“She and her husband lived close to Simon Fear’s mansion. Their house was always filled with people. Cousins, friends, servants. It was quite a life.
“And it didn’t change much, even after Sarah’s husband died of pneumonia. She mourned him for an entire year. Then she resumed her busy, people-filled life.
“Then in early 1899, the good life abruptly came to an end. Poor Sarah fell ill—deathly ill. I don’t really know what the sickness was. Perhaps no one back then knew either. In his journal, Ben Fear described it as a ‘wasting disease.’ Old Ben had a way with words, didn’t he?
“Well, the doctors gave up on Sarah. She was given up for dead. In fact, a grave was dug in preparation, in the Fear Street cemetery. And a minister was called upon and told to prepare a funeral ceremony.
“But then there was some kind of miracle. To everyone’s surprise, Sarah Fear didn’t die. In fact, she made a remarkably fast recovery. Her strength seemed to return overnight. And despite the pleas of her family to rest and regain her energy, she pulled herself out of bed the very next day and returned to her duties of running the house.
“Here’s where the story gets strange. After her illness, Sarah changed. She wasn’t the same sweet ‘flower’ anymore. According to Ben Fear’s journal, she became withdrawn, reclusive. She developed a terrible temper and was known to throw tantrums for no apparent reason. She turned away from all of her friends.
“The details in the diary become sketchier and sketchier toward the end of her life. My theory is that Ben Fear was no longer invited to Sarah’s house, and so he had little firsthand information about her to write in his journal.
“He did tell of rumors that Sarah and a servant had become lovers.
“There were reports of strange gatherings in her house. Late-night meetings. Séances. Wild parties. The police reports are very discreet. Don’t forget—Simon Fear was still around, still a powerful figure in the town. Nevertheless, the scandalous stories about Sarah began to spread.
“The newspaper became full of frightening stories about the events that took place at Sarah’s house. One spring day a kitchen maid was found murdered in the garden, stabbed through the heart with an enormous pair of hedge shears. A houseguest was also murdered, his leg severed, cleanly cut off his body and found lying beside him on the floor of the stable.
“Sarah Fear was never under suspicion for these murders. And the mysteries were never solved.
“Then came the biggest and most tragic mystery of them all. The pleasure boat trip. Sarah Fear’s final trip. It took place on Fear Lake. You know. Tranquil, flat Fear Lake. The tiny, round lake behind the Fear Street woods.
“There were five people on the boat. Sarah Fear. Three of her relatives. And one servant. According to the newspaper report, it was a beautiful summer day, a perfect day, no clouds, no wind.
“Sarah’s large pleasure boat sailed away from the shore. And a few minutes later it happened—from out of nowhere. A mysterious hurricane-force gale. Totally unexpected—on the calmest, most beautiful day of the summer. A wind so powerful that it capsized the large boat. Turned it over in a flash.
“And everyone drowned. Everyone, including Sarah Fear. Within view of shore—only a five- or ten-minute swim at most. And yet all on board Sarah’s boat were drowned. There were no survivors.
“Which brings us to the strangest part of all,” Sarah Beth said, leaning forward in her big chair, staring at the two girls across from her on the couch, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. “The strangest part of all. When the bodies were pulled ashore, their skin was bright red, blistered, and scalding hot—as if Sarah and her companions had all drowned in boiling water!”
Chapter 19
Did You Hear About Jon?
“Drive around,” Corky said. “I don’t feel like going in just yet.”
“Let’s park and talk,” Debra said. She pulled the car halfway up Gorky’s driveway and cut the lights and the engine.
Corky turned her eyes to the house. The lamp over the door cast a yellow triangle of light on the front porch. All the other lights were out. Her parents were either in the back or had gone to bed early.
“Did you get the feeling that Sarah Beth was holding something back?” Debra asked, tapping her gloved hands on the steering wheel.
