The Dead Boyfriend Page 16
“I used them in my story, Mom. I used them as characters because I knew them. I knew how to describe them. But it isn’t true. It’s not a diary. It’s a novel I’ve been writing. None of it is true. I swear. None of it.”
Dad swallowed hard. He kept blinking, as if he was having trouble focusing. “It’s a novel? It’s fiction?”
“Yes, I’ve been writing a novel,” I said. I rolled my eyes. I let out a bitter laugh. “Did you two honestly believe that I killed a boy? Seriously? You believed I stabbed a boy to death—twice? Did you?”
Mom hesitated. “Well … no. Of course not, dear. But that boy Blade did die. He drowned, didn’t he? On vacation with his parents?”
I nodded. “It was very upsetting. He was a friend of mine. So I used him in the story. But—”
“It says you killed a stranger,” Mom said, biting her bottom lip. “You wrote that you stabbed an innocent boy in a bus shelter. Cathy-Ann—?”
“It isn’t true. It’s all made up,” I insisted. “It’s fiction, Mom. Can’t you understand?”
“Well, who is this Deena Fear?” Dad demanded. “I never heard you mention her before.”
I rolled my eyes again. “That’s because she doesn’t exist, Dad. There is no Deena Fear. I made her up. You know all those crazy stories people tell about Fear Street. I made up a new one.”
He nodded, exchanging a glance with Mom. She ran her hand over a handwritten page in her lap. “Well, Cathy-Ann, this is quite a piece of writing. But … I’m sorry to say this, but it’s the work of a very troubled person.”
“Maybe you need to see someone,” Dad said. “These thoughts you have here—”
“You two are ridiculous,” I said. “I’m not troubled at all. You know I love to write. I decided to write a horror novel. That’s all. I used my imagination. I dreamed up a frightening story.”
I tugged at both sides of my hair. “But that doesn’t mean I’m troubled. That doesn’t mean I have horrifying abnormal thoughts. I made up characters and I wrote a story. Can’t you two understand that?”
They shook their heads. They couldn’t get over the fact that my writing was filled with violence and blood and murder and a boy coming back from the dead. I guess they thought I should write about kittens and lollipops.
I reached out both hands and Mom handed me the book. “You should be proud of me,” I said. “Look how creative I am. I do my schoolwork. I have a B-plus average. And I’ve written almost an entire novel.”
I shook my head, frowning at them. “Instead of sitting there with those disapproving expressions on your faces, you should be telling me what a cool thing I’ve done.”
I turned and started from the den. But Dad called me back. “You’re right. You’re totally right,” he said. “We are proud of you, Cathy-Ann. We just didn’t understand.…” He shook his head. “You took us by surprise. You completely fooled us. The writing is so good, we believed it all.”
“Your dad is right,” Mom said. She pointed to the book in my hands. “You know what? It really is a good story. Maybe you should try to get it published.
ONE YEAR LATER
46.
Cathy-Ann straightened her skirt over her tights, then swept back her hair with both hands. She shielded her eyes from the bright afternoon sunlight and peered across the parking lot to the bookstore.
“Look, dear, there’s already a line,” her mother said. “Isn’t it exciting? They’re waiting for you.”
Exciting isn’t the word, Cathy-Ann thought, feeling her heart begin to flutter in her chest. It’s unreal!
Her dad took her arm and she walked between her parents toward the bookstore. She counted at least twenty people lined up outside the entrance. Most of them were high school girls. She recognized a few from Shadyside High. But she saw a sprinkling of adults there, too.
She stopped in front of the big window at the side of the entrance and peered through the sun glare at the poster—her photo, smiling and holding the book. Below it, the words in bold type: APPEARING TODAY. SIGNING AT 3:00.
Dad pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos of the display. A few people in the line recognized her and called out to her.
The door opened. A pleasant-looking young woman in jeans and a red-and-white striped t-shirt stepped out to greet her. “Hi, Cathy-Ann. I’m Mandy Wade, the store manager. Welcome to Books & Things.”
“Thank you.” Cathy-Ann felt her throat tighten. Was this really happening?
