Without bothering to turn on the light, he dropped onto his bed. He sniffed.
“Hey.” Something smells weird in here, he thought.
He sat up.
That smell again. So sour. Getting stronger.
“Wow.” It—it’s awful, Brandt thought as the stench rose around him. It smells like—
He didn’t want to think about what it smelled like. But he knew.
It smelled like decay. Like rotten meat.
I’m going to be sick, he thought.
He jumped up and started to the window to let in some fresh air.
But he stopped when he saw a light under his closet door.
There is no light in my closet, Brandt remembered.
He took a step closer, his eyes on the floor. The light was green, a sickening green glow that seemed to grow brighter as Brandt stared at it.
He took another step toward the closet. Then another.
What could be inside?
He put his hand on the doorknob—and immediately jerked it back.
The doorknob felt wet and slimy.
Brandt stared at his hand. It was covered in a disgusting green goo. He rubbed it on his jeans.
The slime stuck to his hand.
The green glow brightened, casting the entire room in its sickening green.
The foul odor rose up around him.
I’ve got to get out of here, he thought.
But no. He had to find out what was inside the closet.
What was behind that door?
He swallowed his nausea and forced himself back to the closet door.
He gripped the slimy doorknob and turned it.
The closet door pulled open.
A flash of white light.
What was it?
What was in there?
He didn’t see it until it was too late.
And then it sprang out at him, choking off his terrified scream.
Chapter 10
A flash of white. Heavy like smoke. Choking and sour.
It burst from the closet as if shot out, and covered Brandt’s face in a white cloud.
It—it’s strangling me, Brandt realized.
He tore at the cloud wildly, frantically. But he couldn’t grab hold of it.
Coughing, sputtering, and gasping for air, he staggered blindly toward the door to his room. And fell to his knees.
The door swung open. The light came on. Mrs. McCloy uttered a frightened cry. “Brandt—what are you doing down there?”
“Huh?” He gazed up at her, struggling to focus his eyes. “Mom?”
She dropped down beside him. “Brandt?”
“Mom, I—uh—” Brandt stared at the open closet door.
What had happened? It was all gone now.
No choking white cloud. No green glow.
No putrid stench of death.
All vanished the instant his mother opened the door.
But Brandt knew it would be back.
It’s after me, Brandt thought, unable to stop the trembling that convulsed his entire body.
Something is in this house—and it’s after me.
• • •
Well, well. You’re beginning to get it now, Brandt, Cally’s ghost thought.
She laughed, watching him pace nervously back and forth in his room. He examined the closet for the tenth time. Then he sat down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking hard.
You’re a smart boy, Brandt, Cally thought scornfully.
You’re beginning to understand.
Something is after you.
I’m after you.
• • •
Coach Hurley blew his whistle. “One on one!” he shouted. “Line up.”
It was the next afternoon. Brandt stood at half-court, the basketball in his hand.
Turning to one side, he saw Jinny and Meg watching from the bleachers. Jinny waved to him and shouted something he couldn’t hear.
Hope I don’t mess up, Brandt thought. He’d been thinking a lot about both girls. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of them.
“Burks, McCloy—go ahead!” Coach Hurley ordered.
Why does the coach always pair me up with Jon? Brandt wondered miserably. He must think we’re friends or something.
“Come on, McCloy. Let’s go,” Jon taunted.
Brandt bounced the basketball. He crouched low, trying to dribble past Jon and shoot a basket. Jon guarded him closely.
“Watch for fouls, Burks!” the coach yelled at Jon. “You led the team in fouls last year. I’m keeping my eye on you.”
Brandt charged hard, trying to slip past Jon. Finally, with a loud groan of effort, he dodged to the left and took his shot.
The ball hit the rim and dropped in.
Scowling, Jon snatched the ball and ran to half-court. Brandt set his legs, prepared to guard him.
Jon dribbled toward the basket. Brandt backed up, trying to stay with him.
Then, with a burst of speed, Jon charged right into him.
“Hey!” Brandt cried out as he toppled over backward. He landed hard on one elbow. Pain shot up his arm as the elbow scraped over the hardwood floor.
The coach blew his whistle. “Jon! I warned you!”
“I didn’t touch him!” Jon protested. “He tripped!”
Shaken, Brandt sat up quickly to examine his elbow. He gasped as he saw the black bruise spread across his arm like a dark stain.
No! he thought, frozen in horror, watching the black stain widen.
My condition . . .
The stain darkened and spread up his arm.
How can I keep everyone from seeing it? Brandt wondered.
Too late, he realized, gazing up.
Coach Hurley and all the players were staring down at him in horror.
Chapter 11
Brandt covered part of the blackening bruise with his other hand. Coach Hurley leaned over him, his eyes narrowed with concern. “You okay?” he demanded, staring at Brandt’s arm. “That’s a nasty-looking bruise. I didn’t think you fell that hard.”
“No big deal,” Brandt replied, trying to sound calm. He turned, moving the arm out of view. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Sit out the rest of the practice anyway, just in case,” Coach Hurley advised.
“Really, I’m all right,” Brandt insisted.
