Halloween Party (7 page)

“Don't do us any favors, man,” said Bobby, and he
shoved Philip, hard, in the chest. With a gasp Philip fell backward and banged into a table.

“Uncle Philip!” cried Justine in horror. Several of the kids rushed to Philip's aid. Niki, her dark eyes wide with fright, ran to Terry, gripping his hand.

“Sorry about that. It was an accident,” Bobby said, slurring his words. He stumbled over a floorboard, and Terry realized he'd been drinking.

By now the other kids were recovering from the shock of the bikers' entrance. “Go home!” several shouted. “Get out of here, you creeps!”

Bobby and Marty ignored the others. “Nice place they got here,” said Bobby. “Kinda looks like your place, huh, Marty?”

They both laughed as if Bobby had just made a hilarious joke.

“Why don't we help 'em out a little and clear away some of the cobwebs,” said Marty. He unhooked a chain from one of his belt loops and, with a flick of his wrist, swung it at the cutouts over the fireplace. Instantly they fell to the floor in tatters.

Terry stared in disbelief. Why didn't someone
do
something? Now Marty started to wreck the decorations over the window.

Terry couldn't stand it anymore. “Hey, man, don't
do
that!” he said.

He took a step toward Marty, but Bobby moved faster. Terry felt his head jerk back as if he'd just been hit by a truck. The next thing he knew he was on his back, with Niki's face, very close and frightened looking, gazing down at him.

He tried to sit up, but Niki pushed him back down. “Don't try to move,” she whispered.

“Uh-oh. The skinny guy tripped,” Bobby said,
grinning. He stared at the others menacingly. “Hope nobody else trips—or anything.”

Marty laughed. They slapped each other high-fives with their black-gloved hands.

These guys sure know how to have a good time, thought Terry. Whatever they'd been drinking or smoking had made them think they were hilarious.

Justine stepped forward again. She was still angry, but Terry saw that now she was also frightened.

“All right, guys,” she said. “So I made a mistake. I was wrong not to invite you to the party. But everything was planned for the nine people who are already here. If you'll just leave now, I promise I'll have a special party—just for you—next week.”

“Hey, that's okay,” said Bobby. “We're having a great time. Don't sweat it.” He walked over to the food. Ricky, Angela, and Trisha, who had been standing there, quickly edged away.

Bobby took a big bite of one of the hors d'oeuvres, then spat it out. “Yuck!” he bellowed. “What is this stuff? It tastes like fish!” He turned angrily to Justine. “Haven't you got any real food here? Chips? Pizza?”

“There's plenty of pizza on the shelf over there,” said Justine. “Take what you want and—”

“What about drinks?” interrupted Marty. “All I see here is kid stuff.” He turned to Philip, who was sitting on a low stool now, looking sick. “Where do you keep the wine coolers, man?” Marty asked.

“I don't drink,” said Philip curtly. “I never keep alcohol in the house.”

“I don't believe you,” said Marty. “What kinda host are you? My friend and I are thirsty.” He grabbed Philip by his lapels.

“Stop it!”

Alex's sudden yell stopped Marty for a moment. Like a silver streak, Alex crossed the room and grabbed Marty, pulling him away from Philip.

Marty bellowed in rage. Alex's triumph was short-lived. A moment later Bobby grabbed Alex from behind, then held on to him while Marty kicked him, hard, in the stomach.

“Ohhh.”

With a gasp of pain Alex fell to the floor and lay curled in a ball, gasping for breath.

“Oh, man. Another accident,” said Bobby, stepping over Alex.

While the guests looked on helplessly, Bobby and Marty began to ransack the beautiful old living room, opening doors and cabinets and throwing everything they found onto the floor.

Whenever anyone made a move to stop them, Bobby twirled his chain menacingly. They found a bottle of red wine somewhere and began trading it back and forth.

This has got to stop, Terry told himself. They may be tough, but we've got them outnumbered.

Across the room David caught his eye and nodded in the direction of the cycles. Terry nodded back and slowly got up and began to inch toward the machines. Casually he picked up a heavy candlestick from an end table. Niki looked at him, her eyes wide with fright. “It's okay,” he mouthed soundlessly.

Bobby and Marty were so busy eating and ransacking the room that they didn't notice Terry and David on their bikes until the air filled with the sound of the engines revving up.

“Hey!” Both Bobby and Marty forgot what they
were doing and leapt for the bikes. “Leave those alone!”

But Terry and David were ready for them. Just as the two bikers reached the motorcycles, Terry and David jumped off the seats. Bobby and Marty dived for the two boys, but came up with nothing but air.

With a bellow of rage, Marty stood up and swung his chain at Terry.

Terry caught the end of it with the candlestick. He pulled, and Marty cried out in anger and pain as the chain twisted out of his hand.

Meanwhile, David and Bobby were fighting, rolling over and over on the floor. Bobby was a dirty fighter, but he was half drunk, and David was quicker. He had Bobby down and was pounding his face, causing blood to spurt over both of them. With another blow he stunned Bobby, then stood up, satisfied.

Marty had forgotten about his chain and advanced on Terry threateningly, wildly swinging his fists at him.

Terry kept ducking and moving backward, searching for an opening, a way to stop him. From the corner of his eye he saw David suddenly mount Marty's bike, turn it around, and gun it out the front door. He jumped off at the last minute.

“Hey, Marty,” David called. “Your bike's gone home without you!”

Marty looked around in horror, then turned and ran out after his runaway bike.

A second later there was a sickening crash.

“How about we do the same thing to your bike?” Terry said to Bobby, who was just struggling up from the floor.

Without a word, Bobby threw a leg over his bike, his face a bloody mess.

