The New Girl

by R. L. Stine

  CHAPTER 4

  Cory stared at the calendar hanging over his desk. Saturday night. Saturday night, and I’m sitting up here alone in my room, Walkman blasting in my ears, staring at my desk, not even hearing the music, thinking about Anna Corwin.

  A guy could get pretty depressed, he told himself. He tore off the Walkman headphones and tossed them onto the desk.

  Anna. Anna. Anna.

  It’s spelled the same both ways.

  Brilliant, Cory. Just brilliant. Your mind really is turning to cheese, isn’t it!

  He knew he had to stop thinking about her. But how could he? She kept floating into his thoughts no matter what he did. He had liked other girls before—but never like this!

  He leaned over and grabbed the phone. “I’ll ask her to a movie or something,” he told himself. “If I can just get to know her a little, maybe I won’t be so crazy, so obsessed.”

  Those eyes. That whisper of a voice, as faint as the wind.

  No. Stop. I can’t call her on a Saturday night.

  You can’t call a girl on a Saturday night.

  She’s probably out.

  I’ll try her anyway, he decided. She seemed so pleased when I talked to her at her locker.

  No, I can’t call her. She’ll be insulted. She’ll think I’m calling on a Saturday night because I know she wouldn’t be out with somebody.

  I’ll call David instead. Maybe he and I can go down to the mall and check out the action.

  No, David can’t go anywhere. He’s hobbling around with crutches because of his ankle.

  Call her, Cory. She’ll be thrilled to hear from you.

  Oh, sure. Thrilled. The klutz who always falls on his face when she looks at him.

  He put down the receiver. Not tonight. No way.

  I know. I’ll catch her at her locker on Monday, maybe ask her to the basketball game next Friday.

  He felt a lot better. He had a plan.

  Now what should I do? The clock on his desk said eight twenty. His parents had a hot Scrabble game going downstairs with Lisa’s parents. Cory decided maybe he’d wander next door and see if Lisa was doing anything.

  “Lisa home?” he called into the den, pulling on a sweatshirt.

  “Yes, she is,” Mrs. Blume called. “Why don’t you go over and keep her company? She was kinda down in the dumps because she didn’t have a date tonight.”

  “Okay,” Cory said, grabbing a bag of potato chips and a box of chocolate chip cookies off the kitchen shelf to take with him. There was never anything to eat at the Blumes’ house. That was probably the real reason Lisa was depressed. She was probably starving, he figured.

  I can talk to her about Anna, Cory told himself. He was eager to discuss Anna with someone. Whenever he brought up the subject with David or Arnie, they just teased him and made bad jokes.

  “How’d the match with Mattewan go?” Mr. Blume called.

  “Don’t ask him that,” Cory heard his mom say.

  “Don’t ask me that,” Cory repeated.

  “He fell on his keester,” Cory’s dad said in a whisper loud enough to be heard across the street. They all laughed.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Cory said. “Thanks a bunch.”

  Holding the cookies and potato chips in one arm, he pulled open the back door and stepped out into a frosty night. A sliver of a moon was partially hidden by thin wisps of clouds. That moon is so pale, he thought. It’s the same color as Anna’s hair.

  Uh-oh, Cory. You’d better watch it, man. You’re starting to see her everywhere—even in the moon! You’re getting weird, man. Too weird. You’ve got to cool it.

  He had to knock three times before Lisa opened the back door. She was wearing cut-off jeans and an enormous old white shirt that must have been her dad’s. “Oh, hi,” she said, sighing. “It’s only you.”

  “Who’d you think?”

  “I thought it was a burglar. You know, someone exciting.” She backed up so that he could walk in. She smiled. “I’m only kidding. I’m glad you came over.”

  He held up the food packages.

  “Now I’m really glad,” she said, grabbing them both out of his hands. “I’m starving!”

  He followed her into the den and sat down on the brown leather couch against the wall. She poured the potato chips into a big ceramic bowl and sat down next to him. “Another fabulous Saturday night.”