Corky slid down low in the passenger seat, raising her knees to the dashboard. “Yeah. I think she knows more than she let on,” she agreed. “But I don’t know what it would be.”
“I asked her if she thought Sarah Fear had been possessed by an evil spirit,” Debra said. “She just looked at me as if I were from Mars or something.”
“She wouldn’t answer any of my questions, either,” Corky complained. “You heard me when I asked what happened to the servant who was supposed to be her lover? And all she would say was that Sarah Fear’s secrets were buried with her,”
Debra sighed and rubbed her glove against the side window, which was starting to steam up. “Weird lady,” she said quietly.
They had left Sarah Beth’s house a little after ten o’clock, their heads spinning with the bizarre details of the story she had related to them. “I hope I’ve been helpful,” Sarah Beth had said as she walked them to the door. “If I come across anything else, I’ll get in touch with you.”
But Corky and Debra left with more doubts and suspicions than when they had arrived. They had driven the short distance back to Corky’s house in silence, each going over in her mind what she had heard. And now they sat in Corky’s driveway as the car windows steamed up around them, eager to share their thoughts.
“It’s just too perfect,” Debra said, squeezing the steering wheel with both hands. “She’s telling us about Sarah Fear—and her name is Sarah Fear. It’s too perfect, and too strange.”
“They died in scalding hot water,” Corky said thoughtfully, closing her eyes. “That’s how my sister died. In the shower. In scalding hot water.”
“I know,” Debra said in a whisper, staring straight ahead.
“And remember the teakettle? That afternoon when I scalded my hand?” Corky cried, her mouth dropping open in horror as the memory flew back to her. “Again—scalding hot water.”
“I remember,” Debra said, putting a hand on Corky’s trembling shoulder. “You’re right. Hot water is a clue. It’s definitely a clue.”
“But a clue to what?” Corky asked shrilly, feeling her frustration build. “A clue to what?”
“What about those gross murders at Sarah Fear’s house?” Debra asked, turning in her seat to face Corky. “The houseguest with his leg cut clean off. Just like Chip. Just like Chip’s hand.”
Corky swallowed hard. “I—I hadn’t thought about that, Deb. But you’re right.”
The two girls sat silent for a long moment, staring at the steamed-up windshield.
“So what are we proving?” Debra asked finally.
“Well …” Corky thought hard. “I guess we’re proving that it’s the same evil spirit doing the same horrible things—then and now.”
“And how does that help us?” Debra demanded, staring intently at Corky.
Corky shrugged. “I don’t know.” She shook her head unhappily. “I just don’t.”
“There has to be another clue in the Sarah Fear story,” Debra insisted, her features tight with concentration. “There has to be a clue about how to defeat the evil spirit. Somehow the spirit ended up in Sarah Fear’s grave; we know that. Somehow it was forced to stay down there for a hundred years. But how? How did Sarah Fear defeat it?”
“She didn’t,” Corky said dryly. “She didn’t defeat it. It killed Sarah Fear—remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” Debra said softly.
They lapsed into silence again.
“Now, a hundred years later, more death,” Corky said, staring at the clouded windshield. “Jennifer, Bobbi, Chip …” A loud sob escaped her throat.
“I wonder who’ll be next,” Debra muttered, her eyes dark with fear.
&nb
sp; Corky’s parents were watching TV in the den in back. Pulling off her coat, she went in to say hi to them. They were engrossed in some cop show, and she could see they didn’t want to chat. So Corky said good night and headed up to her room.
She didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Her head felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds, weighted down by all she had heard and by her confused thoughts and theories.
If only we could trust Sarah Beth Plummer, she thought, starting to pull off her clothes and get ready for bed. But I know we can’t trust her. For all we know, Sarah Beth herself could be the evil spirit!
If only we could trust somebody.
She pulled on a long nightshirt and deposited her clothes in a neat pile on the chair across from her bed.
