not much of a talker, and I’ve never wanted to pry. Maybe my greatest fear is that I’ll drive him away, like just now with the hug.

  Very occasionally Dylan takes a small step toward me, like when it was my last birthday and he came up with the perfect gift: a bracelet with blue-green beads. “The stone’s called aquamarine,” he said as I took the bracelet out of the box. “It’s supposed to make you happy, relaxed, and carefree.”

  I looked up. “You think I need that?”

  “Maybe just a bit.”

  I knew he was talking about the first few weeks of this school year. Dylan was the first one to speak to me, at the school dance. Could he see just how scared I was?

  I fiddle with the beads on my wrist. I haven’t taken off the bracelet since he gave it to me. In every new situation, it reminds me to be confident. It’s Dylan’s birthday soon, and for a while I’ve been trying to come up with a gift that will live up to his.

  I look at Dylan, who’s leafing through the book. He reads more—and faster—than Quin and me put together. A deep line appears between his eyebrows whenever he’s concentrating on something. The old-fashioned round glasses he wears look like something from the 1960s, but they really suit him. His short, dark hair is messy, and there’s a small birthmark on his cheek in the shape of a half-moon.

  Around his neck is a key on a worn-out cord. The first time I saw what was on the cord was when we were at the pool one time. I have no idea what the key’s for.

  As Dylan moves his right leg, the line between his eyebrows becomes deeper. I think it hurts him more often than he lets on. In gym class, he sometimes drags it behind him like a pirate with a wooden leg. He fell off his bike when he was a kid, and the fracture never healed properly.

  I stand up. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

  One floor down, it’s a lot cooler than in the attic, and I take a few big gulps of oxygen. Then I notice that the door to Dylan’s room is open a crack. There’s a poster of his favorite band on the wall. Why do we never spend time in Dylan’s room? We always hang out in Quin’s attic.

  I’ve never been in Dylan’s room before. Curious, I push the door open a little more. There’s not much furniture in there, just the essentials. A bed, a big wardrobe, and a desk with piles of schoolbooks. I step through the doorway. Are there no pictures of his mom anywhere? I’m interested to see what she looks like and if Dylan looks like her. But other than the poster, I don’t see any personal details in the room.

  Suddenly a great idea for a gift comes to me. Maybe I can make a photo album with Dylan’s memories in it. Quin can help. He’s known him so long. And maybe Hester has some photos of Dylan from when he was little.

  I run my hand over the desktop. So this is where Dylan does his homework. Does he ever think about his old house? That makes me think about mine. It was beautiful, surrounded by meadows and cows, but then Dad got a promotion, so we had to move. I felt so miserable and lonely here at first, but at least I still had my mom and dad.

  Dylan had to start all over again almost a year ago, in a new house, with a new family. Maybe that was why he sensed he should come over to me at the school dance. I open the door of Dylan’s wardrobe. My eye instantly falls on his pressed button-down shirt, the one he was wearing that night. Does he remember our first conversation as well as I do? I bring the sleeve of Dylan’s shirt up to my nose and smell it for a moment.

  I hear a sound downstairs. Startled, I let go of the shirt. What am I doing?! I don’t have Dylan’s permission. It’s like I’m secretly reading his diary. If someone snooped around my room without asking, I’d be so mad at them.

  I quickly shut the wardrobe door and go downstairs. In the kitchen, Quin’s mom looks up from the counter.

  “Sofia, are you staying for dinner? I made extra.”

  That’s so typical of Quin’s mom—she wants to take care of everyone. I’m not surprised they took Dylan into their home. He could have done a lot worse.

  “I’d love to another time, but I have homework to do.”

  Hester sighs. “I wish Quin would follow your example. He hasn’t done any homework since Dylan moved in. They get up to all kinds of things in that attic, but homework’s not one o
f them.”

  I smile. “I bet it’s not.”

  Shall I ask her about the photos now? Dylan’s birthday is at the end of next week. I need to hurry.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Hester nods. “Sure.”

  “Do you have any old photos of Dylan?”

