Don't Stay Up Late (10 page)

At least twenty or thirty people stood and watched and listened. When the number ended, we all cheered and clapped and pretended we were into it. Isaac didn't wait. He went into the next song. It sounded a lot like the first.

“This is painful!” Nate shouted in my ear.

This number went on for at least fifteen minutes. I had a feeling the band didn't know how to end it. What made Isaac think they were ready to perform in public?

When the music stopped, my ears were ringing. The club had become crowded. A lot of people had come to hear the Psycho-Relics.

I pushed toward the stage. Isaac and his friends were unhooking their instruments. Isaac didn't look happy.

I couldn't get through the crush of people. I bumped a girl and almost made her spill her beer. I waved to Isaac but he had his head down and didn't see me.

I turned and realized I'd gotten separated from Nate and Saralynn. Peering into the pulsing red lights, I couldn't find them.

A hand grabbed my wrist. “Nate?”

No.

I turned and saw Summer Lawson gazing at me. Her coppery hair fell loose to her shoulders. Her green eyes reflected the flashing club lights.

She wore a white shirt with most of the buttons open, over a short straight black skirt and black tights. As usual, she had on an assortment of colorful plastic necklaces and long, dangling plastic earrings.

Every time I see her, my first thought is how beautiful she is. Like some kind of goddess. Seriously.

“Summer?” I tried to tug my hand away, but she held onto it.

She brought her face close to my ear. Her perfume smelled citrusy, like grapefruit or maybe lemon. “We need to talk, Lisa.”

Again, I tried to free my hand. Finally, she let go. “What do you mean?” I shouted over the loud voices. “What's wrong, Summer?”

“We need to talk,” she repeated. “Seriously. About Nate.”

“Nate? What about Nate?” I cried.

Her eyes appeared to darken. She pressed her lips close to my ear. “You're in trouble, Lisa, and you don't know it.”

Someone bumped me from behind, and I stumbled into Summer. “Sorry,” I murmured.

I spun around to see Nate making his way around a couple of guys in gray hoodies. When I turned back, Summer had vanished.

Weird.

Nate stepped up beside me and handed me a fresh Coke. “Was that Summer?”

I nodded.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “What did she want?”

I shrugged. “Beats me. I don't know what her problem is. But she really creeps me out. She keeps warning me about you.”

Nate laughed. “Maybe she just wants to tell you how awesome I am.” He slid his arm around my waist and started to lead me to the exit. “Don't even think about her, Lisa,” he said. “She's just jealous. That's all.”

He brought his face close and kissed me, a long, sweet kiss.

It wasn't jealousy,
I thought.
It really was a warning. She's trying to tell me I'm in trouble.

Suddenly, Nate's lips felt cold to me. And I couldn't keep a frightened shiver from rolling down my back.

 

26.

Monday afternoon, a gray cool day threatening rain, I picked up Harry at his aunt Alice's house. I found them in the kitchen. Harry was on his knees on a tall stool, a spatula in hand, stirring the dark contents of a big bowl.

“We're making brownies,” Alice said. “Well, actually, Harry is making brownies. I'm just helping.”

Harry dipped his finger in the chocolate dough, then ate a clump of it.

“Stop,” Alice scolded. “That's raw dough.”

“I eat raw cookie dough,” Harry said. “What's wrong with brownie dough?” He stuck his finger out and gave me a taste.

“If you eat all the dough, you won't have any brownies,” Alice said. “Now keep stirring.”

She pulled me out of the kitchen, into the little office she had across the hall. “Harry really likes you,” she confided in a whisper. “He's been talking about you a lot.”

“Nice,” I said. Alice had a smear of chocolate on her cheek. I pointed it out to her. She rubbed it away with two fingers.

“Brownies can be messy with an eight-year-old chef,” she said. “Anyway, I think you made a big hit with Harry on Monday.”

