Ready for a Scare? (8 page)

For a moment, her screen was filled only by the heathered gray fabric of Spencer's T-shirt.

“Spencer!” she screamed. Was Gavin hurting him? Had he pushed him against the desk and hit him?

Then she heard a blip.
SPENCEX
77
IS OFFLINE
appeared on her chat screen. His face slid into view, unharmed. She sighed, realizing that he'd blocked his screen so he could exit out of their conversation before Gavin saw it. She exited too and turned her microphone on. She
was glad he hadn't heard her scream.

“Kelly? You there?” Spencer asked from the bottom frame. Gavin stood alongside him. The frames on her screen where June and Paige should have been continued to pulse red.
Danger
. The word suddenly popped into her head. Red is the color of danger.

“Yeah, I'm—” Her screen suddenly went blank.

Wrapping the wool blanket tighter around her, she pressed enter. The webcam sleepover didn't come back.

Her computer was still on. So were her lights. They hadn't lost power, she realized. She gazed at the screen.
CONNECTION IS TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE
. Her Internet service was down.

The wind slammed against the house, rattling the trees. The frozen branches clawed angrily at the siding. She fiddled with her modem, hoping she could bring up the connection. The storm might have shut it down for the night.

She watched the Internet icon at the bottom of the screen. It blinked, trying to connect.

Internet down, she texted to Spencer.
U OK
?

MINE DOWN
2, he replied quickly. But he didn't answer her question.

She waited, watching the blinking icon search for a
signal, desperately wondering what was going on across the street. The scene kept replaying in her mind. She knew what she'd seen. It hadn't been a joke—no matter what Gavin said or how much he laughed. Gavin really seemed as if he was going to strangle Spencer. The glare in his eyes wasn't the look of someone joking. It was dangerous. Unhinged. If Spencer hadn't fought back and turned around when he did . . . She shuddered to think about it.

After what felt like an eternity, although it was really only a few minutes, the Internet icon flashed green. She was back online. She signed in to the webcam conference. Biting her lip, she wondered what she would find. Would Spencer be okay? Would June and Paige be back?

A single frame popped onto her screen.

The camera focused in on Spencer and Gavin sitting side by side. Spencer's posture seemed much more relaxed. Gavin leaned back casually in his chair. Everything appeared okay between them. They seemed like buddies again.

Her eyes roamed her screen. The frames where June and Paige had been—the frames that had turned bright red—were no longer there. She tried to dial into their computers. The connection failed repeatedly. No one was
at the other end to link into the videoconference site.

“Can you guys see June and Paige's frames?” she asked. The panic began brewing again in her stomach. The red frames were disturbing, but at least they had been something. A lifeline of some sort. Without them, she felt very far away from her friends.

Spencer shook his head. “They disappeared. Can you see them?”

“Nope.” She glanced at her cell phone. No texts. No messages. “I think we need to do something.”

“There's nothing to do,” Gavin replied.

“That's so wrong!” she cried. She'd had enough of him. Her fear and frustration bubbled up, congealing into anger toward him. “You barely even know us! And you have no idea where my friends are. I'm going to find them, and you can't stop me!”

Gavin threw up his arms in mock surrender.

“Calm down, Kel,” Spencer said. “You're right. We need to do something. But this webcam thing isn't working.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something is wrong. We need to figure this out together. Gavin and I will come over there. We'll all sit down—Chrissie, too—and make a plan.”

“Good idea,” she agreed. She wasn't thrilled about Gavin coming too, but decided not let that get to her. She wanted company. “Hurry, okay?”

Spencer nodded. “Be over in a sec.” He logged off.

She left her chair and flopped onto her bed. The chill had completely invaded her room, making her long to snuggle under her plaid comforter. She resisted. Spencer and Gavin would be here in a moment. She waited.

And waited.

She rolled over, watching the clock on her bedside table. Ten minutes had passed since Spencer had logged off. She wondered what was taking so long. She pulled her sleeping bag off the floor and draped it over herself. Staring at her ceiling, she let five more minutes pass. Then she sat upright.

Spencer had been running across the street to her house since they were in kindergarten. It took two minutes, at most.

She flipped open her phone.
WHERE R U
??? she texted.

She waited. No reply. No ringing doorbell. Nothing.

Maybe he's waiting at the door,
she thought.
Maybe the doorbell is busted.
She leaped off her bed. How horrible of her to leave them outside in the brewing storm. She
raced out of her room and down the hall. At the top of the stairs, she stopped.

The smell.

The bracing scent hung thickly in the air. She stood startled, as if slapped in the face. Every nerve tingled as she inhaled.

Peppermint. Again.

No one was in the hallway. The stairs were empty. She couldn't explain where the mysterious odor was coming from. Suddenly, more than ever, it felt urgent that Spencer be at the door. She needed him to smell the smell. To tell her she wasn't going crazy. To explain everything.

She hurried down the steps.

The temperature change was obvious as she reached the foyer. The heat was still on down here. The murmur of the TV reached her ears from the family room. She could still smell the peppermint, although perhaps more faintly than before.

Twisting the lock on the front door, she reached for the brass handle. She pulled hard. An enormous gust of frigid air swept through the house as she opened the door onto the storm. Her hair flew about her face, and she leaned into the wind.

The front step was empty.

No Spencer or Gavin.

The outside lights on either side of the door cast a faint glow on the inky darkness of the night. Snow swirled about—the fat flakes carried in circles by the incredible wind.

