Fright Night

by Maren Stoffels

  I need to break something.

  I need to hit someone.

  I need to hurt someone.

  “Kelly.” Sandy drops down next to me on the ground and puts his arms around me.

  “She’s lying!”

  “I know.”

  “She was different, Sandy.”

  “I know.”

  “I really thought…”

  “It’s okay.” Sandy hugs me close. His arms feel safe and strong. I’m too tired to resist and I lean my whole weight against him.

  “That girl can drop dead. Right?”

  I nod.

  After a while, Sandy lets me go. “You okay now?”

  I nod, but I feel drained, like I’ve just been through a tough therapy session.

  “There’s no way you could have known, Kelly.”

  That’s the problem. I should have known. Sandy’s been warning me about her all night, but I kept on sticking up for Nell. Nell was different from the other neighbors. Nell saw me as Kelly, not as some problem case.

  In reality, she’s terrified of me.

  “That Martin’s an asshole.” Sandy cracks his fingers. “He thinks he’s better than us.”

  I look at my friend. “You still got that knife?”

  “Why?”

  “We might need it.”

  Sandy raises his eyebrows. “What are you planning to do? Stab that Martin guy?”

  You did the right thing.

  Do you think so?

  Of course.

  You’re so sweet.

  That Martin must be laughing at me. He has Nell wrapped around his little finger with his sweet talk, and he barely needed to try. All he had to do was be normal. If I’d been born into a different family, it could have been me standing there now with Nell.

  “You can’t stab anyone,” says Sandy when I don’t reply. “You’re way too good for that.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve known you long enough.”

  “I don’t want to be good anymore,” I say. “It doesn’t get me anywhere. Give me that knife.”

  Sandy carefully takes it from his pocket. “Are you sure you—”

  I snatch it from his hands. The knife’s heavier than I’d expected. I see my reflection in the blade. Slowly, I turn the knife over and over in my hands. The scars on my face move as it turns. Then I hand it back to him.

  “You hang on to this for now. Was she scared?” I ask quietly.

  A shadow passes over Sandy’s face. He immediately knows what I’m talking about.

  “Not at first,” he says. “She was in the kitchen when I went to see her. I don’t think she even saw the knife. She only ever thought about herself. When I held out the knife, she just started yelling and calling me names. Said I was a failure. With me standing there, pointing a knife at her. Stupid bitch.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I poked her in the gut with the tip of the knife.” Sandy leans forward, grabs my hand with the knife in it, and brings it to a point just above his navel. “Here.”

  I realize I’m holding my breath as he continues the story.

  “She still thought she could control me. So I pushed a bit harder.”

  Sandy pulls my hand even closer. I feel his skin tighten under the tip of the knife.

  “She asked if I needed money. Like that was what it was about. I wanted her to say sorry. I just wanted to hear her say that, even if it was only once.”

  I understand. I don’t think anyone understands Sandy better than I do.

  “And did she?”

  “Of course she didn’t.” Sandy lets go of my hand. “She doesn’t regret anything at all.”

  “And what did you do then?”

  “You know that story.”

  I look at Sandy’s hand. His burn is still gruesomely obvious, even in the flashlight’s dim glow.

  He’s right. I do know the story. Sandy grabbed a lighter and set the kitchen curtains on fire.

  His mother got out in time, and she held the kitchen door closed from the outside by throwing all her weight against it. She locked Sandy in.

  Sandy managed to escape into the yard—but he had to go through the burning curtains to get there. He had third-degree burns on his hand, which has never completely healed.

  “We’re going to do it,” I say firmly. “We’ll show them we’re not just a couple of problem kids. From now on, we’ll never let them walk all over us again.”

  Sandy’s eyes are gleaming. “What’s your plan?”

  I turn the knife in my hand. “We’re taking over Fright Night.”

  MURDERER

  That was the point where it all started going really wrong.

  I wasn’t thinking clearly.

  No one was thinking clearly.

  DYLAN

  “Dylan!” Quin’s voice sounds close. I slip behind a tree and lean against the trunk. I’m panting.

  “I’m sorry about your glasses. I didn’t mean to do it. But why did you get so mad?”

  I can feel the photo and the postcard poking my thigh through my pocket. If Sofia was in my old house, maybe she saw some other stuff. What does she know about Mom?

  She was asking all those questions for a reason. She wanted to see if I’d tell the truth. I’ve lied to her a few times—and she knows.

  But I thought she wanted to come meet Mom because she cares about me. I bite the inside of my cheek.

  “Dylan?”

  Quin is going to stay there until it gets light. He’s being so very kind that it’s irritating me.

  “Get the hell away from me.”

  I hear Quin take a few steps toward me.

  “And what then? You going to go home?”

  The volcano inside me is rumbling dangerously.

  “That’s your home, not mine. My bedroom isn’t even mine. It’s your dad’s study. I stole it.”

  Quin sighs. “Are you starting that again?”

  He doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t get it.

  “Leave me alone, Quin.”

