Hit and run

HIT AND RUN

You can't run away.
Cassie heard crackling on the line.
"Hello?"
More crackling. And then a sound like a gasp, a dry gust of wind.
"You can't run away."
The voice wasn't a whisper. It was a breeze. A burst of air.
A burst of foul air.
"You can't run away."
And then the line went dead....

ISBN 0-590-45385-8
Copyright (c) 1992 by Robert L. Stine.
Contents 1. The Eyes Have It 1 2. A Driving
Lesson 10 3. No Brakes 19 4. De-Pantsed 24 5. A Bump in the Road 34 6.
Hit and Run 39 7. Act Natural 49 S. A Disappearance 61 9. A Message
from the Dead 66 10. Hats Off to Eddie 74 11. Hit and Run-Again 83
12. Eddie Gets the Picture 93 13. Cassie Figures It Out 103 14. A
Visit to the Morgue 15. Not Ticklish 118 16. Where's Scott? 128
17. Cassie is Next 134 18. Why Would Scott Do It? 138 19. Where's
the Spat-e? 147 20. Just a Joke 150 21. Run! 154 22. Smashup 157
23. No More Jokes 162 @i I lo PR The Eyes Have It Cassie
Martin hung out with three boys.
Cassie had been athletic all her life, playing sports, swimming,
bike-riding, and hanging out with the boys in her neighborhood. And
when she got to high school, she didn't see any reason to change
friends.
Short and thin, with crimped blonde hair, and lively green eyes in
a face full of freckles, Cassie looked about twelve, even though she
was nearly sixteen.
Cassie had a crush on one of the three boys she hung out with.
Scott Baldwin. @ut it was a secret crush. Scott had no idea. To him,
Cassie was just a pal.
Scott was one of those all-around guys who get their picture in
about twenty places in the yearbook.
Really good-looking in a teddy bear sort of way, Scott was a big,
blond jock with brawny shoulders I and a broad neck, but he also had
brains.
He was starting fullback on the football team and representative to the
Student Government. He had an afterschool job in his uncle's hardware
store - and he managed to maintain a solid B-plus average.
Just about perfect. That's what Cassie thought.
But no one's perfect. Scott had his faults, she realize-d. For
one thing, he had a really annoying laugh - a high-pitched giggle that
made Cassie's teeth itch. For another, Scott was more of a follower
than a leader.
Despite his big size, he was more of a sheep than a tiger.
Mainly, he was always ready to go along with the dumb jokes and
schemes that Winks cooked up.
Bruce Winkleman was another one of the three guys Cassie hung out
with. No one called him Bruce.
Everyone called him Winks - except his mother.
Winks had stringy brown hair down to his shoulders, and he wore
black-rimmed Buddy Holly glasses that were too big for his slender
face. He had only one kind of smile - a devilish grin.
Winks was a good guy, too, after you got to know him. But what
a joker. Sometimes Cassie wished he could be more serious. But
then he wouldn't be Winks.
Cassie was at Scott's house on a Wednesday evening after dinner.
They were supposed to study their government assignment. But Scott's
parents had rushed out to go to an early movie,
leaving Scott with the dinner dishes to wash, so Cassie helped him in
the kitchen instead.
They had just about finished when Winks came marching in through
the back door, as usual without knocking. He was carrying a cardboard
box, a little smaller than a shoe box, which he set down on the kitchen
counter.
It was a chilly winter night, about twenty-five or so outside, and
windy, but Winks was wearing the same blue denim jacket he always wore,
the one with his father's old war medals pinned up and down the front,
and faded jeans with gaping holes at the knees.
He was wearing his devilish grin, too.
"I suppose you're wondering what's in the box," Winks said,
pushing his heavy eyeglasses up on his short, pudgy nose.
"Not really," Cassie said, drying the last dinner plate and
handing it to Scott to put away.
"You two look like you're married," Winks said.
Cassie tossed down the dish towel. She glanced at Scott, who
looked embarrassed. "Yeah. We got married this morning," she told
Winks. "But it's a secret. Our parents don't know yet."
Winks's devilish grin became more devilish.
"When's the honeymoon?"
"What's in the box?" Scott asked, changing the subject. He took
the dish towel and mopped up the countertop.
"Try to guess," Winks said, drumming his fingers on top of the
box. "'Is Eddie coming over?"
Eddie was the third guy, Cassie's other friend.
"I don't think so. Why?" Scott asked suspiciously.
"Aw, Winks." Cassie made a disgusted face, then lowered her eyes
to the box. "Is this another dumb joke you're going to play )n Eddie?"
Winks's dark eyes lit up behind his black@-rimmed glasses. "It
isn't dumb," he said. "It's ... head.
Scott 'let out his high-pitched giggle. He was always ready to
play another joke on Eddie.
But Cassie worried that they'd played too many dumb jokes on their
friend. Sure, Eddie was a good sport. In fact, he was too good a
sport. If he'd get really mad once, Cassie thought, Winks and Scott
would probably stop.
The only reason kids liked to play jokes on Eddie was because he
was so quiet, and sort of timid and frightened-looking. His name was
Eddie Katz, and some kids had started calling him Scaredy Katz.
He was short, about the same height as Cassie, and very wiry, with
curly black hair. Eddie was one of those guys who blushed very easily.
His cheeks always seemed to have (lark red circles on them.
Eddie was smart and serious. He wanted to be a doctor, a
difficult goal since his family was struggling financially and he'd
have to make his own way through college and medical school.
"Call Eddie," Winks told Scott. "Get him over here. "
"Okay. Sure." Scott reached for the red wall phone.
"What's in the box?" Cassie asked.
"Guess," Winks insisted.
"Your brain?"
Scott giggled and punched Eddie's number on the phone.
"Close," Winks said, grinning.
Scott got Eddie on the phone and told him to come over. Then he
hung up. "He's coming. What's in the box?"
"It's an eyeball," Winks said, removing the lid and starting to
lift the box to show them.
Cassie hid her eyes with her hand. "Don't show it to me. That's
really gross!"
Scott stared at the box. "From an animal? What kind of animal?"
"From a human," Winks said. He replaced the lid.
"That's a human eye?" Scott asked. He giggled.
"It's so humongousl" ' "Gross," Cassie repeated. "Where'd you
get it?"
"From an eye store," Winks cracked. "They were having a sale."
"I just ate," Scott said, holding his stomach.
"Winks - is that really a human eye?" Cassie asked, staring at
the box.
He nodded, pleased with himself. "I got it from Eddie's cousin
Jerry. He works at the city morgue.
Downtown."
"Eddie's cousin gave you an eyeball?" Cassie asked, feeling sick.
"Yeah. He removed it from some corpse."
"Didn't the corpse need it for his funeral?" Cassie asked.
"l can't believe we're discussing this," Scott proclaimed,
scratching his blond hair.
"He was being cremated, so he didn't need it," Winks informed
them. He shook the box. The eyeball plopped against the sides.
"Yuck! Stop!" Cassie pleaded. "Really, Winks. I mean it."
"Did you ever get that new Polaroid you were talking about?"
Winks asked Scott, giving the box one more good shake for Cassie's
benefit.
"Yeah, I got it," Scott replied, straightening the sleeve of his
blue-and-gold Avondale North High sweatshirt with the North High
bulldog growling across the front.
"Well, go get it," Winks said. "I want a picture of Eddie's
reaction when I do my eyeball trick."
"Your . . . eyeball trick?" Cassie asked reluctantly.
Winks flashed his evil grin at her. "You'll see."
Scott returned from his room carrying a yellow plastic camera.
"All ready," he said.
"Is that a camera or a toy?" Winks asked sarcastically. "What
is that - My First Camera?"
Cassie laughed. it did look like a baby camera.
"It's a really good camera," Scott insisted defensively. "You can
take underwater pictures with it."
"Underwater Polaroids?" Cassie asked.
"Ooh - let's go try it out in the bathtub," Winks exclaimed.
"Don't look at me," Cassie Cracked. "I'm not taking a bath with
you, Winks."
Winks did an exaggerated pout. "Hold on to the camera, Scott so-
And when I do my eyeball thing, get Eddie's face, okay?"
Scott nodded. He always agreed to everything Winks wanted.
"This is really gross," Cassie said, glancing at the box. "I
can't believe Eddie's cousin gave that to YOU."
"He's a good guy," Winks said. "I guess he gets bored working at
the morgue. He said business is really dead!"
Scott laughed. Cassie did, too, but she hated herself for it.
Such a bad joke.
A few minutes later, Eddie appeared at the kitchen door. He was
wearing his blue down vest over a bulky black-and-red sweater, and a
blue wool ski cap. "It's cold," he @d, stepping into the kitchen, his
cheeks bright red, "How's it going?" Scott asked.
Cassie looked around. Winks had disappeared from the room.
"Okay, I guess," Eddie said, pulling off the ski cap and
straightening his black, curly hair with his hand. He smiled at
Cassie. "Hi."
She returned his greeting, lowering her eyes guiltily to the
yellow camera beside Scott on the kitchen counter. She had a momentary
urge to warn Eddie that Winks was about to play a trick on him.
But it was only momentary.
"Were you doing homework?" she asked Eddie.
He shook his head. "No. I was studying for my (driver's test.
You know. That booklet they give you for the written exam."
"When do you take it?" Scott asked, his eyes on the doorway
behind Eddie.
"In a few weeks," Eddie replied, tossing his vest onto a tall
kitchen stool. "It looks pretty easy. it's all multiple choice."
"I took it last week," Cassie said. "I only missed one question.
The one about U-turns. I couldn't remember if they were legal or
not."
"So you got your temporary? When do you take the driver's test?"
Ed(lie asked.
"In a few days," Cassie replied excitedly.
At that moment, Winks entered from the hallway, holding both hands
over his right eye, his head bowed.
"Hey - Wiriks," Ed(lie greeted him.
His hands cupped over his eye, Winks groaned. Here it comes,
Cassie told herself, holding her breath.
"What's wrong with your eye?" Scott asked, helping the joke
along.
"I don't know," Winks said, stepping up close to Eddie. "I - I think I got something in it. There! I got it out!"
Keeping his eye tightly closed, Winks lowered his hand, revealing
the big, wet eyeball in his palm.
Winks screamed.
Eddie's mouth dropped open. His cheeks blazed.
His entire face burned scarlet.
Scott flashed the camera.
Cassie laughed.
But she stopped laughing when Eddie's eyes rolled up into his head
and, uttering a low moan, he slumped backward onto the linoleum.
His head hit the floor with a solid thud.
Scott flashed the camera again.
"I don't believe it!" Winks cried gleefully, staring down at
Eddie's unmoving form. "He fainted!
Scott - photo op! Photo op!"
Scott flashed another photo.
"Wait! Stop!" Cassie cried, bending over Eddie.
"Eddie, are you okay?"
Eddie didn't move.
She grabbed his wrist. Slapped his face. Felt his red cheek.
Shook his head.
"Hey - " The grin faded from Winks's face. He was still holding
the eyeball.
"Winks, I - I don't think he's breathing," Cassie cried. She held
Eddie's limp hand. "I - I think he's dead!"
A Driving Lesson Cassie let go of the hand, and it fell limply to
the floor.
Scott uttered a choking sound. He backed up against the counter,
his hands shoved into his jeans pockets.
"Come on," Winks said quietly, staring at Cassie, then moving his
eyes down to Eddie's still form.
Eddie's eyes were closed. One leg was twisted at an odd angle
under his body.
Winks set the eyeball down on the counter and wiped his hand off
on a dish towel. "Come on," he repeated. "It was just a joke."
Pushing his glasses up on his nose, he crossed the kitchen and
bent down over Eddie. "Just a joke," he repeated.
Eddie groaned and sat up. "What happened?" he asked, raising a
hand to his forehead. "Did I black out?"
The other three all whooped for joy.
"You're okay!" Cassie cried happily.
Eddie lay back down on the linoleum. "I'm not so sure," he said
weakly. "My head . . ."
"You hit it when you fell," Cassie told him.
"Do you believe it? He fainted!" Winks cried, shaking his head.
"What a man! What a man!"
"Give him a break," Scott said.
"What's the matter, Eddie - didn't you ever see an eyeball
before?" Winks asked. He turned to Scott. "I expected a good
reaction - but not that good!" He and Scott laughed.
"Wish I'd gotten a photo of Winks's face when he thought Eddie was
dead!" Scott exclaimed.
"Very funny," Winks said sarcastically. "At least I didn't faint
like an old lady!" He scooped up the eyeball, which had yellowed quite
a bit and appeared to be oozing some kind of clear liquid, and dropped
it into the box.
Eddie pulled himself to his feet, still looking pale.
"That is really gross," he said to Winks. "Where'd you get it?"
"I made it in shop," Winks cracked. "No. It was on my lunch
tray."
"Actually, there were two of them," said Cassie, "but Winks ate
one."
"Ohh, gross," Scott groaned and pretended to throw up in the sink.
Eddie reached for his down vest and ski cap.
"Well, thanks for the entertainment, guys. Guess I'll get home."
Hey, you're feeling better? Let's do something," Winks suggested,
holding him back.
"I've got a lot of homework," Eddie said, his cheeks reddening.
"So (io we," said Scott and Cassie in unison.
"They're married," Winks explained to Eddie.
"Huh?" Eddie scratched his black hair, then pulled the wool ski
cap down over his forehead.
"We can do homework any time," Winks said.
"Let's do something more worthwhile."
"Like play with an eyeball?" Cassie snapped. She shuddered,
thinking about the hideous thing.
"Let's....... practice our driving," Winks suggested.
"We can't!" Cassie cried.
"Drive what?" Scott asked.
"'Your parents' Volvo," Winks said. "It's in the garage. I saw
it when I came up."
Scott's parents had two cars. Cassie realized they Must Have
taken the Toyota to the movie.
"We can't," Cassie said again. "None of us has a license. We
are allowed to drive by ourselves."
"You have a temporary," Winks said. "That's almost a license."
"You have a temporary brain," Cassie cracked.
"I don't think it's a good idea to take my parents' car," Scott
said, fiddling with his sweatshirt sleeve.
"No. No way. If they found out, they'd kill me!"
Fifteen minutes later they were in their coats, rolling up the
garage door.
Scott just can't say no to Winks, Cassie
thought.
We shouldn't be doing this. What if Scott's parents find out?
What if the police stop us for some reason, and discover that none of
us has a license?
What if we're in an accident?
She had to admit it was kind of exciting, too.
Bad Kids Out for a Thrill Ride.
She was always making up headlines in her mind.
She liked the sound of that one.
"Hey, the car is scratched," Winks said, running his hand along a
deep scratch in the driver's door.
"You do this, Scott?"
"No way," Scott said quickly. "I haven't had a chance to put any
scratches on it yet."
"Who's going to drive first? Eddie?" Winks asked, shoving Eddie
toward the driver's door.
"Hey - no way!" Eddie backed out of the garage.
"Come on, Eddie," Winks urged. "We'll just drive to the mall.
You know. The parking lot behind the stores. It's always empty at
night. We can practice parking."
"No way," Eddie insisted. "You drive, Winks.
It's your idea."
"I'll take a turn," Winks said, glancing at Cassie, who was
already climbing into the back seat of the silver Volvo. "Okay, Scott,
you go first. It's your car. "Fine," Scott agreed quickly. "I've
driven this car before. With my dad, I mean. This is the car I've
been practicing in." He slid behind the wheel.
"Ooh - it's cold in here."
All four of them were settled now, their breath steaming up to the
ceiling. Eddie sat beside Scott in the front, who was struggling to
get his shoulder seat belt to click in.
"Peel out," Winks said enthusiastically.
"I can't believe I agreed to this," Eddie said, tugging off the
ski hat and tossing it onto the dashboard in front of him.
"We're just practicing," Winks insisted.
Scott stared at the gearshift. "What does 'R' stand for? 'Right
This Way'?"
Cassie and Winks laughed. Eddie's face contracted with worry. He
stared straight ahead, eyes up as if praying, as Scott backed out of
the garage and down the driveway.
"If we get caught, we'll never get our licenses," Eddie whined,
sitting stiffly, alertly in his seat.
"We won't get caught," Cassie assured him, leaning over the front
seat to pat Eddie's shoulder.
"If the cops come after us, we'll just outrace them," Winks said.
"Let's see what this thing can do, Scott so."
"Hey - not funny!" Eddie cried, turning back to glare at Winks.
"Don't worry," Cassie said. "Scott's a good driver, Eddie. He's
very careful. I've driven with him when we were with his family."
"She's right," Scott said seriously, making a
sharp right turn onto Market Avenue . And, then, suddenly, he lifted
both hands high in the air.
"Look, Ma - no hands!"
Cassie laughed. Scott can be so cute sometimes, she thought.
Like a big, funny teddy bear.
Eddie, she saw, was not amused by any of this.
The poor guy was really frightened, she realized.
"Hey, Winks - what'd you do with the eye?"
Scott asked, slowing for a red light.
"The eye?" The evil grin returned to Winks's face. "Well, I put
it somewhere."
"Somewhere? Where's somewhere?" Scott demanded.
"In your refrigerator," Winks said, grinning at Cassie. "You
know. For when your dad comes into the kitchen for his midnight snack.
He opens the refrigerator, pulls out the box, licking his chops, and
-bingo!"
Everyone laughed.
"Watch out for that truck," Eddie warned, pointing.
"Eddie, that truck is two lanes away!" Scott cried.
"Well, I didn't know if you saw it," Eddie said, adjusting his
seat belt.
When they got to the Avondale Mall, it looked pretty crowded, so
they kept on driving. Following the old Route 12, they soon found
themselves outside of town, in flat farm country, the road smooth and
unswerving.
The NEW expressway had been open for less than a year, but it had
already taken almost all of the traffic that had previously traveled on
Route 12.
"The road is all ours," Scott said, pulling the silver Volvo over
onto the grassy shoulder. "Someone else's turn. Eddie?"
Eddie shook his head. "Not me."
Cassie leaned forward. "You want to pass your test, don't you?"
she asked. "This is a perfect place to practice. It's totally
straight, and there isn't another car in sight."
"Well, I do want to pass," Eddie said thoughtfully.
Scott opened his door, letting in a blast of cold air. The air
this far out of town smelled fresh and sweet. Cassie inhaled deeply,
smiling.
"Come on, man," Scott urged.
@Eddie disengaged his seat belt and stepped out of the car to trade
places with Scott.
"I don't believe he's doing it," Winks whispered to Cassie.
"Eddie's always such a wimp. But he's got more guts than I thought."
"He's very competitive," Cassie said. "He likes to pass tests."
Eddie slammed the door. The roof light went out.
The darkness seemed to close in on them. He was shorter than
Scott, so he moved the seat up.
An oil truck roared by, the driver honking as he passed.
"Hey - someone else is on this road!"
Winks exclaimed.
"Ease it out slowly," Scott instructed Eddie, turning in the
passenger seat to face him. "You don't have to press hard on the gas.
The car has lots of power. " Eddie put both hands at the top of the
steering wheel and pulled the car off the shoulder and onto the narrow
highway.
"That's it. Very good," Scott assured him.
"I'm pretty comfortable with my dad's car," Eddie said, his eyes
straight ahead on the twin beams of light from the headlights. "But
it's an old Chevy Nova, the kind they don't make anymore. It takes a
while to adjust to a newer car."
"You're doing fine," Scott said, glancing back at Cassie.
"Better slow down," Winks urged. "You're already going fifteen!"
He laughed.
" I thought I was going faster," Eddie said, sounding nervous, his
hands together on top of the wheel.
"You'd better speed up a little," Scott urged.
"Drive at whatever speed is comfortable for you," Cassie said.
"There's no one around, so it doesn't matter."
"But you won't pass your test if you go this slow out on the open
road," Winks said.
Eddie immediately sped up.
They passed a sprawling farmhouse, all of its windows bathed in
orange light. Log fences rolled by, dark shadows against a darker
ground.
A short while later, they drove under the Hanson Underpass, a low
stone bridge that had been built over the highway at least a hundred
years before.
"I'm starting to feel like I'm in control," Eddie said. He
pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal, and the car sped up.
