Don't Forget Me! Read online

  And then I had my hands on both of his shoulders, and I was shaking him. Shaking him. Shaking him.

  And screaming. Screaming without even hearing myself.

  “He won’t wake up! What are we going to do? What are we going to DO?”

  I shook Peter frantically, screaming his name. His head bobbed limply on his shoulders. His mouth hung open, his tongue falling from side to side.

  He suddenly seemed so frail and tiny.

  “Peter, please! Peter!”

  I suddenly pictured him as a baby. He was such a cute baby with that red hair and tiny freckles all over his face. I pictured him as a toddler, walking unsteadily, peering out at us through his tiny eyeglasses.

  “Peter, wake up! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

  What have I done?

  I gasped when his eyes opened. Slowly, like a doll’s eyes when you tilt her straight up. He blinked. He shut them again.

  “Peter! Peter! Are you awake?”

  Addie and I were both leaning over him, screaming at him.

  His eyelids slowly raised. He gazed up at us with a blank, glassy stare. His mouth closed slowly, and he swallowed noisily.

  I let go of his shoulders and dropped back a step. “Peter?”

  A low groan escaped his open mouth. A sound I’d never heard before. An animal groan from deep inside him. Not a human groan.

  He shook his head hard, as if trying to clear his mind. Then he gazed up at Addie and me again, a glassy doll’s stare.

  Addie squeezed my hand. Her hand was wet and cold as ice. “He’s okay, Danielle,” she said in a trembling voice. “He’s going to be okay.”

  I slid my hand from hers and swept it gently through Peter’s hair. “Peter?” I whispered. “You okay?”

  The reply came from deep in his throat. “Unnn-huh.” A low grunt. He pulled himself up slowly, still blinking, and shook his head again.

  A chill tightened the back of my neck. “Peter, I’m sorry,” I choked out. “The hypnotism thing… it… it was just a joke. I didn’t realize…” My voice caught in my throat.

  “You’re okay, right?” Addie asked him. “You feel okay?”

  He shifted his weight on the couch and gazed around the room. “I guess,” he said finally. And then he asked a question that sent a cold stab through my heart. “Where am I?”

  “We—we’re in the living room,” I stammered.

  He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Then he squinted up at me. “The living room? Really?”

  Addie uttered a cry. “Stop kidding around, Peter. It isn’t funny. You’re starting to scare us.”

  Peter swallowed again. He blinked several times and gazed around. His eyes finally locked on me. “You’re Danielle?”

  “Yes!” I cried. “Don’t you remember me?” I turned to Addie, my whole body shaking in panic. “I don’t think he’s kidding. I really don’t think he remembers,” I whispered. “I think I ruined his memory or something.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Addie insisted. “You couldn’t. You don’t even know how to hypnotize someone, Danielle.”

  “But look at him!” I whispered through my gritted teeth. “He doesn’t know where he is! He’s totally lost!”

  “Hey, you know Peter. He’s faking it,” she said. “I think he’s playing a really cruel joke.”

  We both turned back to Peter. He stood up shakily and took a few steps, as if testing his legs. Then he stretched his arms over his head. He gazed from Addie to me, concentrating hard, as if trying to remember.

  “Should I call Dr. Ross?” I asked him. “Peter? Do you think you need a doctor?”

  He squinted at me. He was always so quick. Mom calls him Motormouth. But now it took him a long time to answer. “I’m… fine,” he whispered.

  He rubbed his forehead and gazed around the room again. “You’re Addie. Right?” he asked.

  Addie nodded solemnly. “Yes. Right.”

  “Addie and Danielle,” Peter mumbled.

  “I think I’d better call Dr. Ross,” I said. I reached for the phone beside the couch.

  Peter grabbed my arm. “No. I’m fine. I’m okay. Really, Danielle.” He let out a short laugh. “I’m just kidding. You know.”

  I stared hard into his eyes, studying him.

  He made a face at me. He stuck out his teeth, crossed his eyes, and made his monkey face. The face that always cracks Mom and Dad up.

