Two Weeks Earlier
Sometimes Terry thought he tried to do too many things. Sometimes he knew he did. That week alone, in addition to his regular schoolwork and after-school job, he had to turn in a science project and chair a student council meeting. He also promised his little sister he’d help her learn to ride her new bicycle.
His head was so full of his projects, he had to twirl the combination on his locker twice before he could get it to open. And after he did, he realized he’d been meaning to clean out his locker.
It was hard to believe so much junk could fit inside such a small space. Carefully Terry began to push aside his jacket, his tennis racket, half a dozen books, and the props for his science project. “It’s here somewhere,” he told himself. “I know it is.”
“What’s somewhere?” asked a voice behind him. Terry turned, startled, to see Trisha McCormick standing behind him. Trisha was a short brunette with wiry hair and a bit of a weight problem. She was also the most friendly and enthusiastic person Terry knew.
“Hi, Trisha,” he said. “What did you say?”
“Who were you talking to?” asked Trisha.
“Uh—myself,” said Terry. “I’m a real good listener.”
“Sorry,” said Trisha, giggling. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“I was looking for my lunch,” Terry explained. “Aha! There it is!” Triumphantly he pulled the rumpled brown bag from the jumble, noting with dismay that one whole side of it was wet. Shoving the rest of the stuff back in his locker, he slammed the door. As he did, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
“What’s that?” said Trisha.
“I don’t know,” said Terry. He picked it up and examined it. It was a plain white envelope with a black border. On the front, in ornate lettering, was his name: Terry Ryan.
“Would you hold my lunch?” he asked Trisha. Curious, he opened the envelope. Inside was a stiff white card with a picture of a coffin on it. Beneath the coffin was written, “Reserved for YOU.”
“A coffin?” Terry said, starting to laugh. “What is this—an ad for a funeral parlor?”
“Turn it over,” Trisha said.
Terry did as she suggested. The other side was filled with writing. “Hey,” he said.
“It’s an invitation to a Halloween party at Justine Cameron’s place, right?” said Trisha.
“Yeah,” said Terry. “How did you know?”
“I got one too,” said Trisha. “Probably everyone in school did. But read what the invitation says. It’s really weird.”
“‘All-Night Halloween Costume Party,’ ” Terry read. “All night. Hey, that’s cool! Where’s the weird part?”
“Keep going,” said Trisha.
“‘Special surprises,’ ” Terry read. “‘Dancing, games.’ I don’t see what’s so—”
“Did you read where it is?” said Trisha.
“‘Cameron mansion, eight P.M. Friday night, October thirty-first,’ ” Terry read. “So?”
“So that’s the old Cameron mansion,” said Trisha. “The one that’s out behind the cemetery on Fear Street.”
“You’re kidding! How can anyone have a party there? No one’s lived in that place for years,” said Terry.
“Justine and her uncle live there now,” said Trisha. “They’re fixing it up. I know because my father’s firm is doing the electrical work.”
“Wasn’t that house supposed to be haunted?” Terry asked.
“Everything on Fear Street is supposed to be haunted,” said Trisha. “Here’s your squashed lunch back.”
“Thanks,” said Terry. As he and Trisha walked to the lunchroom, he thought about some of the things he’d heard about Fear Street. Although perfectly ordinary people lived in some of its beautiful old houses, other homes were deserted and rumored to harbor evil spirits. Terrible things had happened on Fear Street—murders, mysterious disappearances. It seemed like the perfect spot for a Halloween party.
“Why do you suppose Justine invited us to her party?” Trisha asked Terry at the cafeteria door.
Terry shrugged. “Beats me,” he said. “I don’t even know her. I just know what she looks like.”
Everyone in the school knew what Justine looked like, Terry thought. She was the most beautiful girl at Shadyside High—maybe in the whole town. Even the girls thought so. She was tall and slim, and looked more like a model than a student, with her long shiny blond hair and eyes as green as jade. Justine was a transfer student, new to Shadyside High, and so far, hardly anyone had gotten to know her—though most of the boys had tried.
