Broken Hearts (21 page)

“Erica!” she cried. “You!”

Erica glowered angrily at her through the darkness,
the knife raised at her side. “Give the wig back, Melissa,” Erica said, breathing hard, reaching for it with her free hand. “We don't want the Drama Club to miss it, do we?”

“Erica,
why?”
Melissa cried.
“Why?”

With a violent, angry tug, Erica grabbed the wig from Melissa. Her eyes gleamed furiously at Melissa in the flickering shadows.

“Surprised, Melissa?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Yes,” Melissa admitted.

“Of course. You'd never suspect Erica. You'd never even
think
of Erica. No one ever did,” Erica said bitterly. “After all, Melissa, who am I? I'm no one!”

“Erica, please—” Melissa pleaded as Erica raised the knife once again.

“Rachel is the beautiful one,” Erica continued, ignoring Melissa's cry. “And Josie was the popular one. And me? I was
poor Erica,
so plain, so shy, so
ordinary.”

She lowered the knife and skated closer, her breath steaming up in front of her. Melissa tried to back up, but the ice behind her was starting to crack.

I've got to keep Erica talking, Melissa thought desperately. It's my only chance. “You—you killed Josie?” she asked.

“Of course!” Erica replied in a raspy whisper.

Melissa gasped. “Your own sister? Erica,
why?”

“Josie had to die,” Erica whispered. “She was responsible for Rachel's accident. But did she take any responsibility? No. Josie went on with her life as if nothing had happened. And me—I was stuck with Rachel.”

She thrust her face close to Melissa's, her eyes seething with anger. “Do you know how many lives were ruined the day of Rachel's accident, Melissa? Do you know how many? Two! Rachel's and mine. Ruined forever. But you and Josie were just fine, weren't you? You were just fine.”

“That's not true, Erica,” Melissa told her heatedly. “Josie and I, we were both—”

“Shut up!” Erica screamed. “Do you know how much I looked forward to high school? Do you have any idea? But thanks to you and Josie, I couldn't enjoy it for a minute. I had to give up everything to take care of Rachel. And Josie gave up nothing. I couldn't let her get away with that. I couldn't.”

Melissa gazed past Erica to the crowd of skaters so far away across the ice. Where is Luke? she wondered. Where is he?

“But the valentines,” she told Erica. “I don't understand. Dave sent Josie those threatening valentines. And you—”

“When Dave started sending those awful valentines, I saw my chance to kill Josie,” Erica revealed, her eyes glowing in the darkness, her face close to Melissa's as if challenging Melissa to back away. “Those valentines gave me the idea. I knew when I saw them I could pay Josie back for ruining my life, for ruining Rachel's life. And I could get away with it.”

“But you were stabbed too!” Melissa exclaimed.

“I stabbed myself,” Erica said in her raspy whisper. “It was easy compared to the pain I already felt.”

“I don't believe it,” Melissa blurted out, shaking her head.

Where is Luke? Where is anybody? Doesn't anybody see us out here?

“I was home, pretending to be too upset to go to Josie's funeral,” Erica recalled. “I was worried about being caught, about people figuring out that I had killed Josie. Then I saw Dave break into our house. Dave to the rescue again. He was giving me the perfect chance to throw all suspicion off me. I called the police. Then I stabbed myself without even thinking about it. I knew Dave would rescue me before I lost too much blood.” She snickered. “Good old Dave.”

“But you killed Dave too?” Melissa cried, horrified by her own words. “You killed him last week!”

“I had to. He was figuring things out. He realized I still had the valentines he sent to Josie. He realized I was using them to copy his handwriting on the cards I sent to you.”

Melissa slid back a few inches. The ice cracked noisily.

Laughter floated across the ice from the skaters near the shore.

I've got to get past her and skate to the others, Melissa thought.
I've got to!

Erica raised the knife as if reading Melissa's thoughts. “Enough talk,” she said quietly.

“But why me?” Melissa cried shrilly, a wave of panic tightening her chest. “I've been your friend, Erica.”

Erica uttered a bitter laugh. “You're no friend,” she said. “You got everything, Melissa. Poor Rachel lost everything. You even got Luke. You even took Luke away from Rachel. And that made
me
even more of a
prisoner—because after you took Luke away, I was all that Rachel had left.”

She let the wig drop at her feet and raised the knife. “You have to die, Melissa. It's only fair. You killed Rachel and me. Now you have to die too.”

“Why the wig?” Melissa demanded desperately, raising her hands as if to shield herself. “Why did you wear the red wig, Erica?”

Erica glanced down at the ball of hair. “This is Rachel's revenge too,” she said quietly. “I wanted Rachel to be here too. In some way, she's here with me, getting her revenge on you.”

“You're crazy!” Melissa cried. The words burst out of her mouth. “I'm sorry, Erica, but you're crazy!”

Erica uttered an angry curse. The knife swung wildly, cutting the darkness with a near-silent
whoosh
of air.

Melissa stumbled back and saw Luke. He was leaning low, skating rapidly toward her.

“Luke! Help!” she screamed.

Erica thrust the knife at Melissa's throat.

Melissa heard a booming peal of thunder. It took her a few seconds to realize that the sound wasn't thunder. It was the ice cracking beneath them.

