Double Date (11 page)

She locked her eyes on his. “What are you talking about? You
know
I have a tattoo.”

“Then Bree was pretending to be you!” Bobby told her. “Bree must have found out about you and me! She took your place and—”

“Bobby, you're not making any sense,” Samantha said. “You're getting all mixed up. All the more reason to kill Bree.”

She shifted the car and guided it onto the dirt road. “I want to show you a special place,” she said softly.

She's totally crazy, he decided. Samantha is really nuts.

Why didn't I realize it before? Why didn't I figure it out?

She wants to kill her own sister, her own
twin
sister.

I have
got
to do something. I agreed to help her, I went along with her just to get her quiet. Just to make her shut up about killing Bree.

She's crazy. Totally crazy!

What should I do? He thought hard as the car bumped over the narrow dirt road, curving between trees, deeper and deeper into the woods until the sun was completely blocked out by the tunnel of trees.

I have to warn Bree, Bobby decided. That's the first thing I'll do. As soon as I get back to town, I'll warn Bree. And then Bree can tell her parents or the police or whomever she wants.

Samantha chuckled happily as the car hit a hard bump. She hummed to herself as she drove even deeper into the woods.

Her whole mood changed when I agreed to help her kill Bree, Bobby realized, feeling his stomach knot up. She really is a sicko.

He suddenly wondered if Samantha was the one who had been torturing him, cutting his tires, messing with his guitar, putting that disgusting monkey head in his locker.

She's dangerous, he decided. Dangerous and crazy.

He lurched forward as she braked the car to a sudden stop. “Here we are.” She flashed him a warm smile. “Our own secret place.”

They climbed out of the car. The air smelled fresh and piney. Bobby stared up ahead at a small, shingled cabin nearly hidden by the trees.

A wooden barrel stood against one cabin wall. A rusted barbecue grill lay on its side in the tall grass beside the barrel.

“Where are we?” Bobby asked, hesitantly following Samantha toward the front door.

“This is my family's cabin,” she told him. “It's a wonderful little hideaway.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the door. “We'll bring Bree here. No one will find her for weeks.”

Bobby felt the knot in his stomach tighten. She has this all planned, he realized. That is so cold, so
cold!

She stopped in front of the door and smiled at him. “It doesn't look like much from the outside. But it's real cozy inside. I'll show you.”

A hornet buzzed around Bobby's head. He ducked and tried to swat it away.

Samantha laughed. “You're not afraid of bugs—are you?”

“Who, me? Of course not,” Bobby replied.

“You'll have to force the door open,” Samantha told him. “I forgot my key.”

Bobby hesitated. “Force it?”

“Just lean on it real hard with your shoulder,” she instructed. “The lock is real flimsy. It should pop right open.” She gave him a playful push up to the door.

What am I doing here? Bobby asked himself. What am I doing here with this sicko?

“Go ahead,” she urged sharply.

He took a deep breath and obediently slammed his
shoulder into the door. It bent but didn't give. It popped open on the second try.

Bobby led the way into the tiny cabin. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, making the bare wood floorboards shimmer. Bobby saw an old vinyl couch, two canvas lawn chairs, a couple of plastic TV tables leaning in a corner. A framed yellowed map filled with Indian names hung above the small stone fireplace.

“It's real rustic,” Samantha said, moving close to him. “But it's perfect. There's no one around for miles. That's why my dad had it built here. We don't start coming out here until July.”

Bobby sniffed the air. “It's kind of musty,” he muttered.

“It's been closed up all winter. But it's cozy, isn't it?” Without waiting for a reply, she threw her arms around him and kissed him with real emotion.

“So we'll do it? You and me?” she whispered, nibbling his earlobe. “We'll bring Bree here? We'll kill her? And then we'll be together forever and ever?”

“Okay,” Bobby replied again.

I've got to get back and warn Bree, he thought. He started to tell Samantha he needed to get home. But she pressed herself against him again and smothered him with kisses.