Terry was about to ask Trisha more about Justine when he spotted Niki sitting at a table by the door. He excused himself and slid in across from Niki so she’d be able to read his lips. “Hi, Funny Face,” he said, calling her by his special pet name.
“Hi, Terry,” Niki said, giving him a big smile. Terry suddenly felt like the most important person in the world. Niki always had that effect on him. He’d been going with her six months now, and he still couldn’t believe his good fortune. Niki wasn’t the prettiest girl at Shadyside, or the smartest, but she was definitely the most special.
When she came into a room, everybody automatically felt happier. When Niki smiled, her even white teeth flashing against her smooth olive skin, it was like the sun coming up.
“Whatcha been up to?” Niki asked him.
“Nothing much,” Terry said. “But look at this.” He handed her the invitation.
“I got one too,” said Niki.
“Maybe everyone in the school did,” said Terry.
“I don’t think so,” said Niki. “No one else in my homeroom got one. And none of my friends, like Jade and Deena, were invited.”
“I wonder why she invited us,” said Terry. “I don’t even know her. Do you?”
“Not very well,” Niki admitted. “She’s in my gym class and I’ve played basketball with her. But we’ve hardly spoken to each other.”
Terry opened his lunch, noting that the leak was coming from his meat loaf and tomato sandwich, which had somehow gotten completely smashed. “Ugh,” he said, looking at the gooey mess.
“Here, have half of mine,” said Niki. She always ate the same thing—a peanut butter and banana sandwich with celery and carrot sticks on the side.
“That’s okay,” said Terry. “Maybe I’ll get a hot dog from the vending machine.”
“I can’t believe the junk you eat,” said Niki. “At least have some carrot sticks.”
Terry took one and began to munch.
“What are you going to go as?” asked Niki.
“What?”
“To Justine’s party. It’s a costume party, remember?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Terry. “Maybe we ought to just skip it. None of your friends are going. And we don’t really know Justine . . . . ”
“So what?” said Niki. “I love costume parties. Besides, I’ve never been to a party on Fear Street.”
“It would definitely be a first,” said Terry.
“So it’s settled,” said Niki. “Besides, I’d like to get to know Justine better.”
“What’s she like in gym?” Terry asked.
“She’s the best athlete in the class,” said Niki. “She’s in really great shape. I asked her about it once, and she told me she lifts weights.”
Terry let out a low whistle. “Whoa!” he said. “No wonder she’s so . . . ” He let the thought trail off.
“She’s so what?” asked Niki. She had a dangerous glint in her eyes.
“So—you know,” he said, stifling a grin. He looked closely at Niki to see if she was really upset or was just teasing him.
“So—stacked?” Niki suggested.
“Well, yeah,” said Terry.
Niki burst out laughing. “You boys are all alike!” she said. “I wonder who Justine asked to the party as her date.”
For the rest of the day no one talked about anything but Justine and her party. Everyone had heard about it, even though not that many people had been invited.
Just before the bell rang for the last period, Lisa Blume stopped Terry in the hall. Lisa was assistant editor of the school paper, and she usually knew everything that was going on. In fact, she was a real gossip, except she called it being a reporter.
“I hear you were invited to Justine’s party,” she said to Terry. “Why do you think she asked you?”
“I don’t have any idea,” said Terry. “You’re the reporter—maybe you can tell me.”
“My theory is she wants to get to know people better,” said Lisa. “But she’s shy about it because of all the awful stories about the house where she lives.”
“Don’t you know?” said Lisa. “The last owners of the Cameron mansion were killed in some kind of accident years ago. The story is that no one could ever live there again because their spirits haunt the place.”
“Nice story. So why is Justine living there?” asked Terry skeptically.
Lisa shrugged. “According to my aunt, Justine is a distant cousin of the original owners. Her uncle inherited the place and decided to fix it up.”
“I heard she lives there with her uncle.”
“He’s her guardian,” said Lisa. “I guess her parents are dead or divorced or something. Supposedly, Justine and her uncle have lived all over the country and even in Europe.”
