Don't Stay Up Late Page 8

  “I’ll be right there,” Alice called.

  I had this sudden urge to confide in her. Tell her everything that happened that first night at Harry’s house.

  Would she understand?

  Of course not. She would tell Brenda I was crazy. She would warn Brenda not to use me anymore. I realized I had to keep it to myself.

  But what if it happened again? What if the intruder appeared in the house again?

  No. No way.

  “I’m glad Harry likes me,” I told Alice. “I like him, too. He’s pretty special.”

  Alice promised to bake the brownies and have them ready for Harry the next day. I walked him home as raindrops began to patter down.

  My heart began to race as we stepped into the house. My eyes immediately went to the top of the stairs. In the kitchen, I began to warm up the dinner Brenda had prepared for Harry. Every creak, every scrape, every soft sound made my muscles tense.

  I was on super-alert.

  Even Harry noticed I was tense. “What’s wrong, Lisa?” he asked as he ate his early dinner. “You look kind of worried.”

  “No. I’m fine,” I lied. “Just thinking about … school.”

  After dessert, I asked Harry if Alice had given him homework.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied. He scratched his dark hair. “I don’t remember.”

  I laughed. “You’re a liar. Of course you remember.”

  He tickled me under my chin. Somehow he had discovered I’m very ticklish there. “Lisa, I’ll tickle you until you let me play with my Xbox,” he threatened.

  I had no choice. I had to give in. He likes to play a game called Candy Catastrophe endlessly. I watched for a while, but it got to be boring. “Don’t you have any other game you like?” I demanded. “How can you play this for a solid hour?”

  “I like it,” he said, eyes on the screen as the colored candy pieces tumbled.

  “But is that your only game?”

  He shook his head. “Mom bought me a monster game. But I don’t like it. Too scary.”

  A monster game?

  I shuddered. Pictured the demon-creature again. Saw its ugly, twisted face as it looked up at me from the backyard.

  My phone beeped. I picked it up. A text from Saralynn: Everything ok?

  I texted her back: Fine. No problem.

  I saw that my phone was practically out of power. I didn’t have my charger. “Does your mom have an iPhone charger?” I asked Harry.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  I let him play a few more rounds. Then I tucked him into bed early. He went without an argument. No pleas to stay up late tonight. I guessed he was sleepy.

  Rain pattered the bedroom window. I made sure it was closed. I checked his closet. No sign of any demons.

  The evening had gone fine. No problems at all. But I couldn’t relax.

  I sat down on the living room couch and pulled the science assignment from my backpack. It was interesting reading, about how a new strain of bees had appeared, aggressive bees that liked to attack, and no one knew how this type of bee had suddenly developed.

  Frightening.

  Regular bees were scary enough.

  The article told about a man who was stung on the face by six of these bees and died instantly. When my phone rang, I jumped and uttered a startled cry.

  I fumbled for it, picked it up, and read the caller ID:

  Summer Lawson.

  27.

  I stared at the screen with the phone poised in my hand. I didn’t answer, just let it go to voicemail.

  What does she want? What is her problem?

  I waited a few seconds, then checked. She didn’t leave a message.

  I tossed the phone down and went back to the killer bees. They were known to attack dogs and even raccoons. Scientists were studying their genetic makeup.

  I don’t know why, but I’ve always found insects fascinating. I guess it’s because there’s lots more insects than humans on the planet. It’s their planet and we don’t really know that much about them.

  I finished the article and went back to highlight some sections. I like to read a whole piece first, then go back and underline what I think is important.

  I glanced at the front window. The rain had stopped but the window was still covered in raindrops. Moonlight trying to get through the window was broken into a thousand little shiny pieces.

  I sucked in my breath when I heard a sound. A soft thud.

  In the kitchen?

  I jumped off the couch. My whole body tensed as I stood there, fists at my sides, listening.

  I heard the creak of a footstep. A scraping sound. Another creak.

