I saw Mom fidgeting in her chair, clasping and unclasping her hands. Heather had this blank look on her face, like maybe she was somewhere else. Or maybe she was thinking this couldn’t be happening.
That was my thought exactly, and of course, it was happening, and I was looking like a crazed psycho who would burn my friend’s head off because somehow that acid bottle just vanished from the shelf.
“Mrs. Miller, are you okay?” Benny asked. Both cops were watching her carefully.
“Not really,” she said. “I know that my daughter would never do anything like this, and I just can’t believe that you two are questioning her—”
“We’re questioning everyone in their circle of friends,” Benny offered. “Even my brother.”
“Manny?” I couldn’t hide my surprise. “Manny’s the last person I’d question. Manny is definitely not the killer type.”
“Who is?” Raap demanded.
The question caught me by surprise and I gasped.
“Poppy, do you know anyone who would want to harm Ivy?” he demanded.
“Besides me?” I replied. “No. I . . . I don’t. I—”
I heard a buzzing sound. Raap raised his palm, signaling for quiet. He pulled his phone to his ear. His eyes grew wide as he listened. He nodded once, twice, and muttered something I couldn’t hear.
Benny’s big body tensed. He stared at his partner, listening to what he could hear of the conversation. Mom sat forward on the edge of her chair. Heather started playing with her stringy hair, twisting and untwisting a strand.
Finally, Raap clicked off. He lowered his phone slowly to his lap, his expression thoughtful. “Afraid I have bad news,” he said finally, his face suddenly so pale it was ghostlike.
Benny shook his head and lowered his eyes. He knew what Raap was about to say.
Raap narrowed his eyes at me. “Your friend Jeremy has died in the hospital. He never recovered consciousness after the hornet stings.”
“Oh nooooo.” A shuddering gasp escaped my open mouth. I covered my face with both hands. I couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked my body. “Noooo. Oh noooo.”
I felt hands grip my rocking shoulders. I lowered my hands enough to see Mom trying to wrap me in an awkward hug. “This can’t be happening,” I choked out, my face soaked with tears. “These are my friends. This can’t be happening.”
The two officers were on their feet. “So sorry,” Benny said. “So sorry. This was a terrible crime. But we’ll find the culprit.”
I covered my face again. I knew they still suspected me. But Benny’s words helped make me feel a little better. Mom held on to my shoulders. She motioned for Heather to show the two cops to the door.
“We’ll need to talk again,” Raap said. “Right now, we’d better get to Shadyside General.”
I heard the door close behind them. “I’m going to my room,” Heather said. “I . . . don’t know what to say. I’m totally messed up. My brain . . . it just won’t wrap itself around this. Sorry, Poppy.”
Mom squeezed my shoulders. “Look at me, Poppy,” she said in a low whisper. “Turn around and look at me.”
I lowered my hands from my face. My cheeks were hot and soaked in tears. To my surprise, Mom’s expression wasn’t sympathetic. It was stern.
She locked her eyes on mine. “I need you to tell me the truth, Poppy,” she said.
I blinked tears from my eyes. “Huh? The truth?”
Mom nodded. “Yes, I want the truth. You know those hornets came from my lab.”
40
Keith Narrates
I went to the hospital to see Ivy, and Manny was already in her room. I felt a little awkward because I didn’t know if they had told her the news about Jeremy.
But it didn’t take long to see that Ivy knew, because she had a handkerchief up to her face and was crying so hard, a nurse came hurrying into the room.
“Do you need something to calm yourself?” she asked. She was a large, middle-aged woman, and her green uniform pants fell baggy all around her. Some wisps of gray hair hung around her face.
Ivy was already hooked up to an IV, a clear hose attached to a bag of some kind of liquid that was hanging from a pole beside her bed. It was injected into her wrist, so she had to hold the handkerchief she was crying into in her left hand.
Ivy shook her head no. Waved the nurse away. “I . . . I don’t want anything.” Her voice was all cramped and fluttery. It didn’t sound like Ivy.