I felt a chill at the back of my neck. I suddenly pictured the demon-creature running across the landing at the top of the stairs. Harry hiding in the front hall coat closet …

“Did Harry say anything about … about…” I hesitated. “About anything weird happening?”

Alice squinted at me. “Weird? No. He just said he had fun.”

“My hand hurts. How long do I have to stir this?” Harry shouted from the kitchen.

“I'll be right there,” Alice called.

I had this sudden urge to confide in her. Tell her everything that happened that first night at Harry's house.

Would she understand?

Of course not. She would tell Brenda I was crazy. She would warn Brenda not to use me anymore. I realized I had to keep it to myself.

But what if it happened again? What if the intruder appeared in the house again?

No. No way.

“I'm glad Harry likes me,” I told Alice. “I like him, too. He's pretty special.”

Alice promised to bake the brownies and have them ready for Harry the next day. I walked him home as raindrops began to patter down.

My heart began to race as we stepped into the house. My eyes immediately went to the top of the stairs. In the kitchen, I began to warm up the dinner Brenda had prepared for Harry. Every creak, every scrape, every soft sound made my muscles tense.

I was on super-alert.

Even Harry noticed I was tense. “What's wrong, Lisa?” he asked as he ate his early dinner. “You look kind of worried.”

“No. I'm fine,” I lied. “Just thinking about … school.”

After dessert, I asked Harry if Alice had given him homework.

“I don't think so,” he replied. He scratched his dark hair. “I don't remember.”

I laughed. “You're a liar. Of
course
you remember.”

He tickled me under my chin. Somehow he had discovered I'm very ticklish there. “Lisa, I'll tickle you until you let me play with my Xbox,” he threatened.

I had no choice. I had to give in. He likes to play a game called
Candy Catastrophe
endlessly. I watched for a while, but it got to be boring. “Don't you have any other game you like?” I demanded. “How can you play this for a solid hour?”

“I like it,” he said, eyes on the screen as the colored candy pieces tumbled.

“But is that your only game?”

He shook his head. “Mom bought me a monster game. But I don't like it. Too scary.”

A monster game?

I shuddered. Pictured the demon-creature again. Saw its ugly, twisted face as it looked up at me from the backyard.

My phone beeped. I picked it up. A text from Saralynn:
Everything ok?

I texted her back:
Fine. No problem.

I saw that my phone was practically out of power. I didn't have my charger. “Does your mom have an iPhone charger?” I asked Harry.

He shrugged. “I don't know.”

I let him play a few more rounds. Then I tucked him into bed early. He went without an argument. No pleas to stay up late tonight. I guessed he was sleepy.

Rain pattered the bedroom window. I made sure it was closed. I checked his closet. No sign of any demons.

The evening had gone fine. No problems at all. But I couldn't relax.

I sat down on the living room couch and pulled the science assignment from my backpack. It was interesting reading, about how a new strain of bees had appeared, aggressive bees that liked to attack, and no one knew how this type of bee had suddenly developed.

Frightening.

Regular bees were scary enough.

The article told about a man who was stung on the face by six of these bees and died instantly. When my phone rang, I jumped and uttered a startled cry.

I fumbled for it, picked it up, and read the caller ID:

Summer Lawson.

 

27.

I stared at the screen with the phone poised in my hand. I didn't answer, just let it go to voicemail.

What does she want? What is her problem?

I waited a few seconds, then checked. She didn't leave a message.

I tossed the phone down and went back to the killer bees. They were known to attack dogs and even raccoons. Scientists were studying their genetic makeup.

I don't know why, but I've always found insects fascinating. I guess it's because there's lots more insects than humans on the planet. It's
their
planet and we don't really know that much about them.

I finished the article and went back to highlight some sections. I like to read a whole piece first, then go back and underline what I think is important.

I glanced at the front window. The rain had stopped but the window was still covered in raindrops. Moonlight trying to get through the window was broken into a thousand little shiny pieces.

I sucked in my breath when I heard a sound. A soft
thud
.

