The Secret Bedroom
R. L. STINE
Bill Schmidt
An Archway Paperback 1230 Avenue of the Americas,
New York London Toronto Sydney
Bobby never had any trouble with girls…until he started dating the Wade twins. Now one of them is out to get Bobby—but which one?
DOUBLE DATE
by R. L. Stine
Coming in mid-March 1994 From Archway Paperbacks Published by Pocket Books
Don’t Do It!
“Please open the door!”
The girl on the other side of the door repeated her desperate plea. “Please!”
Lea was frozen by indecision. A frightening picture flashed into her mind. She saw a hideous monster with red eyes bulging out of its sockets and green slime drooling from its fang-filled mouth. The monster was hulking on the other side of the locked door, disguising its voice, using the voice of a frightened girl in order to fool Lea.
“Please open the door!” the muffled voice, now even more frightened and desperate, called out to Lea.
“I-I’ll be right back,” Lea replied.
She had made her decision. She had decided to unlock the door.
Books by R. L. Stine
Fear Street
THE NEW GIRL
THE SURPRISE PARTY
THE OVERNIGHT
MISSING
THE WRONG NUMBER
THE SLEEPWALKER
HAUNTED
HALLOWEEN PARTY
THE STEPSISTER
SKI WEEKEND
THE FIRE GAME
LIGHTS OUT
THE SECRET BEDROOM
THE KNIFE
PROM QUEEN
FIRST DATE
THE BEST FRIEND
THE CHEATER
SUNBURN
THE NEW BOY
THE DARE
BAD DREAMS
DOUBLE DATE
THE THRILL CLUB
The Fear Street Saga
THE BETRAYAL
THE SECRET
THE BURNING
Fear Street Cheerleaders
THE FIRST EVIL
THE SECOND EVIL
THE THIRD EVIL
Fear Street Super Chiller
PARTY SUMMER
SILENT NIGHT
GOODNIGHT KISS
BROKEN HEARTS
SILENT NIGHT 2
Other Novels
HOW I BROKE UP WITH ERNIE
PHONE CALLS
CURTAINS
BROKEN DATE
Available from ARCHWAY Paperbacks
For orders other than by individual consumers, Archway Books grants a discount on the purchase of 10 or more copies of single titles for special markets or premium use. For further details, please write to the Vice-President of Special Markets, Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
For information on how individual consumers can place orders, please write to Mail Order Department, Paramount Publishing, 200 Old Tappan Road, Old Tappan, NJ 07675.
The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book.”
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AN ARCHWAY PAPERBACK Original
An Archway Paperback published by
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 1991 by Parachute Press, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN: 0-671-72483-2
ISBN: 978-0-6717-2483-2
eISBN: 978-1-4391-2135-1
First Archway Paperback printing September 1991
15 14 13 12 11 10 9
FEAR STREET is a registered trademark of Parachute Press, Inc.
AN ARCHWAY PAPERBACK and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.
Cover art by Bill Schmidt
Printed in the U.S.A.
IL 6+
The Secret Bedroom
Lea Carson tripped and her lunch tray went flying out of her hands.
As she struggled to regain her balance, she watched the tray sail toward a crowded table. Almost as if it were happening in slow motion, Lea saw it hit the side of a girl’s chair. Then she watched helplessly as the bowl toppled off the tray and the dark chili poured onto the sleeve of the girl’s white sweater.
The girl screamed and leapt to her feet, her hands flying up like two startled white birds trying to escape. She shook her shoulders, then began grabbing at her sleeve, pulling off red beans and chunks of tomato.
The girl turned angrily toward Lea. Everyone at the table, a couple of astonished-looking boys and a girl with a disapproving frown, turned to glare at Lea. Lea could feel her face reddening, growing hot.
Why did I have to take chili? she thought. Why couldn’t I have just picked a sandwich?
“My new sweater!” the girl cried, still scraping and pulling at the sleeve. She had wavy red hair, cut stylishly short, and pale blue eyes that flashed angrily at Lea, then back to her sweater.
“I’m sorry,” Lea managed to say. “There was something wet on the floor. I slipped.”
“I’d better go put some cold water on it,” the girl said, ignoring Lea’s apology, ignoring Lea entirely. She turned and stalked past Lea, deliberately staring straight ahead.
“I’m really sorry,” Lea called after her.
Holding her stained sweater sleeve, the girl hurried through the lunchroom doors without turning back.
Lea heard laughter at another table and knew they were laughing at her. She bent down to pick up her tray, feeling all eyes on her.
I just want to die, she thought.
Only my second week in this school, and I’ve already made a total fool of myself.
It was hard enough, she thought, for someone as shy as she was to adjust to a new high school, to make new friends, to feel comfortable. Sure, she was pretty enough. Cute, everyone said, with her sparkling green eyes and her dark brown hair cut in a shaggy pixie style with bangs that grazed her eyebrows.