What a crazy year it had been. It had taken weeks to type up what she had written in the diary. Then she sent the manuscript to her cousin Barry in New York, whose girlfriend worked in publishing. What a shock when, two weeks later, Cathy-Ann received an offer for the book. It was going to be published!
Now here she was, about to do her very first book-signing at the only bookstore in Shadyside. The book had been out for only a week and had already received some good reviews.
Cathy-Ann had to laugh. Here was Mom beaming proudly as they walked through the bookstore. She had been so appalled and upset the first time she read the story. Now she kept a Pinterest page of photos and reviews and everything about the book.
“Sit behind the table here,” Mandy Wade said, pulling out the chair for Cathy-Ann. “I have a lot of different pens and markers. I didn’t know which you prefer.”
“I don’t really know, either,” Cathy-Ann replied, sitting down next to the tall stack of her books. This is my first signing.”
Mandy patted her hand. “The main thing is to relax and enjoy it. These people came all the way here to see you. So there’s no reason to be nervous.” She turned to the front. “I’m going to let people in now. You have a great crowd for a first-time author.”
Cathy-Ann’s dad was busy taking photos of her. Her mom stood at the side, arms crossed, a proud grin stuck on her face.
Cathy-Ann cleared her throat, opened the water bottle in front of her, and took a long sip. Then she picked up a pen and watched as people began to stream toward the table.
The first two in line were Rachel Martin and Amy O’Brien, two girls from her senior class at Shadyside High. They chatted about how exciting this was. “I’ve already read it,” Amy said as Cathy-Ann thanked her and signed their books.
A middle-aged woman set a book down in front of Cathy-Ann and opened it to the title page. “Could you sign this to my daughter Coral? She likes to write, too. Could you write something encouraging to her?”
Cathy-Ann signed the book to Coral. She didn’t really know what to say, so she wrote: “Keep reading and keep writing!”
The next woman had bought three books she wanted signed. “No message. Just sign your name. They’re going to be birthday gifts,” she said.
Cathy-Ann leaned over the books and signed them. “Are you working on another book?” the woman asked, gathering them up.
“Not yet,” Cathy-Ann said.
Next in line was a tall young man with wavy black hair and silvery sunglasses that caught the light from the ceiling. He set a book down in front of her. Then he slowly removed the sunglasses.
She stared into his strange gray-green eyes—and recognized him.
He shoved the book toward her. “Just sign it to The Dead Boyfriend,” he said.
“Blade? Blade?”
Cathy-Ann dropped her pen and started to scream.
Also by R. L. Stine
SERIES
Goosebumps
Fear Street
Mostly Ghostly
The Nightmare Room
Rotten School
INDIVIDUAL TITLES
It’s the First Day of School … Forever!
A Midsummer Night’s Scream
Young Scrooge
Red Rain
Eye Candy
The Sitter
About the Author
R. L. STINE is one of the bestselling children’s authors in history. His Goosebumps and Fear Street series for young people have more than 400 million books in print and hav
e been translated into thirty-five languages. Other popular children’s book series include Mostly Ghostly, The Nightmare Room, and Rotten School.
R.L.’s anthology TV series, R. L. Stine’s The Haunting Hour, recently won an Emmy Award as Best Children’s Show. His Goosebumps series is the basis for a feature film of the same name, starring Jack Black as R. L. Stine himself. Stine says that he is proud to have frightened several generations of young people, and he is delighted to be back on Fear Street to deliver even more scares.
R. L. Stine lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, an editor and publisher. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Part Two
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Part Three
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Part Four
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
One Year Later
Chapter 46
Also by R. L. Stine
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
THE DEAD BOYFRIEND. Copyright © 2016 by Parachute Publishing, LCC. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Danielle Christopher
Cover photographs: shadowy figure on street © Jill Hyland / Arcangel Images; woman © Stephan Carroll / Arcangel Images
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-05895-9 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-11199-9 (international, sold outside the U. S., subject to rights availability)
ISBN 978-1-250-09206-9 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781250092069
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
First U.S. Edition: September 2016
First International Edition: September 2016