In the kitchen?

I jumped off the couch. My whole body tensed as I stood there, fists at my sides, listening.

I heard the creak of a footstep. A scraping sound. Another creak.

Someone was definitely in the kitchen. I wasn't imagining it. Someone had broken into the house and was creeping through the kitchen, trying to be quiet, coming toward the living room—coming for me.

The same intruder? The same monstrous creature?

I was frozen there. Not breathing. I don't think my heart was beating. It was as if I'd turn to an ice sculpture. I felt cold all over, the cold tingling of total fear.

I didn't think I could move.

There. Another footstep. A soft cough. Closer.

My phone. I dove for it. My hand trembled so hard, I nearly dropped it.

Got to call 911. Please—let me call 911 before he comes bursting in.

No. Please—no.

The phone was out of power. Dead. The screen wouldn't even light up.

No phone. And another footstep.

Who's there?

I tried to call out those words, but no sound escaped my open mouth.

I squeezed the dead phone in my hand, squeezed it so hard my hand throbbed with pain.

On trembling legs I made my way to the hall. Still not breathing. Not breathing. Somehow I made it to the kitchen door.

The floor seemed to tilt and sway beneath me. The whole world was spinning.

But I forced myself to the kitchen. Holding onto the door frame, I leaned into the room. Gazed all around—and then cried out in total surprise.

 

28.

“What are
you
doing here?” I choked out.

I stared at Nate, standing on the other side of the white kitchen counter.

He wore a black denim jacket zipped to the top. The shoulders were wet, and his hair was matted to his forehead. He'd obviously been out in the rain.

He gave me a weak smile. “I rang the front doorbell. Didn't you hear it?”

“No,” I said. I was still trembling. My heart was still doing flip-flops in my chest. “No, I didn't. I was in the living room, but I didn't hear the front door.”

“Maybe the bell is broken,” he said, stepping around the counter. He kept his brown eyes on mine, a smile frozen on his face. “When you didn't answer, I came around the back.”

I sucked in a deep shuddering breath. I realized I was hugging myself, trying to calm myself.

Nate stepped up to me. His smile faded. He put a hurt expression on his face. “Aren't you glad to see me?” He reached out to hug me, but I pushed him back.

“Y-you scared me to death!” I stammered. “Seriously. I thought someone broke in.”

He snickered. “Someone
did
break in. Me.”

“You're not funny,” I said. “Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you call me first? Why didn't you—”

He put a hand over my mouth. “I wanted to surprise you, that's all.”

I shoved his hand away. “I hate surprises. You weren't trying to scare me—were you?”

“No way,” he said. “I wouldn't do that.”

“Then why are you here?” I demanded. I started to feel calmer. I stopped shaking. I realized I was actually glad to see him.

He brushed back his wet hair. “I was driving past. I have to go pick up my brother. He's at a friend's house a few blocks from here. It's like a full-time job, driving Tim around. But I thought I'd just peek in and see if you were okay.”

I laughed. “I was okay until you frightened me to death.”

He stepped forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I didn't mean to. Really. I just remembered you were upset after last Monday.…”

His voice trailed off. I knew he didn't believe me about what I saw here on Monday night.

“Well … I guess it was sweet of you,” I said. “Can you come back and pick me up after Brenda gets home?”

“No problem.” He pointed to a plate on the counter. “Are those chocolate chip cookies homemade?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but I heard a shout from upstairs. “That's Harry,” I said. “See you later.”

I spun away, trotted across the living room, and started up the staircase.

“Lisa! Hey, Lisa!” Harry's cries were shrill. He sounded frightened.

“I'm coming,” I called as I reached the second-floor landing.

I pushed open Harry's door. The room was totally black, as usual. I fumbled on the wall till I found the light switch and clicked on the ceiling light.

He was sitting straight up in his bed in his
X-Men
pajamas, his face red, his eyes wide. “Lisa—I … I was scared. I heard voices.”