  “I’m not going back without you. You’re my brother.”

  I push my back against the tree trunk.

  “Brother? We’re not brothers, Quin. I don’t have a brother! You’re a friend I have to live with, and it drives me crazy! Do you know I still ask for permission when I want to grab some juice from the fridge? And that I don’t spend the night in my own room because I can’t sleep a wink in there? Why do you think I always fold and put away my own clothes? If Hester did it, nothing at all would be like it was before. She cooks such a big meal every night that it’s like royalty’s coming to dinner. She makes my lunch, and she asks how my day at school was. She and Johan are always there, keeping their eagle eyes on me. And you? You act like it’s all one big fun sleepover. But I’ve lost everything. And I hate it. I hate your house!”

  My last sentence echoes through the woods. I don’t mean it, but at the same time I do. I listen to the silence. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds. And then I hear Quin’s footsteps again. This time they’re walking away from me.

  KELLY

  “We have to be quick.” Sandy points at the big tree with the luminous arrow on it.

  Nell and Martin are still nearby. The girl I don’t know is standing with her back to us. What will she do if she sees us?

  “I’ll do it,” I say quietly.

  “You sure?” Sandy’s almost invisible now that our flashlight is off.

  “Certain.”

  I walk quickly to the big tree, keeping my eyes on the girl’s back. If she turns around now…

  I grab hold of the arrow and turn it around. Instead of pointing right, the thing’s pointing left now, away from the path.

  Will they suspect anything? No. No
one expects us here. No one expects something like this to happen.

  And by the time the group realizes what’s going on, it’ll be too late.

  DYLAN

  It feels like I’ve been walking for hours. I haven’t seen any actors for a while. Or heard other Fright Nighters screaming.

  Where should I go? Hester and Johan won’t understand why I’m coming back on my own. They’ll fire all kinds of questions at me, and I’ll only get myself into more trouble. Plus, I said some horrible things about them. Of course I’m happy they took me into their family, or I’d be in some kind of home or institution, like those kids at Nell’s work.

  “Ow!”

  I bump into something. At first I think it’s a tree, but then my fingers feel something else. A fence! This must be the edge of the woods.

  I walk along the fence for a bit, but it doesn’t end. So I’ll have to go over it. I put my sneaker against the slippery bars and pull myself up.

  I’m feeling the effects of my fight with Quin; there’s a stabbing pain in my ribs. I drop down on the other side of the fence. It’s asphalt, but it’s not the bike path we took to get here.

  So it looks like I’m on the other side of the woods. If I want to get back to the bikes, I’ll have to walk a really long way. Getting a taxi isn’t an option, because all my stuff is inside a locker at the start. And I don’t have a cent on me.

  I slide onto the ground and lean back against the fence. If I have to, I’ll sit here until it gets light. In a few hours, some dog owner is bound to walk past.

  But then what?

  There’s no way I can go back to Quin, not after everything I said to him. I massage my painful right leg, then drop my face into my hands. It’s pitch dark. And I just gave one friend a bloody nose and terrified the other with my yelling.

  Then I feel something against my chest. I reach under my T-shirt and close my hand around the key. For the first time since finding Sofia’s jacket, I feel something like hope.

  There is somewhere I can go.

  SOFIA

  Martin and Nell come back.

  “Are they still not here?” Martin says with a sigh. “This is taking way too long.”

  He’s so annoying. It’s like Fright Night is all that matters. Has he forgotten everything that just happened?

  “Let’s wait a few more minutes,” suggests Nell.

  Shocked, I stare at her. “And what then? There’s no way I’m leaving without them!”

  “We don’t have to.” Nell points at something behind me. “Someone’s coming.”

  I turn around and see Quin walking up—on his own.

  “Where’s Dylan?”

  Quin looks deathly pale, except for the marks left by his nosebleed.

  “He didn’t want to come back.” Quin’s voice sounds weary.

  “What happened?” I put my arms around him and feel his shaking hands on my waist. “Did you guys fight again?”

  “No…he’s just really mad.”

  Quin’s voice cracks. Big, brave Quin, who’s never lost for words, starts crying. I hug him closer.

  “It’s not you,” I whisper. “I don’t know what’s going on either, but I’m sure Dylan didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Quin mutters something I don’t hear and twists out of my hug. Wildly, he wipes his eyes dry.

  “Let’s go on,” he says.

  I gape at him. “What?!”

  Martin slaps him on the shoulder. “You sure?”

  “Absolutely certain.”

  “You’re kidding, aren’t you?” I look toward where Dylan disappeared. “He’s out there on his own somewhere.”

  “So what?” Suddenly there’s nothing left of Quin’s tears, and his face is hard. “That’s his choice.”

  “We can’t leave him behind.”

  “He left us behind,” Quin says. “And he was very clear about it.”

  I look at Nell, but she just shrugs.

  “Okay, then,” says Martin, turning to look at the big tree behind him. “We have to go left here.”

  “Left?” I look at the path, which clearly heads right. “Are you sure?”