  “What were you doing?” he asked, grabbing a handful of chips and dropping them down into his mouth one by one from above. They tasted better that way, he thought.

  “Nothing. I rented a movie, but I haven’t started it yet. Want to watch it with me?”

  “I don’t know. What is it?”

  She walked over to the counter under the TV and held up a videotape box. “A Star Trek movie?” He gave her a double thumbs-down. “I’m not into Star Trek.”

  “Neither am I,” she said, sighing again. “I got to the video store late. Everything was gone.”

  She slumped back down onto the couch, closer to him this time. They both reached out for more potato chips at the same time. Her hand grabbed his. She quickly let go. He didn’t notice that she looked embarrassed.

  “So how are things, Cory?” she asked, turning to face him. Their knees touched.

  “Not great,” he said, shrugging.

  She put her hand on his arm. He could feel the warmth through his sweatshirt. “Poor baby. What’s your problem?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Nothing really. Everything.”

  She tsk-tsked. They didn’t say anything for a while.

  She moved her hand up to his hair and began to finger his curls. “I heard about the gymnastics match,” she said softly.

  “I blew it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I just blew it.”

  She leaned against him, still rolling her finger lightly in his hair. “Don’t be so tough on yourself, Cory. It’s only the first competition.” She shoved the potato chip bowl aside and scooted even closer to him.

  “Anna Corwin was there,” he said. “I saw her watching me, and I was so surprised, I guess I lost my concentration.”

  “What?”

  “I said Anna Corwin was there. I saw those blue eyes staring at me and—”

  “Creep.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” She pulled away from him and jumped to her feet. He looked up, bewildered. Why did she look so angry?

  “Have you ever talked with Anna?” he asked.

  She stood over him and crossed her arms in front of her. “Cory, I think you should go home.”

  “Huh? I just got here.”

  “No. Really. Go home. Okay?”

  “But why?”

  “I—I’m just not in the mood for company. Okay? I’ll see you in school Monday. I just don’t feel like talking tonight.”

  He got up slowly, still confused. “Okay. Sorry you’re not feeling well. Should I leave the chips and cookies?”

  She glared at him. She picked up the box of cookies. For a second he thought she was going to fling it at him. But she put it in his hand. “Take the cookies. I’ll finish the chips. What the heck? Might as well get fat. Why not?”

  “Glad I could cheer you up,” he said, trying to get her to smile. She didn’t.

  A few seconds later he was back outside, heading over the frosty hard grass to his house. A few seconds after that he was back in his room, sitting on his bed, trying to figure out what to do for the rest of the night.

  What was Lisa’s problem? he wondered. It wasn’t like her to be so moody. She wasn’t depressed just because she didn’t have a date. Something else had to be bothering her. But what?

  He glanced at his desk clock: nine twenty-five. His eye fell on the yellow pad beside the phone. He walked over to the desk and stared down at Anna’s phone number.

  Without stopping to think about it, without giving himself time to get nervous, time to talk himself out of it, he punched her number.

  It rang once, tw
ice, the sound seeming very far away even though it was just on the other side of town.

  After the third ring he heard a click. Someone picked it up. A soft female voice said, “Corwins. Hello?”

  “Hello, Anna?”

  There was a long pause. Cory listened to the static on the line.

  “Who?” the woman’s voice repeated.

  “May I speak to Anna please?”

  “Ohhh!” The woman let out a loud gasp.

  More silence. Then Cory heard a loud screech in the background. What was that awful sound? It sounded like a girl screaming.

  Yes. Must be the TV, he told himself.

  It had to be the TV.

  “Why do you call here asking for Anna?” the woman demanded angrily.

  “Well, I just—”

  Again Cory heard the girl shrieking in the background. “Let me talk! It’s for me! I know it’s for me!”

  The woman ignored the girl’s cries. “Why do you call to torture me like this?” she asked Cory, her voice trembling.

  “Well, is Anna there?” Cory asked.

