First Evil (15 page)

“Jennifer must have dropped it,” Kimmy replied. “Just like I always did. I told you, the clasp was loose.”

Corky's mind whirred crazily from thought to thought. She stared at the pendant as if hypnotized by it. The room started to tilt, then spin. Once again she
felt as if she were falling, falling down a bottomless, dark pit.

“Corky—!” Kimmy grabbed her arm.

“Jennifer couldn't change her clothes in the locker room,” Corky said, closing her eyes, trying to make the room stop spinning, trying to make the falling sensation stop. “Jennifer always changed at home. She wouldn't go in the locker room.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Kimmy agreed. “But, Corky—”

“Why would Jennifer go in the locker room? Why? What was she doing there?” Corky screamed.

“Corky—stop! You're not thinking clearly!” Kimmy cried.

“Sit down,” Ronnie said from across the room. “Somebody make her sit down.”

“Maybe we should call her parents,” Debra said at the same time.

“No!” Corky screamed, pulling out of Kimmy's grasp. “No! I have to talk to Jennifer! I
have
to! I have to know the truth!”

“Corky—please—let us call your parents,” Kimmy pleaded.

But Corky had already run out of the den and was making her way down the front hallway. The three girls called to her, begging her to come back.

“What on earth is going on?” Kimmy's mom cried, poking her head out of the living room.

Corky flew past her—and out into the dark, cool night.

“Corky—come back! Come back!”

“Come back and talk!”

She ignored their pleas, their frantic, high-pitched shouts.

The car started quickly. The lights shot on. And she headed the car toward Jennifer's house in North Hills.

Past houses darkened for the night. Past empty yards and woods filled with silent, bending trees. Past Shadyside High, dark except for the spotlight out front, throwing a shimmering cone of light onto the front doors.

Jennifer's house was on a side street just north of the school. As Corky turned the corner, her headlights swept over the low ranch-style house. She braked hard, slowing the car down the street from the house, and stared across the smooth lawn.

Dark.

All the windows were dark, the shades drawn, curtains pulled.

Corky glanced at the dashboard clock. Eleven o'clock.

“Guess they all go to bed early,” she said out loud.

And then she saw the headlights of a car parked at the curb in front of Jennifer's house flash on.

It was a red Skylark, Corky saw.

The car pulled slowly away from the curb and edged into the driveway to turn around. The interior lights came on for a second, and the girl in the car was illuminated.

It's Jennifer! Corky saw, her mouth dropping open.

I didn't know she could drive.

I didn't think she could move her legs enough to push the pedals.

She watched her pull the car halfway up the drive, then back up into the street, then pull off in the other direction.

Jennifer's headlights filled Corky's car with blinding white light. She's coming right at me, Corky thought. She'll see me.

Corky ducked her head, covered her face with the sleeve of her coat.

Jennifer didn't seem to notice her. The Skylark rolled slowly past, then turned right, heading toward the school.

Where could Jennifer be going by herself at eleven o'clock at night? Corky wondered.

Deciding to follow her, she eased the car into Jennifer's driveway and turned around just as Jennifer had done. Then she floored the gas pedal and shot around the corner, eager to catch up.

Racing down Park Drive, Corky quickly saw that their cars were the only two on the road. She slowed down, deciding to keep at least a block between her car and Jennifer's.

Where is she going? Where?

The question repeated and repeated in her mind.

The full moon floated at the top of the windshield, as if leading the way. A raccoon scooted into the road, hesitated in Corky's headlights, then just made it safely to the other side as Corky rolled by.

As she followed a block behind the red Skylark, Corky's thoughts went back to her emotional encounter with Kimmy. Kimmy appeared to be telling the truth about the silver pendant. And she truly seemed to be concerned about Corky.

What did that mean?

Was Jennifer in the locker room the afternoon Bobbi was killed?

Bobbi and Jennifer had become best friends. There was no reason to suspect that Jennifer might have killed Bobbi. No reason at all.

So what was she doing there that afternoon?

And what was she doing
now?

Corky followed the Skylark as it turned onto Old Mill Road. As an oncoming car shot its headlights forward, Corky could see Jennifer's shadow reflected on the back window of the little car.

She's heading for Fear Street! Corky realized.

But why?

Is she going to my house? An unexpected visit?

No. Jennifer isn't my friend. She was Bobbi's friend.

Bobbi's friend. Bobbi's friend. Bobbi's friend.

The words repeated until they didn't make any sense.

Nothing
made any sense.

She followed Jennifer's car as it turned onto Fear Street. Past the sprawling, ramshackle old houses. Past the burnt-out ruins of the old Simon Fear mansion high on its sloping, weed-covered lawn.

And then suddenly, after Fear Street curved into the thick woods, Corky saw Jennifer pull her car to the side of the road. Her headlights dimmed, then went out.

Corky hit the brakes, her car sliding to a stop less than a block behind. Quickly she cut her lights.

Corky wondered, Why is she stopping here?

Leaning forward to get a better view through the windshield, she saw where Jennifer had stopped.

The cemetery. The Fear Street cemetery.

Squinting through the darkness, she saw Jennifer's car door swing open. Saw Jennifer's hand on the door handle, pushing the door open, holding it open.

Then she saw Jennifer turn and put her feet down on the pavement.

“Oh, I don't
believe
it!” Corky muttered to herself as Jennifer pulled herself to her feet.

Stood up.

Stepped away from the car. Slammed the door. Walked onto the grass of the cemetery.

Walked.

“I don't believe it,” Corky repeated, gaping at the slender, dark figure disappearing behind the gravestones.