“Help me, Luke!” she managed to scream as the ice gave way and she felt herself begin to drop.

She saw Erica's angry expression turn to fear. Erica raised both arms and cried out in terror.

Both girls were screaming as the ice split apart and they dropped into the freezing water.

M
elissa felt the shock of the cold water as she started to sink.

She reached up with her hands. “Luke!”

Lying on his stomach, Luke grabbed for her, capturing both her hands in his. He pulled.

“Luke, help!”

With a loud groan, he slid her up out of the dark hole. The force of his tug sent her scooting on her stomach across the ice.

As she slid, Melissa looked back and saw Luke grab for Erica.

Too late.

Erica slipped down under the tossing waters as if being sucked under.

“I did it all for you, Rachel!” Melissa heard Erica shriek.

And then she disappeared, down into the icy darkness.

Panting loudly, Melissa pulled herself to her knees.

Her heart thudding in her chest, her entire body trembling from the horror, from the cold, she saw Luke lying down leaning into the hole.

“Erica! Erica!” He called her name again and again.

The ice cracked loudly around them.

Melissa slid over to Luke and lay beside him. “Where is she? Why doesn't she come back up?” she cried in a high-pitched, trembling voice she didn't recognize.

“Erica!” Luke cried. “Erica!”

“Look!” Melissa cried, pointing down.

At first, Melissa thought she saw a fish trapped under the thin sheet of ice.

The mouth appeared first, the lips slightly parted.

But then the nose appeared. A human nose.

And then two wide-open eyes.

And Melissa realized to her horror that she was staring down at Erica's face. Erica's face under the ice, pressed up against it, gazing blankly up at them.

“Why doesn't she move? Why doesn't she swim out from under there?” Melissa cried hysterically, gripping Luke's arm. “Why is she staring up at us like that? She isn't moving at all!”

“I don't think she
wants
to come up,” Luke said quietly.

Melissa stared in horror at the unmoving, wide-eyed face staring up at her, pressed up against the ice.

Erica has been in a prison for a year, staring out at the world, Melissa thought grimly.

Now she's staring up at us from another prison.

Raising her eyes from the ghastly floating face,
Melissa was shocked to see that a crowd of kids had gathered around them. Hushed voices murmured all around.

“What's happening?”

“Did Melissa fall?”

“Is someone in the water?”

“Did the ice break?”

“Go get help.”

“Somebody—get help!”

With a sigh, Luke backed up and climbed to his feet and helped Melissa up. He put his arm firmly around her waist and, holding her tightly, started to lead her away.

Looking down, Melissa suddenly realized she was gripping the red wig in her hand.

“Ohh.” With a near-silent cry, she tossed the wig to the ice, as if tossing away all the horror of the night. Then she buried her face in Luke's jacket as they skated away.

“I
made this,” Rachel said, smiling.

Melissa and Luke leaned forward on the couch and studied the painting Rachel held up in front of her. “A snowman—right?” Melissa guessed.

“Right!” Rachel said, laughing gleefully. “It's a snowman.”

Mrs. McClain watched from near the den doorway, leaning against the wall, a pleased smile on her face.

“Well, that's a good painting,” Luke told Rachel.

“I paint a lot at school,” Rachel said, lowering the painting to her lap. As she started to roll it up, her smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “I wish I could show it to Erica,” she said wistfully.

“Yes,” Melissa said awkwardly, glancing at Luke. Luke was staring at his watch.

“I miss my sister,” Rachel said, rolling up the painting. “But I'm going to get better. I'm going to get better and go outside by myself.”

“Yes, you are,” Mrs. McClain said with forced enthusiasm. She crossed the room and stepped up behind the couch, placing her hands on Rachel's shoulders. “But I think Melissa and Luke want to leave now.”

“Yes, we're late,” Luke said, jumping to his feet.

Melissa bent over Rachel and hugged her. “I'll come visit you soon.”

“I'm going to paint another snowman,” Rachel told her.

Melissa and Luke said goodbye to Mrs. McClain and showed themselves out. They stepped into a blustery March day, a thin layer of snow on the ground, high white clouds floating in a blue sky.

“That was a good visit,” Melissa said, taking Luke's hand as they made their way down the driveway and headed across the street to her house. “I haven't seen Rachel since—since Valentine's Day, I guess. Three weeks.”

“Don't mention Valentines' Day,” Luke muttered. “What a horrible holiday.”

“Yeah, you're right,” Melissa agreed wistfully. A gust of wind ruffled her hair. She leaned against Luke as they walked. “You know what? Next year let's forget about Valentine's Day and send each other Groundhog's Day cards.”

Luke stopped at the bottom of the driveway and kissed her. “Groundhog's Day cards,” he repeated. “What a romantic idea . . .”

“Where do you get your ideas?”

That's the question that R.L. Stine is asked most often. “I don't know where my ideas come from,” he says. “But I do know that I have a lot more scary stories in my mind that I can't wait to write.”

So far, he has written over a hundred mysteries and thrillers for young people, all of them bestsellers.

Bob grew up in Columbus, Ohio. Today he lives in an apartment near Central Park in New York City with his wife, Jane.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.