  “No, no, no!” the woman insisted. “You know Anna isn’t here! You know she isn’t! Stop. Please—stop!”

  He heard the beginning of another scream. Then the phone clicked off.

  CHAPTER 5

  Cory listened to the hum of the dial tone for a while as he waited for his heart to stop pounding. He played the conversation with the woman over and over again in his mind until the words became a blur. And over the blur he heard the screams, the girl’s screams of protest in the background.

  Let me talk. It’s for me! I know it’s for me!

  What was going on there?

  Cory’s mind whirred with crazy, frightening thoughts. What were they doing to Anna? Why wouldn’t they let her come to the phone? Why did they keep insisting she wasn’t there?

  Fear Street. Was it claiming another victim?

  Was Anna being held prisoner in her own house? Were they torturing her?

  “You’ve seen too many bad movies,” he told himself. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  Then what was the explanation?

  “I’ll go over there,” he said aloud. The idea just popped into his mind. It seemed simple enough. He glanced at the desk clock. It was just a little after ten, still early.

  He examined himself in the mirror on his closet door, straightened the sleeves on his sweatshirt, pushed his dark curly hair back from his forehead with his hands, and headed out of his room and down the stairs toward the den.

  He stopped halfway down the stairs.

  Hold on a minute. Do I really want to go to Fear Street—by myself? What if something horrible really is happening in that house? What if those screams were real?

  The big local news story of a few weeks before suddenly flashed into his mind. A family of three had been found murdered in the Fear Street woods. No one was reported missing. No one came forward to identify them.

  Just another Fear Street unsolved murder.…

  Cory decided to call David and ask him to come along. David was sure to be sitting home, staring at his ankle, bored out of his mind. He needed a little excitement.

  To Cory’s surprise David thought the idea was a little strange. “Let me get this straight, Brooks,” he said after Cory had explained their mission. “You want to drive over to Fear Street and break in on someone’s horror movie to find a girl who isn’t there in the first place.”

  “Right,” Cory said.

  “Okay. Sounds good to me,” David replied. “Pick me up in ten minutes.”

  “Make it five,” Cory said, and hung up before David could change his mind.

  Good old David, Cory thought. I can always count on him to be as stupid as I am!

  The Scrabble game was still going strong downstairs in the den. The board was nearly filled, and all four adults sat staring at it in silence, concentrating on finding a usable open space.

  “I’m going out for a short while,” he told his dad. “Which car can I take?”

  “Kind of late, isn’t it?” his mother asked without looking up from the board. She had a letter square in her hand, a blank, which she was rolling over and over between her fingers.

  “It’s only ten.”

  “Take the Taurus,” his father said. “Don’t take your mother’s car.”

  “Where are you going?” his mother insisted.

  “Just over to David’s.” It was partly true.

  “Are you going to make a word, or what?” Mrs. Blume asked Cory’s mom with that impatient tone everyone gets near the end of an endless Scrabble game.

  “How’s David doing?” Mr. Brooks asked.

  “Bad,” Cory told him. “He’s on crutches. He’s pretty depressed.”

  “Poor guy,” Mrs. Blume muttered, staring at her letters.

  “I pass,” Mrs. Brooks said, sighing unhappily.

  Cory grabbed the keys off the front counter and headed out to the car. David lived about six blocks away in the northern corner of North Hills, almost to the river. It was a two-minute drive.

  Cory knocked on the front door and waited. It took a long time for David to get to the door. “Sorry, man. I can’t go with you” was his greeting.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I can’t go. My mom won’t let me.” He looked embarrassed.

  “Hi, Cory,” David’s mother called from behind David in the hallway. “I really don’t want David to go out tonight. He’s got to stay off the ankle. Besides, he’s getting a cold. You understand.”

  “Sure, Mrs. Metcalf,” Cory said, unable to hide his disappointment. “A cold.” He grinned at David. “We wouldn’t want Mama’s angel to catch a nasty cold, would we?”

  David rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Give me a break.”