Terry knew that Lisa’s information was usually right, but he didn’t see what Justine had to do with him and Niki. He was still puzzling the matter over in biology class when Ricky Schorr sat down next to him.
Ricky was an obnoxious practical joker, and some people considered him the biggest dweeb in the whole school. Ricky’s thick black hair was uncombed as usual, and as usual he was wearing a tacky T-shirt no one else would be caught dead in. This one was stained with orange juice and said “Kiss Me, I’m a Martian.”
“Hey, Schorr,” said Terry.
“Yo, Terry,” said Ricky. He set a rumpled paper sack down on the lab table separating them. “I heard you and Niki got invited to Justine’s party.”
“That’s right,” said Terry.
“So did I,” said Ricky.
“Huh? No bull?” Terry was surprised. He couldn’t imagine why Justine had chosen him and Niki, but it was even weirder that she had asked Ricky and Trisha. None of them hung out together.
“I wonder who else is going,” Ricky said. “Have you heard?”
“Nope,” said Terry. “How’s your biology project coming?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“I’m just about done,” said Ricky. “In fact, I’ve got it in here.” He pointed to the paper sack.
Terry looked at the sack in disbelief. It was throbbing and beginning to inch across the lab table. “I hate to tell you,” he said, “but your science project seems to be trying to escape.”
Ricky opened the sack. Instantly a small green frog leapt out and began hopping along the table. Terry grabbed for it and held it distastefully in his hands. “This is your biology project, Schorr?” he said. “A frog?”
“It’s not the whole thing,” said Ricky, looking hurt. He reached in the bag and pulled out a jar of murky water. “My project is on metamorphosis,” he said. “I’ve got tadpoles in here.”
Terry gazed at the jar doubtfully. “You mean you had tadpoles,” he said. “Those aren’t moving.”
“Let me see,” said Ricky. He took the jar and studied it closely, turning it first one way and then another. Then he shook it. “I guess I should have cut air holes in the lid,” he said finally. “Oh, well, that’s life, huh? Here today, slimy and disgusting tomorrow. I can always pick up some more at the pond.” Terry handed him the frog, and he shoved it and the jar of dead tadpoles back into the sack.
“Great project, Schorr,” Terry said sarcastically.
“Just call me Mr. Wizard,” Ricky said.
“So who else is invited to the party?” Ricky asked after a moment.
“I don’t know,” said Terry. “Trisha McCormick. I don’t know anyone else.”
“Murphy Carter,” said Ricky.
Murphy Carter was the first name on the list that made sense to Terry. Murphy was a linebacker on the football team and was known as an all-around party guy. But he had nothing in common with the rest of them.
Terry was about to ask Ricky more when Mr. Rothrock came in, ready to talk about genetics, and for the next forty minutes Terry forgot all about the party. But after school, walking outside to meet Niki, he passed a crowd gathered on the front steps. Lisa Blume was talking to a small crowd of students. Niki caught up with him on the sidewalk and took his elbow.
“Hi, Terry,” she said. “How was your day?”
“Weird,” said Terry honestly. “How about you?”
“Pretty weird too. I feel like a celebrity because of the invitation to the party.”
“Which way do you want to walk home?” Terry asked.
“I guess by the— Wait a minute,” said Niki. “Lisa’s reading off a list.” She squinted to where Lisa was speaking. Maybe to make up for her deafness, Niki’s eyesight was great, and she could read lips across a room. “She’s figured out everyone who’s invited to the party,” Niki said. “It’s nine people . . . . ”
“Only nine?” said Terry.
“That’s what she says. There’s you and me, Trisha, Ricky Schorr, Murphy Carter, Angela Martiner, Les Whittle, David Sommers, and—and Alex Beale.”
“Alex? Oh, wonderful,” Terry muttered sarcastically. For years he and Alex had been best friends. They had grown up together, played tennis together, even gone out with girls together—until last year when Niki had stopped going with Alex and started dating Terry. Alex had never gotten over his feelings for Niki—and sometimes Terry wondered if Niki was over her feelings for Alex.