  Hester looks up in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

  “I want to make a photo album for his birthday.”

  “What a nice idea.” Hester beams at me. “Sure, I have some photos of him. I’ll get out the photo boxes later.”

  “And I want to take some pictures of his old street.”

  There’s a brief silence.

  “His old street?”

  “Sometimes I really miss my old place. You know, the little things, like the baker on the corner, and the cool view from my bedroom window.”

  “Yeah…” Hester stirs the food in the pan. “Yeah, sure.”

  Why do I feel like I said something wrong?

  “Do you have the address?” I ask tentatively.

  “Of course. Give me a moment.” Hester pulls a sheet of paper from a notepad and writes something on it. “There you go. It’s a really sweet idea. I’ll get the photos out for you before you go.”

  KELLY

  Where is he? I look down the street again, but there’s no sign of Sandy. The grocery store isn’t far from our housing complex. He just went to fetch some cigarettes, that’s all.

  Sandy. The first time I heard his name, I thought it was a girl. But, of course, most people think Kelly’s a girl’s name, too, even though it’s short for Kelvin in my case. Two boys with names that can be girls’ names—an inseparable duo.

  I look at my watch. Sandy’s been away for over half an hour. I twist a long strand of hair around my index finger. Every inch my hair grows takes me farther away from the past.

  “Hurry up, man.”

  “You waiting for someone?”

  I turn and find myself looking into Nell’s face. As always, I can’t seem to breathe properly when I’m around her. She’s bleached her hair again and it’s kind of glowing in the sunshine.

  “Sandy’s taking his time again,” I say.

  Nell pats the bench beside her. “If you have to wait, you might as well sit here.”

  Recently we’ve been spending more time together. Nell comes and talks to me when I’m alone, and I do the same with her. Whenever we eat as a group, she always sits next to me. Even Sandy’s started to notice. I drop down onto the bench and Nell takes a cigarette out of her inside pocket.

  “Want one of mine?”

  I gratefully accept. “How did you know I needed this?”

  “Your hands.” Nell takes my hand and lifts it up between our faces. “You’re totally shaking.”

  I look at her fingers, with the familiar rings on them. One on each finger, except for her ring finger.

  “For my wedding ring one day,” Nell says when she sees me looking. She lets go of my hand and it falls back onto the bench. It’s like I can still feel her touch.

  “But that’s a long way off, getting married. Need to find a boyfriend first.”

  Deep inside, my hope’s burning away like a campfire. I’ve been trying to find out for months if she has someone, and now she’s gone and told me herself.

  Sometimes it’s like Nell forgets she’s a neighbor instead of a friend. Neighbors—that’s what they call the volunteers who live around our complex. They’re there to make us feel as ordinary as possible and to help us eventually return to “normal society.” Strangely, though, the neighbors have exactly the opposite effect on me. Every day they just serve to remind me that I’m some kind of special case.

  Unless I’m with Nell. I often have the idea that she feels the same way about me as I do about her. Or is that just because it’s what I want to see?

  Nell takes a drag on her cigarette and leans back with a sigh. “What’s your excuse for smoking?”

  I shrug. “It’s just this filthy habit I have.”

  “That’s not true. Everyone starts for a reason.”

  “Sandy,” I say. “Sandy was my reason.”

  “Did you want to play tough for him?”

  I think back to the moment we met. A gang of boys was hassling me, and Sandy stuck up for me. As usual, with his fists. After the fight, we both sat outside on a wall in the sunshine. Our bloody noses were slowly drying up, and Sandy took out a packet of tobacco.

  “Here.” Sandy rolled a cigarette and gave it to me. “Now you belong.”

  “To what?” I asked.

  “To the club.”

  “Who’s in the club?”

  “Me.”

  “And who else?”

  “You.”

  I smile at the memory. A club of two. We don’t need any other members.

  “Sandy’s a bad influence on you,” says Nell, which makes her sound like a neighbor.

  “He’s okay.”

  “The two of you are so different.”

  “You think?”