  Someone was definitely in the kitchen. I wasn’t imagining it. Someone had broken into the house and was creeping through the kitchen, trying to be quiet, coming toward the living room—coming for me.

  The same intruder? The same monstrous creature?

  I was frozen there. Not breathing. I don’t think my heart was beating. It was as if I’d turn to an ice sculpture. I felt cold all over, the cold tingling of total fear.

  I didn’t think I could move.

  There. Another footstep. A soft cough. Closer.

  My phone. I dove for it. My hand trembled so hard, I nearly dropped it.

  Got to call 911. Please—let me call 911 before he comes bursting in.

  No. Please—no.

  The phone was out of power. Dead. The screen wouldn’t even light up.

  No phone. And another footstep.

  Who’s there?

  I tried to call out those words, but no sound escaped my open mouth.

  I squeezed the dead phone in my hand, squeezed it so hard my hand throbbed with pain.

  On trembling legs I made my way to the hall. Still not breathing. Not breathing. Somehow I made it to the kitchen door.

  The floor seemed to tilt and sway beneath me. The whole world was spinning.

  But I forced myself to the kitchen. Holding onto the door frame, I leaned into the room. Gazed all around—and then cried out in total surprise.

  28.

  “What are you doing here?” I choked out.

  I stared at Nate, standing on the other side of the white kitchen counter.

  He wore a black denim jacket zipped to the top. The shoulders were wet, and his hair was matted to his forehead. He’d obviously been out in the rain.

  He gave me a weak smile. “I rang the front doorbell. Didn’t you hear it?”

  “No,” I said. I was still trembling. My heart was still doing flip-flops in my chest. “No, I didn’t. I was in the living room, but I didn’t hear the front door.”

  “Maybe the bell is broken,” he said, stepping around the counter. He kept his brown eyes on mine, a smile frozen on his face. “When you didn’t answer, I came around the back.”

  I sucked in a deep shuddering breath. I realized I was hugging myself, trying to calm myself.

  Nate stepped up to me. His smile faded. He put a hurt expression on his face. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” He reached out to hug me, but I pushed him back.

  “Y-you scared me to death!” I stammered. “Seriously. I thought someone broke in.”

  He snickered. “Someone did break in. Me.”

  “You’re not funny,” I said. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you call me first? Why didn’t you—”

  He put a hand over my mouth. “I wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

  I shoved his hand away. “I hate surprises. You weren’t trying to scare me—were you?”

  “No way,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Then why are you here?” I demanded. I started to feel calmer. I stopped shaking. I realized I was actually glad to see him.

  He brushed back his wet hair. “I was driving past. I have to go pick up my brother. He’s at a friend’s house a few blocks from here. It’s like a full-time job, driving Tim around. But I thought I’d just peek in and see if you were okay.”

>   I laughed. “I was okay until you frightened me to death.”

  He stepped forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to. Really. I just remembered you were upset after last Monday.…”

  His voice trailed off. I knew he didn’t believe me about what I saw here on Monday night.

  “Well … I guess it was sweet of you,” I said. “Can you come back and pick me up after Brenda gets home?”

  “No problem.” He pointed to a plate on the counter. “Are those chocolate chip cookies homemade?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but I heard a shout from upstairs. “That’s Harry,” I said. “See you later.”

  I spun away, trotted across the living room, and started up the staircase.

  “Lisa! Hey, Lisa!” Harry’s cries were shrill. He sounded frightened.

  “I’m coming,” I called as I reached the second-floor landing.

  I pushed open Harry’s door. The room was totally black, as usual. I fumbled on the wall till I found the light switch and clicked on the ceiling light.

  He was sitting straight up in his bed in his X-Men pajamas, his face red, his eyes wide. “Lisa—I … I was scared. I heard voices.”

  I crossed the room and dropped down beside him. “That was just my friend, Nate,” I said. “He stopped by. No reason to be scared.”