Debra and Kimmy and I—we’re all alone, Corky thought. We’re all alone against this ancient evil force. We’re the only ones who know about it. The only ones who believe in it. And what can the three of us do? What?
I don’t know what to think, she told herself, heading to the bathroom across the hall to brush her teeth. We shouldn’t have gone to Sarah Beth’s. Now I’m even more confused than before.
And more frightened.
She had just started to put toothpaste on the brush when she heard her phone ringing. Dropping the toothbrush into the sink, she dashed back into her room and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi, Corky. It’s me. Kimmy.”
“Kimmy!” Corky cried in surprise. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“Better, I guess,” Kimmy replied uncertainly. “My temperature is down. But I didn’t call about that.” She sounded breathless, excited.
“What’s happening?” Corky said.
“Did you hear about Jon Daly?” Kimmy asked, nearly squeaking the words.
“What about Jon?” Corky demanded. “Did they find him?”
“Yeah, they found him all right,” Kimmy replied. “They found him in Fear Lake. Drowned.”
Chapter 20
A Cheerleader Falls
“How do you feel?” Kimmy asked.
“Kind of fluttery,” Corky told her, swallowing hard.
Kimmy took the maroon and white pom-pom from Corky’s hand and helped her untangle it. “You’ll do fine,” she said, flashing Corky an encouraging smile as she handed it back. “Once the game starts, you won’t even think about how nervous you are.”
I hope she’s right, Corky thought, glancing up at the scoreboard, which was being set up for the game. The scoreboard lights were all flashing, and the clock was going haywire, the numbers running backward faster than Corky could read them.
I hope the game goes that quickly, Corky thought, fiddling with the cuffs of her white sweater. She could feel her heart racing. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
A few early arrivals entered the gym and made their way to the bleachers. Corky watched them, then turned her eyes back to the scoreboard clock. About half an hour until game time.
A hand touched her shoulder. She jumped, startled.
“Sorry,” Miss Green said. “I just wondered if you needed a pep talk.”
Corky grinned. “Thanks. But I think I’ll be okay.”
“Nervous?” the advisor asked, studying Corky’s face.
Corky nodded. “Yeah. But I can handle it.”
“You’ll be great,” Miss Green said, glancing at the gym door as more people entered, “Practice has been terrific. The new pyramid routine should tear the roof off.”
“If I don’t fall on my face,” Corky joked.
Miss Green chuckled. “You’ll get your old confidence back once the game starts. You’ll see.” She gave Corky a thumbs-up, turned, and jogged back toward Kimmy and the other cheerleaders.
By now the bleachers were nearly half full. The scoreboard clock showed fifteen minutes till game time. The teams were warming up on opposite ends of the floor, shooting running lay-ups, several balls thundering off the basket and backboard at once.
“Show time!” Kimmy called, clapping her hands, gathering the cheerleaders together. Corky moved quickly into the circle, wiping her perspiring hands on the sides of her short skirt.
“Energy up!” Kimmy shouted. “Let’s get this crowd warmed up. Let’s see some spirit!”
The girls all cheered. Debra gave Corky an encouraging smile and a slap on the back. Forming a line, they trotted to the bleachers and began their warm-up chant:
“Shadyside High! Shadyside High! Can you dig it? Everybody’s here. So everybody CHEER!”
Then again. Louder. Encouraging the crowd to join in, to clap, to get loud.
And again. And again. Even louder.
And the crowd picked up the chant, picked up the enthusiasm, stomping and clapping until the nearly filled bleachers bounced and shook.
“Let’s get a little bit rowdy! R-O-W-D-Y!”
And again. They repeated this chant until the Shadyside fans were screaming out the word. Then they ended it with synchronized back handsprings, all six girls performing a backward flip in unison, landing perfectly before jumping up and starting the chant again.
It’s going great, Corky thought with relief as the shouts and cheers echoed off the walls. I’m doing fine. I’m going to be okay.
She looked down the line of girls and saw Kimmy grinning back at her. I’m going to be okay, Corky thought.
