It's All Downhill from Here (12 page)

Mr. Talbert yawned as he tried to hold a stack of uncorrected lab papers
and his coffee cup in one hand and unlock his classroom door with the other. Feeble
early-morning light filtered through the high windows and reflected off the surfaces of
the lab tables. He flicked on the overhead, flooding the room with harsh fluorescent
light. He yawned again as he headed for his desk, wondering if he'd have time this
Friday morning to finish grading all the labs before first period.

He plopped the stack of papers down on his desk. Then he scratched his
head quizzically and regarded the life-size skeleton next to his desk. The
skeleton's head was cocked at a jaunty angle. It stared back at him with its
shadowy, unseeing eyes.

“Did I just see what I think I saw?” he
asked the skeleton.

The skeleton didn't answer.

Mr. Talbert took three backward steps. He turned toward the bug terrarium
that sat on the counter running the length of his classroom. The counter was cluttered
with mineral samples, animal skulls, and fossils.

The lid of the terrarium was askew. He crouched down to peer into it.

The day before it had contained a bustling little ecosystem, filled with
at least a dozen large green scarab beetles, scientific name
Chelorrhina polyphemus
, crawling around on the sandy bottom and gnawing on
the bits of apple his middle school students had dropped in. But now the terrarium was
empty. The beetles were nowhere to be seen.

Mr. Talbert turned back to the skeleton. “They can't have
climbed out on their own,” he said. “Someone's taken them!”

The skeleton didn't answer.

“Um, Jess? No offense, but that hat?” Alice mock-shuddered.
“
So
last year.”

Jess reached up and touched her hat, smiling ruefully at Alice. “I
know, I know. But it was so cold this morning when I ran out of the house, and I left my
good one in my locker at school.”

“I always buy two of everything,” pronounced Pria. “That
way I have a spare.”

Kayla, who was picking her way along the icy sidewalk a step behind the
other three girls, furrowed her brow. She
liked
Jess's
hat. It was a dusty rose color with a folded-up brim that set off Jess's delicate
features and wide-set green eyes. But Kayla would never dream of piping up and
disagreeing with Alice. No one wanted to
invite Alice's
criticism if they could help it. Kayla wondered if Pria was serious about buying two of
everything. Like
that
would ever happen in Kayla's
house. She glanced down at her winter boots, which were very definitely so
two
years ago. Her mom had found them last year at an
end-of-season clearance sale, and Kayla had been delighted with them.

“Brrrr!” said Jess, hunkering deeper into her luxurious down
coat. “It must be negative a hundred degrees today. Probably a record low for
Fairbridge, Minnesota.”

“Even Buttercup looks like he feels cold, which is a miracle
considering all the natural insulation that dog has,” said Alice, gesturing to the
dog at the end of the rhinestone-studded leash she was holding in her gloved hand.
“My mom says she's going to put him on a diet.”

“It's the wind,” said Kayla. “That's what
makes it feel so cold.”

As if to emphasize Kayla's point, an icy gust of crystallized snow
sprang up and swirled around the girls. All four put their heads down to shield their
faces against the needlelike blast. Kayla could feel the icy snow blowing down the back
of her coat collar and up her coat sleeves, which were getting a little too short for
her.

“Buttercup! Slow
down
, you dumb dog!” said Alice, lunging forward from the force of the
dog's tugging. Buttercup kept straining at his leash.

Kayla usually liked dogs, but Buttercup had to be the ugliest dog
she'd ever seen, and he was not especially friendly, either. His snout was all
pushed in, as though he had run face-first into a glass patio door. His tail curled up
and around backward, so that it practically formed a circle. He didn't walk so
much as he waddled, his round belly shifting from side to side. Alice had told her that
he was a very rare and valuable breed. Whatever.

Pria adjusted her fuzzy pink earmuffs. “Please tell me why
we're out here again?”

“I'm behaving like the model citizen,” said Alice with a
half smile. “I've offered to walk Buttercup every single afternoon so my
parents will stick to their promise to let me have the party.”

“It's so awesome that you're going to have a coed
Valentine's party,” said Pria.

“Yeah, I'm psyched. The girls get to sleep over, and the boys
will all leave at eleven,” said Alice.

“Will you guys help me find a cute party outfit at the mall
today?” asked Jess.

“I'm going to buy at least three
outfits,” said Alice, ignoring Jess's question. “Then I'll be
able to choose whatever I'm in the mood for the day of the party.”