  “I’ll call you later and let you know what happened on Fear Street,” Cory said. “If you don’t hear from me, send out the marines or the National Guard.”

  “Have you seen Poltergeist?” David asked. “If you go in that house, you might be sucked right into the TV screen!”

  Cory didn’t laugh. “You think this is all a big joke, don’t you!”

  David gave him an exaggerated, wide grin. “I think it’s a riot.”

  “Well…” Cory turned and stomped down the flagstone walk back toward his car. “You’re probably right.”

  Cory drove south on Park Drive and headed toward Fear Street. It was a cold and raw night. Thick clouds of fog drifted rapidly down from the hills. He turned up the heater and pushed on the radio. He needed some loud music to keep up his spirits.

  “It’s a Q-ROCK Beatles Blast!” the disc jockey screamed enthusiastically. “Twenty-four hours of Beatles hits in alphabetical order!”

  Cory laughed. Why would anyone want to listen to music in alphabetical order?

  He wished David were there to share the laugh. He wished David were there period. He really didn’t like the idea of roaming around Fear Street on a cold, foggy night on his own. “Oh, well, I won’t get out of the car,” he told himself. “I’ll just drive past the house and see what’s going on.”

  The fog grew thicker as he passed Canyon Road and entered the valley. It was always misty at night down in this part of town, even in the summer. The car headlights seemed to hit the swirling mist and bounce back onto the windshield. He tried the brights, but they were worse.

  An oncoming car swerved to miss him. Other drivers couldn’t see either, Cory realized, a thought that didn’t make him feel any more confident. “This is a mistake,” he told himself.

  But the fog lightened as he turned down Mill Road. A small Toyota, jammed with a least six teenagers, honked as it sped past him. They were probably coming from the deserted mill at the end of the road, a favorite makeout spot for Shadyside kids.

  The dream about Anna in which she was kissing his face flashed into his mind. He turned the radio up. Q-ROCK was up to the L’s. They were playing “Love Me Do.”

  Tapping
his hands against the wheel to the music, recreating the sexy dream in his mind, he nearly missed the turn onto Fear Street. He realized where he was and hit the brake hard, making a skidding turn across the wet pavement.

  It seemed to grow darker as soon as he turned onto the narrow, curving street. Tall maples and oaks lined both sides, their bare creaking branches nearly forming an archway over the road, tangled limbs blocking much of the pale gray light from the streetlamps.

  He couldn’t see it in the dark, but he knew that he was passing Simon Fear’s burned-out mansion. He sped up and turned up the heater. The houses, rambling old Victorians for the most part, were set far back from the road behind unkempt hedges or overlooking lawns still thick with swirling brown leaves.

  “How am I ever going to find which house is hers?” Cory asked himself, wiping the inside of the windshield clear with his sweatshirt sleeve. He squinted out through the smeared glass, trying unsuccessfully to see a street number.

  “What was her number?” he asked himself, beginning to panic. Had he driven all this way without even knowing her house number? No. It was 444. He remembered.

  He pulled the car over to the side of the road and shifted into park. He turned off the headlights and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He could actually see a little better with the lights off.

  He turned off the engine, opened the door, and slid out of the car. If he was going to find her house, he’d have to do it on foot. The numbers were on the front doors of the houses. There was no way he could read them from the car.

  He shivered. The sweatshirt didn’t offer much protection from the damp cold. He took a deep breath. The air smelled sour; decaying leaves most likely.

  An animal howled nearby, a long, mournful wail.

  “It doesn’t sound like a dog,” he told himself, looking in the direction of the sound but seeing nothing. “Could it be a wolf?”

  The animal howled again. It sounded a little closer.

  Cory suddenly remembered being on Fear Street before. He was a kid, nine or ten. His friend Ben had dared him to walk in the woods. Somehow he had gotten the courage to try. But he had walked for only a few minutes when something grabbed his shoulder.

  Maybe it had been a tree branch. Maybe not. He had run screaming down the street. He had never been so scared in his life.