Midnight Games (4 page)

Nate didn't seem to notice. He jammed his hands into his jeans pockets. “No. Things have
been weird around here. I mean, some scary things happened to my friends and me. Like we were cursed or something. We almost drowned, you know. And then that girl in our class died . . . . ”

His voice trailed off. I could see he was really messed up. But why did he think I had anything helpful to tell him?

I was shivering. I rubbed my arms. “Think I have to go inside,” I said.

I turned—and saw a face pressed against the window, staring out. Ada. She was glaring at Nate and me.

Was she bad news or what?

“Look, Nate—,” I started.

But he had turned away from me. He was staring up into the branches of a tall sycamore tree.

“Earth calling Nate,” I said. “What's up there?”

“A bird,” he said. He turned back to me, scratching his head. “I thought I saw a blackbird. I mean. Well . . . I guess it was just a shadow.”

“You're into bird watching?” I said.

He didn't seem to hear me.

Ada still had her face pressed to the window glass. I decided to give her something to look at. I slid my arm around Nate's shoulders, pulled him close, and led him back into the house.

Jamie greeted me at the door. She squinted at me. “You and Nate?”

“Just talking,” I said. “It's hard to hear in here.”

“I need you,” Jamie said, pulling me through the crowded living room. “I'm out of everything. Some guys went for pizza. Can you check the basement? See if you can find any more cans of Coke?”

“No problem,” I said. I shivered. I couldn't shake off the cold from outside. “Just let me run up to my room and put on something warmer.”

I bumped past Lewis, who was changing the CDs on the music system. Two couples were pressed together at the bottom of the stairs. They squirmed to the side so I could get upstairs.

I found a long-sleeved pullover in my dresser, tugged it on, and hurried back to help cousin Jamie. I stopped at the landing because someone was blocking the way.

Ada stood in front of me on the top step. She held a tray of glasses in front of her. The glasses tinkled as the tray shook in Ada's hands.

The bright ceiling light reflected off the glass, and I blinked. Whoa.

I suddenly felt dizzy, off-balance. The floor tilted, and the stairs appeared to rise up in front of me.

What a strange feeling. Why was the light reflecting so brightly? White light. Almost blinding.

I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to fight off the dizziness.

I opened them when I heard a shrill scream—and saw Ada falling . . . Ada tumbling . . . toppling headfirst down the staircase.

9

Screaming all the way, Ada thudded
down the stairs.

The music and voices were so loud, but I could hear every
bump
, every time her head hit a wooden step.

And then the voices and singing and laughter stopped. As if someone had turned a switch. A few seconds after that, the music stopped too.

And now I felt as if I were swimming in silence, an ocean of silence. A bright white ocean of silence and light.

I grabbed the banister. I peered down through the billowing whiteness, forcing my eyes to focus.

And saw Ada. Crumpled up. Sprawled in a heap, surrounded by glittering lights. It took
me a while to realize the lights were pieces of broken glass.

“Is she okay?” I screamed into the silence.

Kids were rushing to the stairway now, dropping down beside Ada. Brushing away the shards of shattered glass. Reaching for her. Eyes wide with worry and amazement.

Ada groaned. She slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position.

I saw bright red blood streaming down the front of her T-shirt and staining one sleeve. Bits of broken glass shimmered in her hair.

She groaned again and wiped her hands through her hair. Then, slowly, she raised her eyes to me.

I gasped when I saw the fierce anger on her face.

“You PUSHED me!” Ada screamed.

I heard gasps and low cries. All eyes were raised to me.

My legs felt wobbly, about to give way. I gripped the banister tightly to hold myself up. I felt my heart start to pound.

“N-no,” I stammered, shaking my head. “I didn't touch you!”

Ada raised herself to her knees. She shook
a blood-smeared fist at me. “You DID, Dana!” she cried. “You shoved me!”

I couldn't help it. I burst into tears. “That's a LIE!” I cried. But my sobs muffled the words.

