You Can't Come in Here! (2 page)

Emily shrugged.

“Your parents around tonight?” she asked, glancing up at the house and noticing that every window was dark.

“Yeah,” Drew said. “Somewhere in the house.”

Emily nodded as Vicky slipped off the railing and walked past her without making a sound. She followed, noticing that the floorboards creaked loudly beneath her own clumsy feet.

Drew pushed open the front door. It swung inward
with a woeful squeak. Emily followed Drew and Vicky inside.

“Drew, Vicky? Is that you?” called out a woman's voice.

“We're upstairs,” added a man's voice.

“Ah, Mom and Dad,” Drew said to Emily. “Told you they were around here somewhere.” Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Yeah, it's us, Mom! Emily's here. She's gonna hang out for a while.”

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Strig,” Emily called up as she closed the front door.

Emily followed Drew and Vicky deeper into the house. This was not the first time she had been inside, but the weird layout of the place always surprised her a bit. It was so different from her own house right across the street. Just inside the front door, there were two narrow hallways, formed by unpainted Sheetrock walls. One turned to the left. The other led to a large room that was made entirely of wood paneling. And not just the walls, but the floor and ceiling too, as if someone had found a bunch of the stuff on sale and decided to build a whole room out of it.

“Ah, the famous Strig rec room,” Emily said as they stepped in.

“We like it,” Vicky said, somewhat defensively.

“Hey, I like it too,” Emily replied quickly. “Who wouldn't?”

The room looked as if it had been magically transported here from a college dormitory. Its main furnishings were a Ping-Pong table and a foosball table, plus a couple of ripped-up chairs and a table with an old-fashioned rotary dial phone. A line of electric guitars and amplifiers stood in a row along one wall. A stereo, complete with a record turntable, sat in one corner. Next to it stood stacks and stacks of vinyl LPs. Drew turned on the stereo and put an album on the turntable. Punk music filled the room.

“Don't your parents mind you playing music so loud?” Emily shouted as she flipped through the stack of albums.

“Nah,” Drew replied. “Whose records do you think these are?”

“Ready to lose?” Vicky asked, stepping up to the foosball table and grabbing the handles on one side. Emily took the other side and spun her players a few times.

“Game on,” she said, dropping the ball onto the table.

Emily and Vicky slammed and twisted the game's
handles, making the little plastic players they controlled kick the ball. Vicky reacted instinctively when Emily fired a shot at her goal. Her goalie blocked the shot, then she deftly passed the ball through Emily's defense and fired it into the goal.

“Ugh,” Emily moaned, spinning a handle in frustration. “How are you so good at this game?”

Vicky smiled at her friend. “I've had a lot of practice. Don't worry, once you've played as much foosball as I have, you'll beat me. Another game?”

Emily sighed. It was nice that Vicky tried to make her feel better, but she knew that she could practice all day and all night for weeks and she'd never be as good as Vicky. “Sure, why not.”

As Emily and Vicky played another game, Drew chose the music, playing a song or two from one album, then another. When Vicky had beaten Emily two more times, Drew turned off the stereo and picked up a guitar.

“Wanna play some tunes?” he asked Emily, gesturing to another guitar.

“Or I could just beat you at Ping-Pong now,” Vicky added.

Tough choice. Emily's dad had taught her to play a
little guitar, but she didn't practice as often as she would have liked, since it was kind of boring playing alone. She loved playing guitar with Drew and Vicky, who had been playing for far longer than she had. She always had a great time with them, and she could feel her playing improve. On the other hand, she'd love nothing more than to pay Vicky back by thrashing her at Ping-Pong.

But before Emily could decide, her cell phone sounded with a text message alert. Pulling out her phone, she saw that the message was from her mother. It simply said,
IT'S NINE THIRTY.

“Ah, my mother, the human alarm clock,” Emily said. “Sorry, guys, I promised her I'd be home by nine thirty.”

“See you tomorrow night?” Drew asked.

“Can't,” Emily said. “My parents have the whole weekend planned. We're spending all of Saturday and Sunday at the beach. Kind of a ‘summer's almost here' thing.”

“Bummer,” Vicky said. “But we'll see you Monday?”

“Definitely! See you later.”

Emily hurried across the street and slipped into her house. Her mother and father were in the living room watching TV. Franklin, their black cat, was curled up on her father's lap.

“I'm here!” Emily announced. “Nine thirty-two on the dot. Just like we agreed.”

“Cute,” her mom said. “Thanks for coming home right away. Did you have fun? What did you do?”

“Played games and stuff, you know,” Emily replied.

“Video games?” her mom asked.

“No, they don't have a TV, actually,” Emily said. “We played foosball.”

“Foosball?” her dad said. “I played that all the time in college. Great game. I am definitely a master. Maybe I could join you some time?”

“Dad!” Emily groaned.

“Just kidding,” her dad said.

“All right, hon,” her mother said. “Time for you to get some sleep. I'm going to wake you at seven tomorrow morning.”

Emily grimaced. Waking up early was not her thing. “Really? That early?”

“The early bird doesn't get stuck in traffic,” her father reminded her.

Emily smiled as she trotted up the stairs to her room. That was one of her dad's signature corny phrases.

After brushing her teeth and changing into her
pajamas, Emily flopped onto her bed, popped in her earbuds, and turned on her iPod. She imagined playing the guitar chords herself. It wasn't long before she got sleepy and took out her earbuds. Emily snuggled under the covers.

A-hooooo!
Ow-ow-w!
came a loud, gut-piercing howl. Emily felt the blood freeze in her veins, then remembered the DVD she had been watching.
Dad must have turned on that movie. Jeez, he scared me half to—

A-HOOOOO!
OW-OW-W!