  He stared at me as if trying to decide if I was telling the truth. His chin was trembling. I leaned forward and hugged him. “Settle down. Get back under the covers. Everything is fine,” I said.

  He scooted down and I tucked the quilt under his chin. “Goodnight,” he said in a tiny voice.

  “Goodnight, Harry. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything. Don’t worry. Go to sleep, okay? It’s very late.”

  “Very late? Can I stay up? Can I stay up late?”

  “No. No way,” I said. “You’re already half-asleep.”

  He nodded and shut his eyes. I gazed for a moment at his cute face, his blond hair spread out on the pillow. Then I hurried downstairs to scold Nate for scaring the kid.

  “Nate? Hey, Nate?” I crossed the living room, into the back hall to the kitchen. “Did you leave?”

  He wasn’t in the kitchen. I noticed a few cookies were missing from the plate. I didn’t hear him leave, but I guessed that Nate had gone to pick up his brother.

  I returned to the living room and picked up my phone from where I’d tossed it onto the couch. I made a mental note to remember to bring a charger with me from now on.

  I settled on the couch and reached for my backpack. I had more homework to do, but I didn’t remember what it was. I thought about Nate creeping through the kitchen. Why didn’t he knock on the kitchen door before he came in? Why didn’t he call out as soon as he entered the house?

  He probably was afraid he might wake up Harry.

  I leaned forward and started to paw through the books and other junk in my backpack. But I sat straight up when I heard a sound. The soft squeak of a floorboard. My breath caught in my throat.

  “Nate? Is that you?”

  My voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

  Silence.

  And then I heard shallow breathing. A rhythmic wheezing. Close to my ears.

  I spun around. “Nate? Are you back?”

  No one there.

  Panic gripped the back of my neck. I suddenly felt cold all over. “Who’s there? I can hear you. Nate? Harry? Did you come downstairs?”

  No reply. The breathing grew more rapid, each breath sending a chill down my back.

  And then I gasped as a blur of motion across the room caught my eye.

  And the backpack fell to the floor as I jumped to my feet—and gaped in silent horror at the demon-creature, hunched at the bottom of the stairs.

  29.

  This isn’t happening. Please—tell me I’m hallucinating.

  I wasn’t. I stood frozen, my fists tight at my sides.

  We had a staring contest. He had one huge hand resting on the banister. He was normal height, not very short or very tall. His legs were spread, as if ready to run.

  His eyes were red as burning coals, surrounded by the tight greenish reptile skin that covered his face. He had green pig ears that poked up from the top of his head. His animal snout hung open, revealing two rows of pointed teeth.

  Wheezing loudly, his chest rising up and down, he took a lumbering step away from the stairs. He walked unsteadily, like an animal not used to standing on its two feet. Grunting sounds came from deep in his throat.

  “Who are you?” I screamed in a shrill voice I didn’t recognize. “What do you want?”

  He lurched forward another few steps. He didn’t reply.

  Does he speak? Does he understand English?

  Crazy questions. But your mind goes crazy when you are terrified beyond anything you’ve ever felt.

  “Stay away!” I screamed. “Go away!”

  He took another heavy step toward me. Then he tilted his fur-topped head back, uttered a shrill hissing sound, puckered his black lips, and spit a huge gray-green gob of gunk into the air. It shot across the room and landed with a loud wet splat on the coffee table at my feet.

  I screamed and forced myself to move. I darted to the back of the couch. Another thick gob of spit landed on the couch-back in front of me. It sizzled as it sank into the cushion.

  “Nooooooo!” I let out a long wail as I watched the creature raise both arms as if preparing to grab me. I spun away from behind the couch. My eyes shot back and forth, looking for an escape route.

  Another snakelike hiss from the creature. He snapped his jaws, making his pointed teeth click. Again. Again. The clicking sound hurt my ears, like chalk squeaking on a chalkboard.