I kept staring at the bandages that covered most of her scalp and came down to the back of her neck. Her hands were wrapped too. They looked like mummy bandages, and I couldn’t help it—I had this thought that Ivy was all ready for Halloween.
Hospitals freak me out. You can’t control your thoughts in a hospital. You think crazy things you shouldn’t, like Ivy being a mummy for Halloween. And you think frightening things . . . like, you think about people dying. You can smell it in a hospital. That sharp, sour smell. It’s death.
I’ve thought about death a lot since my family moved to a house on Fear Street. Of course, I heard the stories of the evil that seems to hang over that street. I’ve tried to laugh it off. Ridiculous stories.
But I have to admit I’ve felt the darkness. Something frightening lurking inside me that wasn’t there before we moved.
I spent some time in a hospital. No one knows it. But I did. And I never wanted to return. I never wanted to be hospitalized again.
It sounds so impossible to me now that I OD’d on the cough medicine in Dad’s medicine cabinet. What was I doing in there in the first place? And what was wrong with me that I’d thought it would be a good idea to drink down two bottles of the stuff?
What had I been trying to prove?
I’d never answered the question. I don’t even know what exactly was in those bottles. But the next thing I knew I was in a hospital bed, and my brain was on Mars or in a deep, dark sewer somewhere. Anywhere but where it should be.
And how long did it take me to come back to consciousness?
My parents told the high school I was visiting an uncle overseas. No one knew that I was lying in a hospital bed, yammering insane things, jabbering and drooling, my mind completely blown to bits.
It was when I’d finally begun to think like me that I’d decided to pull back. I’d decided that it wasn’t cool. There was no advantage in being a rebel or a troublemaker. I guess that was the start of my new personality. Good guy Keith. Boring, good guy Keith.
Well, face it, after my mind almost slipped away from me forever, I was afraid not to be boring.
No one knows this. I thought I could confide in Poppy. I thought Poppy and I could share our biggest secrets. But I was wrong. And I am glad that I never shared my hospital story with her. She wasn’t deserving of my confidences. She wasn’t worth the time I spent with her.
I miss her and I hate her.
It’s as simple as that.
“We just came to say hi,” Manny said.
Ivy was so torn to pieces, I don’t think she heard him.
“Ivy, when are you going home?” Manny asked, trying to get some kind of response.
Ivy choked out an answer, but I couldn’t understand it. I kept staring at the mummy bandages. The poor girl. Her head must hurt so much.
Manny stood up and motioned for me to follow. It wasn’t a good time to be visiting.
The nurse returned. “Dr. Mahoney thinks you need to rest,” she said to Ivy. She opened a small case and removed a hypodermic needle. “I’m sorry, but your visitors should leave now.”
Manny and I were already at the door. “We’ll come back,” Manny said.
“Hope you feel better,” I said. Lame. But what else could I say?
Manny and I made our way down the long hall, past room after room of sick people. The smell was sharp and piney. Like toilet cleaner.
We both took long strides, eager to get out of there. We didn’t talk till we were outside. Manny let out a long whoosh of breath. “Whoa. Talk
about messed up,” he muttered.
I nodded. “Sick. Totally sick.”
He motioned to the parking lot. “Want a ride to school?”
I thought for a moment. “I’m skipping out today. I don’t really feel like school.” I stepped off the front stairs. “Catch you later, dude.”
What I really wanted to do was go home and make a few new cuts in my shoulder. That would make me feel better. I knew it would.
41
Poppy Narrates
“I know the hornets came from my lab,” Mom said. “I need an explanation from you, Poppy.”
My mouth dropped open. I stared at her. I suddenly felt as if she was a stranger, someone I’d never seen before. “Are you . . . Are you accusing me?” I stammered.
“Are you denying it?” she replied, challenging me.
I felt so hurt and angry at the same time. “Mom . . . I never . . . I wouldn’t . . .” I stumbled over the words. “Jeremy is d-dead,” I stuttered. “Do you think I’m the one who killed him?”