I gazed down from face to face. They all stared at me, accusing me. They
believed
her.

But I knew it wasn't true. I never touched her.

Why was she accusing me?

I couldn't stop sobbing. I turned and ran up the stairs. Back to my attic room, where I dropped into an armchair. I gripped the arms hard, gritted my teeth, and forced myself to stop crying.

From my room I could hear voices downstairs. But I couldn't make out the words. Were they all talking about me? Did they all believe Ada?

Why would I push her down the stairs? I had no reason to hurt her.

Did they think I pushed her because I want to steal Nate?

Nate is cute, but he isn't worth trying to
kill
someone!

Did they think I pushed her because I'm a Fear? And a member of the Fear family
has
to be evil? How stupid is
that
?

I heard the front door close. Heard voices in the driveway. Car doors slammed, and engines started up. The party was breaking up.

I was still hunched in the armchair, gritting my teeth, thinking angry thoughts, when Jamie came into my room. She hurried over and placed a hand on mine. “Dana, are you okay?”

“I . . . don't know,” I said. I felt like crying again, but I forced it back.

Jamie squeezed my hand. “It was a good party,” she said softly, “until Ada fell.”

“I didn't push her!” I cried. I jerked Jamie's hand off mine. “Really. I never touched her.”

Jamie nodded. “Of course you didn't.”

I jumped to my feet. I balled my hands into tight fists. “So why did she accuse me like that?”

Jamie tossed back her dark hair. She suddenly looked so pale and tired. I could see that blue vein throbbing in her temple. “Ada will get over it,” she said.

“Get over it?” I cried. “How? If she thinks I tried to kill her . . . ”

“She was being emotional,” Jamie replied. “Ada is very high-strung. When she thinks about it, she'll realize she made a mistake. She tripped, that's all.”

“I . . . I felt weird up there,” I confessed. “I was standing behind Ada at the top of the stairs. And the glasses on her tray suddenly started to shine in my eyes. I felt dizzy.”

“Dizzy?”

“Yes. I thought I might black out. But . . . you've got to believe me. I didn't push her. I couldn't.”

“Of course not,” Jamie said in a soft, soothing voice. “Of course not.”

So why was she staring at me so suspiciously?

10

The next couple of days I kept to
myself. I was eager to find out what kind of greeting I'd get from everyone my first day at Shadyside High. But the school was closed for two days because of a water-main break.

Jamie hung out with Lewis and some of her other friends. And I heard her sneaking out after midnight to see her friends at the bar they all go to on Fear Street.

But I didn't feel like tagging along. Well, I guess I was a
little
tempted. I wanted to see Nate again. I kept thinking about him without even realizing it.

I wondered if he believed I pushed Ada down the stairs. I wondered if he'd be glad to see me, or if he'd try to avoid me.

But I didn't leave the house. I e-mailed
some friends from my old school. And I called my dad. Told him everything was just great. (As if he cared.) And I tried to read ahead in some of the school assignments.

The night before the high school was to open again, Jamie appeared in my room. “What's up?”

“Not much,” I said. “Reading this Shakespeare play for English.” I held up the book.

Jamie straightened some papers on my desk. “You nervous about tomorrow?”

“Kinda,” I replied. “I'm sure your friends all think I'm some kind of monster because I'm a Fear and they think I pushed Ada down the stairs.”

“No way,” Jamie said, shaking her head. “No one is even talking about that anymore.”

A lie. But a nice lie.

I couldn't get over the change in Jamie. How she was trying so hard to make me feel comfortable and everything.

Then she mentioned our cousin Cindy.

Cindy died in the hospital last August. She had been sick for a long time, but it was horrible and shocking. She was just a year older than Jamie and me.

“I saw Cindy a week before she died,” Jamie said, settling on the edge of my bed. “Did you see her?”

“No. I was too far away,” I replied, putting down my book. “But I talked to her on the phone. She . . . she said she was getting stronger. I knew she was just being brave.”