“Bree—I have to see you,” Bobby said urgently. He whispered even though he was closed up in his bedroom. “Now.”

“But, Bobby,” she protested. “You're going to see me in a couple of hours, remember? You said we're going dancing?”

“Bree, listen to me,” Bobby pleaded. “We have to talk. Right away.”

Her voice registered surprise. “What's so important it can't wait a couple of hours? My family is eating dinner now, Bobby, and we have cousins visiting.”

“Bree—please!”

“I'm sorry. Just hold your breath till tonight, okay? I've got to go. See you at eight.”

The line went dead. Bobby turned off the cordless phone and tossed it onto the bed in frustration. “I'm trying to save your life, you idiot!” he cried out loud.

He began pacing frantically back and forth, thinking hard. How was he going to explain this to Bree? He didn't want to reveal to her that he'd been going out with Samantha. That would only cause more trouble.

But how could he just tell her that Samantha was planning to kill her? Why would Bree believe such a crazy story?

Who
would
believe it?

He paced back and forth in his room for a while. Then he threw himself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, feverish thoughts spinning in his brain. His parents called him to dinner, but he shouted down that he wasn't hungry.

Finally it was time to drive to Fear Street and pick up Bree. She greeted him at the door, dressed for dancing in a silky green blouse and a short green skirt over black tights. “Good night, everyone!” she called into the living room.

Bobby saw Samantha in the kitchen doorway. “Have a good time, you two!” she called cheerily.

Bobby glumly led Bree to the car. “Are we still going dancing?” she asked.

Bobby locked his eyes on hers. His expression remained solemn. “Bree, I have to talk to you. I have something very serious to say.”

“Bobby, this is so sudden. I'm too young to get married!” she joked. She frowned when he didn't laugh. “Wow, you
are
grim tonight!”

He backed down the driveway, headed the car down Fear Street for a few blocks, then pulled to a stop at the curb. “Listen,” he said, turning to her. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but you've got to believe me.”

Bree glanced out the window. “Why did you stop here? Beside the cemetery?”

“Just listen,” Bobby said impatiently. He began the story he had rehearsed in his room. “I was cruising around this afternoon, and happened to see Samantha. She waved to me, so I stopped the car. She climbed in and said she had to talk to me.”

Bree's eyes widened in surprise. “Samantha wanted to talk to you? About what?”

“That's what I'm going to tell you,” Bobby replied breathlessly. “She made me drive up to your family's cabin in the woods. Then she told me—she told me—”

Bobby hesitated. Would Bree believe him?

“Samantha told me she wanted to take you to the cabin and—kill you.”

Bree's mouth dropped open in shock.

“I—I'm not making it up,” Bobby stammered. “I knew I had to warn you, Bree. Your own sister. Your own twin sister—she wants to kill you.”

Bree stared back at him, her mouth still open. Her eyes gazed back at him blindly. And then he saw them
narrow in understanding. Her features tightened. She nodded her head, as if deciding something for herself.

“I have a confession to make, Bobby,” Bree whispered, avoiding his eyes.

“I—I just can't believe your twin sister wants to
kill
you!” Bobby insisted.

“I have to tell you something,” Bree whispered solemnly. “You see, Samantha and I—we're not twins.”

B
ree leaned closer to him, her face nearly hidden in shadow. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Her voice trembled as she began to explain.

“There's a third sister,” she revealed, watching his startled reaction. “Samantha and I aren't twins. We're triplets.”

“Wow,” Bobby muttered, shaking his head. “I mean, wow.”

“Our third sister is named Jennilynn,” Bree continued, staring out at the Fear Street cemetery. “You must have been with Jennilynn this afternoon, Bobby. Not Samantha. Samantha was home all day with me.”

“Oh, man. I don't
believe
this!” Bobby murmured.

He knew how serious this was, but Bobby couldn't keep a thought from popping into his head: I've
got
to tell Arnie! Wait till he hears I've been out with
triplets
—not twins!