She uttered a sigh and rubbed her forehead as if she had one of her migraines. “I don’t know what to think, Poppy. I know that those hornets could only have come from one place. I know that the police won’t have any trouble tracing them to my lab.”
She kept her eyes covered, massaging her temples. “The truth is, I should tell them. I should tell them right now where the hornets came from.”
“Mom, look at me,” I said. I grabbed her arm and pulled her hand away from her face. “Look at me. Read my lips. I didn’t take the hornets. I didn’t put the acid in Ivy’s shampoo. I didn’t do those things, Mom. And you should know me well enough not to accuse me.”
A sob escaped my throat. “Do you have any idea how much you have just hurt me?”
She thought for a moment. I could see her eyes sliding back and forth as she concentrated. “I know you have a temper, Poppy. We’ve talked about it. We’ve had to deal with it several times. We both know—”
I let go of her arm and stepped back. “You’re not going to stop—are you? You’re going to keep on accusing me? Even though I told you I didn’t do those things to my two friends.”
“Okay, okay.” She gestured with both hands. I suddenly saw fear in her eyes. “Let’s deal with this, Poppy. Let’s think about this.” She pulled me to the couch and pushed me onto the cushion. She didn’t sit down beside me. She started pacing back and forth in front of me.
“Mom, please—”
She waved a hand for me to be quiet. “Listen Poppy, if you didn’t do it, someone else is out to hurt your friends, right?”
“Right,” I whispered.
“They’re out to hurt everyone in your group,” she continued, crossing her arms in front of her. “So what makes you think you won’t be next?”
“Huh?” The thought hadn’t occurred to me.
“You could be next,” Mom said. “Don’t you see? We . . . we have to lock all the windows and doors. You have to be careful when you go out. Maybe . . . maybe you should quit your job.”
I jumped to my feet. “Quit my job? But, Mom—”
“Someone killed Jeremy. Someone attacked your best friend. Do you think they’ll stop there? Don’t you think you’re on the list? Why didn’t you think of that?” She narrowed her eyes at me, suspicious. “Why aren’t you . . . scared?”
“I—I don’t know,” I stammered. A chill rolled down my back. “I guess you’re right. I guess I should be afraid. And Manny. He should be afraid. And Jack.”
Jack . . .
He hadn’t said a word to me since the night of the fake robbery. I’d seen him at school, hanging all over Rose, teasing her and kissing her, and draping himself all over her and not caring who was watching. Whenever he passed me in the hall, he pretended he didn’t see me.
What a creep.
Was Jack afraid? Was he afraid he might be next? I hoped he was afraid. I guess it was sick, but I hoped he was totally afraid.
That kind of thinking didn’t help, I know. But you can’t control what you think about when you’re under such terrible strain and pressure.
“Did you call Ivy?” Mom’s voice broke into my thoughts.
“No. I . . . uh . . . texted her. I tried to call, several times, but she won’t take my calls.”
“You should try again, Poppy.”
“You don’t get it, Mom. She thinks I did it. She thinks I tried to kill her. I’m sure she thinks I killed Jeremy. She’s not going to take my calls. Not ever again.”
I spun away from her and stomped to my room and threw myself on my stomach onto the bed. I shut my eyes and pressed my face into the bedcover.
I tried to get my thoughts in order. I tried to clear my mind and think, just think. I had to force my swirling emotions into the background. All the anger and fear and confusion—it all had to go so that I stood a chance of figuring out what was happening here.
I thought about the hornets. The big insects that Mom was studying. She told me they were more aggressive than normal, and she was trying to find out why. I pictured them. And then I pictured a swarm of them.
I tried to imagine what it would be like to open my eyes and find them buzzing and swirling and flying around my room, hovering low, circling me with their loud anger. And then attacking me. Attaching themselves to my body, my skin, and stinging . . . stinging . . . stinging until every part of me throbbed with unbearable pain.