The game started. The gym reverberated with the pounding and squeaking of ten pairs of basketball shoes and the steady thud of the ball against the shiny hardwood floor.
Corky knelt on the sidelines with the rest of the squad, watching the game, waiting for a break when the cheerleaders would go into action. She could feel her heart racing, but from excitement rather than nervousness.
The game was going quickly, a close match in which the lead kept changing sides. Corky watched intently and, when it came time to do a cheer, performed with her old enthusiasm and grace.
Standing in front of the cheering fans, the crowd stretching up nearly to the rafters, she felt as if she were shouting away her problems, roaring back at all the terrors that had plagued her.
Just before halftime she turned to see Kimmy huddled behind her. She leaned down and spoke into Corky’s ear, struggling to be heard over the thunderous crowd noise. “About the pyramid,” Kimmy shouted.
Corky cupped her ear and smiled up at her.
“At the end, when you’re ready to dismount from the top, count to three, okay? So I can be sure I’m in position to catch you.”
“Okay, gotcha.” Corky nodded. “Have I been coming down too fast?”
“I just want to make sure I’m in position,” Kimmy said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “So count to three, and then jump, and I’ll be there.”
“Thanks,” Corky said. And then she added, “I’m really grateful, Kimmy. For everything.”
Kimmy didn’t hear her. She had moved on to give instructions to Ronnie and Heather.
It was halftime before Corky realized it. The time did seem to be moving as fast as the scoreboard clock when it was being set before the game.
The visiting cheerleading squad performed first. They had come with a ten-piece band and did a lot of rap cheers and club-type dancing.
“They’re good,” Corky heard Megan say as they waited on the sidelines.
“They’re different,” she heard Heather reply. She didn’t mean it as a compliment.
A few minutes later Corky felt her excitement surge as she followed the other girls to the center of the floor to begin their performance.
The opening routines went well. Then Ronnie mistimed a backflip and landed hard. But Debra helped her up quickly, and the routine continued without a pause. There were no other mishaps.
We’re doing okay, Corky thought happily. She suddenly wondered if her parents were somewhere up in the bleachers. They had talked about coming to the game and bringing Sean.
I hope you’re here, Corky thought. I hope you’re seeing how great everything is going. My big
comeback!
And then it was time for the pyramid, the grand finale.
As the girls began their shoulder mounts, the crowd hushed expectantly.
Corky crossed her fingers for a brief second, took a deep breath, and began her climb.
Up, up.
And she was at the top. And the pyramid was formed.
Perfect.
And the crowd shouted its appreciation.
Corky smiled and thrust out her arms.
And as she focused on the top of the bleachers, the gym began to spin. The entire room began to twirl, like a carnival ride out of control.
She uttered a low cry. She felt her knees start to buckle. “What’s happening?”
The walls were whirling. She was inside a spinning cyclone of light and color and noise. “No! Please!”
Struggling to keep her balance, she closed her eyes.
When she opened them, the gym was still whirling.
Faces suddenly came clear as the bleachers spun around in front of her. She saw a red-haired boy with freckles. Saw him so clearly.
The room spun around again. The whirling lights grew brighter, brighter. Swirls of red and yellow and white.
And she saw a man with a red wool scarf tossed around his neck, sitting close to the floor.
And the gym spun around again.
The shouts and cries seemed to circle her, press in on her, suffocate her as the blindingly bright gym whirled faster and faster.
And then stopped.
And she saw Sarah Beth Plummer standing just inside the double doors.
Sarah Beth Plummer?
What was she doing here?
I’ve got to get down, Corky thought, feeling cold perspiration run down her forehead, feeling her knees tremble. Got to get down.
She turned her eyes to the floor, and there was Kimmy. Ready for her. In position already—waiting. Giving her an encouraging nod.
Corky took a deep breath.
Her legs felt rubbery, weak. She leaned forward, raised her knees, tucked her legs.