"EDDIE! LOOK OUT!" Winks screamed.
Eddie slammed down on the brake.
"No! Oh, no!" Cassie cried.
The tires squealed in protest, and the car hurtled into a
desperate spin.
No Brakes The car spun wildly over the road, then came to a
jolting stop on the soft, grassy shoulder.
Cassie lurched forward into the back of the driver's seat. Eddie
uttered a small cry as his chest hit the steering wheel. His eyes
searched the darkness beyond the windshield.
There was nothing there.
No car or truck in sight.
"April fool," Winks said quietly.
Scott started to laugh.
"Gotcha," Winks said, reaching forward to pat Eddie on the
shoulder.
Eddie jerked his shoulder away and spun around, the fear on his
face giving way to anger.
"Winks - " He was too angry to talk.
Cassie found herself laughing, more out of relief than amusement.
"Winks, you could've gotten us killed," she said, giving him a hard
shove that sent him sprawling against the door.
"Anything for- a laugh," Winks replied. "Ow.
That hurt." He rubbed his shoulder.
She shoved him again.
Scott had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
"I believed you, Winks," he said. "I believed you, man. You're
such a good actor. You sounded so panicked."
Scowling, Eddie shoved the gearshift into park, pushed open the
car door, and climbed out. "See you -guys," he muttered bitterly.
"Hey, Eddie - wait!" Cassie called.
But he started to walk off quickly into the darkness.
"Eddie - come back!" Scott jumped out of the car and went running
after him. Cassie and Winks followed behind, leaving their car doors
open, dim yellow light seeping out in a small circle, the hum of the
engine the only sound except for the crunch of their sneakers on the
cold ground.
Scott caught up with Eddie, who kept walking, his breath using up
in gray puffs against the starless black sky. "Wait up, man." Eddie
didn't stop.
Scott grabbed the shoulder of his down vest. "It was just a joke,
Eddie."
Eddie spun around angrily, quickly raising both arms to break
Scott's grip. "Everything isn't a joke," he said angrily. "Some
things shouldn't be joked about."
"There was no one around. I knew we wouldn't get
hurt," Winks said, breathing hard, ducking his head down into his
jacket as he caught up with Eddie and Scott.
Eddie shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and glared at him.
"It wasn't funny, Winks," he said Softly. He turned and started
walking along the road.
"Eddie - come back!" Cassie called. "Come on.
It's cold out here."
The three of them hurried after him. Cassie glanced back at the
car, a shadow inside a dim circle of light, far behind them.
"I'm sorry," Winks called. "Eddie, I'm sorry.
Okay? It was a stupid joke. I'm sorry."
"We've got to get back," Scott said, trying to read his watch in
the darkness. "I've got to get the car back in the garage before my
parents get home."
"Come on, Eddie," Cassie urged.
Finally, Eddie stopped. Fe turned to face them, his hands still
shoved in his pockets. Cassie saw that he was shivering. From anger?
she wondered.
Or from the cold?
"Okay. Let's go back," Eddie said quietly, and started walking
toward the car, lowering his head against the wind.
They were all cold by the time they got back to the car. Scott
climbed behind the wheel and turned the heater up to high. Eddie
climbed in back beside Cassie.
"Hey - it's my turn to drive," Winks protested, buckling the
shoulder seat belt.
"No way," Scott said, easing the car onto the road. "Driving
practice is over for tonight."
"I didn't get a turn, either," Cassie complained.
"Winks took up all our time with his dumb joke," Scott said. And
then he glanced at the glowing yellow clock in the center of the
dashboard. "Oh, no!
Look how late it is! I'm going to be dead meat. Dead meat!"
He jammed his foot down on the accelerator, and the car responded
with a roar.
"Whoa!" Winks cried, sliding down in his seat.
"I've got to get home!" Scott said as the car picked up speed.
Cassie leaned forward and glanced at the speedometer. "Scott -
you're going eighty!"
"I can't help it," he replied, staring straight ahead into the
twin cones of white light from the headlights. "If they get home
before I do . He didn't finish his thought.
He didn't have to. They all knew what kind of trouble he'd be in.
What kind of trouble they'd all be in.
They roared under the Hanson Underpass. A few seconds later, the
brightly lit farmhouse slid by, this time on the other side of the car.
The low, flat fields gave way to woods, then clusters of houses.
"Slow down," Cassie urged. "We're back in town."
Eddie, she realized, had been silent ever since
they'd returned to the car. She glanced over at him.
He was staring out his window, his face expressionless, the wool
ski cap pulled protectively low over his forehead.
A traffic light appeared up ahead. It blinked from yellow to red.
Scott sped right through it.
"Scott - slow down!" Cassie yelled.
"I'm - I'm trying!" Scott cried, gripping the wheel tightly with
both hands.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Scott pumped the brake pedal hard several times. "The brakes -
they're out!" he exclaimed.
The car roared through another intersection.
"No brakes!" Scott cried, his eyes wide with horror.
De-Pantsed "Lame, Scott. Real lame," Winks said, shaking his
head.
"But the brakes - " Scott insisted as the big Volvo roared past
the Avondale Mall.
"No one is buying it," Winks said, turning to look back at Cassie
and Eddie. "You're just not convincing. You'i-e a bad actor."
Scott slowed the car down. His excited face drooped into a
disappointed pout. "How about you, Eddie? You believed me, didn't
you?"
Eddie stared silently out the window.
"Eddie isn't talking," Cassie told Scott. "Winks is right. That
was lame."
Scott giggled and turned sharply onto Market Avenue.
"Some have it. Some don't," Winks said.
"What did I do wrong?" Scott asked seriously.
"l even made it look like I was pumping the brakes."
"But you didn't sound scared enough," Winks told
him. "It sounded like a put-on."
"I'll bet Eddie bought it," Scott said.
Eddie didn't reply.
A few minutes later, Scott pulled the car up the driveway and into
the garage. "My parents aren't back," he said, very relieved.
The four of them piled out of the car. "Nice drive," Cassie said,
stretching.
"Yeah. Thanks for the driving lesson, guys," Eddie said
sarcastically.
"Hey -it can talk!" Winks said, and slapped Eddie on the
shoulder.
"It was kind of fun," Cassie admitted, "in a crazy kind of way. "
"I've got to get home," Eddie said.
"I'll drive you!" Winks joked.
Eddie didn't smile. "See you." He jogged down the driveway to
the street.
Cassie stared up at the sky, searching for the moon, but could see
only shades of gray again,t gray. She shivered, suddenly chilled.
"Guess I'd better get home, too."
"I think Eddie was really freaked," Winks said.
Cassie and Scott quickly agreed. "Yeah, he was freaked," Cassie
said.
Winks's face lit up with a truly evil grin.
"Scott, how can you pay forty dollars more for sneakers just
because you can pump them up?" Cassie stared down disapprovingly at
the gleaming new white sneakers on Scott's feet.
"They feel good," Scott replied. "Real bouncy."
He jumped straight up in the air and pretended to shoot a
basketball lay-up.
A woman and her two children had to scramble out of his way.
"You're blocking the door," she said, flashing him an annoyed look as
she ushered her kids away.
" I can jump about three feet," Scott said, looking very pleased.
"Oh, that'll come in real handy during a wrestling match," Cassie
cracked. "You just bought those sneakers because everyone else is."
Scott was such a great guy, she kept thinking.
If only he weren't such a sheep.
"They're cool," Scott said, admiring his sneakers as he followed
her out of the store and into the crowded mall. "They're way cool."
It was Saturday afternoon, and Cassie didn't know what she was
doing here with him. There were a hundred more constructive things she
could be doing than following Scott around the Avondale Mall, watching
him buy ridiculously expensive sneakers.
"Hey - look. A two-for-one sale on sweatpants," Scott said,
pointing to a sign in a window across the wide aisle.
"Ooh. Thrills," Cassie said sarcastically.
He sstared at her, surprised. "What's your
problem?"
She shrugged. "No problem."
"Well, let's check out the sweatpants, okay?"
"Yeah. Maybe they have on@ that inflate," Cassie joked.
"Ha-ha," he said, making a face.
"I'll meet you over there," Cassie said, pointing to a record
store. "There's a CD I want to buy."
"Which one?" Scott asked.
Before she could answer, Winks appeared. He was wearing a bright
yellow sweater and green corduroys. "How's my favorite married
couple?" he asked, leering first at Cassie, then at Scott. "Buying
socks together?"
Cassie rolled her eyes. Scott punched Winks playfully on the
shoulder. "Where'd you get that sweater, Winks? You lose a contest or
something?"
"What's wrong with this sweater?" Winks asked, fingering a
sleeve.
"It's a little yellow, isn't it?" Cassie asked.
"A little."
"You look like an Easter chick," Scott told him.
"Happy Easter," Winks said, smoothing the sweater front with one
hand. "You hear what happened to Eddie in school yesterday?"
"No. What?" Cassie asked, waving across the aisle to some girls
she recognized from Avondale North.
"Someone de-pantsed him," Winks said, grinning.
"Huh?"
"Well, not exactly," Winks said, following Cassie's glance at the
girls across the aisle. "Actually, some kid took Eddie's pants from
his gym locker.
You know, while he was in gym. And he had to go to class the rest
of the day in his smelly gym shorts."
Winks laughed. "You should've seen Eddie's face.
It was as red as a tomato the whole day."
"I can just picture it," Scott said, grinning. He scratched his
head. "Poor Eddie."
"Eddie's such a nice guy," Cassie said. "Why is everyone always
picking on him?"
"Because he's so easy," Winks replied, pushing her Wednesday
night? I'll bet anything Eddie believed that Scott had no brakes.
That was so lame, but I just know Eddie believed it."
"So he's a little gullible," Cassie said. "That doesn't explain
why everybody has to pick on him all the time."
"There's one kid like that in every class," Winks said. "One kid
everyone likes to pound on. Eddie just happens to be that kid. He's
used to it."
"You think so?" Cassie asked.
"Yeah, sure," was Winks's reply. He glanced down at the floor.
"Hey, Scott - don't tell me. You bought sneakers you can pump up?"
"Yeah. They feel good," Scott said, bouncing up and down in them.
"I knew a guy who couldn't deflate his once he had them on," Winks
said. "He had to get the fire department to chop them off."
"Who did it to Eddie?" Cassie asked, interrupting the sneaker
conversation.
"What?" Winks was still staring down at the shiny, white
sneakers.
"Who took Eddie's pants from his gym locker?"
Cassie demanded.
"I did. Of course," Winks said, grinning proudly.
Cassie and Scott took the North Avondale bus from the mall to her
house. Actually, it let them off two blocks from her house. And as
they walked, the heavy, gray clouds that had darkened the sky all day
parted, allowing some reluctant rays of sunshine to poke through.
Cassie unzipped her coat. The air was still cold, but the sun
felt good on her face. It had been a long winter - cold, but with
little snow.
When Scott stopped at the hedges in front of her house, put his
hands on her shoulders, and kissed her, it came as a real surprise.
The kiss was awkward. He missed her lips and got her chin. His
face felt cold against hers.
He stepped back, letting his hands drop from her shoulders,
staring at her as if waiting to judge her reaction.
Cassie didn't know how to react.
She'd had a secret crush on Scott for months. But she'd had no
idea he saw her as anything else except the friend he had grown up a
block away from.
"Winks keeps saying we're married," Scott said, blushing, a
strange smile on his handsome face.
Cassie laughed. "Then we can do better than that," she said
impulsively. And she grabbed the back of Scott's neck, pulled his face
down to hers, an,d kissed him, their lips on target this time.
When it ended and they smiled awkwardly at each other, Cassie felt
strangely unsettled.
Maybe this is wrong, she thought. Maybe I'm messing up a good
friendship here.
He reached for her again, but she pulled back.
"See you later," she said breathlessly and turned and ran up the
drive, leaving him standing there, his expression disappointed, almost
sad.
That night, the four of them gathered at Eddie's house after
dinner. The small house was hot, almost steamy, and smelled of meat
loaf Huddled in the narrow living room, two on the couch, two on the
threadbare carpet, they were discussing what to do.
"We could go to a movie," Scott said.
"There's nothing good playing," Cassie told him.
"I checked."
"There's a dance at the school," Scott suggested.
"I think they're having a DJ and a live band. You know, the band
that plays at that dance club on the south side. What are they
called?"
"You mean RapManiacs?" Eddie asked, small circles of red forming
on his cheeks.
"Yeah. " "They're putrid," Eddie said. "They really rot,"
"Might be a hoot," Winks said thoughtfully.
"No way," Cassie said. "I'd rather read my government text."
Eddie got up from the couch and walked to the picture window in
the center of the room. He stared out into a clear, cool night. "We
could go for a drive," he said, his back to them.
The other three reacted in shock.
"You want to go for another drive? After Wednesday night?"
Cassie asked. She walked over to Eddie and felt his forehead. "No.
No temperature. " Eddie laughed. "We could all use some real driving
practice," he said. "You know. No fooling around."
"My parents are home," Scott said. "I can't get the car. " "Our
car is here," Eddie said, pointing down to the curb. "My parents are
at a party two blocks away. They won't be home till really late. We
could take it."
"Great!" Scott exclaimed, climbing to his feet.
Eddie turned to Winks. "But you've got to promise no jokes."
Winks put on his innocent face. "Who, me?"
"We won't need headlights," Cassie cracked.
"Winks can run ahead of us in that sweater!"
Everyone laughed but Winks. He yanked at the bright yellow wool.
"My grandmother bought me this sweater!"
"Your grandmother is color blind," Eddie said.
"How'd you know?" Winks replied.
"Well, how about it?" Eddie demanded, staring at Winks.
"Okay, okay. No jokes," Winks agreed. "As long as I get a long
turn."
"We'll all get turns," Eddie said, hurrying to the coat closet by
the front door. He tossed Cassie's down coat across the room to her.
"We're all taking the driver's test in the next couple of weeks, right?
So we need all the practice we can get."
"Where should we drive?" Cassie asked. "There's so much traffic
in town on Saturday nights. Someone might recognize us."
"Let's go back on Route 12," Scott suggested.
"It's so deserted. And so straight. It's great for practicing.
" "Okay," Eddie agreed, pulling the blue ski cap over his dark, curly
hair. "Let's do it."
The four of them stepped out of the house and headed down the
drive, their sneakers crunching over unraked, dead leaves. The air was
cool and crisp. Someone a few houses down had a fire going in their
chimney, sending a tangy, pine aroma wafting over the neighborhood.
Cassie took a deep breath. Such a great smell.
"So why'd you change your mind?" she asked Eddie as they walked.
"I mean, after Wednesday - " "I was a jerk on Wednesday night," Eddie
said, avoiding her glance. "I acted like a baby. So I thought I'd
make up for it. And .
"And?"
"I really want to pass the driver's test. I really want to
practice so I can get my license," he said, raising his eyes to hers.
Cassie felt a chill as she climbed into the back seat.
This is kind of dangerous, she thought. None of us has a license.
If something goes wrong . . . if we're caught ...
She shook her head hard as if chasing those thoughts from her
mind, and slammed the car door shut.
Nothing was going to go wrong, she decided.
Nothing.
A Bump in the Road The streets in town were clogged with cars.
Saturday night. Date night. Market Avenue was jammed with high school
kids cruising back and forth along the strip at ten miles an hour.
"In a few weeks, I'll be cruising Market, too," Eddie said
cheerfully. He slowed for a light, hit the brake too hard, and the
tires squealed as the car jerked to a stop.
"Smooth it out," Winks advised him from beside Cassie in the back
seat.
"Thanks for the good advice," Eddie said sarcastically, his eyes
raised to the traffic light.
"My turn next," Cassie said.
"What is this car - some kind of antique?" Scott asked from the
front passenger seat, his eyes surveying the dashboard.
"No, it only smells like an antique," Winks cracked.
"It's a Nova," Eddie said, drumming his fingers impatiently on the
steering wheel. "An old Chevy.
My dad bought it third-hand for two hundred dollars. " "He got
ripped off," Winks said.
A horn honked impatiently behind them.
"Eddie, the light's green," Winks said. "Green means go."
Eddie stepped on the gas, and the car lurched forward, sputtering
a little as it shifted. "You're full of good advice tonight, Winks,"
Eddie said goodnaturedly.
Traffic thinned out past the mall. Eddie made the turn onto Route
12, glancing in the rearview mirror as if checking to make sure he
wasn't being followed.
"No one's on your tail. You're driving like a pro," Winks said.
"I thought I saw a cop behind us," Eddie said, picking up speed on
the nearly deserted highway.
"Don't get paranoid," Scott warned, giggling.
"When do I get my turn?" Cassie asked impatiently.
Eddie obediently pulled the car over to the side of the road. A
pickup truck with only one headlight rumbled past. Cassie got out of
the car and traded places with him.
"Move the seat up if you have to," Eddie instructed.
"No. We're about the same height," Cassie said, studying the
dashboard.
"Both shrimps," Winks cracked.
Cassie ignored him. "Okay. Fasten your seat belts. Here we go!"
she announced and, pushing down hard on the gas pedal, pulled the car
back onto the old highway, the tires whirring, spitting gravel, and
then settling onto the road.
Cassie drove smoothly. After nearly half an hour, cruising
through several small farm towns, past dark, flat fields that seemed to
stretch on forever, she turned the wheel over to Winks.
He kept his promise to Eddie, driving seriously and carefully. In
typical fashion, he kept up a running commentary on every move he made
- "I'm looking in the mirror now... and now I'm sliding my hand down
the wheel....... I'm scratching my ear with one hand . . . and now I'm
checking the speedometer . . . picking my nose now.......... until the
other three begged him to shut up.
Finally, he relinquished the driver's seat to Scott, who drove
without incident along the nearly empty highway, taking them most of
the way back toward Avondale.
"Hey, we're all going to be pros by the time we take the driver's
test," Winks exclaimed happily. "I could drive this car with my eyes
closed."
"I beard the parallel-parking test is real easy," Scott said,
pulling over to the shoulder so that Eddie could drive the rest of the
way home.
"If you take the test in a really small car, you can't flunk it,"
Cassie said, staring out the window at a tall silo, dark against the
purple sky. "They give you this much room." She gestured with her
hands. "Enough room to park a moving van in."
"That's what I'm taking the test in," Winks said.
"A moving van. You know. More of a challenge that way.
"Remind me to laugh later," Cassie replied.
For the ride home, Eddie Climbed behind the wheel. Cassie
remained in the passenger seat next to him. The other two boys slumped
in the back, their knees on the seatbacks in front of them.
"After I get my license, I'd love to get a jeep, 17 Eddie said,
glancing in the rearview mirror, then at Cassie. "Maybe a Renegade.
Or a Cherokee."
"Those are way cool," Scott agreed from the back seat.
They were approaching the Hanson Underpass.
The low, stone bridge loomed gray-green in the yellow headlights.
Cassie yawned. The warm air from the heater was making her
sleepy.
But she snapped wide awake when the man Suddenly came into view in
the middle of the road.
The headlights caught his startled expression.
He stood staring at them, frozen, his arms at his sides.
Eddie cried out and slammed his foot on the brake.
The tires squealed as the car began to slide.
To Cassie, her mouth open wide in a silent scream, it all seemed
to happen in slow motion.
She saw that the man was wearing a tie and jacket. And a baseball
cap.
She saw his wide-eyed stare. The expression of horror on his
face, so bright, so unearthly bright in the glare of the headlights.
Then he appeared to be standing right in the windshield.
Then she felt the bump.
The surprisingly quiet thud of impact.
The man's expression didn't change.
His body flew straight up in the air.
The tires squealed again.
Closing her eyes, Cassie continued to scream, but no sound came
out.
She felt another bump as the front tires rolled over the man.
And then the car finally came to a stop.
Hit and Run When Cassie was a little girl of seven or eight, her
parents gave her a white fluffball of a kitten.
She named the kitten Fluffy, and it became her constant companion,
immediately taking the place of all her stuffed animals.
She treated the kitten like a stuffed animal, carrying it in her
arms everywhere she went, even sleeping with it cuddled under her chin.
"She's so attached to it," she heard her mother telling a friend
over the phone.
Attached to it. The phrase stuck in her mind.