I had only seen the hornets once, that day I visited Mom’s lab. That day I visited Mom’s lab with Keith.
Keith.
Wait a minute. Keith was there that day.
I pushed myself up from the bedcover. I sat up with a shivering jerk. Keith was with me. Keith saw the hornets, too.
Did this mean anything? My thoughts were sending chills down my back.
I pictured quiet, careful Keith. Could he be the one who’d attacked Ivy and Jeremy?
Keith?
I knew he’d never liked my friends. But that was no reason to go after them.
Keith . . . He’d acted so weird when I broke up with him. At first, he acted as if his life was over. Then he became angry. So angry he frightened me.
Yes. Yes. I’d put it out of my mind. But Keith had even threatened me. Nothing specific. I couldn’t really remember what he’d said.
Then he’d looked about to cry. He’d hurried away. Afterward, he kept calling and texting. He hadn’t given up. I had to be really mean to him to convince him to stop and leave me alone.
Was Keith getting revenge now? Revenge on me by attacking my friends and making it look as if I was the culprit?
Suddenly, the thought didn’t seem so crazy.
I woke with a start. I glanced at the clock. Where had the day gone? It had whirred by in a blur. I must have fallen asleep. I didn’t even realize it.
The phone was in my trembling hand before I even noticed it. I was shaking so hard, it took three tries to punch Keith’s number. It rang and rang, and no voicemail message came on.
It was late. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe he couldn’t hear his phone. I let it ring for a long time. Then I clicked off, squeezing the phone in my hand, my thoughts flying crazily around me.
It’s late, but I have to see him. I won’t sleep tonight unless I confront him.
A few minutes later, I was in the car. My hand trembled as I started it up. I took a deep breath, hoping to stop my heart from beating so hard.
Was this an insane idea? Thinking of Keith as the attacker?
I didn’t care how insane it sounded. I had to know the answer.
I left the headlights off. Mom and Heather had gone to bed, and I didn’t want either of them to know I was going out this late. I didn’t want to hear the millions of questions Mom would ask.
I released the brake and let the car back slowly down the driveway—and almost backed into a dark car parked directly across the street.
I braked hard and avoided a collision. There usually wasn’t a car parked there. I turned the wheel a
nd maneuvered away from it. Switched on my headlights.
And in the sudden bright light I saw someone in the parked car. I saw a face behind the steering wheel. And recognized him immediately.
Lucas.
Lucas, pale in the circle of light from my headlights. Lucas, staring out at me, not moving, just staring. Parked in front of my house . . . Lucas . . . Waiting for what?
42
Poppy Continues
I squealed down the street. No way I was going to confront that creep. I drove for two blocks, still seeing his face in front of me. Then I pulled to the curb and raised my phone.
I dialed 911. After one ring, a woman’s voice came on.
“There’s someone stalking me. Someone parked across from my house,” I blurted out. “He—He—”
She spoke softly and smoothly, trying to calm me down enough to give her the information. I finally managed to tell her my address. I described Lucas and told her he was sitting in a small, dark car. She promised to send a patrol car. “Where are you?” she asked.
“Uh . . . driving somewhere,” I said. “To a friend’s house.” I clicked off. I glanced in my rearview mirror. A car was approaching. The headlights swept into my car from the back window.
Lucas? Lucas following me?
I froze. Will he stop his car beside mine? What should I do?
I let out a long whoosh of air as the car drove right past. It was an SUV, not Lucas’s car. Not Lucas.
I sat there a minute or so, getting myself together. Then I lowered my foot to the gas and began to drive toward Keith’s house.
Lucas’s pale face and his crazy dancing eyes stayed with me. I knew he was weird and I knew he could be violent. And I knew he had a thing for me.
So . . . was it possible that Lucas was going after my friends for some sick, twisted reason? I’d nearly run him over in the taxi garage after work. Was he planning to attack me, too? Mom was right. Whoever was doing this would definitely have me on the list.
I could be the next to die.
Was it that sick creep, Lucas?