Moonlight Secrets (12 page)

“We did a horrible thing,”
I said. “We sneaked away. We closed the back window and pulled the ladder back to the side of the house. We didn't call the police or anything. We just sneaked away.”

“You had no choice,” Jamie said. “You could never explain what you were doing in Candy's house. No one would ever believe you.”

It was a few nights later, and a group of us sat in the back booth at Nights. Jamie and Lewis held hands under the table. Shark was already on his third beer.

I felt totally tense. I mean, Candy was dead. But I didn't know whether we were safer now or not.

“We didn't kill her,” Shark said in a whisper. “It really was an accident.”

“You did the right thing,” Lewis said. “If you stayed and called the police, your lives would be ruined forever. You'd be toast.”

“Your lives would be over before they began,” Jamie whispered.

Shark and I exchanged glances. We knew the memory of that night would haunt us forever.

The four of us talked some more. We tried to talk about other things. But how
could
we talk about anything else?

“Maybe we're all safe now,” Lewis said. I saw him squeeze Jamie's hand. “Maybe the weird stuff is over.”

“Hope you're right,” I said. “Definitely hope you're right.”

As I drove home through the dark, silent streets, I kept picturing Candy sprawled out so awkwardly, her head hanging limply on her broken neck. And I pictured the amulet . . .

. . . The fake, plastic amulet cracked in two pieces.

I crept into the house and moved silently up the stairs. Pale yellow light washed into my bedroom from the street light at the curb. I tugged off my jacket and tossed it to the floor.

I pulled my T-shirt over my head and tossed it down too. I turned to my bed.

And stopped.

In the pale light, I saw a lump under the covers. A big, round lump.

My balled-up pajamas? That was my first thought.

I strode over to the bed and pulled back the covers.

I gasped when I saw the round, dark puddle that stained the sheet.

Then I saw the pinkish ball. At first I thought it was a balloon. Or a sagging rubber ball.

Then I saw a floppy, pointed ear. Two round, black eyes staring up at me.

A hairy snout. Veins and tendons twisting like tentacles from a jagged, open throat.

And I realized I was staring at a head.

A fat, blood-smeared
hog's
head.

I staggered back, choking . . . choking . . . until finally, I found my voice. And then I opened my mouth wide in a high wail of horror.

TO BE CONTINUED
in
FEAR STREET NIGHTS #2:
MIDNIGHT GAMES

Here's a sneak peek at
FEAR STREET NIGHTS #2:
MIDNIGHT GAMES

Just when Nate, Jamie, Lewis, and Shark
thought the Fear Street curse had lifted,
Dana Fear arrives in town. . . .

Screaming all the way, Ada
thudded down the stairs.

The music and voices were so loud, but I could hear every
bump
, every time her head hit a wooden step.

And then the voices and singing and laughter stopped. As if someone had turned a switch. A few seconds after that, the music stopped too.

And now I felt as if I were swimming in silence, an ocean of silence. A bright white ocean of silence and light.

I grabbed the banister. I peered down through the billowing whiteness, forcing my eyes to focus.

And saw Ada. Crumpled up. Sprawled in a heap, surrounded by glittering lights. It took
me a while to realize the lights were pieces of broken glass.

“Is she okay?” I screamed into the silence.

Kids were rushing to the stairway now, dropping down beside Ada. Brushing away the shards of shattered glass. Reaching for her. Eyes wide with worry and amazement.

Ada groaned. She slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position.

I saw bright red blood streaming down the front of her T-shirt and staining one sleeve. Bits of broken glass shimmered in her hair.

She groaned again and wiped her hands through her hair. Then, slowly, she raised her eyes to me.

I gasped when I saw the fierce anger on her face.

“You PUSHED me!” Ada screamed.

I heard gasps and low cries. All eyes were raised to me.

My legs felt wobbly, about to give way. I gripped the banister tightly to hold myself up. I felt my heart start to pound.

“N-no,” I stammered, shaking my head. “I didn't touch you!”