When her mother warned her not to take Fluffy into the front yard,
Cassie ignored her. She was attached to Fluffy, after all.
Besides, it was a pretty spring day, the sun warm, the air soft
and fragrant. Fluffy shouldn't be cooped up in the house, little
blonde Cassie decided.
Fluffy should come outside and play with her.
Out in the sunshine, with the apple trees blossoming pink and white all down the block, Fluffy didn't want to stay in
Cassie's arms. The kitten wanted to explore.
And run.
And when Fluffy ran into the street, ignoring the little girl's
frantic cries, Cassie felt a terror inside her that she had never
experienced.
A cold, paralyzing terror.
The sound of the squealing red car. The sight of the black tire
track over Fluffy's flattened white fur.
And then the tears.
The tears that wouldn't stop. The tears she didn't want to stop.
Cassie saw it and heard it again and again. Whenever she closed
her eyes. Awake or in dreams.
The squeal. The black tire track.
The feeling of terror.
The same feeling she was experiencing now as she and the three
boys climbed silently out of the old Chevy. The same paralyzing,
cold-all-over terror that made her feel as if she weighed a thousand
pounds, as if she were a block of ice about to crumble.
They were directly under the Hanson Overpass.
The car headlights bounced off the old stones. Someone had
spray-painted a name in huge orange letters on one side: MARGO '90.
Silence. The air was still. Not a sound except for their
breathing.
"Mister - are you okay?" Eddie was the first to break the
silence. "Can you talk?"
The man, on his back in front of the car, stared lifelessly up at
them as they huddled over him. Cold, gray eyes. His blue-and-red
Chicago Cubs cap had somehow stayed on his head. His navy-blue necktie
was lying straight up over his shoulder, the collar of his white shirt
unbuttoned.
"Mister - ?"
Cassie wanted to bend over the man, to grab his hand, to say
something to him. But she stood there, behind Scott, trembling now,
trembling all over, her hands raised to her face.
Standing in front of the twin beams of light, the light bouncing
back at them off the old stone bridge, it all seemed so bright. Not
daylight blight. But eerily bright, as if they were in a horror movie,
an unnatural world where you were forced to see everything you didn't
want to see so clearly, so brightly.
Eddie was the first to overcome his fear enough to bend down and
grab the man's wrist.
He dropped it immediately.
"He's dead." Eddie mouthed the words.
"He can't be!" Winks cried, standing timidly by the side of the
car, behind the others.
"He's dead," Eddie said a little louder. "Look at his eyes."
They looked at the dull gray eyes staring up at the sky,
unblinking.
I'll never forget those horrid eyes, Cassie thought.
She pictured the black tire tracks on her white kitten.
I'll never forget those eyes.
Scott put a hand on her shoulder. "Yeah. He's dead," he said,
his voice a whisper. He squeezed Cassie's shoulder. "What are we
going to do?"
"I - I killed him!" Eddie cried, a loud shriek of horror that
startled them all. Eddie dropped to his knees on the pavement and
buried his face in his hands.
"Eddie - " Cassie started. But the words didn't come. She leaned
back against Scott.
"I killed him!" Eddie cried again.
Cassie gulped a deep breath of cool air and pulled away from
Scott's grip. She dropped down beside Eddie, surprised at how cold the
pavement felt through the knees of her jeans.
"Eddie, stop - " He dropped his hands to his side and gazed at
her, his face swollen and red in the yellow light from the headlights,
his dark eyes wet with tears. "Cassie - I ran over him."
"It was an accident," she said softly.
She wanted to hug Eddie, to comfort him somehow. But she couldn't
raise her arms, couldn't move. She turned away for a brief second and
stared again at the corpse's wide eyes beneath the Cubs cap.
"But he's dead," Eddie wailed. "What are we
going to do?"
Cassie raised her eyes and saw Winks walking toward them, a
determined look on his face.
"Winks - " she called to him. But he ignored her and, with a loud
groan, hunkered over the body.
"Winks, what are you doing?" Scott, his face hidden in shadows,
called.
Winks grabbed the dead man's waist and pushed him onto his side.
Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a flat, brown
wallet.
"Winks!" Cassie cried, horrified.
Was Winks going to rob a corpse?
"I just want to see who he is," Winks said. Holding the wallet
open with both hands, he held it in front of a headlight.
"What is he doing?" Eddie asked Cassie, shaking his head, his
face twisted in fright and panic.
"Brandt Tinkers," Winks announced. "His name is Brandt Tinkers."
"Is - is there an address?" Scott asked, still hidden in shadows,
his voice shrill and high-pitched.
"Why do we need an address?" Eddie exploded.
"Are we going to drop him off at his house? He's dead! Don't you
understand? I killed him!"
Cassie finally managed to reach out and put her hands on Eddie's
shoulders. "Be calm," she whispered, even though her heart was
thudding like a bass drum in her chest. "Be calm, Eddie. It was an
accident. An accident."
Winks returned the wallet to the dead man's back pocket, then made
a sour face. "I feel sick. I really do." He gagged, raised his hand
over his mouth, his eyes going wide behind the dark-framed glasses, and
ran behind the car to vomit.
"When my parents find out I took the car, they'll kill me!" Eddie
wailed. "How could this happen?
How?"
Cassie held on to him tightly, but couldn't find any comforting
words. She found herself thinking about what her parents would say.
They'll never trust me again, she realized. They'll always be
suspicious of me, of where I'm going, what I'm doing.
She turned to look down the dark highway. No one coming. No
lights. Nothing moving.
"We've got to get out of here," Winks said, reappearing by the
driver's side of the car, leaning against the door. "I just puked my
guts out."
"What do you mean - get out of here?" Eddie asked, jumping
unsteadily to his feet. He looked very confused.
"We can't stay here," Winks said impatiently, pulling- open the
car door. "We have to go. We have to!"
Cassie climbed to her feet, feeling as if she weighed a ton. She
stared down at the corpse.
"Winks - " "I know what you're going to say," Winks replied
heatedly, speaking rapidly, still leaning against the car. "But we
can't do anything for this guy now.
He's dead. We can't get an ambulance for him. We can't help him.
It's too late. So we have to help ourselves."
"He's right," Scott said, stepping into the light, his hands
jammed into his jacket pockets. "We don't have driver's licenses.
The police will fry our butts.
Our lives will be ruined. Everyone will know what we did. We
could even go to jail or something."
"But we can't just take off," Cassie said, glancing at Eddie, who
was now trembling all over, looking very faint. She put her arm around
his shoulders to steady him.
"I can't believe it," Eddie muttered, shaking his head. "I killed
a man. I killed him."
"We have to take off," Scott insisted, staring down the highway.
"Now!"
"We can't do anything for this guy," Winks said from the side of
the car. "It was a terrible accident.
We'll live with it forever."
"Forever," Eddie repeated, staring down at the corpse.
"But we can't let it ruin our lives," Winks continued. "Come on.
Get in!"
"I don't know," Cassie said, her mind spinning, the yellow beams
of light suddenly growing brighter, then dimmer, as she stared at
them.
She saw the black tire track on the white fluffball.
She felt so guilty.
It took her a while to realize that the others were staring at
her, waiting for her to decide.
"Okay," she said with a loud sigh. "Let's go."
"Brandt Tinkers," Eddie said, staring at the corpse. "Brandt
Tinkers."
"Eddie, come on," Cassie urged, guiding him to the car, her hand
gently on the shoulder of his down vest.
"Do you think he has a family?" Eddie asked, not moving.
"Hurry!" Winks cried. "Someone will come along. We've been
lucky so far."
"Who's going to drive?" Scott asked.
"Not me!" Eddie cried. "I can't!"
"Then I'll drive," Winks said and jumped behind the wheel,
immediately slamming the door after him.
"But we can't just leave him lying in the middle of the highway!"
Cassie protested, not recognizing her shrill, frightened voice.
"Help me move him," Scott said, stepping close to her. "Are you
okay?" he whispered.
She nodded. "I guess. I don't know."
"We'll carry him to the side of the road," Scott said, staring
into her eyes.
"No! Don't touch him!" Eddie screamed.
"Let's get Eddie to the car first," Cassie suggested to Scott.
"He's not doing too well."
They each took an arm and walked Eddie to the car. He sagged down
in the back seat, crossing his slender arms protectively over his
chest, staring down at the floor. Then Cassie and Scott quickly
rolled the corpse onto the grassy shoulder of the road.
"I've never touched a dead man before," Cassie said, shuddering,
suddenly chilled from head to foot.
Scott put an arm around her shoulders. "Neither have I."
Leaning against each other, they made their way quickly to the car.
Winks started up the engine before Cassie and Scott were inside. As
soon as they had pulled their doors shut, he sped off, flooring the gas
pedal so that the car lurched forward, throwing all of its passengers
back against their seats.
"Winks, slow down!" Cassie scolded. "That's all we need is to
get a speeding ticket!"
For some reason, this struck Scott as funny. He started to laugh
his high-pitched giggle.
Winks laughed, too, high-pitched, nervous laughter. But he slowed
the car down to forty.
"Eddie - feeling a little better?" Cassie asked, beside him in
the back seat.
Eddie stared straight down.
"Eddie?"
"I guess," he said finally, not looking at her. "This is
hit-and-run, you know. We could all be arrested."
"No one saw us," Winks said, slowing even more as they reached
town, darkened stores passing on both sides. "No one. There was no
one around."
"But we could all be arrested," Eddie insisted.
"We'll be okay," Cassie said softly. "Winks is right, Eddie.
There were no witnesses. What happened is terrible. But it was an
accident. An accident. You have to keep telling yourself that."
"What was Brandt Tinkers doing there in the middle of the highway,
anyway?" Winks asked. He was starting to sound a little more like
himself. He slowed and turned the car onto Market Avenue, still jammed
with Saturday night traffic.
"He was just standing there in the road," Cassie said
thoughtfully.
"And I killed him," Eddie said, shaking his head.
"Stop it, Eddie," Cassie said softly. "We've got to go on, you
know. We've got to go on as if nothing happened."
"But how can we?" he wailed.
"We have no choice," Scott said firmly, turning to look at Eddie
from the front seat.
"In a way, we were lucky," Winks said, sliding his hands nervously
back and forth on the plastic steering wheel. "I mean, no one came by
that entire time. Not a car. Not a truck. Nothing."
"Yeah, lucky," Eddie mattered.
"Winks is right, Eddie," Cassie said, finding herself becoming a
little impatient with him. "There were no witnesses. That was really
lucky."
Winks pulled the Chevy to the curb in front of Eddie's house.
There, hunkered on the front stoop, illuminated by the light from
inside the open frontdoor, stood two blue-uniformed policemen.
Act Natural "Keep driving! Keep driving!" Eddie cried, leaning
forward, grabbing the back of Winks's seat and shaking it with both
hands.
"I can't!" Winks told him. "They've already seen us. Look!"
All four teenagers looked at the house. The two policemen, one
tall and rangy, the other squat and overweight, had turned away from
the front door and were staring expectantly across the yard at them,
hands on hips.
"They're going for their guns!" Eddie cried, his face pressed
against the car window.
"No, they're not," Cassie assured him. "They're waiting for us to
get out."
"Come on. Let's go," Scott said, reaching for his door handle.
"How did they find out?" Eddie wailed, not moving. "How did they
get here so quickly?"
"Just act natural," Winks advised, cutting the headlights, then
turning back to Eddie as he opened the car door. "Act natural. You
can do it, man."
Eddie didn't reply.
"Take a deep breath and count to ten," Cassie instructed him.
"Then come out."
She waited for him to follow her advice. Then she followed him
out of the car.
The two policeman had walked halfway down the small, treeless yard
to greet them. "Hey, how's it going?" the short one called amiably.
The four teenagers stood in a row at the curb, trying to look
calm, trying to look normal.
"Any of you live here?" the squat policeman asked. The tall one
took off his blue cap, then rearranged it on his blond hair.
"I do," Eddie muttered.
Cassie could feel him trembling beside her.
The two policemen ambled together the rest of the way down the
sloping front yard until they were standing about two feet in front of
the four friends.
"How long you been away?" the tall one asked Eddie, glancing at
the car behind them.
"Not long," Eddie said, shifting his weight awkwardly. "A few
minutes."
"Is there a problem?" Winks asked, nervously pushing up his
glasses.
"Huh-uh," the tall policeman said, turning his gaze on Winks.
"Just that we saw the front door wide open, and no car around, so we
thought we'd check."
Scott giggled, relieved. The others remained silent.
"I must've forgot to shut it," Eddie said, glancing at Cassie.
"We just went to McDonald's."
"You must've been hungry," the short policeman said, snickering.
His partner remained somber-faced. "You should always lock the
door. Especially on Saturday night.
It's a bad night for break-ins."
"Thanks," Eddie said, forcing a smile. "That was really nice of
you to stop."
The police radio blared suddenly in the patrol car, which was
parked across the street. The tall policeman touched the brim of his
cap. "Have a nice night," his partner said. The two of them hurried
to their car and sped away.
Cassie, Scott, and Winks went inside with Eddie.
They spent nearly an hour reassuring him, calming him down,
getting him to promise he wouldn't tell anyone about the accident.
Then they wearily walked to their homes.
Cassie was pleased to see that her parents had already gone to
bed. She really didn't feel like making small talk with them, having
to lie about how she spent the evening.
"Oh, we took Eddie's parents' car out for a ride and ran over a
man. Yes, he died. But don't worry, Mom and Dad, no one saw us."
Oh, that would go over real big, wouldn't it? Cassie thought
ruefully.
Real big.
It took her a long time to fall asleep and when she finally
drifted off, she dreamed she was driving.
Driving and driving and driving down an endless dark road.
She didn't know where she was headed.
She wanted to stop, but she couldn't.
She was lost, she knew. Terribly lost. Surrounded by swirling
blackness.
She couldn't stop driving. She had to follow the road wherever it
went.
And the road was so bumpy.
So many bumps. Big bumps.
The car was bumping up and down, each bump bouncing her head
against the roof with a hard jolt.
Bump bump bump.
So many bumps in the road.
Were the bumps all bodies? she wondered as she drove.
Could she really be driving over so many bodies?
If only she could stop....
But there was no way.
She woke up bathed in sweat, and squinted at the alarm clock
beside her on the bed table. FiveTwelve.
So early.
But she knew she couldn't get back to sleep.
She didn't feel at all rested. The dream was still vivid in her
mind. The endless, black road. The bumps in the road.
"Ohhh," she moaned aloud, and wondered if her three friends were
awake, too.
Poor Eddie.
Eddie Katz. Scaredy Katz.
Well, he had reason to be scared now, didn't he?
Didn't they all?
No, she decided.
It'll take a while to forget. But it's over.
Over.
The dead man's face loomed up in her mind, but she quickly forced
it away.
The Cubs cap. The blue-and-red Cubs cap lingered in her thoughts.
And then she saw the gray, staring eyes again.
Accusing her. Accusing them all.
Well, she decided, it's going to be harder than I thought to force
the hideous pictures out of my mind. It'll take time. Maybe a lot of
time.
But I'm going to do it.
It's over. Over.
Just a nightmare. Like my bumpy-road nightmare.
But now it's over.
She stayed in bed, wide awake, until she heard her parents
rustling about downstairs. Then she got dressed quickly, pulling on a
pair of gray sweatpants and matching sweatshirt. She checked herself
out in the mirror and was surprised to see that she looked exactly the
same.
Her green eyes stared back at her inquisitively.
I feel so different, she realized. I feel like an entirely
different person. How weird that I should still look like the old me.
She pushed at her blonde, crimped hair until it looked a little
less disheveled, then headed down to breakfast.
"What did you do last night?" her mother greeted her from the
breakfast table, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.
"Not much," Cassie said.
The Sunday paper had nothing in it about a hit-and-run killing on
Route 12. Cassie listened to the radio that afternoon and watched a
local TV newscast at six. Still no report.
Is it possible that the man's body hasn't been found? she
wondered.
There wasn't a whole lot of traffic on Route 12.
But, surely anyone passing the Hanson Underpass would see a man's
body lying on the side of the road.
Puzzled, she called Scott, but he couldn't talk.
His parents were standing right there.
Monday morning, Cassie hurried to the front porch in her
nightshirt, and unrolled the newspaper, certain that the story would be
in it by now.
Shivering in the morning cold, she quickly scanned the headlines.
There were reports of three different traffic accidents in Avondale,
and two others just north of the city. But no story about a body being
found; no story about a hit-and-run murder.
Murder.
Shivering from more than the cold, she hurried inside and slammed
the door.
That night after dinner, Cassie told her parents she was going
over to Scott's to study. But as she walked to Scott's house, she knew
there was no way they could concentrate on their homework.
"What is going on?" she asked in a low whisper when she and Scott
had finally managed to be alone in the den. "It's like the body
vanished or something. " She tucked her legs under her on the red
leather couch.
"Maybe no one found it," Scott suggested, pacing back and forth in
front of her. "Maybe it's still lying there. " "For two days? In
broad daylight?" Cassie asked, forgetting herself and raising her
voice.
Scott put a finger to his lips and glanced toward the den door.
"Don't worry. Your parents just think we're making out," Cassie
said. "They won't come in."
Scott giggled mirthlessly. "You're right They would never
suspect we're talking about a murder."
"An accident," she corrected him. "Don't start talking like
Eddie."
"How's Eddie doing?" Scott asked.
Cassie shrugged. "I haven't seen him."
"Do you want to try and study?" he asked, leaning heavily against
an oak bookshelf Cassie shook her head. "I want to drive out to that
spot on Route 12 and see if he's still lying there. " "No way," Scott
said, making a face.
"Why not?" she demanded.
"In whose car? My parents are home, remember?
We can't say 'Give us the car keys. We're going for a ride. See
you later.' " "We could sneak out," Cassie suggested.
"Don't be lame," Scott said sharply. "We couldn't back one of the
cars down the driveway without them hearing it." He sighed and pushed
himself away from the bookcase. "Listen, Cassie, it's a good thing
there've been no news stories."
She stared up at him. "Why do you say that?"
"It means no one is looking for us. We're not in any trouble."
He stretched his arms, arching his back, reaching up toward the low,
paneled ceiling, his sweatshirt riding up on his stomach.
"How can you be sure?" Cassie asked.
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation.
"What is it, Mom? We're studying," Scott said irritably.
But the door opened, and Eddie walked in. "Hope I'm not
interrupting anything." His face turned beet red.
"We're just talking," Cassie said. She motioned for him to close
the den door. Across the hall in the living room, Scott's parents were
watching some sitcom on TV.
"What's happening?" Eddie asked, glancing at Scott, then Cassie,
as he walked toward the couch.
Cassie scooted over to make room for him. The color was fading
'from his face, but his cheeks were still pink.
"Cassie's all pushed out of shape because our ... accident hasn't
been on TV or anything," Scott said quietly.
"Me, too," Eddie confessed. ".It's so weird, isn't it?"
"I want to drive out and see if the body is still there," Cassie
said.
Eddie's breath seemed to catch in his throat. He coughed. "Not
me," he said finally. "I'm not going back there."
"But aren't you curious?" she demanded. "Don't you want to know
if the body was found?"
"No," Eddie said. "I've been forcing the whole thing out of my
mind. At least, I've been trying to.
I don't want to go back there. I really don't, Cassie.
It'll make me see it all over again. It'll make it fresh again.
I won't go. I won't."
"Whoa. Hold on," Scott said sympathetically.
"Cool your jets, man. We're not going back there.
None of us."
Cassie's face filled with disappointment. "What are we going to
do? Nothing?"
"Yeah," Scott said. "Nothing." He stopped short.
Then stared at Eddie. "I just got an idea," he said.
"Eddie, what about your cousin?"
Eddie looked up from the couch, confused.
"Jerry?"
"Yeah. Your cousin Jerry. The one who works at the morgue."
"What about Jerry?" Eddie asked. "He wouldn't know why a story
didn't get in the newspaper."
"No. But he'd know if the body was found wouldn't he?" Scott
asked excitedly.
"Right!" Cassie cried, jumping up from the couch. She walked
over to the desk and picked up the phone. "Here, Eddie - call him."