“Tough guys, huh?” Bobby sneered. He glared at Terry first and then David with such hatred that Terry felt his stomach turn over. “You're dead meat, man. You're history. Both of you.”

He looked around the room slowly, menacingly. “Later,” he said.

With a final threatening look, he gunned the motorcycle and rode out of the mansion and into the night.

T
he smell of motorcycle exhaust hung in the air. Several kids began congratulating Terry and David on getting rid of the two bikers, but their thanks were subdued. Everyone seemed to be in shock.

“Nice going,” Murphy said.

“We did what we had to,” said David, wiping his bloody face with a tissue. “Maybe they'll go pick on someone else for a while.”

“Justine, where's your phone?” said Terry. “We've got to report this to the police.”

Panic and alarm crossed Justine's face. “No! No police.”

“But they broke into your house!” said David. “They vandalized it! And you heard their threats.”

“That's all they were—just threats,” Justine said. She moved closer to David, put a hand on his arm, and stared directly into his face. “Those boys are
bullies,” she said. “All swagger and no substance. They wouldn't dare come back after the way you and Terry faced them down.”

“Well, I don't know,” David said uncertainly.

“Really, everything's fine now,” said Justine. “A few of the decorations are ruined, but so what? What's important is that no one was really hurt. Alex? Terry? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” muttered Alex.

“I'm okay,” said Terry. His cheek hurt where Bobby had punched him, and he suspected there would be a big bruise, but no real harm had been done.

“Thank you, all of you, for being so brave,” Justine said, turning her smile up to full wattage. A look of mischief crossed her face, and then she added, “Now are you brave enough for the next surprise?”

“You mean we're just going to keep going as if nothing happened?” said Angela.

“Well, I hope so,” said Justine. “If we stop now, Bobby and Marty will have won. Besides,” she added, her lovely face turning pouty, “I've worked so hard planning everything. We haven't even had half the surprises yet.”

“We also haven't settled things between the jocks and the wimps,” added Murphy Carter. “Of course, if you wimps want to concede defeat now—”

“No way!” said Ricky. “We're just as game as you guys. And for your information, our team has a few more tricks up its sleeve.”

“Good,” said Justine. “Then it's settled. Why don't you all relax for a while. I'll bring out more food. And then in a few minutes we can start the treasure hunt.”

She disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Terry was starting to get his second wind and wondered what Justine's next surprise could be. He sneaked a glance at Alex, who was leaning against the wall beside the fireplace, fully recovered from his injury.

Alex caught his eye and shrugged. Then he mouthed one word:
wimp
. Terry knew he had to stay on his toes. Alex was still into this dumb contest. That meant Terry had to be too. No way Alex was going to win, after everything that had happened.

Justine and Philip brought out trays with hot apple cider and cookies, and soon everyone was relaxed and in a party mood again.

The tape machine was playing golden oldies from the fifties, and Trisha and Ricky began dancing to “At the Hop.” Trisha was smiling and seemed happy again.

“I love these old songs!” Angela said, clapping in time to the music. She leaned back against a corner of the stone fireplace, then gave a little shriek as it shifted and opened.

Where the solid stones had been—was a human skeleton, its hollow face grinning mindlessly.

There were several screams and then the sound of laughter as everyone realized it was another “surprise.”

“I see you've discovered one of our trapdoors,” Justine said with her smile.

“One of them?” said Angela. “You mean there are more?”

“Remember,” said Justine. “I promised a lot of surprises.”

“Rad,” said Angela.

“How you doing, Funny Face?” Terry turned to Niki, who was leaning back against the cushions on the sofa beside him, sipping cider.

“Okay,” she said. “How are
you?
” She gently touched his cheek where Bobby had hit him.

“I'm okay,” he said. “I just hope Bobby and Marty don't—”

He was cut off by a surprised shriek.

“What
is
that?” protested Angela, her face twisted in disgust.

“Human brain,” said Ricky. He was standing in front of her, innocently holding a dark metal box.

“Get real!” said Alex. “Where would you get a human brain?”

“From my uncle,” said Ricky, still innocent. “He runs a medical supply house. He let me borrow it for the party.”

Angela looked as if she was going to be sick.

“Let me see that!” Murphy said.

“I can't take it out—we'd ruin it,” said Ricky, holding the box tighter. “Of course, if you want to
touch
it—”

Alex defiantly thrust his hand into the box, then just as quickly pulled it out with a strangled cry.

“Sort of slimy, isn't it?” said Ricky smugly. “Anyone else want to try?”

“Sure,” said David. He walked up to Ricky, pretended to put his hand in the box, but grabbed it instead and turned it upside down. The contents slithered out, landing on the stone hearth with a sickening
plop
.

“Some brains!” said David. “Looks like cold spaghetti to me. Gotcha!”

“No, I gotcha first,” said Ricky. “Angela and Alex both thought it was brains.”

“No, we didn't,” protested Alex. “We were just putting you on. This is one for the jock team—”

The argument about whose gotcha it was stopped when Justine rang a little bell.

“May I have your attention?” She was standing in front of the fire, and outlined in light it was almost possible to believe she
was
a vampire. To one side of the fireplace her uncle Philip sat slouched on a stool, the artificial tear sparkling on his sad clown's face.

“Is everyone back in the groove, ready to party?” Justine asked. Without waiting for an answer, she went on. “It's time for the next surprise. This one is a treasure hunt, but it's not like any treasure hunt you've ever heard of.”

“A treasure hunt!” exclaimed Trisha. “What fun!”

“Get real,” said Murphy. “Treasure hunts are for little kids—and wimps.”