“Speaking of shopping,” said Pria, “have you
noticed
the stores on this block? I mean, who shops here?
Especially considering there's a perfectly good mall nearby.”

“Clearly no one, from the looks of these places,” said Alice
with a sniff.

Kayla clutched the collar of her coat and looked up, squinting as another
blast of icy wind sprang up.

It was true. For a generally swanky town like Fairbridge, this seemed to
be the one-block-long low-rent district. It was doubly strange that such a run-down
block existed in this part of town, of all places, because Alice lived just four blocks
away, on one of the fanciest streets in Fairbridge.

They passed an antique store, with a dimly lit storefront displaying a
jumble of threadbare old armchairs that looked like they'd seen much better days.
Next door was a discount clothing store called Dressed Best, displaying mannequins with
no heads or hands, modeling unfashionable dresses. And just past that was a
shop with a sign reading
ESOTERICA: SPIRITUAL SUPPLIES
• CANDLES • OILS • SPELLS
. The snow on the sidewalk seemed
undisturbed in front of the shops, as though no one had gone in or out in some time.

“Buttercup! I told you to stop
pulling
,
you awful little thing,” said Alice. “After thousands of dollars of
obedience training, he's still the most annoying dog!” She lurched as
Buttercup bounded forward, barking his head off at something the girls couldn't
see, something behind the recessed door of the dress shop.

“It's a cat,” said Pria.

Just then Buttercup managed to slip out of his collar, leaving Alice
holding the empty leash. He moved much more quickly on his short legs than Kayla would
have thought he could, dashing toward the doorway and yapping furiously.

A black cat streaked across the sidewalk, heading toward the road. Kayla
watched, stricken, as it leaped over the mound of plowed, grayish snow and into the
road, just as an oncoming car was passing. The cat landed right in front of the car, and
the girls couldn't see whether one of the car's tires rolled over it. The
driver, a man talking on his cell phone, kept going, apparently
unaware of what had happened.

Buttercup struggled to mount the ploughed snowbank, still in pursuit of
the cat, and Alice was able to grab him and snap his collar back on. Then she peered
over the edge of the snowbank at the place where the cat had fallen.

“Is it dead?” Jess called to Alice in a small voice.

“Maybe,” Alice replied grimly.

The other three girls moved closer to look, peering fearfully over the
snowbank.

The cat lay unmoving in a pile of slush.

“Let's get out of here,” said Alice. “I so
don't need to deal with this right now.”

“But what about the cat?” asked Kayla, staring down at it in
horror.

“It was probably just a stray,” said Jess. “I agree.
Let's go.”

“It's wearing a collar,” Kayla pointed out.

“Come
on
,” said Alice. “My mom
said she'd take us to the mall as soon as we got back, and it's
freezing
out here.”

The other two girls turned to follow Alice. Kayla stood there.
“I'm going to check on the cat,” she said.
“I'll catch up to you in a minute.”

Alice scowled. “Whatever. But hurry up. I can't guarantee that
my mom will wait very long.”

Kayla watched the other three girls hurry away through the swirling,
misting snow. After making sure no cars were coming, she stepped gingerly over the
snowbank and looked down at the cat. Its body lay stretched out, its head facing her,
its limbs sprawled in an awkward, uncatlike way.

She was afraid to touch it. Was it breathing, or was that just the wind
stirring its fur? She crouched down. “Sorry, kitty,” she whispered.
“I'm sorry about that dumb dog.”

She saw no blood, thank goodness, but then, it would be awfully hard to
see blood on a coal-black cat like this one. She grew more certain that it was dead. She
looked up at the row of stores. Was anyone looking out the window? Even if they had
been, they wouldn't be able to see the cat's body, which would be hidden by
the bank of snow. She saw no one. She stared back down at the cat.

“I wonder what your name was,” she said sadly. And then, as if
to answer her, its eyes flew open.

A lifelong night owl,
P. J.
Night
often works furiously into the wee hours of the morning, writing down
spooky tales and dreaming up new stories of the supernatural and otherworldly. Although
P. J.'s whereabouts are unknown at this time, we suspect the author lives in a
drafty, old mansion where the floorboards creak when no one is there and the flickering
candlelight creates shadows that creep along the walls. We truly wish we could tell you
more, but we've been sworn to keep P. J.'s identity a
secret . . . and it's a secret we will take to our graves!

Simon & Schuster, New York

Cover art by Aly Turner

© 2012 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Ages 8–12

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