"But - wait - " Eddie protested.
"Just ask him if someone named Brandt Tinkers was brought in,"
Cassie said, shoving the phone receiver into his hand.
"And what do I say if Jerry asks me why I want to know?" Eddie
demanded, staring unhappily at the phone.
"You'll think of something," Cassie said, "Quick - dial."
ACT natural. "Wait," Scott said, moving in front of Cassie and
pushing a button on the phone. "Let's put it on the speaker phone so
we can all hear."
"I don't have the number," Eddie whined, reluctantly taking the
phone from Cassie. "And I don't know if Jerry works Monday nights."
"It's worth a try," Scott said, leaning over the desk, hovering
beside Eddie.
"Oh . . . all right," Eddie said grudgingly. He called
Information and got the number for the city morgue. Then he punched in
the number.
Leaning in close, all three of them listened to the ring on the
speaker phone. They listened to the hoarse voice of the receptionist.
Then a few seconds later, Eddie's cousin Jerry came on the line.
They "How's-it-going?" each other for a minute or so. Then
Eddie got to the point and asked Jerry if a dead man named Brandt
Tinkers had been delivered to the morgue.
"Yeah," Jerry replied, his voice using with surprise.
Cassie gasped.
The three of them glanced at each other, then stared straight
ahead at the speaker phone.
"Yeah," Jerry repeated. "The cops brought him in late Saturday
night. Still warm. A hit-and-run.
He was crushed up really bad. They found him out on some highway.
You know the guy, Eddie'?"
"No. No, Jerry," Eddie uttered weakly.
"He's a businessman. Some kind of banker or something," Jerry
continued. "The family is keeping the whole thing quiet. To help the
cops. 1 guess the cops are working real hard to find out who ran over
the guy. Jerry paused.
The silence seemed heavy.
"That's all I know, Eddie," he continued finally.
"How'd you hear about this guy? It hasn't been in the paper or
anything."
"Oh ... I know a kid who knows the guy's kid," Eddie lied, staring
at Cassie as he said it.
When he got off the phone, Eddie's face was filled with fear.
"Did you hear what Jerry said?" he asked.
"He said the police are after us. We're going to be caught. I
just know it!"
And at that moment, they heard a hard pounding on the front door.
A Disappearance Scott tore open the den door and raced through
the front hallway to the door. Cassie and Eddie followed reluctantly
behind.
"Don't run!" Scott's dad called, appearing from the living room.
"What's your hurry, guys? it sounded like a cattle stampede."
It's the police, thought Cassie.
How did they find us so quickly? And how did they find us here at
Scott's house?
Scott pulled open the door. "Oh. Hi, Mr. Olson."
Scott sounded almost disappointed. It was his nextdoor neighbor,
a bald, friendly-looking man with crinkly blue eyes. He was holding a
red metal toolbox by the handle.
Scott pushed open the storm door.
Mr. Olson stepped into the entryway, stamping his feet on the
doormat. "Just wanted to return this," he said, talking to Mr. Baldwin over Scott's shoulder.
"Thanks. Come in, Ed," Scott's dad said, squeezing past the three
teenagers to take the box from his neighbor.
Cassie, Eddie, and Scott made their way back to the den.
"That was crazy," Scott said, carefully closing the door.
"I really thought it was the police," Cassie said, slumping back
onto the leather couch.
"We've got to calm down. We've got to," Scott said heatedly.
"But how can we?" Eddie cried, his cheeks bright scarlet. "I
killed a man!"
"There was no reason to think that was the police," Scott said,
keeping his voice low. "The police aren't going to find us. They
haven't got a clue. So we've got to stop driving ourselves crazy."
"Scott's right," Cassie said quickly.
Eddie was standing by the window, staring out at the house next
door. It was obvious to Scott and Cassie that he hadn't heard a word
they'd said. He was off somewhere in his own world, a frightened,
confused world.
"I know what I'm going to do," Eddie said suddenly, very softly,
not turning around.
"What?" Cassie asked.
"I'm going to turn myself in."
"No, you can't!" Cassie insisted, jumping up from the couch and
joining Eddie by the window.
He didn't look at her. Instead, he pressed his forehead against
the cool glass. His entire face, she saw, was flaming red.
"You can't," Scott echoed. "We're all in this together, Eddie."
"I was driving," Eddie said, pressing his face against the glass.
"But we were all there," Cassie told him. "We all decided to
leave rather than stay and face the consequences. We all were there
without a license.
All of us."
"If you turn yourself in, you're turning us in, too," Scott said.
"No," Eddie insisted, spinning around to face Scott. "I'll tell
them I was alone. I'll tell them I took the car myself There was no one
with me. They'll believe that. No reason not to."
"Don't," Cassie pleaded, putting a hand on Eddie's slender
shoulder. "Don't mess up your life.
Wait a few days, Eddie."
"Cassie's right," Scott said. "Wait a few days.
It'll all blow over. You'll feel better. We all will. I know
it."
They led Eddie to the couch and sat him down between them. They
talked to him for more than half an hour, calming him, reassuring him,
pleading with him not to go to the police.
"We just have to wait this out," Cassie said sympathetically.
"Sure, it's rough, Eddie. It's roughest for you since you were
driving. But you've got to keep remembering that we're all in it
together, and we're all with you."
"I keep thinking this is just one of Winks's horrible practical
jokes," Eddie said sadly, his hands clasped together tightly in his
lap. "I keep thinking that any minute, Winks is going to laugh and
yell, 'Gotcha!' " He closed his eyes. "But it isn't a joke," he said
softly. "It isn't a joke."
Scott went to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with
three Cokes and a bowl of potato chips. Setting the tray down on the
big oak desk, he glanced at Cassie, who returned his glance with a
faint smile.
At least we've talked Eddie out of going to the police, her
expression told Scott.
The phone rang. Scott picked it up.
The speaker phone was still on. All three of them heard Jerry's
voice. "Is Eddie there? His parents said he was with you."
"Yeah, I'm here, Jerry," Eddie called. "What's wrong?"
"Well, you won't believe this, Eddie," Jerry said.
"I just had to call you back."
"What's going on?" Eddie asked, his expression tight with worry.
Scott and Cassie froze, listening intently to the voice coming through
the small speaker.
"You know that corpse you called me about? That Tinkers corpse."
"Yeah, Jerry. Yeah?" Eddie couldn't hide his
impatience.
"Well, the corpse was here when I talked to you," Jerry continued,
sounding baffled. "But it isn't here now."
"Huh?" Scott cried, leaning over the phone.
"It disappeared, man," Jerry said. "Gone. I mean, like it got up
and walked out."
A Message from the Dead Tuesday morning, Cassie found it
impossible to concentrate in class. Mr. Miller called her name three
times before she realized he was talking to her. Everyone laughed.
She felt as if she were surrounded by fog. Her friends and
classmates appeared to be drifting, their smiling faces far away in the
mist, their voices distant and muffled.
She,had lunch in the cafeteria, finding a spot at a corner table
with Scott and Eddie.
"What is that on your plate?" Scott asked, pointing with his fork
at the yellow-and-white substance.
"Macaroni and cheese, I think," Cassie said, making a face. "I
should've just taken an apple or something. " "What happened in
Miller's class this morning?"
Eddie asked. "He practically stood on his head to get your
attention."
Cassie shrugged. "Just thinking about
things,' she said, mushing her fork around in the macaroni but not
lifting any to her mouth. "I didn't hear him call me."
"Didn't sleep last night?" Scott asked. "You should've called
me. I was up, too."
"I guess none of us are sleeping too well," Eddie said, gazing at
the ham sandwich his mother had packed for him. He raised his eyes to
Cassie. "I keep thinking about that corpse disappearing."
"Don't think about it," Scott said curtly. He took a big bite of
his turkey sandwich. Mayonnaise ran down his chin.
"Jerry was really freaked out about it," Eddie said.
Cassie gingerly tasted the macaroni@. It wasn't bad. She took
another forkful.
"Know what I keep thinking?" Eddie asked, his cheeks reddening.
"Can we change the subject?" Scott demanded, glaring at Eddie
impatiently. "It's enough already.
We're okay, Eddie. There's no problem. It's time to stop talking
about it."
"Give him a break, Scott," Cassie said quietly.
"Why are you so pushed out of shape this afternoon?
Let Eddie talk."
Scott scowled at her and rolled his eyes.
"Know what I think?" Eddie repeated, ignoring Scott's impatience.
"I think this sounds like something Winks would do."
"Huh?" Scott's mouth dropped open, revealing a
white gob of chewed-up turkey.
"You mean steal the corpse?" Cassie asked, not understanding.
"Yeah." Eddie nodded. "Don't you think?"
Cassie and Scott didn't reply immediately.
"I mean, he's always playing really mean jokes on me," Eddie
said, nervously folding and unfolding his lunch bag. "He just thinks
it's a riot to embarrass me, or make me squirm and feel like a total
fool."
"Whoa," Scott said, holding up a big hand as if to hold Eddie
back. "Winks just likes practical jokes, that's all. He does it to
everyone."
"That's not true," Eddie replied sharply. "I'm his number-one
victim, and you know it."
"I don't think Winks would go this far," Cassie interrupted
softly, hoping to stop their argument before it got out of control.
"Hey, Katz! Scaredy Katz!" a boy named Gary Franz called from a
table across the room. A milk carton.came flying onto their table,
landing in Cassie's macaroni.
Cassie grabbed it, jumped to her feet, and angrily prepared to
heave it back. But Miss Meltzer, the lunchroom monitor, was staring at
her from the center of the room.
Cassie sat back down. She heard raucous laughter from Gary
Franz's table. "He's a creep," she muttered, tossing the milk carton
aside.
"Everyone gives me a hard time," Eddie said, almost mournfully. "But Winks started it. He was the first
one to call me Scaredy Katz. And he's the only one who - " "Winks
might take an eyeball," Cassie interrupted, gesturing for Eddie to calm
down, "but I don't think he'd take an entire corpse."
"No way," Scott said, shaking his head. "Why would he do it?"
"Just to scare me," Eddie replied. "He would. I know he would."
"Well," Scott said thoughtfully, "there's only one way to find
out."
Cassie and Eddie stared back at him.
"Ask him," Scott said. "We'll go ask him."
They didn't see Winks all afternoon. After school, Cassie and
Eddie hung around doing homework in the library while Scott had
wrestling team practice in the gym.
Scott emerged a little before 'five, red-faced and weary, his blond
hair wet and matted down on his head. He tossed his backpack over the
shoulders of his bulky blue-and-gold letter jacket and led the way out
the front door of the school.
"Coach gave us a real workout," he explained.
"Had us doing laps all afternoon. Good conditioning, I guess.
But I didn't sign on for track - I signed on for wrestling."
"Poor boy," Cassie said in a tiny voice, patting him on the back
with mock sympathy.
Eddie scurried to keep up with them, walking in thoughtful
silence.
It was a damp, gray day. The whole world seemed to be laid out in
shades of gray. No color anywhere to be seen.
They walked to Winks's house, not saying much.
Winks pulled open the front door, a startled expression on his
face. "A surprise?" he exclaimed.
"Is it my birthday already?"
No one laughed.
"What's wrong?" Winks asked, turning serious.
"Can you come out for a while?" Cassie asked, seeing Winks's mom
hovering behind him in the hallway. "Hi, Mrs. Winkleman," she called,
waving to her.
Winks's mom waved back and called out a greeting.
"I can't," Winks said softly. "I'm - I'm kind of grounded. In
fact, you guys have to go."
"Grounded?" Eddie asked suspiciously. "How come?"
Winks turned to check behind him. His mother had disappeared into
the kitchen. "The eyeball," he said, making a sour face. "I took it
home. My mom was cleaning my room and - " Scott giggled. "She found
it?"
Winks nodded.
Everyone laughed.
"It's not funny," Winks said. "She nearly lost her
lunch. I meant to get rid of the thing. It didn't
keep too well. You could practically die from the smell alone.
Anyway, when I got home, she shoved the box into my hands. And asked
me to explain what it was doing in my room."
"What did you tell her?" Cassie asked.
"I said it was for a science experiment," Winks replied. "For
extra credit. But she didn't buy it.
She grounded me." Hearing footsteps, he looked behind him. "You
guys have got to go."
He started to close the storm door, but Eddie pulled it back open.
"Winks - did you take the corpse from the morgue?" he asked.
"Ssshhh!" Winks raised a finger to his lips and cheeked behind
him once more. "Why don't you let the whole neighborhood hear, Katz?"
"Did you?" Eddie repeated, a little softer. "Did you take the
body?"
"Yeah. I've got him up in my room," Winks replied.
"Huh?" Scott cried.
Cassie and Eddie stared at Winks in surprise.
"That's a joke, guys. An eyeball is enough. You know?" Winks
shook his head. "It got me in enough trouble. " "You didn't take
it?" Eddie repeated, unable to hide the suspicion from his voice.
"No way," Winks said heatedly. "I'm not a ghoul, Katz."
"Who's not a ghoul?" Mrs. Winkleman asked, appearing behind Winks in
the doorway.
"I'm not," Winks said, flashing her a phony grin.
"Yes, you are," his mother said. "If you go by what you keep in
your room. You're definitely a ghoul. " "Very funny, Mom," Winks
said, sighing.
"We're all very funny in this family," she said, frowning at
Winks. "You kids have to go, I'm afraid.
Sorry to be rude. But the uncool ghoul here is grounded. That
means no visitors."
"We were just going," Cassie told her.
"See you guys," Winks said.
"No, he won't," Mrs. Winkleman said, pulling the storm door shut.
"He doesn't have the corpse," Scott said to Eddie as they walked
down the driveway. "You need a better theory."
"No, he doesn't," Cassie said. "No more theories, Eddie. No more
ideas. No more thoughts about the missing corpse. Just force yourself
to think about other things."
"Cassie's right," Scott said, putting his arm heavily around her
slender shoulders as they crunched over the gravel. "It's all over.
Done with."
"A done deal," Eddie said. "A done deal." But his expression
remained thoughtful, his eyes on the gray distance.
glancing through her chapter in the government text
book, trying to get her eyes to focus on the blur of type,
when the phone rang. She picked it up after the first ring. "Hello?"
"Is this Cassie Martin?" a woman's voice asked.
"Yes." "This is the operator. I have a collect call for you
from Brandt Tinkers. Will you accept the charges?"
Cassie nearly swallowed her bubble gum. Her mouth dropped open,
but no sound came out.
"Will you accept the charges?" the operator repeated impatiently.
Brandt Tinkers?
What's going on here? Cassie wondered.
Her heart began to thud against her chest. Her hands went ice
cold.
"Uh ... yes. Okay," she managed to reply in a shaky voice.
"Go ahead, please," the operator said, and then clicked off.
Cassie heard crackling on the line.
"Hello?"
More crackling. And then a sound like a gasp, dry gust of wind.
"You can't run away.
The voice wasn't a whisper. It was a breeze. A burst of air.
A burst of foul air.
"You can't run away."
And then the line went dead, leaving Cassie(: trembling and cold.
Hats Off to Eddie "Cassie!"
Cassie slammed her locker on her finger. "Ow!
Eddie, you scared me!"
"Sorry." His face turned crimson.
Cassie shook her hand hard, then sucked on the throbbing finger.
It was a little after eight-thirty on Wednesday morning. The bell
for homeroom would ring in less than five minutes.
Eddie was wearing navy-blue corduroy slack,-, and a faded Bart
Simpson T-shirt. He gazed at her with concern. "Is your finger okay?"
"Yeah, I always slam it in my locker to wake myself up," Cassie
said sarcastically. Seeing the hurt look on his face, she softened her
tone. "It's not broken."
"I got a phone call last night," Eddie said, leaning close and
whispering confidentially.
"Hey, Katz - why don't you kiss her?" someone
yelled, then laughed and disappeared around the corner.
"So did I," Cassie said, blowing on the still painful finger. She
was wearing an emerald-green sweater that matched her eyes and made her
blonde hair seem to glow. Using her good hand, she straightened the
hem of the sweater, pulling it down over the faded denim miniskirt she
wore over heavy black tights.
"What - do you think?" Eddie stammered, staring hard into her
eyes, as if trying to read her thoughts.
" I think it was some stupid practical joker," Cassie said
angrily.
Eddie's face fell in disappointment.
Cassie snickered. "Come on, Eddie, you didn't really think it was
a dead man calling, did you?"
He avoided her stare.
"You really are gullible," Cassie muttered, then immediately
regretted it when she saw his features tighten and his face redden.
"It had to be a joke, Eddie," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"But who?" he asked, in almost a plea.
She shrugged. "It sure as heck wasn't Brandt Tinkers. " The bell
rang. Cassie lifted her backpack to her shoulder.
Eddie didn't move. "The voice on the phone said, 'You can't run
away.' " "Same as my call," Cassie said, turning her eyes down the
rapidly emptying hall.
"And then he said, 'I know you were driving,' Eddie told her.
Her mouth formed a s@ll 0 of surprise. Then she shook her head as
if shaking it all out of her mind. "Just a stupid joke. Someone being
dumb."
"But the four of us - we're the only ones who know," Eddie said.
"We're going to be late," Cassie said, staring down the empty
corridor. Classroom doors were closing all down the hall.
"I don't care!" He grabbed her shoulder. "I - I can't think
about class. This is just too weird, Cassie, too creepy."
"What are you going to do?" Cassie asked. His hand was cold
through her sweater. She could see that he was trembling.
He really is a scaredy-cat, she thought, and then silently scolded
herself for being so cruel.
"I'm going to cut this morning," Eddie said.
"Come with me?"
"No," Cassie replied, pulling away from his grip.
"I can't. I mean, I don't want to. We have to go on with our
lives, Eddie. As if nothing happened. We have to."
"Please?" he asked, pleading with her with his solemn dark eyes.
"No. And you shouldn't cut, either. Come on.
Come to homeroom. Please."
The second and final bell rang. Cassie saw the door to her
homeroom close. She shifted her backpack and began jogging toward it,
her sneakers thudding loudly on the hard floor.
"Eddie, come on!" she called, her voice echoing in the empty
corridor.
But he shook his head. Then he turned and disappeared around the
corner.
What's he going to do outside by himself? Cassie wondered. Is he
just going to wander around all day, having morbid thoughts, scaring
himself even more?
As she opened the door and hurried to her seat, she felt guilty
for a moment. I should have gone with Eddie, she thought. He asked
for my help, and I refused.
She settled into her seat, let the backpack drop to her feet, and
glanced up to the front row where Scott sat. He grinned back at her.
He was wearing a hideously bright, fire-engine-red sweater. Cassie
hoped he hadn't picked it out himself.
After attendance had been taken and a few announcements had been
made, the bell rang for first period. Cassie picked up her heavy
backpack and waited for Scott at the door as everyone piled out of the
room.
"Hey, how's it going?" he asked cheerfully, deliberately bumping
into her.
She caught herself against the wall. "Did you get a phone call
last night?"
He shook his head. "From you? No, you didn't call me. Where
were you?"
"No, not from me," she said, giving him a playful shove out the
door. "A ... scary phone call."
He shook his head again, his blond hair still wet from his morning
shower.
"Eddie and I got weird phone calls," Cassie told him as they
headed up the stairs to their first-period class.
"Me, too!" Winks cried, and grabbed each of them by a shoulder.
Cassie cried out in surprise. Scott, also startled, swung his
body around, nearly toppling Winks down the stairs.
"You're dead meat, Winks," Scott said, making a fist. "Don't
sneak up on me again!"
Winks ignored him. "I got a call, too, Cassie," he said, his face
turning serious. "From the dead guy- @l "What?" Scott uttered his
high-pitched giggle.
"It isn't funny," Cassie snapped at Scott.
"Are you guys freaking out?" Scott asked.
They stopped at the top of the stairs. "What did he say to you?"
Cassie asked Winks.
"He said, 'You can't run away."' "To me, too," Cassie told him.
"He called Eddie, too. " "Weird you didn't get a call," Winks said to
Scott.
"You're the only one."
"Hey, you're blocking traffic!" someone yelled, bumping into
Cassie.
The bell rang.
"Later," Scott said, starting to jog.