“This whole list is bizarro,” Niki was saying. “None of us hang out together, except maybe Murphy and David.” David, like Murphy, was on the football team and also played basketball. Angela was a slim, pretty redhead with a fast reputation, and Les was a science whiz who kept to himself. Terry couldn’t think why any of them had been invited.
But if Alex Beale was on the list, he was suddenly glad that he was too.
“Oh, look,” said Niki. “Here comes Justine. Maybe she’ll explain the list.”
Justine came walking briskly out the front door of the school. As she did, the crowd moved closer to her. Reluctantly Terry followed Niki up on the steps.
“Where have you been all day?” someone asked Justine.
“I had a doctor’s appointment in Waynesbridge,” said Justine. “I just got back for last period.”
“Come on,” said Lisa. “Explain your guest list.”
“What’s to explain?” said Justine sweetly. “I’m just having a party.”
“I’ve got it!” said Murphy Carter. “If you look at the list, everyone invited is either a jock or a wimp, or someone’s girlfriend. Is that it, Justine?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a shrug. “I just invited some people I want to get to know better.” She was wearing a body-hugging white wool dress, and with her frosty blond hair and green eyes she looked more like a model than ever.
“I like Murphy’s idea,” said David. “The wimps and the jocks.”
“So what do you think, wimp?” asked Murphy, spotting Terry. “You got the guts to go to the party—and stay all night?”
“I hope you’ll all come to the party,” said Justine. She turned her dazzling smile on Murphy. “Can I count on you, Murphy?” she said.
“Uh—sure,” he said, suddenly looking goofy.
“You can count on me too,” said David.
“I’m glad,” said Justine. “Now, both of you have to promise that you’ll dance with me. I have a really rad sound system, and I bought a lot of excellent dance CDs.”
Justine was laying it on pretty thick, and Terry could see that Murphy and David were buying it.
“Hey, I’d like to dance with you,” said Bobby McCorey, who had appeared from somewhere with his buddy, Marty Danforth. Bobby was on the varsity football team, but he had a bad temper and most of the other guys didn’t hang out with him. He and Marty were the biggest bullies in the school.
“Well, I’d like to dance with you too, Bobby,” said Justine, her voice suddenly sarcastic. “Why don’t you come to my aerobics class?”
The other kids laughed, and Bobby glared at them before turning back to Justine. “Why don’t I come to your party instead?” he said. “You probably just forgot to send me an invitation, right?”
“No,” said Justine, smiling again. “I didn’t forget.”
“Well, you’d better change your mind,” said Bobby with a scowl. “Me and Marty don’t like to be left out of things.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” said Justine. “But this is a small party, and you guys just aren’t on the list.”
“We’ll see about that!” said Bobby menacingly. “Come on, Marty,” he added. “Let’s leave these dorks and go have some fun.” He and Marty stalked away, then jumped on their motorcycles and roared off. Terry had a feeling they weren’t giving up, but Justine didn’t seem at all concerned.
“Hey, Justine—what about dates?” Murphy asked. “I can bring my girlfriend, can’t I?”
“It’s not a party for dates,” said Justine. “It’s not that kind of party at all.”
“But Monica and I have been going together for two years,” said Murphy.
“Then I’m sure she won’t mind giving you a little space for just one night,” said Justine.
Terry and Niki were turning to leave when the front door to the school swung open with a bang. Alex Beale came swaggering down the steps, his huge, muscular frame seeming to take up all the space a foot around him. Terry had to admit that Alex was good-looking, with his short blond hair, his confident smile, his laughing, dark eyes. As soon as he got close to Justine, he winked.
“Got your invitation,” he said.
“Good,” said Justine. “I hope I can count on you.”
“Oh, you can count on me,” said Alex. “One, two, three, four, five . . . ”
What comes after five, Alex? Terry thought. The sight of Alex always made Terry feel uneasy and sarcastic these days.
“I knew I could count on you, Alex,” Justine said, smiling again. She turned and gave a little wave to the kids who were still there. “See the rest of you later,” she said, and strolled out to the parking lot.