“She walks. She can walk. Bobbi was right. That night in front of Jennifer's house. Bobbi was right. And I thought she was crazy.”

Corky leapt out of the car, closing the door silently behind her. Then she began jogging along the curb, running as quietly as she could, staying in the shadows thrown by the tall trees.

She stopped and knelt behind a gnarled old oak, and peered where Jennifer had gone.

Wisps of fog floated over the graveyard. The moonlight filtering through the fog tinged everything with a pale, sickly green. Shadows shifted and shimmered in the eerie green light. The jagged tombstones glowed.

As Corky leaned against the cold, damp tree trunk, peering intently into the dimly lit scene, Jennifer reemerged. Dancing.

Dancing a strange, silent dance.

Her arms over her head, her legs—those legs everyone believed to be paralyzed—twirled and kicked. A silent, cheerless tango.

She was wearing her cheerleader costume. The short skirt flew up as she spun. Her dark hair flew behind her as if alive.

And what was that she was waving in her hand?

Corky squinted into the misty green light.

It was the pennant. The Shadyside pennant they had made for her after the accident. The crippling accident.

And now here was Jennifer, twirling wildly in the green moonlight. Kicking and twirling. Waving the pennant high.

Dancing in a narrow circle. Bending her back, raising her face to the moon, her long hair flowing down nearly to the ground.

Round and round.

Around a tombstone. Corky realized.

Jennifer was circling a tall tombstone, surrounded by four other stones.

Sarah Fear's tombstone.

Waving the pennant, she kicked her legs high as if leading a silent parade. Then, once again, she arched her back, raising her face to the moon.

Her eyes closed, the pale green light played off her face. She bowed deeply, crossing her legs as she dipped, a strange curtsy to the moon. And then she rose up and began moving slowly to an unheard rhythm, twirling around the gravestone, her eyes closed, a strange, tranquil smile on her face.

Corky couldn't stand it any longer.

Pushing herself away from the tree, she lurched forward into the graveyard, her boots sinking into the wet mud.

“Jennifer—” she called, her voice sounding tiny and hollow on the wind. “Jennifer—what's going on?”

J
ennifer halted her strange dance and opened her eyes. Her smile faded. She lowered the pennant to her side.

Corky ran, stopping before the first row of gravestones. “Jennifer—what are you doing?”

Jennifer's eyes reflected the green moonlight as she turned to face Corky. “I'm not Jennifer,” she said, her voice husky, almost breathless.

“Huh? Jennifer—I saw you dancing,” Corky cried.

“I'm not Jennifer,” she repeated darkly, standing directly in front of Sarah Fear's tombstone. And then she screamed: “
I'm not Jennifer!
”

“Jennifer—I
saw
you!” Corky insisted.

As if in reply, Jennifer lifted one hand high above her head and waved it as if summoning someone.

“Oh!” Corky cried out, raising her hands to her face
as the grass flew off Sarah Fear's grave, and the dirt began to rise.

Jennifer waved her hand high above her head, and the dirt rose up like a dark curtain, flying off the grave, flying high into the black sky.

And then the dirt was swirling around them both, thicker and thicker, until Corky couldn't see beyond it, until Corky was forced to move closer to Jennifer.

Faster and faster the curtain of dirt swirled, until it became a raging, dark whirlwind, like a tornado funnel.

Covering her eyes with her arm, Corky staggered forward, forward—until she was standing face-to-face with Jennifer. Jennifer held her hand high as if directing the swirling dirt, her eyes aglow with excitement, the excitement of her power.

“Jennifer—what are you doing? Stop it! Stop it—
please!
”

Corky's frightened plea was drowned out by the roar of the spinning dirt. The roar drowned out all sound, all thoughts. She could no longer see the moon or the sky, the graves, the trees.

Inside the dark funnel of dirt, she could see only Jennifer. Jennifer, her eyes glowing with an eerie green light, glaring at Corky, her expression hard, angry, her hand still raised high over her head.

They were alone, the two of them, trapped inside this frightening storm of graveyard dirt.

And then the roar faded and died as the dirt continued to whirl around them. And Jennifer's throaty voice, a voice Corky had never heard before, rose in the fresh silence. “I am not Jennifer,” she
repeated, glaring coldly at Corky. “Jennifer is dead. Jennifer died weeks ago.”

“What are you saying?” Corky cried, wrapping her arms around herself as if for protection. “What is
happening?
”

“Jennifer died in the bus accident,” the husky voice revealed, her eyes lighting up, as if the words were giving her pleasure. “She was dead that night in the rain. She died on top of Sarah Fear's grave.”

“Jennifer—what are you
saying?
” Corky cried. Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. But the swirling black column of dirt offered no hope of escape.

“I waited so long, so long,” the husky voice said, deepening with sudden sadness. “I waited so long—and then Jennifer came along. . . .”

“I don't understand,” Corky started. “I don't—”

“Buried for so long,” the voice continued. “Buried down there for a hundred years with Sarah Fear. Waiting. Waiting.”

“You're—you're
Sarah Fear?
” Corky stammered, staring into the angry, glowing eyes.

“Not anymore,” came the reply.

Corky shuddered and hugged herself tightly.

This isn't happening.

The heavy funnel of dirt from the grave continued to swirl silently around the two girls, blocking out all sound, all light, all evidence that the rest of the world existed.

“I—I don't get it,” Corky stammered. “Are you some kind of ghost? An evil spirit?”

Again Jennifer threw back her head in laughter. “That is a quaint way of putting it,” she replied,
sneering. She pointed down to the grave. “Nearly a hundred years I waited down there for a new body. And then Jennifer came along.”