"Someone's trying to scare us," Winks said, following Cassie.
"They did a pretty good job scaring Eddie," she confided.
"So what else is new?" Winks exclaimed and, tossing his shaggy,
brown hair, disappeared into the classroom.
Cassie had just finished helping her father with the dinner dishes
when the phone rang. It rang once, then stopped. Her mother, she
realized, must have picked it up in the other room.
"Cassie, it's for you!" Mrs. Martin called. "Don't talk too
long. You said you've got a ton of homework tonight. " "I know, I
know," Cassie muttered. She picked up the phone - and felt a heavy
stab of dread in her chest.
Is it the dead man?
"Hello?"
"Hi, Cassie, it's me. Are you still eating dinner?"
It was Eddie, sounding frightened, as usual.
I "No. Just finished. I've got so much homework,-" "Cassie,
come over. You've got to."
"Eddie, I can't," she insisted. "I just told you - " "No.
Please. Come over right now," Eddie said.
Something in his voice told her she had no choice.
"Hi, Cassie. How've you been?"
"Hi, Mrs. Katz. I'm fine."
Eddie's mother was short and more than a little plump. She looked
like a very round version of her son. She had the same blushing cheeks
as Eddie, and the same black, curly hair, which she wore cut boyishly
short. Even though it was only seventhirty, she was already in a
flannel nightgown and bathrobe.
"Aren't you feeling well?" Cassie asked, then felt foolish.
"Pardon this old bathrobe. I get so tired after work, I like to
get comfortable," Mrs. Katz said, her cheeks reddening.
"Hi, how's it going?" Eddie asked, entering the tiny, hot living
room.
"Okay," Cassie replied uncomfortably.
"Eddie said you two were going to study together," Mrs. Katz
said, ushering Cassie over to the dinner table, which, since there was
no dining room, occupied one corner of the living room.
"Oh, yeah. Right," Cassie lied, glancing at Eddie, as if to say,
what's going on here?
"Well, come have some dessert before you start," Mrs. Katz said,
pulling Cassie by the arm. "I made a cake. It's from a mix, but it's
very moist. You like yellow cake?"
"Yes. Fine. I mean, thank you," Cassie Stammered.
The three of them sat down and had slices of cake and cups of tea.
Eddie kept staring meaningfully at Cassie. It was obvious that he was
dying to tell her something.
But Mrs. Katz kept up a stream of conversation, and wouldn't take
no for an answer after offering seconds on the cake.
"Mom, we've really got to start studying," Eddie said, his cheeks
aflame, his second slice of cake only half-eaten.
"so who's stopping you?" she replied. She grinned at Cassie.
"You liked the cake?"
"It was very good," Cassie said. "Very moist."
She patted her stomach.
Mrs. Katz @grinned. "So what are you two studying.
"Math," Eddie said.
"Government," Cassie said at the same time.
"Oh, right. Government. Mom, we really don't have time to
discuss it," Eddie said impatiently.
Mrs. Katz jumped to her feet, an offended look on her face.
"Excuse me for living," She said sarcastically. "I was just trying to
show an interest."
She gathered up the three plates and carried them into the tiny
kitchen.
"Come upstairs," Eddie whispered.
Cassie followed him up the narrow, uncarpeted stairway, the stairs
creaking under their feet. Eddie's room was the entire upstairs. It
had been a storage space, but Eddie's dad had finished it off to
provide Eddie his own room. Cassie had to duck her head. The ceiling
was low and followed the sloping eaves.
"After dinner, I was carrying the garbage down to the street,"
Eddie said excitedly. "And look what I found hooked on the handle of
the front door."
He pulled something out from under his bedspread and held it up
for Cassie to see.
It was a red-and-blue Cubs cap.
Cassie gasped.
"There was a note tucked inside," Eddie said. He pulled it out of
the cap and read it to her.
"My hat is off to the driver who killed me."
Hit and Run Again Saturday morning as Cassie was finishing her
French toast, the phone rang. "Who would call this early?" Mrs.
Martin, still in her nightgown and flannel bathrobe, asked.
"Only one way to find out," Cassie said. She lifted the receiver
off the kitchen wall phone. "Hello?"
"I'm having a bad morning."
"Scott? What's your problem?" Cassie asked. She turned to her
mother. "It's Scott." "I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet," he
said.
Cassie laughed.
"Not so loud!" her mother pleaded, covering her ears. Mrs.
Martin couldn't stand loud noises in the morning.
"You what?" Cassie exclaimed.
"You heard me," Scott replied grumpily. "I dropped my toothbrush
in the toilet."
"How?"
"It wasn't easy," he muttered.
Cassie laughed again. "Did you really call this early just to
tell me what an incredible klutz you are?"
"I'm sick, too, I think," Scott said, his voice hoarse and
scratchy.
"You're definitely a sicko," Cassie joked.
"No. Really. I think I have the flu or something," he insisted.
"I may not be able to meet you guys tonight.
"Boo-hoo." Cassie pretended to sob.
"You could at least be sympathetic," he snapped.
"I mean, I'm sick, and I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet."
"Did you fish it out?" she asked.
"Not yet."
"Cassie, your French toast is going to be ice cold," her mother
called from the table.
"I've got to go," Cassie said, turning her back on her mother.
"I'm sorry about your toothbrush."
"What are you doing today?" he asked.
"Helping my dad. We're scraping the paint off the porch. So he
can paint it."
"Thrills," Scott said.
"I promised him weeks ago," Cassie said.
"Cassie, your breakfast," her mother called.
"Call me later," Cassie said quickly. "Feel better. " She hung
up and returned to the table. She stabbed her fork into a square of
French toast, dipped it in syrup, and raised it to her mouth.
"Mom," she complained, "this French toast is ice cold!"
"Very funny," her mother said, rolling her eyes.
"What did Scott want?"
"Nothing. He wanted to tell me he dropped his toothbrush in the
toilet." Cassie wiped syrup off her chin with a paper napkin.
"You and those three guys certainly are close," Mrs. Martin said,
staring at Cassie as if examining her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Cassie asked edgily.
"Nothing. Not a thing," her mother replied quickly, raising both
hands as if to hold Cassie back.
"I just mean it's unusual for a girl your age to be so close with
three boys." "I don't think it's so unusual," Cassie said, pronouncing
each syllable of unusual as if it were a foreign word. "They're nice
guys."
"I didn't say they weren't," Mrs. Martin said defensively.
"Let's just drop the subject, okay? I wasn't trying to get you upset."
"I'm not upset," Cassie told her. She shoved the plate away. She
couldn't eat another bite. French toast for breakfast made her feel as
if she weighed a thousand pounds.
The kitchen door opened, and her father came in, his face red from
the cold, carrying two large brown shopping bags from Charlton's, a
nearby lumber store. "I'm back," he declared.
"We can see that," Mrs. Martin said sharply.
"Close the door. You're letting in the cold."
"I rented an electric sander, and I got a ton of sandpaper and a
new plane," he announced.
"Does this mean you're serious about working on the porch?"
Cassie asked, grinning. She knew it was a foolish question.
She and her father worked all morning and most of the afternoon.
"I'll never get the paint dust out of my hair," Cassie complained, just
after lunch.
"It looks good," her father joked, wiping the perspiration off his
forehead with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Gives you some sparkle."
"I hate sparkle," Cassie replied.
As she worked, sanding the corners the electric sander couldn't
reach, she thought about Eddie. The poor guy was just about having a
nervous breakdown.
It had taken all of her convincing skills to keep him from calling
the Avondale police and telling them about the accident. Scott and
Winks had worked on him, too, reassuring him, explaining to him what a
mistake it would be, and then, finally, pleading with him not to do
anything, to wait it out.
On Thursday night, Eddie and Winks had received another phone
call, supposedly from the corpse. This call was the same as the first
- the dry, airy whisper of a voice over the crackling phone line. The
same words - you can't run away.
So far, Scott was the only one who hadn't received a call.
Or a visit.
The red-and-blue Cubs cap flashed into Cassie's running her fingers
over the brim, stretching the elastic, knowing that it had been worn by
a dead man.
A man they had killed.
Who left the cap on Eddie's door?
Who was making the calls?
Her suspicions had immediately fallen on Winks.
But this was too ghastly, too cruel and sick, even for him. And,
she saw Winks was just as frightened as the rest of them, even though
he kept insisting that the accident was old news and that he didn't
care about some joker making stupid prank phone calls.
Some joker.
Which joker?
Was someone on the Hanson Underpass that night? Had someone been
standing on the old bridge when they hit Brandt Tinkers? Had someone
witnessed the whole thing?
If so, it would have to have been someone who knew them, Cassie
realized. Someone who recognized them, who knew where they lived,
where to phone them.
And that was impossible.
The Hanson Underpass was @miles out of town.
There would be no reason for anyone they knew to be on that bridge
that night.
What a mystery.
What a frightening, puzzling mystery.
"What are you thinking about?" Her father's voice interrupted her
thoughts.
"Huh?"
"You looked a million miles away." He smiled at her, but his
expression was apprehensive.
It had taken Cassie a while to come out of her thoughts, to
realize that the whir of the electric sander had stopped, to see that
her father was staring at her expectantly.
"Oh. Nothing," she replied. "Just thinking about school, I
guess."
"when's your spring break?" he asked, turning his eyes to a spot
on the ceiling he had missed.
"April," she told him. "First week in April."
"I'd like to plan a vacation," he said, moving the aluminum
ladder. "For all three of us. Where'd you like to go?"
"Someplace far, far away," Cassie replied, without thinking.
She phoned Scott after dinner. He had the flu.
He couldn't go out.
Cassie replaced the receiver, feeling disappointed. She knew she
felt something more than friendship for Scott. She could tell he felt
the same way.
In some strange way, the horrible accident and all that had
followed had brought them even closer together, Cassie thought.
wishful thinking?
She was pondering this when the phone rang in her hand, startling
her.
The heavy feeling of dread weighed in again.
She felt it now every time the phone rang. It could be the dry,
dead voice on the other end.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Cassie. It's me. Eddie."
"Are we meeting at the tenplex?" Cassie asked.
"Did you check to see what's playing?"
"I - I, m not coming," Eddie said hesitantly.
"Huh?"
"I feel kind of bummed out," he said. "I'm just going to stay
home and veg out. Watch the tube."
"Okay, Eddie." Cassie couldn't conceal her disappointment. After
working all day, she really felt like going out. "You know, Scott's
sick. Flu."
"my mom's got it, too, " Eddie said. "Maybe that's why I feel so
bummed out. Maybe I'm coming down with it, too. "Hope not," Cassie
said. "Talk to you tomorrow. She hung up and groaned loudly. First
Scott, then Eddie. I don't want to go out just with Winks, she
thought. She liked Winks. But she mainly liked him when the others
were around.
She decided to call him and tell him that no one felt like getting
together, that she was going to stay home with her parents.
When she called, Mrs. Winkleman answered the phone. "Is that
you, Cassie?" she asked. "Winks just left. I thought I heard him say
he was heading over to your house."
"Oh. I see. I thought I'd catch him," Cassie replied. She
thanked Mrs. Winkleman and hung up, trying to decide what to do.
What the heck, she thought. I'll go to the tenplex with Winks.
I've got to get out of the house.
Winks lived five blocks away. She decided to start walking and
meet him halfway. Pulling her down jacket out of the front closet, she
yelled, "I'm going out! See you later!" to her parents and headed
out the door.
It was a clear, cold night. Cassie glanced up at the full, white
moon, zipping her jacket as she headed down the drive.
She turned left, cutting across the Culbertsons' front yard,
heading toward Winks's house, her sneakers thudding softly over the
frozen ground.
Somewhere down the block, a little boy was calling to his mother.
He's out awfully late, Cassie thought. She glanced at her watch.
It was only seven-thirty.
It's as dark as midnight, she thought, wishing winter was over.
A dog barked. A door slammed.
When she turned the corner onto Mulberry, she expected to see
Winks.
The bright lights made her stop in surprise. She raised a hand to
shield her eyes from the sudden glare.
What was going on?
The owners of the corner house, the Roths, had all of their
front-yard floodlights on. The entire corner was bathed in harsh
yellow light, brighter than daylight.
It took a while for Cassie'S eyes to adjust to the brightness.
When they did, she saw Mr. and Mrs.
Roth and three of their children, huddled in the street.
None of them were wearing coats.
Cassie moved forward and saw something in the street.
A Pile of clothing?
No. Someone was lying on the pavement.
And Mr. Roth was leaning over the person.
"Hey!" Cassie called.
She started to run.
The porch lights went on in the house across the street. A man
came running down the driveway.
"Is he going to be okay?" Cassie heard one of the Roth kids ask.
The little kid was crying. His mother picked him up.
"What happened?" Cassie asked, stepping up beside them. She
looked down and gasped. "Winks!"
He was on his back, his head tilted at a strange angle. His eyes
were closed. There was blood on the front of his blue denim jacket.
"we called the ambulance," Mr. Roth told her.
As he said this, they could hear sirens approaching from the
distance.
"But what happened?" Cassie screamed, staring down at her
unconcious friend.
"I was at the window," Mrs. Roth said. "He was walking at the
curb. A car hit him. And then sped off."
"A hit-and-run," her husband said quietly.
Eddie Gets the Picture The hospital walls were pea-soup green.
The fluorescent lights on the low ceiling made everything - and
everyone - look even greener.
What is that odor? Cassie wondered, stepping off the elevator and
searching for the Intensive Care Unit. It smelled like medicine, like
alcohol or ether or formaldehyde mixed with detergent, an odor found
only in hospitals.
White-uniformed nurses passed by without looking at her. Two
doctors in green lab coats were talking softly against a wall. The
corridor was narrow, almost tunnellike. Cassie had to squeeze past
them.
Down the corridor, past a deserted nurses' station, she saw Mrs.
Winkleman, in a tan cloth coat, a big, black box of a pocketbook in her
lap, sitting on a folding chair, her chubby hands clasping the handle
of the bag tightly.
She didn't look up until Cassie was standing right in front of
her. "Oh. Hi," she said. Her eyes were red. Her round cheeks
revealed tear tracks running down both sides.
"What did the doctors say?" Cassie asked, standing awkwardly in
front of Mrs. Winkleman's chair, trying to decide what to do with her
hands. "Is Winks - ?"
"Still unconscious," Mrs. Winkleman said, avoiding Cassie's
stare. Fresh tears formed in her eyes.
"But the doctors - ?" Cassie wasn't sure what to ask.
"I'm all alone," Mrs. Winkleman said, her voice in a whisper.
"Dan is in Detroit. On business. I tried to call him, but he wasn't
at his hotel."
"Would you like me to call him for you?" Cassie asked, eager to
help in some way, any way.
Mrs. Winkleman shook her head. She wiped a tear from one eye
with a finger.
"I'm sure Winks will be okay," Cassie said, realizing it sounded
phony.
"He has some broken ribs. A broken arm. Some internal injuries,"
Mrs. Winkleman said. Her hands were pale white against the black
pocketbook.
A cart went by, filled with small brown bottles, pushed by a
white-smocked man with a @ white beard. He dipped his head in a
nod as he passed by.
"Mrs. Roth saw the car. The car that hit him," Winks's mother
said, her voice trembling. She sighed
and wiped away another tear. "But she didn't know what kind of car it
was."
"Did she - ?"
"She said it hit him and just kept going," Mrs.
Winkleman said, shaking her head.
"How awful," Cassie muttered, crossing her arms protectively over
her chest. It seemed about a hundred degrees in the hallway, but she
still felt chilled.
"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it," Mrs.
Winkleman said, sobbing.
"Where is Winks?" Cassie asked.
Mrs. Winkleman pointed to the door. And as she pointed, it swung
open and a serious-faced young doctor with slicked-back brown hair,
wearing a green surgical gown, stepped out.
"Mrs. Winkleman?" He spoke in a soft but deep voice.
Mrs. Winkleman jumped to her feet. "Is Bruce - ?"
"The internal injuries don't look serious," the doctor said,
glancing at Cassie as he spoke. "We're encouraged. We're not certain
we've stopped all the bleeding, though. " Mrs. Winkleman gasped.
"But we're keeping a close eye on him. We'll be monitoring him
for the next couple of days."
"Is he awake? Can I see him?" his mother asked eagerly.
"Not yet," the doctor said somberly. "He hasn't regained
consciousness yet. It has us a little concerned. We did a brain scan.
No sign of any problem there. It'll just take a little time. We're
watching him. All of his vital signs are good."
Cassie stared at the doctor, trying to determine if he was telling
the whole truth or if he was making Winks's condition sound better than
it was. She decided the doctor had no reason not to be honest with
Winks's mom.
"There's a waiting room just around that corner," the doctor told
them, pointing. "You might be more comfortable there."
"No. I'll stay here," Mrs. Winkleman insisted.
"If it's okay."
"Yes, it's okay," the doctor @d, nodding to another green-gowned
doctor who hurried past. "We'll let you know if there's any change in
Bruce's condition."
He disappeared through the door to the Intensive Care Unit.
Mrs.. Winkleman dropped back into the folding chair with a loud
groan. "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it," she said, more
to herself than to Cassie. "Saturday night, and look where I am."
"He sounded pretty encouraging," Cassie said.
"He said - " She stopped, recognizing the two figures hurrying
through the narrow, green corridor toward them.
"Eddie! Scott!"
The two boys, Eddie in his blue down vest, Scott
in a heavy wool parka, came up to her, their expressions
set, squinting in the harsh, green light.
"How is he?" Scott asked eagerly.
"We don't know yet," Cassie told them.
"I just can't believe it," Mrs. Winkleman muttered, gripping and
releasing the handle of her bag.
Scott turned away from them and sneezed violently. "Sorry," he
said, searching his jeans pockets and pulling out a wad of tissues.
"I'm really sick."
"You shouldn't have come," Cassie told him.
"They don't want sick people in a hospital." That's a bad time
to make a joke like that, Cassie thought.
What's @wrong with me, anyway?
She was glad Scott had come, she realized. She was glad both boys
had come. It helped her feel a little less alone, a little more like
things were normal.
Normal?
She wondered what that word meant. She wondered if she would ever
feel normal again.
"Where did it happen?" Eddie asked, unzipping his vest and
leaning back against the wall.
'Just a few blocks from my house," Cassie said.
'He was walking to Cassie's," Mrs. Winkleman said quietly, glancing
at Eddie. "One minute he was walking. The next minute . . ."
Cassie put a hand on her shoulder.
"Did the doctors say he'd be okay?" Scott asked.
"They don't know. He's still unconscious," Cassie said.
Eddie let out a gasp. "He isn't awake?"
Mrs. Winkleman shook her head. "The doctor said his brain is
normal, thank God."
Normal, Cassie thought. There's that word again.
The door to the Intensive Care Unit opened, and two doctors walked
out. "Any news about my son?"
Mrs. Winkleman called as they passed by.
"No change," one of the doctors said brusquely, and the two of
them continued down the hall.
Cassie and the two boys stayed with Mrs. Winkleman outside the
Intensive Care Unit for another couple of hours. But when the doctor
came out to report that Winks was stable but still not conscious, they
decided they had to leave for home.
Scott was coughing and wheezing. Cassie felt his perspiring
forehead. He definitely had a fever.
Eddie had pulled into himself like a frightened turtle. He had
been silent the whole time, staring down at the floor. He seemed very
relieved to be leaving, and practically ran to the phone booth to call
his dad to come pick them up.
"Shall I drop you guys at your houses?" Mr. Katz asked as they
piled into the old Chevy. He had to repeat the question. Being in the
car again, the car that had hit and killed someone, gave both Cassie
and Scott the creeps.
"Well, guys?" Mr. Katz repeated, a striped wool
ski cap covering his slender, bald head.
"Uh . . . bring them to our house, Dad," Eddie said. "That okay
with you guys? We can talk a little. " Cassie recognized the panicky
expression on Eddie's face. Realizing he needed their help, she
reluctantly agreed.
"Just for a few minutes," she told Eddie. "Scott has to go home
and get back into bed."
Scott sneezed as if to demonstrate the truth of her words.