I sighed. “She died three days later. When I heard, I cried and cried. She was such a cool person.”

Jamie's eyes narrowed. She had a cold expression on her face, an expression I'd never seen before. “Life can really suck,” she whispered.

We stared at each other for a long moment. My ears started to ring. I waited for Jamie to break the silence. When she didn't, I said, “You know, Cindy was a Fear too.”

A strange smile spread over Jamie's lips. “I know.” She picked at the strings around the hole on the knee of her jeans. “Dana, did Cindy say anything to you about sending a signal?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “A signal? No.”

Jamie tugged at the knee of her jeans. “Cindy promised me she'd send a signal,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

It took me a while to understand. “You mean a signal from the grave?”

Jamie nodded. “She promised. She said she'd send me a sign from the other side. I've been watching for it ever since . . . ever since she died.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “And?”

“Nothing yet. But I keep watching. And I keep trying to reach her.” Jamie crossed her arms in front of her. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

I laughed. “Because I'm a Fear?”

Jamie didn't smile. “No. Do you believe in spirits?”

“I . . . don't think so,” I said. “I mean, I never think about stuff like that.”

“I do,” Jamie said. “I believe in spirits. I
want
to believe in them. I want to contact Cindy's spirit. I want her promise to come true.”

I stared at Jamie. This wasn't like her at all. When I knew her, she was a spoiled rich kid, and kind of a bubblehead. She thought mostly about her hair and boys and buying new clothes. I never knew she was into the supernatural.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I miss her so much,” Jamie said. She jumped to her feet and pulled me up. “Come downstairs.”

I followed her down the stairs. I saw flickering lights from her room. Stepping into the doorway, I saw that the room was dark—except for the dancing flames of five candles set up on the floor in a circle. Five black candles.

I hesitated. “Jamie—?”

She shoved me into the room and carefully closed the door behind us. The room smelled spicy, as if she'd been burning incense. The candle flames sent flickering light to the walls, and I saw a giant
Buffy
poster over Jamie's bed.

Jamie motioned for me to sit down in front of the candles. She dropped beside me and sat cross-legged. The orange light flickered and danced over her pale face, her dark eyes glowing with excitement.

“I've been teaching myself magic,” she said, staring straight ahead into the firelight.

“You mean to contact Cindy?”

She nodded. She slid an old book out from under her bed. The cover was cracked and
torn. She opened it carefully, flipping through the brittle pages.

“I found this old spellbook,” she whispered. “I've been trying different spells. I know I can contact her.”

I felt a chill tighten the back of my neck. This wasn't like the Jamie I remembered. Cindy's death must have hit her really hard.

“Do your parents know about this?” I asked, staring into the darting orange light.

“Of course not,” Jamie whispered. “They never come upstairs.”

She ran her finger down a long column of type in the old book. “Dana, we can do it,” she said. “Let's try and contact Cindy together.”

“Okay,” I replied, feeling another chill.

Did I have a choice? She was kinda freaking me out. But
no way
I could jump up and leave.

We held hands. We leaned toward the circle of black candles.

Jamie held the book in her lap. She whispered some words in a language I didn't recognize. Then she began to chant in a loud whisper: “Cindy, where are you? Cindy, where are you . . . ?”

I took a deep breath and joined in. “Cindy, where are you? Cindy, where are you? Cindy, where are you?”

Holding hands, the firelight washing over us, we chanted the phrase over and over. “Cindy, where are you . . . ?”

And then my heart skipped a beat when I heard a soft reply from close by:
“I'm here . . . I'm HERE!”

11

I raised my eyes to Jamie. She stared
back at me, eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. She had heard it too.

I raised myself to my knees. In my excitement, I almost knocked over one of the candles.

“Cindy? Is that you?” Jamie whispered.

And again we heard the soft whisper of a voice, so close . . . so close to us:
“I'm here . . . I'm here.”

I froze, blinking into the flickering flames.