  Then he laughed. “Stop staring at me like that. I’m fine. Really. I’m perfectly okay. What’s wrong with you two?”

  Addie and I exchanged glances.

  “I’m fine. I’ll show you!” Peter cried. He started jumping up and down on the couch cushions. Then he leapt to the floor and did a wild tap dance. “See?”

  Addie and I both laughed. “I think he’s definitely back to normal,” Addie said.

  I still felt shaky. “Peter, you remember where you are now? You remember our names?”

  “Duh,” he said.

  “He’s back to normal,” Addie sighed.

  Then his expression changed. “Did you really hypnotize me?” he asked suddenly. “I felt kinda weird for a little while. Kinda dizzy or something.”

  “I—I don’t know what happened,” I told him. “But I’m glad you’re okay. You’re not dizzy now, are you?”

  He shook his head. “I feel great.”

  “Then you can go,” I said. “Addie and I have to practice our act.”

  “Why can’t I hang out with you?” he asked.

  “Peter, you promised,” I said.

  “I’ll be quiet. Really,” he insisted. “You won’t even know I’m here. Please please please?”

  Addie rolled her eyes. “He’s definitely back to normal.”

  I gave Peter a shove toward the front stairs. “Out of here. You promised you’d leave us alone if I hypnotized you. Now, beat it.”

  He grumbled some more. Then he headed up to his room, taking the stairs two at a time, slapping the banister loudly with each step.

  I turned and saw that Addie was at the front door. “I’d better go,” she said. “That was kind of weird. I know you don’t feel like rehearsing our act now.”

  “I never want to hypnotize anyone again,” I said, shaking my head. “Even if it’s pretend.”

  “That’s just it,” Addie said. “It was pretend, Danielle. You couldn’t have hypnotized your brother. You couldn’t.”

  “Then what happened to him?” I asked.

  Addie frowned. “I … I don’t know,” she murmured. “At least he snapped out of it. That was scary for a minute or two. Hey, I’ll call you later.” She hurried out.

  I closed the door after her. Then I just stood in the hallway trembling. I couldn’t get that horrifying picture of Peter out of my mind—sprawled there so lifelessly as I shook him and shook him.

  “Get it together,” I scolded myself. “Everything is fine now.”

  I took a deep breath, pushed that picture from my mind, forced myself to move. Gripping the banister tightly, I pulled myself up the stairs, then down the long hallway to Peter’s room.

  The door was closed. I leaned close and pressed my ear against the door.

  Silence in there.

  My heart began to race.

  Why was it so quiet in there? Was he really okay? Peter was never quiet.

  I raised my fist and knocked on the door, harder than I had intended. “Peter? It’s me.”

  No reply.

  “Peter?”

  I pounded again. Still no answer. So I twisted the knob and pushed open the door. “Peter—?”

  He was sitting in front of his computer with his back to me. The computer was on, the monitor screen flashing bright colors and the name of the game, Tomb Raider. No sound. He had a game controller gripped in one hand.

  I took a few steps into the room. “Peter? Didn’t you hear me?”

  He turned slowly. The red and yellow lights from the monitor screen reflected eerily in his glasses. I couldn’t see his eyes
.

  “Peter—?”

  “Hi,” he said finally.

  The words Tomb Raider blinked on the screen in huge letters, red, then green, then blue. The colors washed over Peter’s face.

  “Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I told you. I’m fine,” he snapped. “How many times do I have to say it?”

  “Sorry,” I murmured.

  “Can I just ask you a question, Danielle?”

  “Yes, of course,” I said. “What is it?”

  “How do you play this game?”

  I gasped. Tomb Raider was his favorite game. Why couldn’t he remember how to play it?

  He sat there gazing at me, the colors dancing over his face, twisting the controller in his hand. “Do you know how to start it?” he asked softly.

  I forced myself not to cry out. I held my breath. I tried not to panic.