Terry took Niki’s hand and tugged gently. But before they could get down the steps, Murphy Carter’s voice cut through the noise. “Hey, Terry,” he said. “Wimp. Where you going so fast?”
“We’re going home,” said Terry. “What do you think?”
“Right,” said Murphy. “But you never answered my question.” Quickly he explained to Alex about the invitations going either to wimps or jocks. “So I asked Terry if he thought he could go the distance and stay all night.”
“Good question,” said Alex, laughing. “Can you?”
“Oh, wow. A haunted house,” said Terry. “I’m shaking in my shoes.”
Alex used his best Count Dracula voice to say: “Even if it’s on Fear Street?”
“It’s just another street, as far as I’m concerned,” said Murphy. “All that garbage about evil things happening there is just superstition.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Alex thoughtfully.
“Now who’s the wimp?” cracked Murphy, slightly confused. “Hey, Alex, whose side are you on?”
“Give me a break, Murphy,” Alex said, rolling his dark eyes. “Halloween on Fear Street? I’m ready.” He turned back to Terry, an odd smirk on his handsome face. “What about it, Terry? Think you and the wimps’ll be able to stay all night in a haunted house?”
“I’ve got no problem with it,” said Terry. “But are you sure your mommy will let you stay out after dark?”
Alex ignored Terry’s shot and called to Ricky Schorr, who was headed to the parking lot, carrying the paper bag with his dead biology project. “Hey, Schorr!” he shouted. “How about you? You going to join Terry’s team and show up at the party?”
“Sure I’ll show up,” said Ricky. “And I’m not a wimp.”
Alex, David, and Murphy laughed. “I love it!” said Murphy. “He’s not a wimp!”
“He doesn’t have the guts to be a wimp!” cried David.
The three of them started laughing all over again, slapping one another high-fives.
“So who else is on your ‘team,’ Terry?” asked Alex. “Les Whittle, maybe—and Trisha? Think they’ll have the guts to go?”
“Ask them yourself,” said Terry. He took a deep breath.
Niki gave him a worried look, then turned to the jocks. “Come on, guys,” she said. “This isn’t a contest—it’s a party. Why can’t we all just—”
“Sorry, Niki,” said Murphy. “Maybe it started out as a party, but it’s a contest now. Us against them. The jocks—against the wimps.”
Terry stood there a moment, exasperated. Alex was always trying to show him up. Why couldn’t he just accept that Niki was his girlfriend now?
“Find someone else to play your games,” he said finally. “Come on, Niki.”
“In other words,” said Alex, “you’re too chicken to go. In that case, Niki, maybe you’d better join our team. Sounds like Terry’s not sure he can protect you.”
“I can take care of Niki—obviously better than you!” Terry shouted, losing his temper and immediately feeling embarrassed about it.
“Will you both stop acting like children!” Niki shouted. “I can take care of myself! And for your information I’m not on any so-called team! That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard!”
“Oh, yeah?” said Alex, looking stung. “Maybe you ought to think twice about that.” He took a step forward, his face suddenly dark with anger.
“Take it easy, Alex,” Terry said. “Nobody meant anything. It’s just a party, all right?”
“It’s more than that now,” muttered Alex. “And you know it.” He turned and walked quickly to the parking lot.
The crowd of kids began to break up. “Yo—Captain Wimp,” Ricky cheerfully called from across the parking lot. “We’re going to cream those guys, huh, dude?”
“They don’t have a chance,” Terry called back, suddenly into the competition without realizing it. “We’ll show them who the real wimps are. And it’s not us.”
He started to reach for Niki’s hand, but stopped in surprise. She was standing still and staring up at him, her face full of misery. “Hey, Funny Face,” he said. “What’s the matter?”
“This stupid contest,” she said, frowning. “Why’d you let those guys push you into it?”
“Nobody pushed me into anything,” said Terry. “Besides, it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a goof.”
“To you, maybe,” Niki said. “But not to Alex. Didn’t you see his face? He’s serious about this! Deadly serious.”