Lea has a great smile, everyone always said. Her smile lights up her face.
Well, she hadn’t had much to smile about at Shadyside High. The kids all seemed so snooty and stuck-up. And now she had tripped in front of half the school and poured chili all over that red-haired girl in the white sweater.
“Here,” a voice said, startling Lea from her thoughts. “Have a handful of salad.”
“Oh.” It was one of the boys from the table. He had picked up Lea’s tray and was scooping up the remains of her lunch. “Thanks,” Lea said uncertainly.
He grinned at her as she took the tray from him. She could feel her face grow hot again.
He’s cute, Lea thought.
Not really handsome. But cute. He had a friendly, open face with curly brown hair and brown eyes. He was short, like Lea, not very muscular, very boyish looking. He was wearing a maroon and gray Shadyside High sweatshirt over faded jeans.
He retrieved Lea’s silverware from the floor and deposited it on the tray. “That looked like good chili,” he said, still grinning.
They were both squatting down below the tabletop, Lea holding the t
ray as he continued tossing lunch remains on it. Lea licked her lips, a nervous habit she just couldn’t break. “I slipped,” she said.
Well, duh, she thought. That was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?
“Marci’ll get over it,” he said reassuringly. But then he added, “In a hundred years or so.” His grin faded.
“She was really mad,” Lea said.
That’s obvious too! she scolded herself. Why do you have to sound like such a dweeb?
“She’s a redhead,” he said, as if that explained anything.
They both stood up. He wiped his hands on his jeans and looked to the lunchroom door. Marci hadn’t returned. The other kids at the table had left.
“You’re new here,” he said, staring into her eyes, studying her.
“Yeah. This is my second week,” Lea said uncomfortably, holding on to the tray with both hands. “Next week will probably be better,” she added wryly.
“What’s your name?”
“Lea. Lea Carson.”
“I don’t know any Leas,” he said, pulling the bottom of his sweatshirt down over his wiry frame. “I’m Don Jacobs. You’ve probably heard of me. I’m the guy who picks the salad up from the floor.”
Lea laughed. He waited for her to say something, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.
I hate being shy, she thought. Hate it, hate it, hate it.
He looked toward the lunchroom door again, then back to her. “You a senior?”
“No. Junior.”
“Whose homeroom?”
She licked her lips. She had to think. “Mr. Robbins.”
“Where do you live?”
“On Fear Street,” Lea told him. “A few blocks from the old cemetery.”
“Fear Street?”
Lea was already used to this startled reaction from people when they heard where she lived. “My parents just love to fix up old houses,” she explained. “When my dad was transferred here to Shadyside, they bought the shabbiest place they could find. They’ll spend years making it beautiful, and then he’ll be transferred again.”
Lea sighed and glanced at a table by the wall, where Deena Martinson, her lunch spread out in front of her, gave Lea a little wave. She followed it up with a wide-eyed look of surprise as she noticed who Lea was with. So far, Deena was the only friend Lea had made at Shadyside.
“My friend is waving at me,” she told Don awkwardly. “It’s getting late. I’d better get a new lunch and join her.”
“I hear the chili’s real good,” he said with a straight face.
“Thanks for helping me,” Lea said.
She started to move toward the food line, but he reached out and held her arm. “Since you’re new here and everything,” he said, his eyes darting toward the doorway, “I mean, would you like to go to a movie or something Saturday night?” He scratched his curly, brown hair and gave her his most winning, boyish grin.
Lea was practically startled speechless, but she managed to utter a yes. She stood awkwardly grinning at him, trying to think of something else to say.
“Good,” he said, but then his expression quickly changed. Lea followed his gaze to the doorway, where Marci stood, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the two of them.
“Later,” Don said, and hurried off to join Marci.
Lea hurried to the food line. Maybe my lonely days here are over, she thought happily, her hands unsteady as she dropped the soiled tray onto the pile and took a clean one. Thinking about Don, about how funny he looked scrounging around on the floor to help retrieve her lunch, she picked up a tuna-fish sandwich and a box of apple juice and hurried to join Deena.
“What were you and Don Jacobs talking about?” Deena asked, wiping crumbs off her chin with a paper napkin.
“Oh, mainly about how I spilled my lunch all over that girl standing there in the doorway with him,” Lea told her, plopping down across the table from her.
“You spilled your lunch on Marci Hendryx, and I missed it?” Deena cried with an expression of exaggerated disappointment.
Deena had a fragile-looking, heart-shaped face framed by very fine blond hair that she wore down to her collar. She was always complaining about how pale she was and how she couldn’t do anything with her hair because it was so fine, but she was actually very pretty.
Deena had probably always played an angel in the elementary school Christmas pageants, Lea thought on first meeting her.
“Don seems nice,” Lea said, taking a tentative bite of her sandwich, trying to decide whether or not to tell Deena that he’d asked her out for Saturday night. Finally she decided there was no way she could keep from telling her!