The coach shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
Brandt trotted unsteadily back to the others. He saw Jon dribbling the ball casually at the foul line. As Brandt moved past, he caught the triumphant grin on Jon’s face.
• • •
Brandt lay awake that night as the faces of the kids he’d met floated through his mind. He pictured Abbie, her lively blue eyes, her straight blond hair, her musical laugh.
Jinny and Meg entered his thoughts. They both flirted with him whenever they saw him. It was obvious they were competing for him—even though Jinny was already going with Jon.
Jon . . .
Have I already made an enemy? Brandt wondered.
Jon . . .
Bad practice today, Brandt thought, rubbing his elbow. The bruise had already started to fade. But Coach Hurley had stared at it, stared at Brandt suspiciously.
Tomorrow will be better, Brandt vowed. I’ll show Hurley how tough I am.
Creak.
The faces disappeared from Brandt’s mind as he heard the sound above his head.
A footstep. Then another.
Brandt sat up in bed, listening.
Creak, creak.
Footsteps. Someone was walking around in the attic.
Don’t go up there, Brandt told himself. Just stay here. Stay here and be safe.
But he knew he couldn’t do that.
Creak, creak, creak,
He climbed out of bed and tiptoed into the dark hallway. His parents were asleep. Their door was closed.
The door to the attic opened with a soft squeak. Brandt leaned in and listened for the footsteps.
He heard
them. Steady, even steps, as if someone were pacing over the creaking floorboards.
Brandt silently crept up the stairs. He fumbled against the wall. Clicked on the light.
The long, low room was a shimmering blur. He squinted hard, waiting for his eyes to adjust.
No one there.
Weird, Brandt thought. I heard the footsteps just a second ago.
He searched the attic, behind all the boxes and crates. No one.
He spotted something in the middle of the floor. A small notebook.
How could I have missed that? he asked himself, staring hard at it.
It was as if someone had put it there on purpose.
Brandt sat on the floor and opened the notebook.
It was a diary, he quickly discovered. A girl’s diary. She’d written her name on the first page.
CALLY FRASIER.
Brandt flipped through the pages. This must be the diary of one of those twins who used to live here, he thought. One of the girls Abbie told me about.
He skipped the parts in the beginning that seemed to be about some boy Cally liked. But then he came to a passage that interested him:
Anthony is so cute. He told us the most unbelievable story today. Of course Kody swallowed every word of it. My poor sister is so gullible. I have to admit it was scary. But it can’t be true. How could it?
Anthony said there’s a reason why our house seems so creepy. He told us about a man named Simon Fear. Anthony said Simon Fear and his wife, Angelica, were early settlers here. They used to live in a mansion down the street. Our street is named after them.
The Fears were really rich, and really strange. They tortured people and killed them. Angelica was really into weird stuff, Anthony said. And she used real live people to try out her strange powers.
Brandt turned the page and continued reading.
The Fears buried their victims in a secret graveyard. This all took place about a hundred years ago. Then, about thirty years ago, when workers were building this house, they found the graves. But they went ahead and built the house on top of the graveyard.
When the house was finished, the family who built it came to look at it. A man, his wife, and his two kids.
The man left his family in the living room for a few minutes—and when he came back, he found them dead. Anthony swears that their heads were missing. Something or someone had ripped their heads right off their necks! It’s so gross!
Brandt set the diary down to take this in. Something or someone had ripped their heads right off their necks.
A wave of nausea rose from his stomach. But he picked up the diary and read on.
That family never moved in, of course. No one did—until us. Of course Dad would be the first person in thirty years to buy the place!
Now Kody is positive the house is haunted. I don’t believe in any of that stuff—but I have to admit, there’s something weird about this place. And Anthony’s story was really scary. . . .
Brandt shut the diary.
I was right, he thought grimly. This house was built on a cursed spot. It is haunted.
I wonder what happened to Cally Frasier, he thought. I wonder where she lives now, what she’s doing. I wonder why she left her diary behind.
An unpleasant thought gripped him: Abbie said that one of the sisters had died. Was it Cally?
He set the diary on the floor where he found it. It fell open to the last page.
Brandt glanced at it, and a chill ran through his body as his question was answered.
On the top of the page, in blue ink, Cally had written: I died tonight.
• • •
Mr. Ross, Brandt’s chemistry teacher, rapped on his desk for attention. “People!” he shouted. The room grew quieter.
Brandt sat in the back row of the classroom. On his left sat Meg. On his right, Jinny, then Jon. Jinny was wearing a black miniskirt, black tights, and a black sweater to match her black hair.
She looks awesome, Brandt thought.
“Now that we’ve covered a lot of the basics of chemistry,” Mr. Ross began, “we’re ready to start our lab work. You’ll each need a partner. I’ll give you ten minutes to sort it out.”
The room erupted into loud discussions. Jon said, “We’re lab partners, right, Jinny?”
But Jinny gave Brandt a sly glance and replied, “Well, Jon, I don’t know. Brandt and I already talked about being lab partners. I sort of promised him. Didn’t I, Brandt?”
She turned to Brandt.
