Bad Dreams (14 page)

But she could see it clearly—the bed, pushed against the far wall. The canopy was pressed right up against the low ceiling.

Maggie's heart began to pound as she made her way over to it.

Will I be able to sleep? she wondered, gazing at it in the tiny, dark space.

Will I be able to return to the dream?

Will I be able to solve this frightening mystery once and for all?

Maggie stopped a few feet from the bed—and gasped when she saw that someone was sleeping in it.

M
aggie moved closer on trembling legs.

The shadows deepened around the bed. The canopy made it even darker.

But Maggie recognized the sleeping girl at once. Miranda!

I'm staring at a ghost! Maggie realized.

She could hear Miranda's shallow breathing.

Maggie moved closer and reached out a hand.

I'm close enough to touch her.

I'm going to touch a ghost. Will I feel anything at all?

Her hand touched Miranda's shoulder. Maggie felt warmth beneath the thin T-shirt.

“Hey—” Miranda jerked up, her eyes wide and angry. She scrambled out of bed.

Maggie let out a startled cry and stumbled back.

Miranda's slender chest heaved as she breathed
hard, glaring through the darkness at Maggie with wild, angry eyes.

She took a step toward Maggie.

Maggie shrank back. But there was nowhere to go. Her back was already pressed up against the low, sloping wall.

“Are you—really a ghost?” Maggie choked out.

Miranda didn't reply. Instead, she bent down and picked up something from the floor beside the bed.

The knife!

The blade glinted in the pale moonlight from the dusty window.

Just like in the dream, Maggie thought.

Miranda raised the knife.

With a desperate groan, Maggie rushed forward. She gripped the girl's arm.

They struggled.

“You—you're real!” Maggie cried. “You're not a ghost!”

Miranda pulled out of Maggie's grasp. Breathing hard, she took a step back.

Maggie frantically searched for an escape route. But Miranda was planted between Maggie and the stairs. There was nowhere to run.

“I—I dreamed about you, Miranda!” Maggie cried.

The girl's eyes widened in surprise.

“I dreamed about you. Every night. In this bed,” Maggie continued. “Someone stabbed you. It was so horrible. I—”

The girl laughed, a strange, shrill, mirthless laugh.
“Someone stabbed Miranda,” she said. “Poor Miranda.”

“Huh?” Maggie gaped at her. “What are you saying? You're not Miranda?”

The girl shook her head. Her long hair swayed around her face.

“But in the dream—” Maggie started.

“Miranda had to die,” the girl interrupted. “Miranda was mean—like you!”

“Like me? I—I don't understand,” Maggie stammered. “Who killed Miranda? Did you?”

The girl nodded. “Maybe,” she said softly, her eyes burning into Maggie's. “Maybe I had to kill Miranda because Miranda was mean.”

“But who
are
you?” Maggie demanded.

“Gena,” the girl replied. “Wasn't I in the dream?”

“I—I don't know,” Maggie told her. She edged toward the attic stairs.

“I'm Miranda's sister,” the girl said angrily. “Why wasn't I in the dream?”

“I don't know. Really!” Maggie repeated, swallowing hard. Her throat felt dry as attic dust. “I don't understand the dream, Gena.”

“I do,” the girl replied sharply. “Miranda always said she had powers. Miranda made you have the dream. Miranda wanted to warn you about me. Miranda is so mean.”

Maggie edged a little closer to the steps. “And you killed her, Gena? You stabbed your sister?”

Gena raised the knife. “I had to. I
told
you. Miranda was mean—like you.”

“But I'm not mean, Gena. Really!” Maggie cried, seeing the anger in the girl's eyes.

“You want to lock me up again, don't you?” Gena accused. “You want to lock me away in that gray hospital. But you can't, Maggie. You can't! I got out once. I'm not going back!”

“When?” Maggie asked, desperate to keep her talking. “When did you get out?”

“Just before you moved here,” Gena said. “I came back to my house. But everyone was gone. So I had to live up here.”

“In the attic?”

Gena nodded.

“You've been living up here the whole time?”

Gena nodded again. “Your house is empty all day long. I had the place to myself. I don't eat much, so nobody missed the food I took out of the fridge. And the way you all leave your keys laying around—it was so easy to get one made. I could come and go as I pleased.”

Suddenly she sprang forward without warning.

She grabbed Maggie by the hair and pulled hard, with surprising strength.

“Ow! Let go!” Maggie cried out, trying to break free.

But Gena had caught her off balance.

Maggie fell hard.

Grasping Maggie's hair, Gena pulled her head back, exposing Maggie's throat.

She raised the knife.

She held it high as they both heard rapid footsteps up the creaking attic stairs.

“Hey!” Andrea's startled face appeared in the open stairwell.

“Hi, Andrea,” Gena said casually as if they were old friends. “I'm going to kill your sister for you now.”