She peered down the deserted walkway. It was covered by an untouched layer of fresh whiteness. No boot prints. They hadn't tried to come up to the door.

Still inside the house, she tried to see across the desolate street. The neighborhood was quiet, except for the howls of the wind. Everyone was inside, protected from the oncoming storm. She stared at the outline of Spencer's house. A shiver ran along the base of her neck.

The house was dark. Completely dark.

Twisting her head, she tried for a different angle. Her eyes teared from the icy gusts. But no matter how hard she squinted, the Stones' house continued to blend in with the blackness of the sky. No lights were on. No lights inside. No lights outside.

It was as if no one was home.

As if no one had ever been there.

The house was totally abandoned.

Kelly slowly shut the front door. She stood motionless on the woven mat, trying to piece together the puzzle.

Spencer and Gavin had been in their house a few minutes ago. She was sure of it. And Spencer's little brother Charlie had been home too. And Spencer's mom. They wouldn't all leave suddenly in the night, would they?

As hard as she tried, she couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation. At this point, she was even willing to take sort-of reasonable. Maybe they all decided to go to sleep and shut every light—even the outside ones? Doubtful. Especially since Spencer had promised to run right over.

She hooked her mind around the promise. Of all her friends, Spencer was the one she could count on most to
keep a promise. If he said he was coming, then he'd be here. He always came through. She would wait.

The hum of the television penetrated her muddled thoughts.

Ryan. She'd go hang out with Ryan until Spencer showed up, she decided.

She entered the family room from the foyer. The overhead light blazed brightly in here, and the heat seeped through the vents. Her mother had a passion for Americana crafts. A painting of an American flag done on a large, weathered, wooden plank hung over the sofa. The other walls held needlepoint reproductions of colonial samplers. Carved, narrow benches and corn-husk dolls decorated the area near the stone fireplace. On most other nights, Kelly felt as if she were living in a museum. She often teased her mom about it, calling it “Ye Olde Family Room.” But tonight being surrounded by all her mother's trinkets felt soothing.

Ryan sat on the sofa, exactly in the same position as before.

“Hey,” she said.

He continued to stare at the TV.

She was about to make a sarcastic remark about
whatever alien sci-fi movie he was captivated by when she stopped—and took a second look at the screen.

Three women in shorts and colorful tank tops stood in a row. They squatted in unison. Together they kicked their legs and counted the repetitions. Was Ryan really watching an exercise show?

She examined the women for another minute. They weren't even young or cool-looking. They looked like her grandmother's friends.

“Hey, you, why are you watching this?” she asked.

Ryan didn't answer. His eyes never left the screen. He appeared mesmerized by the middle-aged women, who were now jogging in place. Retro eighties music played in the background, but the women were hopelessly off the beat. There was absolutely nothing interesting in this show. And it wasn't bad enough to be funny. It was just bad.

Kelly narrowed her gaze at her brother. She was so not in the mood for his tricks. “Answer me,” she demanded.

He stayed mute. Unmoving.

She studied him. Was this a joke?

“Stop it, Ryan.” She waved her hands in front of his
unblinking brown eyes. He didn't flinch.

“Can you hear me?” she cried. Her heart began to beat rapidly. From anger. From confusion. “Move!” she screamed, her face centimeters from his. “Move!”

He remained frozen. She could hear him breathing. The air slowly traveling in and out of his nostrils. She grabbed his shoulders with both her hands and shook him hard. Again and again. “Answer me!” she screamed frantically.

His body felt limp in her hands. He gave no resistance. His glassy eyes focused vacantly on the TV. The three women crossed their arms and legs, counting out the fifteenth jumping jack. Their perky voices filled the silence of the room.

Her heart beat all over her body. Her thoughts jumbled around her brain. Nothing was making sense. Why was Ryan like this? It was almost as if he was . . . as if he was . . .

She hesitated, not wanting to complete the horrible thought. Fearful that if she thought it, it would be true. For the only thing she could come up with was that Ryan was . . . possessed.

She stared suspiciously at his zombielike figure.
He had never acted like this before. “Ryan.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “Ryan, please.” She could no longer disguise her fear. “You're freaking me out. Please.”

He didn't respond to her pleas. Immobile, he stared into nothingness. Vacant.

She needed help. Now. She knew that.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket. Her fingers automatically dialed her mom's cell.

“Hi, sweetie.” Her mom's voice, so near yet so far, made her legs weak.

“Hi, Mom.” Her voice caught, and she swallowed hard.

“Is everything okay? What are you doing?” The line crackled.

“Well, you see—” Static filled the airwaves, then disappeared. It disguised the terror in her voice.

Kelly hesitated. She started to tell her mother that everything wasn't okay. That their babysitter was depressed. That her friends weren't texting her. That the house smelled weird. That her brother had become a zombie.

No. She couldn't tell her all that. She was the one who would sound crazy. Besides, what did she expect
her mother to do so far away? She'd totally freak out and insist on driving home in this weather.

“Fine,” she answered instead. “Everything's fine. Just watching TV.”

“Good. Stay inside. The weather's bad.” Her mom went on to tell her about the motel room and the lack of little shampoo bottles, soap, and shower caps in the bathroom. She hated motels without amenities. “Does Chrissie want to talk to me?”

Her mother's voice faded in and out. The line buzzed with static.

That was it! Chrissie would help, Kelly realized. She might be acting a little strange but she was older. She'd know what to do. She would confide in Chrissie. She didn't have to worry her mother.