Ada raised herself to her knees. She shook
a blood-smeared fist at me. “You DID, Dana!” she cried. “You shoved me!”

I couldn't help it. I burst into tears. “That's a LIE!” I cried. But my sobs muffled the words.

I gazed down from face to face. They all stared at me, accusing me. They
believed
her.

But I knew it wasn't true. I never touched her.

Why was she accusing me?

I couldn't stop sobbing. I turned and ran up the stairs. Back to my attic room, where I dropped into an armchair. I gripped the arms hard, gritted my teeth, and forced myself to stop crying.

From my room I could hear voices downstairs. But I couldn't make out the words. Were they all talking about me? Did they all believe Ada?

Why would I push her down the stairs? I had no reason to hurt her.

Did they think I pushed her because I want to steal Nate?

Nate is cute, but he isn't worth trying to
kill
someone!

Did they think I pushed her because I'm a Fear? And a member of the Fear Family
has
to be evil? How stupid is
that
?

I heard the front door close. Heard voices in the driveway. Car doors slammed, and engines started up. The party was breaking up.

I was still hunched in the armchair, gritting my teeth, thinking angry thoughts, when Jamie came into my room. She hurried over and placed a hand on mine. “Dana, are you okay?”

“I . . . don't know,” I said. I felt like crying again, but I forced it back.

Jamie squeezed my hand. “It was a good party,” she said softly, “until Ada fell.”

“I didn't push her!” I cried. I jerked Jamie's hand off mine. “Really. I never touched her.”

Jamie nodded. “Of course you didn't.”

I jumped to my feet. I balled my hands into tight fists. “So why did she accuse me like that?”

Jamie tossed back her dark hair. She suddenly looked so pale and tired. I could see that blue vein throbbing in her temple. “Ada will get over it,” she said.

“Get over it?” I cried. “How? If she thinks I tried to kill her . . .”

“She was being emotional,” Jamie replied. “Ada is very high-strung. When she thinks about it, she'll realize she made a mistake. She tripped, that's all.”

“I . . . I felt weird up there,” I confessed. “I was standing behind Ada at the top of the stairs. And the glasses on her tray suddenly started to shine in my eyes. I felt dizzy.”

“Dizzy?”

“Yes. I thought I might black out. But . . . you've got to believe me. I didn't push her. I couldn't.”

“Of course not,” Jamie said in a soft, soothing voice. “Of course not.”

So why was she staring at me so suspiciously?

R.L. Stine invented the teen horror genre with Fear Street, the bestselling teen horror series of all time. He also changed the face of children's publishing with the mega-successful Goosebumps series, which
Guinness World Records
cites as the Best-Selling Children's Books ever, and went on to become a worldwide multimedia phenomenon. The first two books in his new series Mostly Ghostly,
Who Let the Ghosts Out?
and
Have You Met My Ghoulfriend?
are
New York Times
bestsellers. He's thrilled to be writing for teens again in the brand-new Fear Street Nights books.

R.L. Stine has received numerous awards of recognition, including several Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards and Disney Adventures Kids' Choice Awards, and he has been selected by kids as one of their favorite authors in the National Education Association Read Across America. He lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, and their dog, Nadine.

DON'T MISS A SINGLE NIGHT

#1: Moonlight Secrets

#2: Midnight Games

#3: Darkest Dawn

AND THESE OTHER CHILLING TALES FROM

FEAR STREET:

All-Night Party

The Confession

Killer's Kiss

The Perfect Date

The Rich Girl

The Stepsister

A Parachute Press Book

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

SIMON PULSE

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 2005 by Parachute Publishing, L.L.C.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

FEAR STREET is a registered trademark of Parachute Press, Inc.

Designed by Sammy Yuen

The text of this book was set in Bembo.

First Simon Pulse edition June 2005

Library of Congress Control Number 2004111512

ISBN 0-689-87864-8

ISBN-13: 978-1-4814-1356-5 (eBook)