Chicken Chicken (2 page)

I felt a chill. “What if Vanessa decides to do something terrible to us?” I demanded. “You two won’t be laughing then.”

Cole pulled himself up even straighter. He ran a hand back through his wavy
blond hair. Cole is tall and even skinnier than me. Sometimes I think he looks
like a grasshopper.

“Crystal, what do you mean?” he demanded softly.

“I mean, if Vanessa thinks
we
were the ones who filled her mailbox
with water, maybe she’ll pay
us
back. You know. Make our heads swell up
or something.”

“But we didn’t do anything!” Anthony protested. “We have to tell her it was
Franny and Jeremy.”

“Snitch,” Cole muttered, grinning at his friend.

“Maybe she won’t give us a chance to explain,” I said. “Maybe she’ll just do
something horrible to us.”

I started to the kitchen. “You guys want something to drink?”

I didn’t hear their replies.

I pulled open the fridge and took out a bottle of iced tea.

A second later, I opened my mouth in a loud scream of pain.

“Crystal—what happened?” Cole came running into the kitchen.

I shuddered in pain. “Ohhhh.”

“What
happened
?” he cried.

I shook my hand, trying to shake away the throbbing. “The fridge door,” I
managed to choke out. “I—slammed it on my hand.”

I shook my hand some more. Then I tested each finger. I could move them.
Nothing broken.

I raised my eyes to Cole. “Why are you grinning?” I demanded.

“You didn’t slam your hand,” he replied. “Vanessa did!”

Anthony giggled from the doorway.

“Cole—you’re not funny!” I screeched. I wrapped my fingers around his
scrawny neck and pretended to strangle him. But my hand still hurt. I had to let
go.

“Vanessa cursed you,” Anthony said, picking up where Cole had left off. “Now your hand will probably swell up to the size
of a cantaloupe.”

“And it will get soft and squishy like Tommy’s head,” Cole added gleefully.
“Soft and squishy—like your
brain
!”

“Not funny! Not funny!” I insisted. I admit it. I felt a little afraid. I
didn’t like kidding around about this stuff.

My hand ached and burned. I opened the freezer and stuck it inside. “What if
Vanessa really
has
powers?” I asked them. “What if she really did make me
slam the door on my hand?”

Cole and Anthony raised their hands in front of them and began moving them
back and forth, as if casting spells on me. “You are a
sponge head
!” Cole
cried, lowering his voice, trying to sound like a real sorcerer. “You will mop
up the dinner dishes with your head!”

That’s when Mom and Dad walked in.

“What on earth—?” Mom cried. “Crystal—why do you have your hand in the
freezer?”

“Oh. Uh…” I slid my hand out and closed the freezer door. “Just cooling
off,” I said.

Mom narrowed her eyes at me. “Cooling off one hand?”

“Actually, I slammed a door on it,” I told her.

“Vanessa slammed a door on it,” Cole corrected.

“Vanessa?” Dad asked, crossing to the sink.

“You mean that strange woman who lives outside of town?”

“Have you been pestering that poor woman again?” Mom demanded. “Don’t you
kids have anything better to do than sneak around and play tricks on her?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Cole said. “Really.”

“That’s the truth,” Anthony chimed in.

“Then why did you mention Vanessa?” Mom asked Cole.

I decided I’d better change the subject. “Where were you two?” I asked my
parents.

“Out back. Trying to decide where to put the fence for the vegetable garden,”
Dad replied. He was washing his hands in the kitchen sink, something Mom always
scolds him for.

“If we didn’t have chickens, you wouldn’t need a fence,” I grumbled. “I think
you should get rid—”

“That reminds me,” Mom interrupted. “Cole, some of the chickens wandered all
the way to the back. Would you go out and round them up, please?”

“Chicken Roundup!” I exclaimed gleefully. I slapped Cole on the back.
“Congrats! Your favorite job!”

“But that’s not fair! I did the chicken roundup last time!” Cole wailed.
“It’s Crystal’s turn!”

“I fed them this morning,” I declared. “And it wasn’t even my turn. Besides, it’s easier for you to round them up. Because
you look like a big rooster!”