  “We’re going off-road for a bit,” says Quin. “That’s cool.”

  Martin and Quin lead the way. I pause at the tree.

  “Dylan will be fine,” says Nell. “He’s probably waiting for us at the exit.”

  I want to believe Nell, but my gut says something different. If we continue now, it’s like we’re abandoning Dylan.

  I look at the big tree in front of me. Maybe he’ll come back here, to the place where we last saw each other. I have to leave something behind for him, some kind of message. There’s a branch sticking out next to the arrow. It’s perfect.

  I take the bracelet off my wrist and hang it on the branch.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  “Where have all the actors gone?” says Quin after a while. We’re walking straight through the woods. Sometimes Martin has to hold big branches aside for us so we can get through.

  “It’s nice and peaceful,” says Nell. “I’m so done with this Fright Night.”

  “And then, just when you least expect it…,” says Martin with a grin.

  “Yeah,” says Quin. “Any minute now someone’s going to leap out of the bushes!”

  “How can you guys be so casual?” I think about my bracelet on the tree. What if Dylan doesn’t come back? What if something happens to him in the woods? He could easily fall, with that leg of his.

  “What do you want us to do? Start crying and wailing?” Quin stops walking. “Like I said, it was his choice, not ours.”

  “It’s like you don’t care.”

  Quin’s eyes narrow. “Dylan’s my best friend. Of course I care.”

  “He’s in trouble. We have to help him.”

  “He went crazy,” says Quin. “That’s a completely different story.”

  “If you ask me, he’s terrified. That’s why he lies about everything.”

  Quin raises one surprised eyebrow. “Lying? What? Dylan doesn’t lie.”

  “Well, he lied about his mom. He said she lives at home, but that’s not true. And he lies about his leg.”

  Quin sighs. “His leg again? What about it?”

  I look at Nell. “Dylan told her it was a hockey accident, but he told me that he fell off his bike.”

  Quin’s face clouds over.

  “What?” I take hold of his arm. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. Let’s keep going.”

  “Please stop protecting him. I need to know what’s going on. He constantly avoids the truth—haven’t you noticed?”

  Quin gives a deep sigh. “Okay. Fine. Neither story’s true.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s another version. The version he told me at the time.”

  I feel my eyes widening. “And what’s that?”

  “Dylan fell down the stairs. That’s why he walks with a limp.”

  DYLAN

  Nothing has changed, but at the same time everything is different.

  The streetlights cast yellow patches on the ground every few yards. I stop in front of number 12. It’s like the house is waiting for us to come back but secretly knows it’s not going to happen.

  The front yard is overgrown with weeds. Mom would hate to see it like that. I bend down and pull a few plants from between the slabs. So Sofia was here a few days ago. How did she get inside?

  I tilt back my head and look up. Behind the windows upstairs, the curtains are closed as usual.

  * * *

  —

  “I don’t want anyone snooping.” Mom closes the curtains. It’s suddenly a lot darker in my room. She never noticed that I’d swapped her old glasses.

  I see that M
om is all dolled up. She’s wearing her favorite red lipstick, black pantyhose, and her high-heeled boots.

  “Are you going to a party?” I ask.

  “No, we have an appointment. We have to drive a long way this time, but that’s okay. Because the doctor at this new hospital is definitely going to find out what’s up with you.”

  A new hospital? This is a shock.

  “What about Eliza? She’s my doctor, isn’t she?”

  “Are you going to start crying?”

  I feel tears burning my eyes, and I desperately try to keep them in. But when I shake my head, they come pouring out.

  “But I like Eliza.”

  “You don’t have to like her. She’s not your friend.” Mom pulls me up by my arms. “Get up and come with me.”

  My legs feel like lead. I lie on my bed like a rag doll.

  “Dylan!” Mom glares at me. “Come on!”

  I want to, but I really can’t move. It’s like my legs are rebelling.

  “G-give me a moment.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No, no, no…” I’m sweating. Mom is going to think my legs are sick. I need them to work—and now.

  “Stop messing with me, Dylan!” Mom slaps my cheek hard. “You had better make sure you cooperate with the new doctor. I don’t want you showing me up! You hear me?”

  * * *

  —

  I take the key from around my neck and put it in the lock. The front door swings open.

  In front of me, I see the familiar wooden stairs. As usual, a shiver goes through me when I see the steps. I still remember how it felt when I fell down each and every one of them. There are a few envelopes on the mat, all addressed to Mom. Bills, advertisements, a reminder for a dental appointment. Should I take the mail for her tomorrow?

  I look up. The mirror in the hallway shows my face. I see some blood on my forehead. Is it mine or Quin’s?

  I hang the key back around my neck and close the front door. Now it really is quiet. It’s like a ghost house here in the dark. I walk to the living room and turn on the light. The bright light flooding the room startles me, so I turn it off. The last thing I need now is for one of the neighbors to call the police because they think someone’s breaking in. Anyway, I have enough light from the lampposts outside. It’s way less dark here than at Fright Night.