  Panting in terror, I watched as he sent another wad of spit flying toward me. I ducked, and it sailed over my head and made an ugly splat sound on the wall.

  I stood up—and uttered a cry as the next disgusting wad of spit hit me, stunned me, splattered over my hair and forehead. The warm gunk oozed down my face. It smelled putrid, like rotten eggs.

  I raised a hand to wipe it away. And now my hand was covered in sticky goo. I stood there, unable to decide what to do, the spit sinking into my hair, running down my face.

  And then … something inside me snapped. I felt a weird burst of energy. A wave of anger swept over me. “Stop! Go away!” I shrieked. “Go awaaaaay!”

  I must have temporarily lost my mind. Because instead of backing away from the ugly, spitting creature, instead of trying to escape, I pushed myself forward. I lurched away from the wall—and went after him.

  I lowered my head like a football running back and went charging at him.

  The creature’s red eyes flared. The hissing stopped. He turned and took off, staggering away from me toward the front door.

  Roaring like a wild beast, I flew after him.

  He turned at the doorway, ducked past me, and trotted back into the living room. He had a strange, twisted grin on his black lips, as if he was enjoying the chase.

  He stopped at the side of the couch. Leaped onto the coffee table. Turned and waited for me to come after him.

  But I ran to the stairway. I was panting hard, my face burning hot and stained with sweat. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t have a plan. I knew only that I wanted to protect Harry. I wouldn’t let the creature go up the stairs again.

  We had another staring contest. The creature perched on the coffee table, big gnarly hands on his waist. For the first time, I noticed that he was dressed in baggy brown clothes, a long shirt that came down nearly to his knees. Brown leggings revealing bare, fur-covered feet at the bottoms.

  A horror-movie creature that wore clothes?

  The insanity of it made him even more frightening to me. He had to be real. If I had imagined him, I’d never put him in clothes.…

  More crazy thoughts.

  My whole body tingled with cold sweat as I struggled to catch my breath.

  And then the c
reature was moving again. Grunting loudly, he ran straight to the wall. Hoisted himself onto the dark-wood bookcase. Then scrambled straight up. To my shock, he ran up the wall. Then ran across the ceiling! His large bare feet slapped the ceiling as he ran upside-down across it.

  He spun and dropped into the hall. His feet thudded the floor as he plunged into the kitchen. I heard the kitchen door slam hard.

  Did that mean he was gone? Did he run out of the house?

  I hunched with my hands pressed over my knees. I stayed there, my chest throbbing, hair falling over my sweat-drenched face, gasping for air.

  When I could finally move, I pushed my hair off my face, took a deep breath, and strode to the kitchen. I stopped at the doorway.

  A chill tingled my neck as I realized it could be a trap. The demon-creature slammed the door to make me think he had left. But he was lurking there, waiting to trap me.

  I hesitated. Then, one hand on the doorframe, I leaned forward and peered into the kitchen. No one there. He was gone.

  I let out a long breath. My chest still ached from our insane chase.

  Now I had only one thought in my head. Harry. Was Harry okay?

  I hurried to the stairway. I started to take the stairs two at a time.

  I was halfway up the steps when I heard the scream.

  A shrill scream of horror. A girl’s scream. From outside? Right outside the house?

  I stopped. And heard a second scream, high and desperate. A frantic scream for help.

  I turned to the front door.

  What is happening out there? Who is screaming like that?

  30.

  I stumbled and nearly toppled off the steps. The screams sent chill after chill down my back. Someone right outside the house was in horrible trouble.

  The demon-creature had run out the back door. Had he attacked someone in the front of the house?

  A horrifying thought made me gasp. Was that Brenda screaming?

  Harry’s mom, home from work. She climbs out of the car. And the creature leaps on her.

  “No,” I whispered. “Please—no.”

  I tore down the stairs and ran to the front window. The front porch light sent a cone of yellow light over the front yard. I saw tall weeds swaying in a breeze. The grass gleamed silvery under the light.