  “Yes, Sandy is so…intense.”

  I smile. “Yeah, that’s a good word to describe him.”

  “And you’re…”

  I look at Nell from the side. She bites her bottom lip, and I have to fight the urge to kiss her.

  “Normal,” Nell decides.

  I burst out laughing. “Normal?!”

  “I think so.”

  Is that really what she thinks about me? The hope inside me flares up again.

  “We really should quit,” says Nell, taking another drag on her cigarette. “Smoking, I mean.”

  We. Nell and me. Together.

  “Then why don’t we?” Recklessly, I pluck the cigarette from between Nell’s lips and toss it to the ground. I send my own cigarette flying after.

  “There.”

  We both look at the cigarettes, smoldering on the paving stones.

  “My dad will be so grateful to you. He hates that I smoke,” Nell says with a smile. “What about yours?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Nell curses. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “How would you know?” I say. “Both my parents died in a car accident. Killed instantly.”

  “Is that why you live here?” asks Nell.

  I can feel the nerves in my body, like I always do whenever this subject comes up. Sandy knows about it, and my psychologists, but no one else. Can I confide in Nell? Maybe I should try. It could bring us closer together. And Nell’s different from all the other neighbors around here.

  “I did something because of anger, because of hate. I destroyed someone’s life because I thought I had every right to.”

  Silence. Is Nell going to run away after all? Honesty sucks. The silence just hangs in the air, making me nervous.

  “Go on. Leave,” I say.

  Nell looks up. Her cheeks are flushed red. “Why?”

  I squeeze out a smile. “Because now you know I’m not that normal after all.”

  Nell shakes her head and looks at the cigarettes on the ground. “We’ve all done stuff we’re not proud of.”

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  “I’m back!” The door of our room flies open and Sandy’s standing there.

  I tear my eyes away from the empty bench outside, where I was just sitting with Nell. Her words are still echoing through my mind. She actually reacted really well. Maybe one day I can tell her the whole truth.

  “Where were you?” I look at my watch. “You’ve been gone for over an hour!”

  “Bumped into someone.” Sandy throws the pack of cigarettes onto my comforter. I automatically start to open it, but then I stop and toss it into the trash can.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Quitti
ng,” I say. “As of today.”

  “Why?” Sandy takes the pack out of the trash.

  “It’s bad for you.”

  “Loads of stuff is bad for you.” Sandy puts the cigarettes into his pocket and shrugs. “But great, all the more for me.”

  “So who’d you bump into?”

  Sandy looks at me. “What?”

  “You said you bumped into someone. Who was it?”

  “Oh.” Sandy makes a dismissive gesture. “Just someone I used to know.”

  He takes a lanyard with a pass attached out of his bag and throws it onto my lap. “This is for you.”

  “What is it?” I turn the pass around in my fingers. On one side, there’s a picture of a horror clown, with the dates of the next six weekends. On the other side, I read in big letters: FRIGHT NIGHT.

  “Are we going to this?”

  “No, dummy, they’re our staff passes. We’re going to work there!” Sandy grins. “And we are going to make big bucks.”

  I let his words sink in. What the hell was Sandy thinking?

  “I sent in our names a while back. We start on Saturday morning. There’s a training session that finishes at four. And Fright Night kicks off at midnight.”

  So he did all this behind my back? He often takes the lead, but this is going too far.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Sandy sighs. “Because I knew you’d give me a hard time about it, like you are now.”

  “I’m not giving you a hard time. I just—”

  Sandy raises his hand. “Before you continue, let me tell you how much we’re going to make.”

  When he tells me the amount, I actually feel my jaw drop. I’ve never had that much money in my entire life. When I think of all the things I could do with it…

  Sandy gives me a satisfied nod. “So you’re convinced, then?”

  I shrug. “Depends. What exactly do we have to do at this training session?”

  “Oh, it’s a load of BS. They think they have to teach us how to scare people, but I’m sure you and I are going to be naturals. We’ll make people so terrified they’ll never dare sleep again.”