“He’s very nice,” Deena said, watching over Lea’s shoulder as Marci and Don talked heatedly in the lunchroom doorway. “Everyone likes Don. He’s just one of those guys when you meet him, you like him. He has a million friends.”
“And girlfriends?” Lea asked.
“Just Marci.” Deena turned her glance on Lea. “Don and Marci,” she said, making a face. “Man, does she keep him on a tight leash.”
“Huh?” Lea practically choked on her sandwich.
“They’ve been going together since we were in preschool, I think,” Deena said, her eyes back to the doorway in time to see Marci storm off, Don scurrying after her.
“He asked me out,” Lea revealed in a low voice, even though no one else was nearby.
“Who? Don?”
Lea nodded, her bangs flying up, then dropping back in place on her forehead.
“Just now?” Deena’s delicate mouth formed an O of surprise.
“Yes. Just now. He asked me out just now.” Lea had to laugh at her new friend’s astonished expression.
Deena reached across the table and tapped the back of Lea’s hand with one finger. “Watch out for Marci,” she warned.
“Deena, come on, I’m sure Don—”
“Just watch out for her,” Deena repeated seriously.
Lea twisted around to check out the lunchroom doorway. Several kids were leaving. The lunchroom was clearing out. It was just about time for the bell for fifth period to ring.
“What did you spill on her?” Deena asked, sliding her chair back and standing up.
“Chili,” Lea said, starting to feel embarrassed all over again.
“On that white cashmere sweater she was wearing?”
“It was cashmere?” Lea cried, horrified.
To Lea’s surprise, Deena was laughing.
“It’s not funny,” Lea said. “I was mortified!”
“It is funny—if you know Marci” was Deena’s explanation.
They walked to their lockers, Deena still chuckling and shaking her head, Lea thinking about Don, wondering why he had asked her out if he and Marci had been a couple for so long.
“See you later,” Deena said, heading down the hall to her class.
But Lea didn’t hear her. She was thinking about Marci and Deena’s warning to watch out for her, and she was wondering if she hadn’t already made an enemy, on this, her second week in school.
Lea’s house loomed in front of her like some dark monster in a horror movie. It’s just as old and creepy in the afternoon as it is at night, Lea realized, shifting her backpack from one shoulder to the other and starting up the broken flagstone walk to the front door.
Above her, two windows on the second floor, her bedroom windows, caught the glow of the late-afternoon sun and seemed to light up. Like two evil eyes, she thought.
The house sees me coming home to it after school and opens its eyes. And now I’m about to step into its gaping, dark mouth.
Chill out, Lea, she scolded herself. Let’s not be overly dramatic.
So the house is big and ramshackle and a wreck. That doesn’t make it evil.
Even if it is on Fear Street.
She unlocked the front door, struggling with the still-unfamiliar lock, and stepped into the dark front hallway. It was warm in the house despite the cool autumn air outside, warm and dam
p, with that sour, musty smell some old houses have.
Why on earth do Mom and Dad have to like these old places? she asked herself, the floorboards creaking under her feet as she tossed her backpack down and made her way through the empty house to the kitchen to get a snack.
Sitting at the table in the small breakfast alcove, the flowered wallpaper stained and peeling, Lea spooned blueberry yogurt from the container into a bowl and thought about the first time she had seen the house, less than a month earlier.
It had been an afternoon much like this one, cool, breezy, the feel of autumn in the air despite the bright yellow sun high in the sky. The light, it had seemed to Lea, was cut off as soon as the real estate agent led them into the house, closing the front door behind her. It was as if someone had turned off a bright flashlight, Lea remembered, as if the house was turning away the sunlight, shutting it out, covering them in its warm darkness.
She had immediately been appalled by the age-stained walls, the dust-blanketed windows, the warped moldings, the threadbare, old carpets covering the creaking floors. The smell of it. The feel of it.
Her parents, of course, had immediately fallen in love with it.
“It’s charming,” Mr. Carson had said.
“Think of all we can do here,” Mrs. Carson had replied.
Mrs. Thomas, the real estate agent, a pleasant-looking woman wearing a very smart tweed suit and a permanent smile, caught the unhappy expression on Lea’s face.
“Let me show you the bedrooms upstairs,” she said, turning her smile on Lea. “They need work, of course. But they’re very large. The second bedroom—I suppose that will be your room, Lea—is the brightest room in the house. The two windows face the front, and sunlight streams in all day long.”
“It’s so dark in the living room,” Lea said gloomily. She wanted to beg her parents not to take this house, but she knew it was hopeless. They had lived in three different houses in the past seven years, all of them as run-down and creepy looking as this one.
“It won’t be dark after I install track lighting,” Mr. Carson said, eyeing the living-room ceiling, then checking out the electrical outlets along the molding by the floor.