  I had never played the game, but I knew I could figure out how to get it started. Leaning over him, I moved the controller. After fumbling around for a minute or two, I got the game to start. I picked the beginner level, even though I knew Peter was an expert player.

  Peter took the controller and started to play. I watched him, my heart pounding hard, my arms crossed tightly in front of me.

  “Hey, this is too easy!” he cried. He moved the controller until the setup screen returned. “You jerk. You set it for Beginner,” he growled. “I’m not a beginner. I’ve already beaten this game three times!”

  He started the game again, leaning into the monitor. The colors danced over his face as if he were in the game.

  He didn’t even seem to remember that I was standing there. I tiptoed out of the room.

  Is he okay or not? I asked myself.

  Should I call Dr. Ross?

  One minute he’s asking me how to start a game he’s played a million times. The next minute, he’s an expert again….

  “What have I done? What have I done?” I repeated in a whisper.

  I decided I’d better call the doctor.

  My hand shook as I punched in the phone number and listened to the ringing at the other end.

  After four rings, a taped message began. No one in the doctor’s office. Of course. It was Sunday. I shut the phone off and tossed it onto the couch. As it hit the couch, it rang.

  I jumped. What if it’s Mom and Dad?

  What do I tell them? That everything is fine? Or do I tell them what I did? Tell them how weird Peter is acting?

  I stared at the phone. It rang again. Again.

  Finally, my heart thudding, I grabbed it. “Hello?” My voice came out tiny and shrill.

  “Hey, Danielle?”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s me. Zack.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing. I guess I was so relieved that it wasn’t my parents.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked. He sounded hurt.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s … been a little weird around here today.” I dropped onto the couch. “What’s up, Zack?”

  “Did your parents go away?” he asked.

  “Uh … yeah. They’re on their way to Cleveland.”

  “Well, I thought maybe you and I could grab a hamburger or something.”

  Hel-lo. Zack was asking me out? How great was that? But why today of all days?

  “I’d really like to,” I said. “But I don’t know. I’m in charge of Peter. I can’t go out and leave him alone.”

  “Bring him,” Zack declared. “He’s pretty cool, your brother. Why don’t you bring him?”

  “Well … yes! Great! Hold on. I’ll go ask him.”

  I dropped the phone and ran back up to my brother’s room. He was still leaning over his computer, frantically playing the game.

  “Peter, would you like to come have dinner with Zack and me tonight?” I asked, shouting over the game.

  He kept playing for a few seconds, then put the game on pause. He turned slowly. “What?”

  “Would you like to go to dinner with Zack and me?” I asked. “You know. Go to Burger Palace or something?”

  “Cool!” he cried. He jumped to his feet. “When are we going? Now? I’m starving!”

  I burst out laughing. That was the same old Peter! He’d do anything to hang out with my friends.

  I had a big smile on my face as I hurried back to the phone to tell Zack we had a date.

  Burger Palace was noisy and jammed with people, even though it was a Sunday night. The three of us found a booth in the back. Zack and I slid in on one side. Peter playfully tried to shove into the same side.

  “Get over there!” I cried, pushing him out. “You’re not funny.”

  He laughed and moved to the other side of the table. Then he picked up the menu—upside down—and pretended to read it.

  Normally, Peter’s stunts to get attention drive me crazy. But tonight I was so thrilled to see him acting like himself, I didn’t care if he stood on his head on the table!

  “This was an excellent idea,” I told Zack. We started to talk about school and kids we knew. I realized I really liked Zack. I wondered if he really liked me too.

  Of course, Peter kept butting into the conversation. He had about a dozen dumb jokes that he insisted on telling.

  But I didn’t get tense about it. I sat back and enjoyed myself.

  I felt so good. So relaxed.

  So relieved.

  I stayed in a good mood until the food came.

  Then I stared across the table at my brother. I stared with growing horror as he picked up French fries and stuffed them into his mouth, then picked up his double cheeseburger.

  “Peter—!” I gasped. “What are you doing?”