Mr. Katz asked about Winks, shaking his head, repeating again and
again that he didn't think such a thing was possible in a quiet,
peaceful community like North Avondale.
"Imagine. A hit-and-run," he said, pulling the car to the curb in
front of their tiny house. "What kind of a person would do such a
thing? Don't they have any kind of conscience at all?"
The three teenagers didn't reply. They glanced at each other,
sharing the same thoughts, sharing the same memories, the same
horrifying pictures flashing through their minds.
Eddie's shoulders shook. He looked about ready to confess to his
dad that he was a hit-and@run driver, too.
We're all hit-and-run drivers, Cassie thought.
We're all killers.
Eddie's father slammed the car door and went running over the
small square of a front yard and disappeared around the back. The
three teenagers lingered at the curb.
"Poor Winks," Scott said, his voice a deep croak.
He started to cough.
"A hit-and-run," Eddie said. "It couldn't be an accident. "
Cassie's mouth dropped open. This was stretching things a bit far,
even for Eddie. "Don't try to make this into more than it is," she
warned Eddie.
"It was an accident."
"No way," Eddie said, kicking at a clod of dirt with the toe of
his sneaker.
"What are you saying, man?" Scott asked, wiping his nose with a
tissue. "You think it wasn't an accident?"
Eddie didn't reply for a long while. "You tell me," he said
finally in a low whisper. "You tell me. You think it's just a
coincidence that we kill someone in a hit-and-run, and the next week
Winks gets hit?"
"Yes, I think it's a coincidence," Cassie said heatedly. "Of
course it's a coincidence. Don't be dumb, Eddie. It's one thing to be
frightened. But don't get totally dumb."
He recoiled as if her words had stung him.
"I've got to get home. I feel like I'm dying," Scott moaned.
"A few more minutes," Eddie insisted. "Come inside. It's cold
out here. I'll make you some tea.
Come on. Please," he pleaded.
Scott glanced at Cassie. Cassie
looked back at Eddie. "Hot tea would feel really good right now.
I'm frozen." She pulled Scott by the arm. "Come on, sicko. Tea
is what the doctor ordered."
They headed up to the house. And stopped on the front stoop under
the bright porch light when they saw the large envelope tucked in the
storm door.
"Oh, no," Eddie said quietly.
Cassie pulled the envelope out from the door. It was blank on
both sides. No name or address. "What makes you think this is
something terrible?" She asked Eddie.
"This is where I found the Cubs cap," he said, swallowing hard.
"That doesn't mean anything."
"Just open it up, will You?" Scott cried impatiently. "I really
have to get inside. I'm shaking all over. " The envelope was sealed
tightly. Cassie had trouble pulling it open. Finally, she ripped it,
tearing along the top. Then she reached her hand in and pulled out a
sheet of white, lined notebook paper.
"N"at is it? What's it say?" Eddie asked eagerly, his voice
revealing his fear, leaning close over Cassie's shoulder.
She held the note up to the porch light. Scrawled in purple
crayon were the words: ONE DOWN, THREE TO GO.
"Oh, man," Scott said, shivering inside his big
parka.
"I knew it," Eddie cried. "I knew what happened to Winks wasn't
an accident."
Cassie stared at the words, reading them again and again until
they blurred together, until they made no sense at all.
She grasped the envelope tightly. "There's something else inside
it," she said.
Her heart thudding in her chest, she reached inside and pulled out
a glossy, cardboard square.
A Polaroid photograph.
Cassie held it under the porch light. All three teenagers
squeezed close together to stare at it.
"Hey, what's going on?" cried Scott, gaping at the Polaroid shot.
"It - it can't be!!"
Cassie Figures It Out The photograph slipped from Cassie's hand
and fluttered off the stoop. Scott and Eddie both grabbed for it.
Then Eddie dived off the stoop and scooped it up from the grass.
Even though it was no longer in her hand, Cassie still saw the
horrifying image. It was an image she knew she would never be able to
forget.
The Polaroid showed Scott's parents'car, the silver Volvo. The
photo had been snapped to show the driver's side of the car. She knew
it was Scott's silver Volvo because of the dark scratch on the driver's
door.
Sitting behind the wheel, his head turned to face the camera, was
Brandt Tinkers.
The corpse.
Smiling at the camera.
Sitting behind the wheel of Scott's parents' car.
So clear. The picture was so clear.
You could see that the corpse's eyes were sunk back in its head.
You could see the purple tinge of its skin. The dark, unnaturally
dark, lips.
The blank, unseeing stare as it faced the camera.
Sitting behind the wheel.
Of Scott's car.
Scott.
Cassie stared at Scott, who was trembling under the big parka,
beads of perspiration on his forehead, his features drawn back in
disbelief, in utter bewilderment as he stared at the photo, holding it
close to his face with a trembling hand.
"I don't get it," Scott said, his voice hoarse. "I don't get it."
He raised his eyes to Cassie. "This is impossible," he told her.
Cassie thought of Scott's new Polaroid camera, the one they had
teased him about.
"I - I don't know how this happened," Scott said, suddenly
realizing that both of his companions were staring at him. "Really. I
have no idea."
Cassie believed him. She threw her arms around him, holding
tightly to the parka, to show him that she did. "We have to get you
home," she said softly.
"Your face is so flushed. You're burning up."
"He's going to kill us all," Eddie muttered, still staring at the
Polaroid, holding it close to his face under the porch light. "The
corpse. He's going to kill us!"
"Eddie, stop!" Cassie cried.
"Well, who took this picture?" Eddie demanded, staring at Scott.
"How did the corpse get in Scott's car?"
"I don't know," Scott said weakly. "I'm telling you, Eddie - I
don't know."
Suddenly the front door opened, startling all three of them.
Eddie gasped and shoved the Polaroid into his vest pocket.
Mr. Katz pushed open the storm door. "What are you doing out
there? You'll freeze your buns off.
Are you coming in or not?"
"Uh . . . no thanks," Cassie said quickly. She took Scott's arm
and tugged. "Come on. Got to get you home."
Eddie cast her a pleading stare, as if begging her not to leave.
But enough was enough, Cassie decided. She wanted to get poor, sick
Scott home. He seemed nearly dazed as she led him to the curb.
And she wanted to get home where she Could think about everything
quietly by herself.
Half an hour later, after depositing Scott like a heavy bag of
laundry at his doorstep, and saying good-night to her parents, who were
dozing off in the den with Saturday Night Live blaring on the TV,
Cassie tucked herself into bed, turned off the bedtable lamp, and
settled down on her pillow to think.
Staring up at the shifting shadows on the ceiling, like dark,
playful ghosts over her head, she tried to put things in order, tried
to step back and see things clearly.
But as much as she tried, her thoughts swirled about, much like
the shadows she was staring at, one picture blurred into another, none
of them as clear as the horrifying Polaroid of the corpse in the car.
Scott's car.
Scott's Polaroid?
No.
There were too many ugly pictures. Too many ugly questions.
Who had mowed Winks down? Who was trying to terrify them?
It couldn't be Scott. He was a big, lovable teddy bear. He
wouldn't hurt a fly.
It couldn't be Eddie. He was too frightened, too scared of his
own shadow, to pull anything this horrible.
And of course it couldn't be Winks.
So it had to be someone else. Someone who knew them. Someone
they knew.
Someone who knew what had happened.
The corpse?
Cassie swallowed hard.
The corpse was the only other person who knew what had happened.
The dead man, Brandt Tinkers. There he was, crossing the highway
when they hit him. There he was. Again, she saw his staring face
caught in the headlights of the silver Volvo.
The corpse ...
The only one who knows ...
Before she realized it, Cassie had drifted off into a restless
sleep.
A while later, she awoke suddenly, bathed in perspiration, the
bedclothes twisted around her waist. Glancing at the bedtable clock,
she saw that it was a little past three-thirty in the morning.
The ghostly shadows still swirled above her head.
Pale moonlight filtered in through the curtains on her window.
Only half-awake, Cassie sat up and took a deep breath.
And realized that she had figured it out.
She knew who was doing this to them.
A Visit to the Morgue Before breakfast Sunday morning, Cassie
called the hospital. After being transferred to three different
nursing stations, she was told that Winks was still in stable
condition, but that he hadn't regained consciousness.
No change from the night before.
Was that good news or bad news?
Cassie wished there were a doctor in her family, someone she could
talk to about Winks, someone who could reassure her that he was going
to be okay.
Still in her nightgown and robe, she punched Scott's number. His
mother answered and said that Scott was too sick to talk. His
temperature was 102 degrees, and he had terrible laryngitis, so he
could barely make a sound. He had gone back to sleep, his mother said.
She added that she'd probably keep him out of school the next day.
Cassie got dressed, pulling on a long-sleeved green top over a
pair of gray sweatpants. She pulled back the curtains and peered out
of the window.
The sky was a solid blue. The sun was shining.
Across the street, the two Finnegan kids were chasing their big
Irish setter across their yard.
A cheerful day, almost springlike. She pulled open the window,
wishing she felt more cheerful.
She picked up the phone receiver and punched Eddie's number. A
busy signal. She sat on her bed, staring at the billowing, white
curtains, then tried again.
This time, Eddie picked up after the first ring.
He had been trying to call the hospital, he told her, but hadn't
been able to find out anything about Winks.
Cassie told him what she had learned from the nurse.
"I guess no change is good news," Eddie said.
"I guess," Cassie replied. "Listen, Eddie, does your cousin work
on Sundays?"
The question seemed to catch him by surprise.
"You mean Jerry?"
"Yeah. Jerry. The one who works at the morgue."
"I think so," Eddie said. "I Could call him and find out. Why do
you want to know?"
"I have a theory," Cassie said casually.
"You don't think Jerry has anything to do with what's going on, do
you?" Eddie asked.
"Maybe," Cassie replied. "He's the only other person who knows
anything about the corpse. And he knows that you were interested in
the corpse."
"But Jerry is a good guy!" Eddie exclaimed heatedly. "He
wouldn't do anything like that. He wouldn't run down Winks. Jerry
likes Winks!"
"Eddie - " "Sure, Jerry likes to joke around sometimes. But you'd
joke around, too, if you worked where he does." Eddie sounded very
upset.
"Eddie, stop!" Cassie cried. "I'm not accusing your cousin of
anything. He was the last person to see the corpse - right?"
"Right," Eddie reluctantly agreed.
"So I just thought maybe we could go talk to him."
"You mean go to the morgue?" Eddie cried, his voice rising several
octaves.
"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Cassie said.
She didn't like the idea of going to the morgue, either. But she
had an idea that Jerry might know what was going on, or be able to help
them in some way.
"Uh ... I'll call Jerry," Eddie said and hung up quickly.
Cassie pulled on her white Nikes and tied them tightly, then paced
back and forth across her room, waiting for Eddie to call back.
I'm right about Jerry, she thought, pausing to peer out the
window. The two Finnegan kids were still
wrestling in a mud puddle near the Curb. The Irish setter was sitting
on its haunches watching the bout.
Jerry knows something. Jerry has something to do with this.
Jerry is a bigger joker than Winks.
The phone rang. She dived to the bed and picked it up before the
first ring had ended. "Hello?"
"Hi, it's me."
"Is Jerry at work?"
"Yeah," Eddie replied. "Jerry said that dead people don't take
Sunday off."
"What a riot," Cassie said sarcastically. "Are you coming with me
or not?"
"You mean you)re just going over there? Right now?"
"Yeah. I'm taking the bus," she told him. "You coming?"
"I've got a lot of homework," he said.
"It won't take long," Cassie assured him.
"It's very cold in there," Eddie said, "and there are dead bodies
all over the place."
"Big surprise! It is a morgue!" Cassie exclaimed, and laughed.
She knew she shouldn't laugh at him, but he sounded like such a total
coward.
He was silent for a long time.
"Eddie, are you still there?"
"I'll come with you," he said. "Meet you at the bus stop. "
Cassie hung up and hurried down the stairs. Her mom stopped her as
she was heading out the front door. "Hold on - where are you going?"
she asked, pulling Cassie back by tugging on her long, red wool scarf.
"Uh ... just going to see Eddie," Cassie replied.
"Are you going to the hospital?" Mrs. Martin asked, brushing
Cassie's hair back off her forehead.
"Maybe later," Cassie replied.
She had a sudden impulse to tell her mother she was going to the
morgue.
She had a sudden impulse to tell her mother everything, to ask for
help, to allow her mother to wrap her up in a protective hug and hide
her.
"Your dad thought you might like to practice your driving today,"
Mrs. Martin said, rearranging the scarf around Cassie's neck.
"My driving?"
"Well, you are taking your driver's exam after school tomorrow,"
Mrs. Martin exclaimed. "Don't tell me you forgot. I thought you said
it was the most important day in your life." Still holding on to the
scarf, she stared suspiciously at Cassie.
How could I have forgotten about my driver's test? Cassie
thought.
I've been so obsessed with Winks and the corpse and the horrid
phone calls, I completely forgot!
"Of course I didn't forget," Cassie lied. "Tell Daddy I'll be
home in a few hours. We can go driving then." She kissed her mom on
the cheek and hurried out the door.
"Nice day," Eddie said, his hands
shoved into his jeans pockets, his black hair still wet from the
shower.
Cassie found him waiting for her on the corner, leaning against
the blue-and-white bus pole.
"Nice day to visit the morgue," Cassie said dryly, watching an
enormous crow hop along the sidewalk and onto the grass. "What's that
- a buzzard?"
Eddie didn't laugh.
"Just trying to keep it light," she said.
"You want to go see Winks after the morgue?"
he asked, his eyes on the crow. Another crow, identical in size,
glided down beside the first one.
"I don't know," she told him, looking up to see the dark blue bus
approaching. "My dad might take me driving. My test is tomorrow after
school. I forgot all about it. Do you believe it?"
"My test is Friday," Eddie said, his cheeks reddening. He bent
down, picked up a flat gray stone from the curb, took aim, and tossed
it at one of the crows.
The stone hit the ground hard a few feet from the birds. They
both squawked angrily and flapped up into the nearest tree.
The bus squealed to a halt. Cassie followed Eddie through the
door. "Try to squeeze in," the bus driver joked. The bus was
completely empty.
Cassie and Eddie walked all the way to the back.
"Friendly, huh?" the driver called, watching them in the big
rearview mirror. He pulled the bus away from the curb and headed
toward the civic center.
"Have you ever been to the morgue before?" Cassie asked, watching
the houses and yards roll past the window.
"Yeah. Once," Eddie said, resting his knees on the back of the
seat in front of him. "Jerry showed me around. I had bad dreams for a
month."
"Oh, great," Cassie said, rolling her eyes.
"This is a stupid idea," Eddie said. "Jerry isn't the one who ran
down Winks. Jerry's just a ghoul He isn't a killer."
The bus turned onto Civic Drive, its tires squealing. Up ahead
through the windshield, some of the tall, new civic buildings,
including the new state office tower, came into view.
"I just have this feeling we should talk to Jerry," Cassie said
impatiently. "I told you, I don't think he's a killer."
"Well, don't tell him too much," Eddie said, his expression
serious, staring hard into her eyes.
"Huh? Why not?" Cassie stared back at him.
"You know Jerry," Eddie replied quietly. "He makes a joke out of
everything."
"Well, he won't joke about this," Cassie said. "I mean, Winks is
in the hospital, and the rest of us have been threatened, and - "
"Just don't tell him too much," Eddie repeated.
They reached their stop. Eddie pulled the cord.
The bus pulled to the curb. "Y'all come back now, ya hear?" the
bus driver called.
Cassie laughed as she stepped down to the curb.
"Guess he's pretty lonely," she said.
Eddie's expression remained serious. "I wish we weren't doing
this," he said, staring up at the gray office buildings.
Cassie ignored him and started walking. "Is that it, over there?"
she asked, pointing to a low brick building, the only old building
among all the new skyscrapers.
"Yeah," Eddie said, hurrying to keep up.
The new state office tower was made of enormous glass panels, and
the glass reflected the sun back down to the street. Cassie shielded
her eyes with one hand to shut out the bright glare as she crossed the
street.
"It's deserted here," Eddie said, turning to look in all
directions.
"No one works here on Sunday," Cassie said.
"Except Jerry," Eddie added.
Etched in a granite block beside the broad wooden entrance were
the words: CITY MORGUE.
1952. Cassie tried the door, expecting it to be locked, but it
pulled open easily.
They stepped into a wide, circular reception area, lit by one
overhead light near the far wall. The reception desk, cluttered with
papers and magazines, was unattended.
guess we can walk right back," Eddie said, whispering for some
reason. "Jerry's area is way in back. With the stiffs."
He held back, allowing Cassie to lead the way.
They walked through the empty reception area and into a long,
narrow corridor with closed doors on both sides.
"Look out," Cassie warned, stepping carefully through the dark,
narrow hall. "Hey - what's that?"
It was a stack of body bags, made of heavy, black plastic, piled
in front of a closed office door. "They're empty," Eddie said,
sounding very relieved.
Cassie shuddered. "They look like garbage bags, only they zip
up."
The corridor led into a large, open room the size of a small
gymnasium. There were metal examining tables in the center of the
room, and what appeared to be wide, gray metal lockers built into all
four walls.
"Hey, Jerry?" Eddie called. His voice echoed against. the
walls.
"At least there are no bodies just lying around," Cassie said, now
whispering, too. "What is that sour smell?" She held her nose.
Eddie looked green. "Chemicals they use. Decaying bodies. It's
all so disgusting."
Light poured in from narrow windows up near the high ceiling.
They stepped into the center of the room, their sneakers thudding
loudly on the concrete floor.
"Hey, Jerry! Where are you?" Eddie called.
Cassie stopped and uttered a shriek when she saw Jerry. She
grabbed Eddie's hand and stepped back.
Eddie saw him, too.
Jerry was lying on his back on one of the low examining tables.
His arms were crossed on his chest. His eyes were wide open,
unblinking, staring lifelessly up at the ceiling. His head was
surrounded by a wide pool of dark red blood.
Not Ticklish "Jerry!" Eddie cried, and turned to Cassie, his
face gripped with horror.
"This can't be happening!" Cassie exclaimed, holding on to
Eddie's arm, squeezing it hard without realizing it.
"What can't be happening?" Jerry asked. He sat up, a wide grin
crossing his face.
Cassie gasped.
"Gotcha," Jerry said and started to laugh.
Cassie and Eddie didn't join in. "Jerry, that wasn't funny,"
Eddie said, his voice just above a whisper. He sat down on the floor,
his cheeks flushed. He looked about to faint.
"You really scared us," Cassie said angrily.
"Yeah," Jerry said, his grin growing even wider.
He slid off the table and stood up. He held up the sheet of dark
red cellophane that he had used for blood.
Jerry was tall and broad-shouldered, built like a fullback. He
had long, frizzy blond hair that fell unbrushed around his round,
usually grinning face.
It was a mischievous face, Cassie thought. Jerry never looked
serious. He had a diamond stud in one ear. He was wearing a faded
blue work shirt, and gray denim, straight-legged jeans over black
cowboy-style boots.
"I really thought - " Eddie started, but his voice caught in his
throat, and he couldn't finish his sentence. He swallowed hard a
couple of times, glaring angrily at Jerry.
"That was really unfair," Cassie said sharply.
"You knew we'd be scared coming here and everything."
"Yeah," Jerry repeated, still grinning, enjoying his triumph.
"Got to keep a sense of humor around here, you know. Otherwise, things
get pretty dead." He snickered at his own bad joke.
Eddie, still sitting on the concrete floor, shook his head.
"So you guys want to see a corpse, huh?" Jerry asked. Without
warning, he reached over to one of the wall lockers and pulled the
handle.
"Jerry, stop!" Cassie pleaded.
But she was too late. A wide drawer slid out. On it, only
partially covered by a white sheet, was the nude body of an old man.
"Come on, man, put it away!" Eddie screamed.
Jerry giggled.
"Yuck." Cassie felt sick. The smell was overpowering.
Jerry reached down to the dead man's feet.
"Tickle, tickle." He tickled the sole of one foot.
"Hey - not ticklish!" he cried, turning to Cassie an(i Eddie.
"Here, want to try?"
"Jerry, please!" Cassie begged.