“Jennilynn is very dangerous,” Bree continued, her eyes on the crooked gravestones beyond the cemetery
fence. “We never talk about her. She was sent to live with my aunt and uncle on the West Coast.”

“Why?” Bobby asked, sliding his hands around the steering wheel. “What did she do?”

“She was always terribly jealous of Samantha and me,” Bree revealed. “Anything we had, she had to have—or destroy. Jennilynn just couldn't accept the idea that there were three of us and we had to share.”

Bree sighed. “My parents got her therapy and everything. But it didn't help. Then, when we were thirteen, she went over the edge.”

She stopped. Bobby saw that she was breathing hard. She chewed her lower lip. He could see this was really hard for her to talk about.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

Bree took a deep breath and continued. “Jennilynn locked Samantha and me in our room. Then she—started a fire. Downstairs.”

“Oh, no!” Bobby cried sincerely.

“Luckily, my dad got home before we were harmed. But afterward my family knew that something serious had to be done about Jennilynn. She was sent to a hospital for over a year. When she got out, her doctors felt it would be safer for us if she didn't live with us.”

“So they sent her out west?” Bobby asked, running his hand up and down Bree's trembling arm.

She nodded. “Jennilynn has been with my father's sister and her husband ever since.” She raised her eyes to Bobby. “Please don't tell anyone,” she pleaded. “We've moved twice since then. One of the reasons we moved to Shadyside was so the family could have a new start.”

“I won't. Promise,” Bobby said softly, still rubbing her arm.

“I can't believe my aunt and uncle haven't called,” Bree said. “They probably don't realize that Jennilynn has come back here. I'm going to tell my parents right away. I don't know what they'll want to do about it. But I'm also worried about you. She's so dangerous.”

“I'll be careful,” Bobby told her.

“If you see her again, call the police,” Bree urged. “Really, Bobby. Call the police right away.”

Bobby remained silent for a long while, thinking hard. “Do you think it could have been Jennilynn who has been doing all those gross things to me?” he asked.

Bree nodded grimly. “Yes. It probably was her.”

“But why?” Bobby demanded. “She doesn't even know me.”

“She wants to destroy whatever Samantha or I have,” Bree answered with a shudder. “She'll do
anything
to ruin our lives.”

Bobby felt a tremor of fear run down his back. He suddenly felt chilled despite the warmth of the night.

“I—I can't believe I was with Jennilynn this afternoon,” he stammered. “I really thought it was Samantha.”

Bree gazed at him thoughtfully. A low howl floated up from somewhere in the cemetery. They both heard it.

“Just a cat, I think,” Bobby murmured.

“I'll show you how to tell Jennilynn from me and Samantha,” Bree said quietly.

“How?” Bobby asked eagerly.

Bree pulled down the collar of her blouse. “This is how you can tell it's Jennilynn,” she instructed. She pointed to a spot on her left shoulder. “Jennilynn has a tiny blue tattoo of a butterfly right here.”

B
obby had promised Bree he wouldn't tell anyone about Jennilynn. But he didn't care. He had to tell Arnie.

My fingers were crossed when I promised, he told himself.

He dropped Bree off at her house. Neither of them felt like going dancing. And Bree said she was too shaken about the news of her sister's return to do anything else.

He pulled his car up her driveway. She leaned across the seat and snuggled up against him. “I'm sorry about Jennilynn,” she whispered. She ran her lips over his cheek. “You like me, don't you, Bobby?” she whispered. “You really like me—don't you?”

She's getting to be a pain, Bobby decided.

She was really pretty and he liked making out with her. But she was just too—needy.

And he really didn't want to deal with all this sobby
drama. Why couldn't they keep their problems in the family?

“Yeah, I'm nuts about you,” he whispered. As they kissed good night, he thought about what Arnie would say when he told him about the third sister.

He drove straight to Arnie's house. He found Arnie and Melanie standing in the driveway, about to climb into Arnie's little Chevy Geo. Bobby pulled up behind them, blocking the driveway.

“Hey—what's up?” Arnie called, grinning at him.