G
ena tugged Maggie's hair hard until Maggie's head rested on the bed. “I'm ready, Andrea,” she announced.

“Andrea!” Maggie cried in horror. “You—you
planned
this with her?”

Andrea climbed into the room. “Wait—” she said softly.

“Do you really hate me that much?”
Maggie shrieked.

“Wait!” Andrea insisted, louder, moving toward them over the creaking floorboards. “Who
are
you?” Andrea cried to Gena. “Let
go
of her!”

“But I'm doing it for you, Andrea,” Gena replied, sounding hurt. “She's mean to you. She's mean—like Miranda.”

“For me?” Andrea cried. “What did you do for me?”

“I did everything for you,” Gena replied softly.

“Maggie—I've never seen her before!” Andrea cried. “Never! You've got to believe me!”

“Stop her!” Maggie choked out, staring up at the knife.

Gena pulled harder on her hair, bending her back on the bed. The pain roared down Maggie's body, paralyzing her.

“Stop her, Andrea! Don't let her kill me!” Maggie pleaded.

“I did everything for you, Andrea,” Gena continued, ignoring Maggie's terrified cries. “I hurt those two girls for you. So you could be on the swim team.”

“You
what?”
Andrea shrieked.

“Oh, no,” Maggie gasped. “She's the one who hurt Dawn and Tiffany. I don't believe it.”

“And I pushed the knife into your sister's pillow, Andrea,” Gena confessed proudly. “You know. To give her a little scare. To get her ready for tonight.”

“But I don't
want
you to kill her!” Andrea wailed. “Who
are
you? What is going on? How did you get into our house?”

“Shut up, Andrea,” Gena said softly.

She lowered her gaze to Maggie. “It's time,” she whispered. “It's time for mean sisters to die.”

With a desperate cry, Maggie reached up and grabbed Gena's hand, the hand that gripped her hair.

“Ow!” Gena cried out as Maggie dug her fingernails into the girl's wrist.

Gena jerked her hand free, releasing Maggie's hair.

She brought the knife down—hard and fast.

Maggie rolled out from under it.

The blade cut into the mattress an inch from Maggie's side.

Maggie struggled to pull herself off the bed.

But Gena dove on top of her, knocking her back with such force that Maggie's head bashed into the headboard.

Just like in the dream!

The thought flashed into Maggie's mind.

The nightmare—it's coming true.

They struggled on top of the mattress. Gena was too strong, too determined.

She brought the knife down again.

Maggie uttered a terrified moan as everything went black.

E
verything went black.

But Maggie realized she was still alive, still struggling in the darkness. wThe knife had missed her.

She squirmed free from Gena's grasp. Rolled off the bed.

And realized why everything had gone dark.

Andrea had pulled the canopy down on top of them.

“Quick!” Andrea urged. “Maggie—quick!”

Andrea held one end of the canopy and motioned frantically to Maggie.

Maggie didn't hesitate. She grabbed the other end of the canopy—and they lowered it over Gena.

Gena kicked and struggled, trying to get free.

The hand holding the knife shot out.

Andrea grabbed the wrist, and pulled open the fingers. The knife bounced onto the floor.

“Wrap her up!” Maggie cried.

Working together, the two sisters began to wrap the squirming girl in the canopy.

“What on earth—” Mrs. Travers cried from the stairwell.

“Call the police! Hurry, Mom!” Maggie called.

They heard her run to the phone to call the police.

Gena was wrapped tightly in the canopy. She stopped struggling and lay still on the bed.

“I—I hope you can explain this all to me,” Andrea said, holding Gena down, struggling to catch her breath.

“I think I can,” Maggie replied, forcing a smile. “For the first time, I think I can.”

“Do you really think Gena's older sister made me dream that dream? Do you really think she was trying to warn me about Gena?” Maggie asked.

Mrs. Travers sipped her coffee. “That's as good an explanation as any,” she replied thoughtfully.

Maggie, Andrea, and their mom were sitting around the kitchen table, sipping coffee from white mugs. The police had just left, taking Gena with them. Through the kitchen window, they could see the red morning sun lifting itself over the trees.

“Old Gus really protected us, didn't he?” Maggie said, rolling her eyes.

Hearing his name, Gus trotted in from the living room. He rested his head on Maggie's thigh.

Maggie patted his warm head. “What a good guard dog, you are, Gussie. Yes. You're a real killer. Thanks for telling us we had someone living with us in the house this whole time!”

Gus gazed up at her adoringly, as if he were being given the highest praise.

Maggie smiled at Andrea. “You saved my life.”

Andrea shrugged. “Hey—it was the least I could do.”

“You can have the canopy bed now,” Maggie offered, grinning.

“No thanks.
You
have it,” Andrea replied.

“No, really,” Maggie insisted. “You have it.”