"Okay, okay," Jerry said grudgingly. He shoved the drawer. It
clanged shut, the sound echoing off the high ceilings.
"It smells so gross," Eddie said, slowly climbing to his feet.
"You get used to it," Jerry replied. "It's not so bad after a
while. " He turned his attention to Eddie.
"You okay?"
Eddie still looked shaky.
"Eddie doesn't like my jokes," Jerry told Cassie.
"Gee, what a surprise," Cassie replied sarcastically.
Jerry led them over to the desk in the corner.
There were three wooden chairs lined up against the wall of
lockers. They sat down.
"I heard about Winks," Jerry said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"How's he doing? Have you heard?"
"He's still unconscious," Eddie said.
"I'm going over to the hospital later," Cassie ad(led. "The
doctor says he's stable, whatever that means.
Jerry tsk-tsked and shook his head. "Did they
get the guy who hit him?"
"No," Cassie told him. "But something very strange - " "We want
to ask you something," Eddie interrupted, casting an uncomfortable
glance at Cassie.
"About the corpse."
"The one that's missing," Cassie said.
"Yeah. Wasn't that weird?" Jerry shook his head again. He
pushed his frizzy blond hair back off his face.
"Do you know anything about the corpse?" Cassie asked.
"Huh-uh," Jerry said quickly, glancing at Eddie.
"You sure you're okay? Can I get you a glass of water? Or maybe
some formaldehyde?" He laughed, slapping the knees of his jeans.
"I'm okay," Eddie said quietly.
"His name was Brandt Tinkers, right?" Cassie was determined to
pursue this. She was sure Jerry knew something that could help them.
"Yeah. And he was a businessman. That's all I know," Jerry said.
"I wasn't here when they brought him in. I don't know where he came
from.
He was in an accident or something. That's all I know. " We know
he was in an accident, Cassie thought.
We killed him.
Again, the scene on Route 12 played through her mind. The bump.
The horrifying bump. The wideeyed stare of surprise on Tinkers's face.
The corpse by the side of the road.
"Really. That's all I know," Jerry repeated.
"And, then, the stiff just disappeared. He was here when you
called me, Eddie. Here one minute. Then gone the next."
"Like he walked away," Eddie muttered. "That's what you said,
Jerry. You said it was like he walked away."
"Well, maybe I said that," Jerry replied, brushing back his
hair again, "but I saw the condition he was in. Believe me, Eddie, he
was not ticklish. Not ticklish. There was no way that stiff could get
up and walk out of here. Unless - " "Unless what?" Cassie asked
eagerly.
"Unless he's a zombie!" Jerry cried. "The Living Dead!" He
whooped with laughter.
"That's not funny," Cassie said quietly.
"Let's go," Eddie urged her. "Let's get out of here."
"You didn't see anyone come in here?" Cassie demanded, ignoring
Eddie. "What about Tinkers's family? Don't they want to know what
happened to his body? What about the police?"
Jerry shrugged. He burped loudly. "Sorry. Talking about stiffs
always makes me hungry."
Neither Cassie nor Eddie smiled.
"You guys sure are serious today. Guess you're upset about Winks,
huh?"
"Yeah, we're upset," Cassie said.
"Me, too," Jerry said. "But I don't see what it has to do with
the missing stiff."
"I'll show you," Cassie said. She reached into her bag and pulled
out the Polaroid snapshot.
"Hey!" Eddie cried in surprise. "You brought that?"
Cassie handed it to Jerry.
Jerry squinted at it, studying it. "That's the stiff!" he cried.
"Where'd you get this?"
"It was left for us," Cassie told him. "Someone wants us to think
that Tinkers was driving the car that hit Winks."
"We've got to go," Eddie said, jumping to his feet. "I feel
really sick."
"I don't get it," Jerry said, staring hard at the snapshot.
"There was a note," Cassie told him. "It said, 'One down, three
to go.' " "Whoa," Jerry said, his face filled with confusion.
Eddie grabbed the photo from him. "Come on, Cassie." He started
toward the door.
Cassie saw that Jerry had a very upset look on his face. "Eddie
- " he called.
Eddie, halfway across the large room,@ turned "Eddie, I'll call you
later," Jerry said. He nodded to Cassie. "See you. Tell Winks I'm
pulling for him. " Cassie followed Eddie out of the room and through
the long, narrow corridor to the building exit. The sour smell, the
smell of death, followed them out into the street.
They didn't say anything to -each other until they had walked a
couple of blocks and the smell had begun to evaporate. "Jerry sure
looked upset," Cassie said thoughtfully.
"I think it's because he saw I was feeling really sick," Eddie
said.
"No, I think it was more than that," Cassie replied.
The sun was high in a cloudless sky. The air was crisp and cold.
Cassie took a deep breath, then another.
"Sorry I had to get out of there so fast. I just couldn't stay
another second," Eddie said as they crossed the street to the bus stop.
"I thought I was going to puke my guts out."
"That's okay," Cassie replied. She wasn't thinking about Eddie.
She was thinking about Jerry. "I think Jerry got upset when he saw
the snapshot because he knows something he's not telling us," she said.
Eddie shrugged. "He said he didn't know anything at all. I
really don't think he does."
"When he calls you later, see what you can find out," Cassie
instructed.
"Okay," Eddie said. His cheeks were red as usual. But he looked
as if he were starting to revive.
After lunch Cassie practiced driving with her father. He seemed
really nervous, even though she drove slowly and carefully. Sitting
beside her in the front passenger seat, he kept slamming his foot
down as if he were applying the brake.
"I think you're going to pass easily tomorrow," he said after
she had successfully parallel-parked twice without any trouble.
"You're just desperate to go home," she teased.
He admitted that practicing with her made him a little nervous.
Obligingly, she turned the wheel over to him. He dropped her off at
the hospital.
The news there was good. Mrs. Winkleman greeted Cassie with
happy tears in her eyes. Winks was awake. He was still somewhat
groggy. But he was awake. He had several broken ribs, a broken arm,
and a sprained knee. Aside from that, he seemed to be fine. He was
going to be okay.
"That's wonderful!" Cassie exclaimed, hugging Winks's mother
joyfully.
Winks wasn't allowed any visitors yet, so Cassie called her dad
to come pick her up. He let her drive home. Cassie couldn't wait to
call Scott and Eddie and tell them the good news about their friend.
That night, she tried to push away thoughts of the driver's test
so that she could concentrate on her government textbook. It was a
little after eleven. Her parents had gone to bed early. She was the
only one still up.
She had changed into her
warmest, most comfortable nightgown and had just started reading the
opening paragraph on the separation of powers when she heard the sound
from outside.
A scrabbling sound.
A scraping.
The squeak of a door.
It sounded like the front porch door. She had noticed that squeak
the day before when she and her dad spent the day out there sanding.
Curious, Cassie ran to her bedroom window, pushed aside the
curtains, and looked down.
4'0h!"
Someone in a dark coat was running across the front yard.
She could only see his back as he disappeared into the shadows of
the tall hedges.
Gripped with fear, she stood staring down at the front yard for
several seconds after the dark figure had disappeared. Then she
reluctantly made her way down the stairs, walking silently so as not to
wake her parents.
She hesitated at the front door.
And listened.
She heard a scraping sound. Repeat itself Again.
Again.
Was he out there?
Had he come back?
No. She had seen him run away.
He had definitely been on the porch.
Most likely, he had left something there.
Something frightening? Another ugly photograph? Another
threatening note?
She raised her hand to the doorknob. She unlocked the door.
She started to turn the knob -but then stopped.
Should she open the door?
Where's Scott?
Cassie clicked on the porch light. Then, holding her breath, she
pulled open the heavy wooden front door.
And stared out through the glass of the storm door.
No one there. The porch was empty.
But the scraping sound continued.
Beyond the porch, trees bowed and trembled in a strong, gusting
wind. Dead leaves rustled across the yard.
Hesitantly, she pushed open the storm door.
Her legs were shaking, she realized. She still hadn't dared to
breathe.
She leaned forward into the rectangle of yellow light.
The scraping sound - she could see now what was causing it.
A large, brown oak leaf was caught in the porch screen. The wind
kept scraping it against the screen.
Cassie finally breathed, exhaling noisily.
A sigh of relief But the relief lasted only until she saw a large,
brown envelope tucked into the porch door.
She had been right.
Whoever had been dating away into the shadows had left an
envelope.
Cassie peered out into the darkness, trying to make sure that he
hadn't come back, that he wasn't lurking there by the side of the
porch, waiting to grab her when she came out for the envelope.
She didn't see anyone.
The leaf scraped against the screen. The wind swirled.
Letting go of the storm door handle, she dashed onto the porch,
the cold floor against her bare feet sending a chill up her entire
body.
She grabbed the envelope, tugged it out from the porch door, and
leapt back into the safety of the house.
Holding the envelope under her arm, she silently closed the front
door and carefully locked it. Then she tiptoed up the stairs to her
room, shivering, the sound of the rushing wind, the scraping leaf,
following her up the stairs.
Shaking from the cold, and from her fright, she climbed into bed,
hoping to get warm there, holding the envelope in one hand, tugging the
covers up with the other. Then, with a trembling hand, she tore open
the envelope.
As she had imagined, it contained another Polaroid photo and
another note.
She gasped as she held the snapshot under her bedtable lamp.
There he was again. The corpse. The wide-eyed corpse, posing for
the camera.
He was standing on Cassie's front porch. One hand was on the
doorknob of the front door.
He was here, Cassie realized.
At my house. Standing on my porch. Standing at the door.
"And then I saw him run away," she said aloud.
So he isn't dead, she realized.
Brandt Tinkers isn't dead. He's alive. And he's trying to
terrify us.
No.
He is dead.
We saw him. We saw his sunken eyes.
I could smell that he was dead, she told herself He was at the
morgue. Dead. Dead. Dead.
But then he left the morgue....
This wild, unconnected thinking was leading nowhere. She closed
her eyes, counted to ten.
The note. She had forgotten to read the note.
It was on a folded-up sheet of lined notebook paper.
It didn't take long to read. It contained only two words,
scrawled in crayoned block letters: YOU'RE NEXT.
She knew she wasn't thinking clearly. But she had to talk to
someone. She was too scared to go to sleep, too scared to sit there
shivering under the covers, seeing the corpse standing on her porch,
seeing the two scrawled words, seeing the threat again and again.
She couldn't tell her parents.
Then they would have to be told everything, about how Cassie and
her friends had taken Eddie's car and gone out driving without any
licenses.
How they had hit and killed Brandt Tinkers and left him beside the
road, desperate not to get into trouble.
Trouble.
Trouble seemed like such a weak word for what was going on.
No, she couldn't tell her parents, even though she really wanted
to. It wouldn't be fair to the others.
So whom could she call? Eddie? No. She didn't want to frighten
him more. He was already to the breaking point.
Winks? No. Of course not.
She had to call Scott.
She didn't care what time it was. She just had to talk to him.
Scott would calm her down. Scott would understand. Maybe she and
Scott could come up with a plan. Maybe they could figure out what was
going on.
Her hand was shaking so violently, it took three tries to punch in
Scott's number. Sitting up in bed, she listened to the phone ring,
gripping the top of the blanket tightly with her free hand.
It rang four times before someone at Scott's house picked it up.
Then it took a long while before the voice finally said, "Hello?" in a
sleep-fogged voice.
It was Scott's mother.
"I'm sorry to call so late, Mrs. Baldwin," Cassie said in a
shrill voice she didn't recognize. "But can I talk to Scott? It's
pretty important."
"Who is this? Cassie?" Scott's mother wasn't entirely awake.
"Yes. Could I please talk to him? I'm really sorry.?) "But,
Cassie, he's asleep. His fever hasn't broken. " "Yes. Please.
Please wake him up. I just need to talk to him about . . . something.
Please," Cassie begged.
The line was silent for a long time.
All Cassie could hear was her own rapid breathing.
"Well, I'll see if I can wake him," Mrs. Baldwin said finally.
"Oh, thank you."
Cassie heard the phone clank, as if hitting the
floor. Through the phone she heard footsteps, the groan of
floorboards, the sound of Mrs. Baldwin going down the hall to wake
Scott.
It seemed to take forever.
Cassie sat rigidly in her bed, her back against the hard
headboard, her hand still gripping the top of the blanket, the phone
receiver pressed tightly to her ear.
Finally, she heard footsteps approaching the phone, then the sound
of someone fumbling for the receiver on the other end.
"Cassie - " It was Mrs. Baldwin, sounding wide awake now, and
very frightened.
"Cassie, Scott isn't there! He's gone!"
Cassie Is Next Cassie stepped out under a dark, threatening sky.
She shifted her heavy backpack on her shoulders and, bowing her
head against the wind, trudged down the driveway and headed toward
school.
It had rained during the night. The ground was soft and puddled.
" I should've worn boots," she said aloud, glancing down at her
sneakers.
She hopped over a large gray puddle and stepped into the street.
A stream of water rolled down the curbside, flowing like a small river
into the drain.
It must've rained really hard, she realized.
Funny. I didn't hear it.
She always liked to lie in bed and listen to the soft whisper of
rain on the roof. It made her feel so warm and protected.
Shifting the backpack again, stepping around a
deep, muddy puddle in the street, she felt unsettled now.
So many troubling thoughts.
So many fears pulling her one way, then another.
She realized she felt weary, even though she had just woken up.
A horn honked behind her.
Cassie let out a startled yelp and leapt to the curb as the North
Avondale bus rumbled by. She recognized several kids on the bus. She
waved, but they stared back at her, faces distorted in the window
glass, and didn't wave back.
It's so cold and windy, she thought, rewrapping the red wool scarf
around her neck. I should've taken the bus.
Only two more blocks to walk.
A dog barked from the front stoop of an old red brick house across
the street.
The sky grew even darker. Two cars passed, their headlights
cutting through the morning darkness.
What day is this? Cassie asked herself. Is it Monday?
Why couldn't she remember?
Such a simple thing. Why couldn't she remember what day it was?
She was still trying to remember when she realized the car was
following her.
She turned her head, the backpack straps straining against her
chest.
It was a black car. A big black car with heavy chrome all over
the front. Its headlights were dark.
The windshield was dark. She couldn't see the driver.
It pulled up behind her, then slowed.
Cassie moved to the curb.
The car didn't speed up. Didn't pass her.
Who is it? she wondered, staring hard into the darkened
windshield. What do they want?
She started to walk faster.
The car picked up speed.
She started to run.
The car picked up more speed.
Gripped with fear, Cassie tried to utter a cry for help. But no
sound came out.
She tried again to scream.
Silence.
She leapt over the curb, her sneakers splashing through tall
grass, and onto the sidewalk.
To her horror, the car roared off the road, bumped over the curb,
and came after her over the sidewalk.
Help!
She tried again to cry out.
Again, no sound came out of her mouth.
It was closing in on her, going to run her down.
She was going to be mowed down, struck - just like Winks.
YOU'RE NEXT.
The words of the note came back to her.
YOU'RE NEXT.
Help me! Won't somebody help me!
The car was inches behind her. The engine roar seemed to surround
her, swallow her up.
Help me!
She tossed off the heavy backpack and kept running.
The car rolled over it, making a loud crunching sound as it
closed in on her.
Where is everybody? Won't somebody help me?
Cassie wondered.
An(i then, without thinking about it, she spun around.
And peered through the windshield only a few feet from her face.
And saw the corpse behind the wheel.
"Cassie!" he called, his dark eyes aglow, his voice a dry rush of
wind.
"Cassie!" he repeated. "Cassie! Cassie! Cassie!"
The throaty whisper of death.
As he moved to run her over, the dead man repeated her name again
and again.
"Cassie! Cassie! Cassie!"
Why Would Scott Do It?
"Cassie! Cassie! Cassie!"
Cassie felt hands on her shoulders. Someone was shaking her.
"Cassie! Cassie!"
Cassie blinked, struggled to keep her eyes open.
Her mother hovered over her, gently shaking her by the shoulders.
"Cassie - wake up."
"Huh?" She coughed, blinked again. Bright sunlight filtered
through the curtains at the window.
"I've been trying to wake you up for hours, but you wouldn't
move," her mother said, letting go of her shoulders but not backing
away.
Cassie sat up and rubbed her eyes.
"You'll be late for school," her mother said, walking over to the
window, pushing the curtains aside, and pulling the window open a
crack. Cool air immediately rushed into the room.
"I had the worst dream," Cassie told her mother,
finally realizing that walking to school, being chased by
the corpse in the car, was all a dream, a horrifying dream.
"I couldn't wake you. It was unbelievable," her mother said,
picking up a pair of jeans from the floor, folding them, and putting
them over a chairback. "Didn't you sleep well last night?"
"No, not too much," Cassie confessed, swinging her legs around and
climbing out of bed. Standing up, she felt as if she weighed a
thousand pounds.
She stretched.
"Well, hurry up and get dressed. I'll make you some toast you can
eat on the way," Mrs. Martin said, heading to the door. "Hurry.
You're really late. " Who cares? Cassie thought glumly, watching her
mother leave.
She dropped back down onto the bed and buried her face in her
still-warm pillow. She'd been wide awake all night, until about five
o'clock when she finally succumbed to sleep.
All the while, she'd been thinking about Scott.
Puzzling about Scott.
Torturing herself about Scott.
She knew it couldn't be Scott who had run Winks down. It couldn't
be Scott who was terrifying Eddie and her, threatening them,
threatening to run them down, too.
It couldn't be Scott. No way.
But all the evidence pointed to Scott.
Where was he last night when Cassie had called?
He was supposedly sick in bed with a very high fever. But when
his mother went to wake him up, he was gone.
Where?
Cassie knew where. He was out putting a frightening photo and
note on her porch.
Where did he get the corpse? Why was he using the corpse to scare
them? Why had he tried to kill his good friend Winks?
Why did he want to kill her next?
Those questions Cassie couldn't answer.
But she knew why he wasn't in his bed last night.
She had seen him scampering into the hedges after leaving the
brown envelope for her.
There were other signs that also pointed to Scott.
The Polaroid pictures. The three of them had teased him about his
new Polaroid camera.
And in the first photo, the corpse had been sitting in Scott's
car.
And Scott was the only one who hadn't received any frightening
phone calls or notes.
It all added up to Scott.
But why?
It made no sense. It couldn't be Scott, she told herself.
Couldn't. Couldn't. Couldn't.
Still not fully awake, still feeling unsettled, flashes of her
terrifying dream lingering in her mind, Cassie sat up and reached for
the phone.
She hesitated for a second, then
took a deep breath and punched in Scott's number.
She had to ask him why he wasn't home in bed in the middle of the
night. She had to ask him where he was. She ha(l to know.
She let the phone ring twelve times.
No one answered.
"Cassie, where are you?" her mother called from downstairs.
She --replaced the receiver and forced herself to stand up. "I
just want to stay in bed," she said to herself in the mirror over the
dresser.
But she couldn't. For one thing, she had her driver's test
that afternoon.
This was supposed to be an exciting (lay, she thought miserably,
pulling on some clothes without even noticing what she had selected.
A few minutes later, she was half-walking, half jogging to
school, chewing on the slice of buttered toast' her mother had handed
her as she hurried out the door.
At least I'm not being pursued by a corpse in a big black car, she
told herself, looking behind her just to make sure.
She arrived at her locker just as the second homeroom bell rang,
and spotted Eddie at his locker across the hall. "Hey, Eddie - wait -
" she called.
"We're late," Eddie called to her, slamming his locker, turning
the combination on his lock. "See you later!"
"I know who it is, Eddie!"
mouth dropped in surprise.
"I know!" Cassie declared.
now." Mr. Murphy, Eddie's homeroom teacher, peered out from the
doorway.
Eddie gave Cassie a helpless shrug. "Gotta run.
Later - okay?" He started toward his room.
"What are you doing after school?"
"Taking my driver's test," Cassie called, disappointed that she
didn't get to confide in Eddie, didn't get to tell him about last
night.
The door closed behind him.
She stood in the middle of the hall for a while, uncertain of what
to do.
It was going to be a long day.
Cassie's driver's test seemed to be over almost before it had
begun.
