Don't Scream (9780307823526) (3 page)

Lori nodded and stretched. “Well, if you think Wonder Boy isn't coming out so I can get a good look at him, why don't we walk through the woods over to the bay? And don't tell me it's too far out of the way to go through the woods, because it's a lot cooler.”

I stood up. “No argument,” I said. “I don't have to go to work until four.”

The woods—which had never been given a proper name—was a scraggly patch of pine, tallow, and oak—an unlovely offshoot trailing down from the thick swath of forest that spread northward and outward from Houston, through the northeastern counties of Texas, into Arkansas and Louisiana. But the outskirts of the woods—the only part I was allowed in—were one of my favorite places. Cool and quiet, with a thick padding of damp, spongy mulch underfoot, it was a solitary place in which to think and dream.

When I was little, I'd often heard the rumor that deep inside the woods were the remains of an ancient cemetery.

“Early settlers,” Mrs. Snyder had explained. “I doubt if folks even remember where the cemetery is now. Long ago the trees grew up and hid the graves. Something nasty is attached to that place. It's best left forgotten.”

Mrs. Hickey's smile had been smug. “It wasn't settlers who got buried there. From what I've heard, it's Harry Pratt's last resting place.”

“Who's Harry Pratt?” I'd asked, and Mom had suddenly noticed me.

“Harry Pratt was one of the meanest train robbers in these parts, that's who,” Mrs. Hickey had said.

“Pishtosh,” Mrs. Snyder had answered. “There've never been any trains around here to rob.”

“Why don't we talk about the PTA spaghetti supper,” Mom began, one eye on me.

Mrs. Hickey wasn't finished. “Harry Pratt had
family here,” she announced. “I understand he was related to the William Pratt family, who long ago moved down Houston way.”

“Pishtosh,” Mrs. Snyder repeated.

The minute our guests had gone, Mom sat down opposite me, her face close to mine, and said, “I know you've got an active imagination, Jessie love, but don't waste time getting scared over those silly stories about a cemetery. People like to talk about one being back there, hidden in the woods, but far as I know, no one's ever seen it.”

“I'm not scared,” I answered honestly. I'd seen the Oakberry cemetery, with its ornate headstones, American flags, and fat bunches of faded artificial flowers; I tried to imagine what a secret, hidden cemetery would look like. Might there be a stone angel with outstretched wings? Or were train robbers not allowed to have angels? Someday I'd take a look for myself and find out if Harry Pratt was really buried there.

“Put your right hand over your heart, Jessie,” Mom had demanded, “and promise me you won't go looking for that cemetery. Not now when you're a little girl and not when you're older.
Not ever
.”

“Why?” I asked, but Mom's gaze grew stern.

“Because it's not a safe place.”

“Why not?”

“Jessica Donnally!” Mom snapped in an explosive tone that meant business. “You're not to go because I said so. That's why.”

Of course I was forever curious about the cemetery, but a promise was a promise. I'd kept my word.

As Lori and I ambled through the outskirts of the woods, breathing in the earthy, sour-sweet smells that rose from the ground under our feet, Lori said, “I've never seen anyone here but us. There's nothing in these woods worth hunting, and no shortcuts to anyplace through here.”

“As you pointed out,” I said, “it even takes longer for us to get to the bay if we take this route. We only do it because we like to.”

Ahead of us lay a cluster of boulders we'd named Castle Rock, which marked a turning point in the route toward the bay. I sprinted ahead and scrambled up the boulders until I reached the top. “Remember when we were kids and first named this our castle?” I called down to Lori. “We made up a whole routine of punches and kicks that we'd use on anybody who tried to take over our castle.” I laughed. “I still remember the routine. Hard fist to the stomach first, which makes the bad guy go
ooof!
and bend over. Then we make a double fist with both hands and bring it up under his chin, which causes him to bend backward.”

“Don't forget the
ooof!
” Lori said.

“Right. Another
ooof!
We follow with another jab to the stomach, and when he falls forward we end with a neck chop.”

I sighed. “Lori, I need to talk to you.”