This time the howl was louder, and Emily knew instantly that it wasn't coming from the basement and it was too loud to be coming from the TV. The bone-chilling shriek was coming from outside.

She dashed across her room, stumbling over a stack of books she had left on the floor. Catching herself on her windowsill, she peered out the window. There, on the Strigs' brown front lawn, a huge wolf loped toward the house. It had to be bigger than a car. The wolf's back legs were long and slender, its chest round and muscular. Matted gray fur extended down its powerful front legs in mud-stained clumps.

But it was when Emily caught sight of the wolf's jaws
that her heart rose into her throat. Was that blood on the animal's long snout? The wolf opened its mouth wide and howled again, revealing long white fangs flecked with specks of red.

A little yelp escaped from Emily's throat as porch lights up and down the block flicked on. Seeming to sense her watching it, the wolf glanced over its shoulder, then quickly turned back toward the Strigs' front door. Crouching low, as if it were stalking prey, the wolf slowly climbed the stairs onto the front porch.

“Drew and Vicky,” Emily muttered in horror. “It's gonna hurt Drew and Vicky!”

She turned and dashed from her room. Practically flying down the stairs, she exploded out the front door. Running across the street, she felt her heart pound as she watched the wolf lunge toward the door.

“Get away from there!” Emily shouted.

At the sound of her voice, the wolf turned and stared right at her, baring its razorlike teeth and growling. Then the snarling beast turned back, pushed the door open with its snout, and walked right into the house.

“No!” Emily cried, running faster now. Reaching the porch, she took the stairs two at a time, then stopped
short at the front door. She pushed the door open slowly, straining to see inside without actually sticking her head through the doorway. Pushing back against the terror shooting through her body, and shoving aside all thoughts of her own safety, Emily burst into the Strigs' house.

“Drew, Vicky? Is that you?” Mrs. Strig called out from upstairs as Emily stepped through the doorway.

“We're upstairs!” Mr. Strig shouted.

“Mr. Strig! Mrs. Strig! You've got to get out of here!” Emily cried. “There's a wolf in your house!”

She got no reply.

Oh no!
Emily thought in horror.
I hope the wolf hasn't gone upstairs and cornered them! Where are Drew and Vicky?

Emily crept slowly toward the rec room. As she walked, she strained to hear any sound coming from the end of the hall.

She heard nothing.

She also felt the rush of courage she had experienced wearing off—quickly.

What am I doing?
she wondered, inching closer to the rec room.
What can I possibly do against a wolf anyway? I must be crazy.

She reached the room, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Gripping the doorknob, Emily wondered why she heard no sounds in the house. No growling, no howling, no screaming in terror—nothing.

She took a deep breath, then another. She steadied herself, then she twisted the doorknob, thrust the door open, and burst into the room.

The door swung open faster than she thought it would. She lost her balance and tumbled to the floor, landing facedown. She rolled over, looked up, and found herself face-to-face with—Drew and Vicky.

The Strig kids both had puzzled looks on their faces as they glanced down at their friend completely sprawled out on the thick rec room rug.

Drew extended a hand and helped Emily up to her feet.

“Nice of you to come over,” Vicky said. “I find that knocking on a door usually works better than somersaulting into a room. But that's just me.”

Emily looked around the room in a panic. There was
no sign of the wolf and no evidence of a struggle or fight of any kind.

“Where did it go?” Emily asked, her heart still pounding.

“Where did what go?” Drew asked, looking at Emily as if she had three heads.

“The wolf!” Emily cried. “I saw it from my bedroom window. It came right through the front door!”

“You were spying on us from your bedroom window?” Vicky asked.

“No!” Emily protested, growing frustrated and more than a little confused. “I heard a howl coming from outside. When I looked out the window, I saw a big wolf. And it had blood on its fangs. It looked right at me and growled. Then it just walked into the house. I thought you guys were in trouble, so I ran over.”

Drew and Vicky stared at Emily. Vicky raised her pencil-thin eyebrows and opened her eyes wide.

“Guys!” Emily moaned, hearing for the first time just how crazy her own words sounded.

Then she remembered Mr. and Mrs. Strig.

“Your parents!” she cried frantically. “They said hello when I came in, but then didn't answer when I warned
them about the wolf. Maybe it went upstairs. Maybe it got them.”

“Whoa, calm down,” Drew said, extending his hands, palms out. “I'll go up and check to see if Mom and Dad have become wolf chow. Wait here.”

Drew slipped out the door Emily had come through.

“So what were you doing when you heard this big bad wolf?” Vicky asked.

Great. She's making fun of me
, Emily thought. “I was lying on my bed, listening to music. I got sleepy and decided to call it a night when I suddenly heard the wolf howl.”

“You were lying on your bed and you got sleepy?” Vicky repeated.

“Yeah.”

“And what did you tell me you had been doing earlier in the evening?” Vicky asked, as if she was a lawyer cross-examining a witness.

“Watching a scary movie,” Emily replied, realizing where Vicky was going with this line of questioning. Emily started to blush.

“And is it possible that there was a wolf howling in said movie?” Vicky asked, crossing her arms in front of
her, really getting into the whole lawyer-interrogating-a-witness thing.

“Yes,” Emily admitted, sighing.

Vicky spun quickly and began speaking emphatically to an imaginary judge. “And so, Your Honor, I suggest that the witness did not see a wolf, but had, in fact, simply dozed off and had a dream about the wolf she had seen in that movie! No further questions. I rest my case.”

“All right, all right,” Emily conceded. “When you put it that way, I suppose I could have dreamed it all.”