To her surprise, the test was given by a young woman. She made
Cassie feel comfortable right away. Cassie drove a few blocks, made a
few right and left turns, made a successful U-turn, and parallel-parked
between two poles.
"That was easy, wasn't it?" the young examiner said, unbuckling
her seat belt and climbing out of the car. "Go see the man in window
eleven for your temporary license. Your real license will be mailed in
six weeks."
"You mean I passed?" Cassie asked, stunned, still sitting behind the wheel.
The examiner laughed. "That's all there is to it.
Drive carefully." She hurried to meet her next testtaker.
"Drive carefully," Cassie repeated to herself.
What a joke!
For a few minutes, while taking the test, she had managed to shut
out all the frightening events of the past few weeks. But now those
two words "Drive Carefully" - had brought it all rushing back to her.
This is a big day in my life, she told herself. I should go out
and celebrate tonight.
But she certainly didn't feel like celebrating.
Her parents noticed her lack of enthusiasm at dinner. "Aren't you
thrilled about passing your test the first time?" her mother asked.
"Guess we'll never see you anymore," her dad said, only
half-joking. And then he added, "I thought you'd be more excited."
Cassie struggled to swallow a piece of chicken.
"I - I guess I don't really believe it yet," she replied. It was
a lame excuse, she realized, but her parents seemed to buy it.
She hurried up to her room after dinner, intent on calling Scott.
But the moment she started to lift the receiver, the phone rang.
"Oh!" she cried, startled, and picked it up, somehow expecting it to
be Scott on the other end.
"Hi, Cassie." It was Eddie.
"You scared me," she said. "I was just going to call Scott and -
" "Did you pass it?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes. It was easy," she told him. "I couldn't believe how easy
it was."
"You got it? You got your license?"
"Yeah. They give you a temporary card right away," she replied.
"Well, can you take me driving tonight?" he asked.
"Huh? Tonight? Eddie "My mom said if you passed your test,
she'd let me borrow the car tonight if you wanted to take me to
practice. My test is Friday, see."
"Well, I don't know. . . ." Cassie said reluctantly.
"Please," he begged. "It's my only night to practice before my
test."
"I'm really tired," Cassie said truthfully. She'd barely been
able to keep her eyes open during dinner.
"Pretty please," Eddie pleaded. "You said you wanted to talk to
me, remember? This morning when we were late?"
"Yeah, I guess," Cassie said. She did want to tell Eddie about
Scott, and about the photo and note she'd received. "Okay. I'll be
right over," she said wearily. "But we'll just drive for a short
while, okay?"
"Great! Thanks!" Eddie replied
gratefully.
"Hurry!" He hung up.
She put down the receiver, then picked it up and punched in
Scott's number.
A busy signal.
Well, at least someone was home.
She'd try him again later, she decided, after she discussed
everything with Eddie.
it was a clear, cold evening, an orange moon still die's. He
lived too nearby to drive there. His parents weren't home. They
climbed into the old Chevy, Eddie behind the wheel, and took off.
Eddie seemed more excited than usual, his cheeks blushing, his
wiry body tense, hyper. As they drove through town, Cassie described
the driver's test to him, step by step.
He agreed that it sounded like a breeze.
He pulled too quickly through a four-way stop.
Cassie told him to be more careful.
Before she realized it, they were past town and heading along
Route 12, nearly deserted as always.
"Let's not go too far, okay, Eddie? I really am tired tonight.
Didn't sleep," Cassie said, glancing at the dashboard clock.
"I talked to Winks," Eddie said. "He called me.
Isn't that great?@' "How did he sound?" Cassie asked, very
pleased.
"Like Winks," Eddie replied. "He sounded the same. He's going
to be okay. He said he might even get sprung from the hospital next
week."
"Oh, that's great news!" Cassie exclaimed. "A little more to the
right, Eddie. You're going over the center line."
"Oh. Sorry. I wasn't paying attention," he apologized, turning
the wheel. "Tell me what you were going to tell me this morning. You
said you know who's scaring us."
"Yeah. I mean, I think I know," Cassie said. "The only problem
is, I don't know why he's doing it. It doesn't really make any sense."
"Well, why don't you keep a person in suspense?"
Eddie said sarcastically, slowing down as an oncoming oil truck
roared past.
Cassie took a deep breath and then told Eddie about the night
before, about the note and the snapshot, seeing the figure run across
her yard, trying to phone Scott, Scott being missing in the middle of
the night.
Eddie's face froze in surprise. He kept shaking his head as he
drove. "I don't believe it," he muttered. "How could Scott do that to
Winks? I mean He started to say something else. But a sudden
explosion - like a burst of gunfire - rocked the car.
Cassie screamed.
Eddie hit the brakes as the car careened out of control.
Where's the Spare?
The car squealed to a stop on the soft dirt shoulder of the
highway and bounced a few times.
Eddie, both hands gripping the wheel, his eyes wide with shock,
stared straight ahead through the windshield.
Cassie waited for her heart to stop pounding, then turned to
Eddie. "We're okay." "Yeah," he said, swallowing hard.
"I think you've had a blowout."
He looked very bewildered. "You mean - a tire?"
"Yeah. A flat tire," Cassie said. She pushed open her door.
"Let's take a look."
She stepped out into the darkness. She could see immediately that
the right rear tire had gone flat.
"Hey, aren't you coming out?" she called. Eddie hadn't moved
from behind the wheel. In the dim light from the car ceiling, she
could see him staring ,;straight ahead, as if thinking hard,
concentrating on something.
"Eddie?"
He spun around, finally hearing her. "Oh. Sorry."
Shaking his head, he climbed out of the car and came around(I to
her side. "Oh, no," he groaned.
"It's just a flat," Cassie said, surprised by how upset he was.
"We can fix it real fast. All those tirechanging practices in driver's ed will actually come in handy."
"No," Eddie said softly.
"Huh?" Cassie started around to the driver's side.
Eddie said something from behind the car, but she didn't hear
him. She reached under the steering wheel, turned off the ignition,
and pulled the key out.
"No," Eddie said, holding his hand up to stop her as she came back
around to the trunk.
"Really, Eddie," she said impatiently. "It's just a flat tire.
It's not the end of the world."
"We can't fix it," Eddie insisted, his eyes wild.
He's still frightened from the blowout, Cassie thought. It was
pretty frightening. The first thing I thought was that someone was
shooting at us.
How awful! Poor Eddie must've been really scared, too.
"Tell you what," she offered. "Help me haul out the spare, and
I'll change the tire. Do you have a WHERE'S THE SPARE? 149
flashlight in the trunk? You can hold the light on it.
It's so dark out here."
"No," Eddie repeated.
"No, what?" Cassie asked, bewildered.
"I don't have a spare," he said.
"You don't?" she cued, surprised. "You must have one. Come on.
Let's check."
She put the key in the trunk lock.
"No!" Eddie cried, and lunged toward her. "I don't have a
spare, Cassie. Don't open the trunk."
"Eddie - " "Don't open the trunk!"
He made a desperate grab for the key, but he was too late.
Cassie turned the key in the lock, and the trunk lid popped open.
She peered inside.
Then she raised both hands to her face and started to scream.
Just a Joke Folded neatly in the trunk, its arms and legs tucked
in like a laundered shirt, the corpse stared up at Cassie with.its
dull, lifeless eyes.
Its gray face held a distorted smile. Some stitching on the lips
had popped open. A piece of skin on the forehead had peeled back,
revealing dark bone.
"No!" She screamed and took a step back.
"I warned you," Eddie said softly.
"Eddie - " She couldn't take her eyes off the corpse, folded so
neatly, so carefully in the center of the trunk. "Eddie - it's been
you all along!"
Eddie had moved behind her and blocked her path. "I'm real
sorry," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm real sorry, Cassie."
She whirled around to face him, but the staring dead eyes of the
corpse stayed in her mind. "Eddie - I don't understand."
"I'm real sorry," he repeated, his dark eyes staring hard into
hers. "I wasn't ready for you. This wasn't supposed to happen yet."
He took a step toward her, his eyes unblinking, as unblinking as
the dead man's, his expression tense, studying her face.
"But, why?" Cassie managed to ask. "Why have you been doing this
to us?"
A small pickup truck roared by without slowing.
There was no other traffic in sight.
A cold wind swirled about them, bending the tall grass in the
fields on both sides of the narrow highway.
Cassie was too frightened, too confused, to notice the wind.
"Why, Eddie? What are you doing with this this corpse?" she
asked, not recognizing her shrill, frightened voice.
"It was just a joke," he said softly, his hands stiffly at his
sides. "Just a joke. At least it started out that way."
"A joke?" Cassie glanced into the open trunk, then quickly away.
The corpse stared out at her. The dim trunk light made its skin a
hideous green.
She felt sick. Her legs were shaking. Her- whole body trembled.
"Everyone hates me," Eddie said, without any emotion at all, his
eyes staring straight ahead at her, his face a blank. "Everyone hates
me. No one cares. No one."
"That's not true she interrupted.
But he raised a hand to silence her.
"It is true," he insisted, raising his voice to a shout. "Why
else would they play all the jokes on me? Winks and everyone else.
Always trying to make me look like a fool, always trying to scare me to
death."
"But, Eddie "I know they all call me Scaredy Katz," he
continued heatedly, balling and unballing his fists. "I know they
all laugh at me, think I'm a chicken.
Winks and Scott - and you, too, Cassie."
"Eddie, people only play jokes on people they like," Cassie said.
She knew it was lame, but the hatred on Eddie's face, the uncontrolled
anger, was really terrifying her.
"That's a stupid lie!" Eddie screamed. "Everyone makes fun of
me. Everyone makes fun of Scaredy Katz. Everyone tries to frighten
me, tries to make me feel like I'm some kind of poor, timid freak."
"Eddie - " Cassie didn't know what to say.
In a way, Eddie was right. They had all been cruel to him. But
no one realized how deeply he had felt the pain from their jokes.
They were just jokes, after all.
"So I decided to show you what it's like to be scared. Really
scared," Eddie said, his face filled with menace now as he took a step
toward Cassie.
"I worked it all out myself. My own little practical joke.
First, I borrowed the corpse from Jerry.
Then - " Cassie gasped. "Wait a minute, Eddie," she cried,
raising both hands to her face. "Wait a minute. Do you mean that we
didn't kill this guy? We didn't hit him that night in your car?"
A pleased grin spread slowly across Eddie's face.
"You were all so stupid," he said scornfully. "We didn't kill
him. He'd been dead for days. He was so stiff, he stood up by
himself."
Run!
Eddie shook his head, grinning at her.
Cassie suddenly felt weak.
All that guilt, she thought. All those nightmares.
We all felt so terrible. Like criminals.
And Tinkers had already been dead.
He'd been dead for days.
"Jerry helped you do this?" Cassie cued, her voice revealing her
fear, her confusion.
"He was up on the underpass," Eddie said, still grinning, a grin
of triumph. "Jerry stood the corpse in the road when he saw my car
coming."
"But - but who is he?" she demanded, glancing to the open car
trunk.
"Some homeless guy," Eddie replied, shrugging his narrow
shoulders. "No one claimed him. So Jerry let me borrow him."
"So that you could terrify us? So that you could RUN!
mow Winks down? So that. you could kill us?"
The grin faded from Eddie's face. "I wanted you to know what it's
like to be afraid, really afraid."
"But, Eddie - " "I wanted you to think that the corpse was coming
after you, that it had come back to life, that it wanted to take its
revenge. But you were too smart for that. You didn't believe it was
the corpse."
He closed his eyes. He let out a long cry, a cry of anger mixed
with sadness. "So I decided to do more than frighten you. I decided
to pay you back.
For all the jokes. For all the laughter. For all the times you
frightened me and made me feel like a cowardly baby!"
He was shouting now, his dark eyes blazing, his face quivering,
out of control as his fury escaped.
"I got Winks. Scaredy Katz got Winks. I showed him. Now, it's
your turn, Cassie!"
"No!" she cried, her mind spinning desperately, trying to think
of something to say to him, something to calm him.
But it was too late.
He had reached into the trunk and pulled out a tire iron. "Your
turn, Cassie," he said, raising it menacingly over his head, moving
toward her quickly. "Your turn!"
"Eddie - no!" she screamed, raising her hands in front of her as
if they could protect her. "No!"
He stopped, holding the tire iron high. "Don't worry. I'm going
to give you a chance. " He gestured with the tire iron, swinging it
wildly. "Go on. Get going. Run!"
"Oh!" Cassie spun around, trying to focus her eyes on the dark
countryside. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Stretching
on both sides of the deserted highway was nothing but flat, open
grassland.
"Run!" Eddie screamed, his voice raw and threatening behind her.
"Run!"
Cassie started to run down the highway, bending low into the
swirling wind.
"Run! Run!"
She could still hear Eddie screaming.
And then the screaming stopped. And the only sound was the rapid
thud of her sneakers against the pavement.
She heard the roar of the car engine.
Spinning around, the white light of the headlights caught her,
trapped her, blinded her for a moment.
She stood paralyzed, like a frightened rabbit.
The lights grew brighter.
The car roared forward.
He's going to run me down, she realized.
Smashup The lights grew brighter, blindingly bright.
Cassie tried to run, but it was too late.
Even with its flat tire, the car was coming too fast. The roar of
its engine drowned out the flap flap flap of the empty rear tire,
drowned out all of Cassie's thoughts, seemed to encircle her, pull her
in.
She cried out as she heard the crash.
I'm dead, she thought.
I'm hit.
He's killed me.
She waited for the pain, the overwhelming pain, waited for the
darkness to fall over her.
But the crash continue-(! behind her.
The crush of metal against metal.
The crunch and tinkle of shattering glass.
The squeal of tires as they skidded over the pavement.
I'm not hit, she realized.
I'm okay!
She turned to see that another car had barreled into the side of
Eddie's Chevy. Another car had collided with the old Chevy, pushed it
off the road onto the soft shoulder.
A silver Volvo.
Scott's car.
The driver's door opened, and Scott climbed out.
"Cassie?"
She ran to him. "Scott! Scott! I'm here!" She threw herself
into Scott's arms, pressing her face against his down coat. "It was
Eddie," she cried.
"Eddie. He wanted to kill us."
"I know," Scott said softly.
It took Cassie a while to realize that someone else had climbed
out of Scott's car. It was Jerry.
He ran to the Chevy and dragged Eddie out of the car.
"Jerry - what are you doing here?" Eddie cried, his face filled
with confusion. "Why'd you wreck my car?"
Jerry pulled Eddie roughly over to Cassie and Scott. The four of
them stood spotlighted in the Volvo's headlights. Jerry held Eddie
tightly by the shoulders.
"It was supposed to be a joke, Eddie,"Jerry cried angrily. "You
said it was going to be a joke. You never said anything about running
people down, hurting people."
"It was a joke," Eddie said, his dark eyes wild,
darting from one of them to the other. "It was a big joke. " "People
got hurt, Eddie," Jerry said, holding on to his cousin tightly. "Winks
is your friend. You nearly killed him."
"No one is my friend," Eddie said bitterly.
"How did you find us?" Cassie asked Scott, still leaning against
him, still feeling as if she needed his protection. "How did you know
where we were?"
"I took a guess," Scott replied. "Jerry called me.
He said he was real worried about Eddie."
"Yeah," Jerry interrupted, hooking at Eddie.
"When I saw those Polaroids yesterday when you came to the morgue,
I knew something was wrong.
I knew Eddie was up to something bad. I've been trying to reach
him ever since."
"Eddie's mom told us you took him driving," Scott said, his arm
around her, warming her, calming her. "So I just figured we'd find you
here on Route 12."
"I'm so glad," Cassie said, sighing.
But then she suddenly remembered something.
She pulled away from Scott and eyed him coldly.
"Scott, I have to ask you something."
"Huh?"
"Where were you last night? In the middle of the night? I called
you. Your mom went to look for you, and you were gone. I was so
frightened, I started to think - " Scott put
a warm hand over her mouth to cut her off. "I was sleepwalking," he
told her. "Sometimes I do that when I have a high fever. It's really
kind of scary. Mom found me walking behind the garage.
She led me back to my room."
"Sleepwalking?" Cassie cried.
"I don't remember it at all," Scott said.
"I tried to call you this morning - " Cassie started.
"Mom took me to the doctor first thing," Scott told her. "But he
doesn't have a cure for sleepwalking. It's happened to me a few times
before.
It's so scary. Luckily, my fever is down."
"You're weird," Jerry told Scott.
"Let me go," Eddie insisted, struggling to break away from his
cousin.
"Take it easy," Jerry insisted. "We're going to get you the help
you need, Eddie."
"Help? I don't need help!" Eddie cried.
"We'll have to take my car," Scott said, walking toward the two
cars. "Eddie's car is pretty banged up." "And it has a flat tire,"
Cassie told them. "That's how I discovered the corpse. I opened the
trunk and - " "The corpse? It's here?" Jerry asked, surprised.
"In Eddie's trunk," Cassie said, picturing the torn forehead, the
dull, sunken eyes.
"Well, let's get it out so I can return it," Jerry said, still
holding on to Eddie, but moving quickly toward Eddie's car. "Okay if
we put it in your trunk, Scott?"
"I guess," Scott said reluctantly, a sick look on his face.
Jerry pulled open the Chevy's trunk, and they all peered inside.
The corpse was gone.
No More Jokes Two weeks later, Cassie, Scott, and Jerry were
gathered at Winks's house. Winks was still confined to the house.
They were doing their best to entertain him and keep him from going
stir-crazy.
"And no one ever found the corpse?" Winks asked, raising the cast
on his arm so that he could scratch his side with his good hand.
"No." Cassie shook her head.
"Eddie kept insisting it was alive, really alive," Scott said.
And then he added, "Poor guy."
"He's getting treatment from good doctors," Jerry said, slouching
down on the leather armchair.
"Well, a corpse can't just get up and walk away, can it?" Winks
asked, puzzling over this story.
"This one did, " Jerry said, shaking his head. "I've handled a
lot of corpses. I've had some snorers and some groaners, but this is
the first walker."
Yuck," Cassie said, making a face. "Can't we
talk about something else?"
"Hey, Jerry," Winks said, pushing himself up with the cast on his
arm, "Will you lend me another eyeball when I go back to school?"
"No way, man," Jerry said, holding up his hands.
"No more jokes for me. I've learned my lesson. No more jokes" -
and then he added slyly - "if I can help it."
Everyone laughed.
"Hey, I've got to get some sleep," Scott said, glancing at his
watch. "I've got my driver's test tomorrow." He stood up. "When's
your test, Winks?"
"Forget it," Winks said glumly. "From now on, I'm taking the
bus."
They all headed to the front door, Winks walking slowly but
deliberately, limping only slightly. He pulled open the door for them.
And then they all screamed in horror.
The corpse was standing in the doorway, his face pressed against
the storm door. His sunken eyes stared blindly into the house. The
skin flap on his forehead had pulled further open, revealing more
skull.
"No!" Cassie cried. "This is impossible!"
"How did he find us?" Winks cried.
Jerry's face filled with amusement. "One last joke, guys!" he
exclaimed. "Sorry." He couldn't contain his
laughter, which burst out as he surveyed their reactions.
"I found it on the side of the road, that night," he explained.
"In the tall grass. Eddie must have tossed it out of the trunk
before he came after you, Cassie.
"So you went back and got it?" Cassie demand(led.
Jerry nodded. "I've been saving it for just the right moment,"
he declared.
"Well, this wasn't it!" Cassie said.
"Let's get him!" Scott cried.
Jerry pushed open the storm door, toppling the well-traveled
corpse, and started to run full speed.
(down the (drive, with Cassie and Scott in close pursuit.
Winks watched them chase Jerry down the block.
Then he stepped out onto the stoop and propped the corpse back
up in front of the door.
"Hey, Mom! Dad!" he called, stepping back into the house.
"There's someone at the door who wants to see you!"
About the Author R. L. STINE is the author of more than eighty
books of humor, adventure, and mystery for young readers. He has
written more than twenty thrillers such as this one.
In addition to his publishing work, he is head writer of the
children's TV show Eureeka's Castle, seen on Nickelodeon.
He lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, and their son,
Matt.