Everyone laughed except Cole. He grumbled and shook his head. Then he grabbed
Anthony and pulled him outside to help with the chicken roundup.

A few seconds later, I could hear a lot of clucking and squawking back there.
And I could hear the boys shouting and complaining.

Did you ever try to herd chickens?

It isn’t easy.

My hand ached all day from slamming it in the fridge door. And every time it
ached, I thought of Vanessa.

And I pictured her cold eyes, staring at the boys and me.

She isn’t going to do anything to us, I told myself. She
can’t
do
anything to us. Those stories about Vanessa can’t be true.

I kept repeating this to myself. But that night, I had trouble falling
asleep.

I kept seeing a shadow move against my bedroom wall. The shadow of a cat.

I climbed out of bed and pulled down the window blind. Now the room was
bathed in total darkness. No shadows on the wall.

I still couldn’t fall asleep.

I stared wide-eyed into the blackness.

“Crystal, go to sleep,” I instructed myself. “You are scaring yourself for no
reason.”

A creaking sound made me jump.

A crack of gray light at my bedroom door.

Another creak—and the streak of light grew wider.

I swallowed hard.

I watched the door slowly slide open.

Staring in silence, I realized that someone was creeping into my bedroom.

Someone wearing a black veil. And a long black dress.

Vanessa!

I opened my mouth to scream. But only a low moan came out.

I started to jump out of bed. But where could I run?

She slid silently toward me, arms reaching out as if ready to grab me. Her
face was hidden behind the heavy black veil.

How did she get in the house?

What is she going to do to me?

The frightening questions fluttered through my mind.

She leaned over my bed. Her hands moved to my throat.

“No!” I choked out.

I reached up. Pushed away her hands. Grasped her veil in both hands. And
tugged it off.

Cole!

In the gray light from the open doorway, I could see his grin.

“Cole—you
jerk!
” I shrieked.

I tossed the veil down. Dove for him. Tried to tackle him to the floor.

But I missed—and tumbled out of bed.

“Cole—you creep! You scared me to death!”

I don’t think he heard me over his gleeful laughter.

I scrambled to my feet. He dodged away from me. Still cackling, he backed up
to the doorway. “You really thought it was Vanessa!” he cried.

“Did not!” I lied. “You just scared me, that’s all.”

“Did too!” he insisted. “You thought it was Vanessa. You really thought she
had come to pay you back!”

“Did not! Did not!” I cried angrily.

He made hand motions as if casting a spell. “Abracadabra! You’re a sponge
head!”

He started laughing again. He really thought he was a riot.

“I’ll pay you back!” I promised him. “Really. I’m going to pay you back!”

Shaking his head, he made his way out of the room, the long black skirt
trailing over the floor. With an angry growl, I picked up the veil and heaved it
after him.

I punched my pillow furiously. Why did I let him fool me like that? Now he’d
tell everyone in school that I thought Vanessa was sneaking into my room.

My heart still pounding, I climbed back into bed. I felt so angry, it took me hours to fall asleep. And when I finally
drifted off, I dreamed about a cat.

An ugly black cat with bright yellow eyes and a blood-red tongue.

The cat hunched in an all-white room. But then the room became my room.

In the dream, the cat moved to the end of my bed. It opened its mouth wide.
The bright red tongue darted over its yellow teeth.

And then the cat began to screech.

A sharp, painful sound—like fingernails dragged over a chalkboard.

It screeched. And screeched. Its mouth opened wider. Its yellow eyes flamed.

I couldn’t stand the sound. In the dream, I saw myself cover my ears with
both hands.

But the shrill screeching grew even louder.

The cat floated closer. Closer. Opened its jaws wide, as if to swallow me.

I woke up, stunned by the sudden silence.

The dream had been so real. I expected to see the screeching cat standing on
my bedcovers.

Bars of yellow sunlight fell through the window blinds onto my floor. I saw
the crumpled black veil beside the door.

No cat.

I stretched and climbed out of bed. Yawning, I got dressed for school.

Mom was setting down a bowl of cornflakes and a glass of orange juice for me when I reached the kitchen. “Sleep well?”
she asked.

“Not at all,” I grumbled. I dropped into my seat at the breakfast table.
“First I couldn’t get to sleep. Then I had an annoying nightmare.”