She pulled herself up to the top boulder and squeezed next to me. “What's the problem?”

“Remember when our social problems class took a field trip through the Community Hospital's children's ward, with all those little kids?”

“Sure, I remember. Why?”

“They have an awfully small staff of nurses.”

“What are you talking about?” Lori asked.

“About the kids. Some of them are real little, and they need people to play with them and hold them. A lot of them are charity cases, and sometimes their parents aren't able to visit them more than a couple of times a month. Remember Ricky—the little boy who's in the middle of a series of operations?”

When Lori nodded, I continued, “The director told us that because Ricky spends most of his waking hours in his crib he can't walk yet. Thirteen months old, and there's no one who has the time to help him learn to walk!”

“Are you worried about the kids? Is that it?”

I shifted position and rubbed my right leg, which was beginning to prickle. “That's what I want to talk to you about. What if we get some of the kids at school together to volunteer to spend a few hours each afternoon and on the weekend to play with the kids? We could each pick a day.”

“What day?” Lori looked pained. “Besides school and homework, I've got piano lessons, choir practice, and driver's ed. And look at you—Saturday and Sunday afternoons you work at Bingo's.”

I turned so abruptly I had to grab Lori, who nearly slid off the rock. “But you're almost through with driver's ed, so you could volunteer
for Wednesdays. And I'm …” I sank back, taking a deep breath. “Maybe I should quit my job at Bingo's, or at least cut back the hours. I can't stop thinking about those little kids, Lori—especially Ricky—and the way they need us. Nothing else seems as important. I feel so selfish sometimes. Do you know what I mean?”

“Sure I do. But what about your mom and dad? Have you told them you want to quit your job?”

“I haven't told anyone but you,” I said, and squirmed uncomfortably. I wished Lori hadn't brought up my parents.

“I mean you're supposed to be helping to save money toward college expenses.”

“I know that.”

“And my dad says it costs more and more. Rice, for instance …”

I hugged my knees. “Oh, come on, Lori. I get good enough grades, but I have as much chance of Rice's accepting me as Harvard or Yale. If I go to the College of the Mainland or one of the junior colleges, it will cost a lot less. I can handle it.”

“I think you should talk to your parents.”

“I will.” I turned to face her. “You don't know how much I want to do this.
I
didn't even know until I started talking about it to you. It means a lot to me. Will you help me see if we can get some volunteers and do something to help these kids?”

“I think you ought to talk to Mrs. Emery, too, and see what she thinks. I mean before you quit your job or anything drastic like that,” Lori said.

“I'd thought about that,” I told her.

“Speaking of Mrs. Emery,” Lori said, “I've got
an idea for that term paper she wants on neighborhood relations, but I don't know if it really fits. Our next-door neighbor is such a pill. And look at your neighborhood. I mean, how can you have good relations with a crab like Mr. Chamberlin, who yells at everybody to get off his lawn?”

“Mom and Dad have good relations with him,” I said. “He's just a bitter old man to feel sorry for.”

Lori sighed. “I know. Your mother sends him cakes and things, and your dad even installed one of those safety lights on his front porch. Has he ever pushed the button to blink on and off and made your dad come running?”

“No,” I said. “Even that old Persian cat of his is crabby!”

“Peaches!” Lori said. “What a name for an ugly yellow cat! She looks just like Mr. Chamberlin, if you think about it, and the way he acts about her …”

As Lori went on, a creepy feeling spread over me. I found myself glancing again and again into the groves of trees, dim shadows that were splotched with narrow patches of light. Lori and I were alone. There was no sign of another human being, yet my back prickled as though someone was staring at us. The prickly feeling wouldn't go away.

“Let's go back,” I whispered to Lori.

“I thought we were going to walk to the bay. Then you wanted to climb up here to talk and—”

“I think we should go home instead.”

“What's the matter with you, Jess?”

“I don't know,” I whispered. “I have the feeling that someone's here in the woods with us.”

Lori's head swiveled. “Where?”

“There's no telling. I don't see anybody. But I feel someone looking at us. Don't you?”