Brandt hesitated. He saw Jon scowling at him. This was the first he’d heard any talk about lab partners. But it would be fun to work with Jinny, he thought. And it would be fun to make Jon even more jealous.
“Yeah, right,” he told her. “A promise is a promise.”
Jinny grinned.
“Jinny, you’re sitting next to Jon,” Meg complained. “I’ll be Brandt’s lab partner.”
“No way. I promised Brandt,” Jinny insisted.
Meg let out an exasperated sigh. “Jinny, what’s your problem? We’re only talking about lab partners here. You’ll be Jon’s partner and I’ll be Brandt’s. It’s easier that way.”
“Why don’t you be Jon’s lab partner?” Jinny suggested with a sly grin. “That’s just as easy.”
“That settles it,” Brandt announced. “Meg and Jon are lab partners. Jinny’s my partner. I’ll go tell Mr. Ross.”
The bell rang just as Brandt stood up to go to Mr. Ross’s desk. Brandt could feel Jon’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head.
The teacher wrote down the partner assignments, and the students filed noisily out of the classroom.
Brandt found Jinny waiting for him in the hall. “I hope you don’t mind my little lie,” she said. “I mean, what I said about promising to be your lab partner. I just didn’t want to work with Jon. He’s so bad at chemistry, and he’d make me do all the work.”
“Hey, no problem,” Brandt told her. “Listen, why don’t you come over to my house this Saturday? We can get a head start on our project.”
Jinny’s dark eyes lit up. She flashed her dazzling smile at Brandt. “That sounds great. Where do you live?”
“On Fear Street. Ninety-nine Fear Street.”
Jinny’s smile faded. “Ninety-nine . . . Fear Street? Are you serious?”
Brandt nodded. “Yeah. I’m serious.”
“Weird,” she murmured.
“It’s just a house,” Brandt replied with a shrug.
“Well—it can’t be all bad if you live there,” she said softly, her eyes locked on his.
“Excellent!” Brandt exclaimed. “Come over around two.”
He watched her as she walked down the hall to her next class.
Yes! he thought. Excellent.
Now—how to get Mom and Dad out of the house?
• • •
“Okay! Lay-ups!” Coach Hurley’s deep voice echoed through the gym.
Brandt lined up with the other guys to run down the court, leap into the air, and shoot the ball into the basket with one hand.
When his turn came, Brandt dribbled the ball quickly and smoothly, and went for a graceful lay-up. The ball rolled inside the rim and dropped out.
I’ll make the next one, he thought. He knew he’d looked good making the shot, at least.
Jon took his turn after Brandt. His lay-up swished perfectly through the hoop. He glanced at Brandt after the shot went through.
Yeah, I saw it, Jon, Brandt thought, rolling his eyes.
“Great shot, Jon. Let’s see you do it again,” Brandt shouted.
“Let’s see you do it once!” Jon taunted.
Brandt’s next lay-up was as graceful as the first. His lanky arms and legs moved in perfect symmetry.
And this time the ball dropped through the basket with a swish.
He didn’t glance at Jon to check his reaction. Instead, he coolly trotted back to the line as if nothing special had happened.
Jon’s next shot barely missed.
<
br /> Jon stood behind Brandt in line and whispered, “It’s a tie. One to one. Best out of three?”
Brandt nodded. He shook his arms and legs. They began to feel heavy and tired.
Come on, he urged himself. Don’t give out on me. Just one more shot.
The guy ahead of Brandt passed him the ball. Brandt caught it and dribbled toward the basket.
He leapt for the shot, the ball in his right hand. He stretched his right arm high into the air.
“Owwww!”
He cried out as he heard a loud snap.
Chapter 12
A sharp jolt shot through his shoulder.
Screeching in pain, Brandt clutched his shoulder. His arm felt dead.
It hung lifelessly at his side, pain shooting out from the joint, arching over his entire body.
Coach Hurley was at Brandt’s side immediately. “I think you dislocated it,” he said.
To Brandt’s amazement, the coach firmly gripped Brandt’s arm with both hands and shoved it back into place.
“Whoooooa!” Brandt cried in agony.
But the arm instantly felt better. The intense pain dulled to an ache.
“I’ve never seen anybody dislocate a shoulder that easily,” Mr. Hurley said, scratching his bald head. “You ever pull the arm out before?”
“No,” Brandt answered.
“Well, you’d better go to the nurse’s office and get a sling,” the coach told him. “You’ve got to get it X-rayed as soon as possible. I think your season may be over, son.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Brandt saw Jon smirk.
Brandt turned away, forcing down his angry feelings, and trudged slowly out of the gym to find the nurse.
• • •
Half an hour later Brandt started walking home, moving awkwardly with his arm in a sling. “How am I going to explain this to Mom and Dad?” he asked himself. “A fistfight in the student senate?”
He crossed Park Drive and was halfway down the next block, when someone stepped out of the shadows and darted toward him.
Instinctively, Brandt backed away. “Stay away!” he shouted.
“Hey, Brandt, it’s only me.” A girl stepped into a pool of sunlight.
Meg.
“I know you didn’t want to be my lab partner,” she joked, “but I didn’t think you were terrified of me!” She laughed her high-pitched, whistling laugh.