Mom tsk-tsked. She crossed to the sink and began pouring water into the
coffeemaker.

I thought about telling her about Cole’s dumb joke. But I decided not to. Mom
would only start asking us again about what we were doing at Vanessa’s house
yesterday.

“What are you doing after school, Crystal?” she asked, clicking on the
coffeemaker. “Maybe you can come home and rest up then.”

“No way,” I replied, swallowing a mouthful of cornflakes. “I’ve got
basketball practice. Coach Clay says she’s going to give me extra playing time.
I told her how tired I am of being the
sixth
girl. I want to be a
starter. But I never get enough playing time to show how good I am.”

Mom turned to me. She blew a strand of brown hair off her forehead. “Maybe
that’s why you couldn’t sleep last night,” she said. “Maybe you were nervous
about basketball practice.”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to tell her the real reason.

I heard Cole clomping down the stairs. Mom pulled out a cereal bowl for him.

“When are you going to buy a birthday present for Lucy-Ann?” Mom asked me. “You know her birthday party is Saturday.”

Lucy-Ann is one of my best friends. She has been talking about this birthday—her thirteenth!—for weeks. She’s so excited about becoming a teenager.

“Maybe I’ll go shopping tomorrow after school,” I replied.

“What are you going to get her?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Cole came charging into the room.

One look at his face—and Mom and I both gasped.

“Cole!” Mom cried.

“My f-face…” he stammered.

His cheeks and forehead were covered with big sores. Ugly red blotches.

“It… hurts…” he groaned. He turned to me. “Vanessa,” he murmured.
“Vanessa did this to me.”

Cole dropped to his knees and covered his face with his hands.

I jumped up from my chair. “Cole—?”

“I’ll call the doctor!” Mom cried. “Or should I dial 911?” She bent over
Cole. “Does it really hurt? Are you really in pain?”

Cole slowly lowered his hands. And as he did, I saw the broad grin on his
face.

And I saw that his hands had smeared the red blotches on his cheeks.

“Cole!” I screamed furiously.

Mom’s mouth dropped open. She had one hand on the phone, ready to call the
doctor.

“Red marker pen,” Cole said through his grin. Then he burst out laughing.

“Aaaagggh!” I let out a furious cry—and heaved my cereal spoon at him. It
bounced off his chest and clattered across the linoleum floor.

“Not funny!” I screamed.

Mom shook her head. “Cole, you really scared me.” She sighed.

Cole stood up and pointed at me. “Crystal, you really believed Vanessa did it
to me,” he accused.

“Your jokes are just stupid!” I cried. “I’m never going to believe you again.
Even if you get hit by a truck, I won’t believe you!”

I spun around and stormed out of the kitchen.

Behind me, I could hear Mom telling Cole, “You really have to stop scaring
your sister.”

“Why?” Cole asked.

I grabbed my backpack, tore out of the house, and slammed the door behind me.

I forced Vanessa from my mind.

I didn’t think about her once that whole day.

In fact, I didn’t think about her until the next time I saw her.

And that’s when all the frightening stuff really started.

“Is that Lucy-Ann’s cake?” Cole asked.

“Well, it says HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LUCY-ANN on it,” I replied. “So what’s
your
guess, genius?”

Cole, Anthony, and I had our noses pressed against the window of the bakery.
Several white-frosted birthday cakes were on display. Lucy-Ann’s stood in the
middle of the shelf, ready to be picked up for her party on Saturday.

I saw Mrs. Wagner waving to us from behind the counter inside the store. I
waved back to her. Then I checked my watch.

“Hey—I’m late,” I told the boys. “I’ve got to buy a present for Lucy-Ann.
Then I’ve got to get home and study my math.”

I hurried toward the Mini-Mart on the corner next to the grocery. My plan was
to buy Lucy-Ann a new CD. At the end of the block, Mr. Horace’s old hound
sprawled in the middle of Main Street, lazily scratching his mangy ear with a back paw, looking as if he
owned the town.

I heard Cole and Anthony laughing behind me. I turned and made a shooing
motion with both hands. “Take a walk, guys. You don’t have to tag along with
me.”

They ignored me, as usual.