Lori's eyes widened, and she wiggled closer. “You're scaring me, Jess.”

“Then climb down. We'll go home.” I led the way.

Lori scurried down the rocks and dropped to the ground beside me. Her voice was breathy with fear. “Now you've got me doing it. I feel it, too. But why would anybody hide and stare at us?”

“I don't know, but it's weird. Let's go.”

As we turned to retrace our steps, Lori asked, “What if whoever it is comes after us?”

“Run!” I cried, but Lori was already ahead of me.

Lori and I raced to my house, where we sat on the porch steps while catching our breath.

“Maybe it was our imagination,” Lori was finally able to say. She looked at me accusingly. “Or yours. No one followed us.”

I sat up and brushed my hair out of my face. “But didn't you feel that someone was there?”

Lori shrugged. “It might have been some kids playing pranks. Or it could have been Mr. Chamberlin. Maybe he bent down to tie a shoe, and that's why we didn't see him.”

“Oh, come on, Lori. Mr. Chamberlin wouldn't walk in the woods. He uses a cane, and he's afraid of falling down. Besides, we would have seen Peaches. She's always with him.”

Pepper emerged from a shadowy corner of the porch, stretched lazily, and climbed into my lap. I stroked him and said, “We should have had Pepper with us. Cats can see things that humans can't.”

Lori shivered. “Don't do that. If somebody's hiding just to spy on us, I don't want to see him.”

“Not even to find out who he is?”

“Not even then.” Lori made a face. “Honestly, Jess, you've got to know everything!”

I smiled. “It makes life interesting.”

The front door opened, and Mom strode out. She plopped down on the top step. “I can't believe it!” she exploded.

“Believe what?” I asked. “What are you so steamed about?”

Mom drew in a long breath and blew it out slowly. “I have no right to be upset,” she said. “I'm just surprised, that's all.”

“About what?”

“The cake I sent to our new neighbors. Well, I found the empty, washed cake pan at our back door. Almost stumbled over it. And not even a note of thanks with the pan. I don't know what to make of it.”

“Mark told me they were surprised when you sent over the cake,” I explained. “People on the East Coast don't send over stuff to new neighbors.”

“Nonsense,” Mom said. “Taking over food to help people settle in is the way people try to be neighborly everywhere, not just in Texas. And don't say
stuff.
My cake was a
cake
, not
stuff
.”

I glanced in the direction of the Maliks' house. “I just noticed. Their car's gone,” I said to Lori.

Mom looked at us as though suddenly seeing us
for the first time and said, “Surely you girls weren't running in this heat, were you?”

“We were in the woods,” I said. “It's cooler there.”

Mom stood and shook her head. “The follies of the young,” she said. “Just don't overdo it and come down with heat exhaustion.”

“Okay, I promise. We won't.” As soon as the front door closed behind her, I turned to Lori. “No one besides us ever goes into the woods, but Mark's new here. What if he went exploring?”

Lori looked puzzled. “If he
was
in the woods and he saw us, he'd come over and say hello, wouldn't he?”

“I guess so. He should.”

“Well, of course he should. Anyway, we sat out here forever, and we didn't see him leave his house.”

“Hey, look!” Lori whispered, jabbing me in the ribs. “The Maliks' car?”

I watched as the car came to a stop at the curb and Mark climbed out—alone. He smiled at me and strode toward us.

“Yum! Nice smile!” Lori murmured under her breath.

“Hi,” Mark said to me before he turned to Lori.

“Lori Roberts, this is Mark Malik—our new next-door neighbor,” I said.

“Hi, Lori,” Mark said. “Shall I put you down for brownies?”

He laughed at the puzzled look on Lori's face.
“Jess told me that around here everyone brings the new neighbors something to eat. I just thought I'd make a pitch for brownies while I had the chance.”

“Sit down,” I said. “No brownies on hand, but I can get some Cokes.”

“No thanks. Some other time,” Mark answered. “I've got work to do. I just came back from the hardware store. I bought what I need to put up shelves.”