  He gazed at me, chewing hard. “Huh? What’s wrong?”

  “You—you’re right-handed,” I said. “Why are you eating with your left hand?”

  Mom and Dad called a few minutes after we returned home.

  “Hi.” I knew it was them before I answered.

  “We’re in the car, on the way to the hotel,” Mom said. “Is everything okay, Danielle?”

  I opened my mouth to tell them that everything wasn’t okay. Come home, quick. I accidentally hypnotized Peter and now he isn’t the same. I cast some kind of spell on him, and he’s acting totally weird.

  But I couldn’t tell them. I couldn’t. Besides, I knew they wouldn’t believe me. Who would believe a crazy story like that?

  “Fine,” I said. “Everything is fine, Mom.”

  We talked for a minute or so. I told her we went to Burger Palace for dinner. Mom said something, but I couldn’t hear very well. The connection kept cutting out.

  I told her Peter was up in his room doing homework for tomorrow. She didn’t seem to hear me. “Peter is fine,” I lied.

  “Who?” The phone crackled with static.

  “Peter,” I repeated.

  “I can’t hear you,” Mom shouted. “I’d better get off. We’ll be home tomorrow night.”

  Then silence. The connection was lost.

  When I clicked off the phone, I was shaking. I hate lying to my parents. But what choice did I have?

  Peter will be normal again by the time they return home tomorrow night, I told myself. Mom and Dad will never have to know.

  Late that night I couldn’t sleep. I stared up at the cracks in my ceiling and thought about Peter. Maybe he’s still hypnotized, I thought. Maybe if I go up to him and snap my fingers or something, I can bring him out of it.

  Or maybe I can try to hypnotize him again and—

  My mind spun. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I felt so helpless. I didn’t know what to do.

  I grabbed my pillow and pulled it over my face. I tried to shut out the dim moonlight from outside, shut out the ceiling cracks above my head, shut out my troubled thoughts.

  Finally, I fell into a light, restless sleep. I slept until the whispers started. So soft and distant, at first I thought they were part of a dream.

  Tiny vo
ices, speaking so quietly. Sighing. Moaning.

  I struggled to hear them. What were they whispering?

  “Who’s there?” I cried, my voice tight, clogged with sleep.

  I swung my feet to the floor and clicked on the bedside table lamp. Was I dreaming? Or were the whispers coming from down the hall?

  Shivering, I stood unsteadily. “Who—who’s there?” I repeated.

  Burglars? Had someone broken in?

  “Who’s there?”

  I stumbled to the doorway and peered up and down the dark hall. No one. Peter’s door was closed. No light from under it.

  And then the whispers began again. “Peter … Peter … ”

  I gasped. Was someone calling my brother?

  It couldn’t be a burglar. A burglar wouldn’t be calling Peter.

  The whispers seemed to float up the front stairway.

  I clicked on the hall light, tugged down the hem of my nightshirt, and ran to the top of the stairs. “Who is it?”

  “Peter …”

  “Please! Who’s there?”

  My heart thudding, I raced down the stairs, the wood cold on my bare feet. My hand fumbled on the wall, finally pushing the switch, and the living room lights flickered on.

  I gazed around the empty room.

  “Peter … we’re waiting….”

  “Who’s here? Is someone in here?” I didn’t recognize my shrill, frightened voice.

  Danielle, call the police! I ordered myself.

  I started to the phone. But I stopped when I saw the door open. The door to the basement stairs. Wide-open again, even though I had carefully closed it before going to bed.

  Shivering, I hugged my nightshirt around me. Slowly, I made my way down the hall to the open door.

  “Peter … ”

  I grabbed the door and peered into the darkness of the basement stairs. “Who’s there?” I shouted in a quivering voice. “Please! Who is it? Who?”

  “Peter … Peter …”

  The whispers were so faint, so pleading. As if they were calling to him, begging him to come down.

  Who was down there?

  I took a deep breath, struggling to force my body to stop trembling. Then I reached into the stairwell and clicked on the basement light.