The Best Friend (16 page)

Shivering, she hurried toward the back door.

She stopped a few yards from the house as two figures came into sharp focus through the kitchen window.

“No!”
Becka screamed in horror. “Oh,
no!”

A
thin layer of frost covered Honey's kitchen window. But the bright light inside the kitchen allowed Becka a clear view of the two people seated at the yellow Formica table.

Standing in the snow, her sneakers unlaced, her trembling hands bare, Becka gaped at them open-mouthed.

There was Honey, smiling across the table. Wearing Becka's hairdo.

Taking a step closer, Becka recognized her best green sweater on Honey, with the enamel parrot pin at the neck.

And sitting across from Honey, smiling warmly across the table, was Bill.

Were they holding hands?

Becka couldn't see.

Something snapped in Becka's mind.

Everything went white, as white as the ice-hard snow at her feet.

Everything went cold, as cold as the wind that tried to push her away from the back door.

But Becka refused to be pushed away.

“She can't have Bill too!” she shrieked against the wind. The words burst out in an angry, high-pitched wail.

She's taken everything from me, Becka thought bitterly, seized with fury. Everything. But she can't take Bill. She can't!

Her eyes blurred by hot tears, Becka grabbed the knob on the back door, turned it and pushed.

Panting loudly, she burst into the bright kitchen.

Panting. Panting like an angry animal, she glared at them.

Sitting there together. The two of them. Smiling.

Together in the bright, warm kitchen.

“No!” Becka wailed.

Her eyes searched frantically for something. She didn't know what.

Something.

There it was. The wooden knife holder on the counter.

The wooden knife holder with the large, black-handled kitchen knives.

“Becka,” surprise!” Honey called gleefully, gesturing to Bill.

She started to get up from the table, but stopped halfway when she saw Becka pull the knife from the holder.

The blade glistened in the bright kitchen light.

Bill's smile faded quickly. His eyes opened wide with surprise.

Honey remained frozen, half in the chair, half out.

“Becka, what—?” Honey didn't finish her sentence.

She swallowed hard, then uttered a frightened cry of protest as Becka raised the knife high.

“No, Becka, stop!”

But Becka was screaming too loud to hear her, screaming as she flew across the room, screaming out her fury as she lunged toward Honey with the knife aimed at Honey's chest.

K
ill, Becka thought.

I'm going to kill Honey.

I
have
to kill her. Kill her.
Kill her!

Then I'll be happy again. So happy.

But halfway across the kitchen floor, Becka stopped short.

The whirling, tilting room dimmed to black.

She uttered a low groan.

Weak. I feel so weak. I feel so totally weak.

Her eyes rolled up, and she slumped to the floor.

She hit the floor hard and didn't move.

She didn't see the knife bounce out of her hand.

She didn't see Bill jump up from the table. “You
told
me Becka knew I was here!” he shouted angrily at Honey. “You told me she was coming over to see me!”

He moved quickly to see if he could help Becka, but Honey pulled him back.

“Stay away from her!” she cried, her eyes wild with excitement. “She's
my
friend!”

“Are you
crazy?”
Bill shouted, wrenching out of Honey's grasp. “She's fainted. She might've hurt herself. We have to do something!”

“Stay away!” Honey repeated, her voice lowering with menace. “She's my friend. My
best
friend.”

Becka groaned but didn't awaken.

Her large hand trembling, Honey picked up the big kitchen knife from where it had landed on the floor near the counter. Standing over Becka's unmoving body, she threatened Bill with it.

“You're crazy!” he cried, fear mixing suddenly with the anger in his voice. “Put that down. What are you doing?”

“Stay away from my best friend,” Honey instructed him, her features twisted in ugly fury.

With a rapid swipe of his arm, Bill made a grab for the knife.

He grabbed onto the handle just above Honey's hand.

“Let go!” she screamed.

“Drop it, Honey!”

They wrestled for only a moment.

Honey bumped him away with her shoulder.

As he stumbled back, he made a desperate attempt to hold onto the knife.

But Honey had it now.

Catching his balance, Bill surged forward, reaching, reaching for it—and tumbled into the knife.

The blade pierced his chest.

Startled, Honey uttered a shrill cry.

It took her a few seconds to pull the knife out.

A bright circle of blood spread across the front of Bill's sweatshirt.

“Hey,” he rasped, his voice a hoarse whisper. A loud, sickening gurgle escaped his open lips. I'm—cut.” He raised his eyes to Honey's and they revealed his disbelief, his horror.

He groaned, then slumped facedown beside Becka onto the linoleum. The blood puddled around him, spreading out over the floor.

He's dead, Honey realized.

He's dead and his blood is so bright.

Becka stirred. She groaned. Her entire body shuddered.

Honey forced her eyes away from the blood flowing around Bill.

Now what? Honey thought, her heart pounding.

Now what? Now what? Now what?

Her eyes darted frantically from Becka to Bill, then back to Becka.

Suddenly she had an idea.

She bent down over Becka.

She placed the knife in Becka's hand.

She carefully wrapped Becka's fingers around the black handle.

Honey stood up and stared at the blood-stained knife now held tightly in Becka's hand.

After a few seconds Becka opened her eyes. Honey dropped down beside her and helped her sit up.

“Don't worry,” Honey whispered in Becka's ear. “Don't worry, Becka.”

She cradled Becka in her arms.

Groggily, Becka squinted and tried to focus. But she could see only lights, bright, shimmery lights.

The room was a glimmering blur.

What was happening? Why couldn't she get it in focus?

“Don't worry,” Honey repeated gently. “I'll take care of you, Becka. I'm your only friend now. I'll take care of you.”

Becka struggled to see clearly.

She uttered a silent gasp when she saw the knife in her hand.

Slowly her eyes began to focus.

Becka saw the blood-soaked blade. Red and silver. Red and silver. It glistened like a shiny Christmas tree ornament.

Everything was glistening, sparkling in the light. The red and silver knife in her hand. The kitchen counters. The boy lying facedown beside her . . .

“I'll take care of you, Becka,” Honey whispered soothingly, holding on to Becka. “I won't let the police know what you did. We'll make up a story, won't we, Becka? We won't let them know that you murdered Bill.”

“Huh?” Becka struggled to get up, but Honey held on, keeping her arms around Becka's shoulders, whispering soothingly in her ear.

“What did I do?” Becka whispered. “What?”

She stared at the red and silver knife in her hand.

Then she lowered her gaze to Bill, lying so still in a dark puddle of blood.

“What did I do?” Becka whispered.

“I'll tell them you did it in self-defense, Becka,” Honey said softly. “They won't have to know the truth. They'll never know you stabbed Bill. Because I'll protect you. I'll protect you from now on. Because I'm your best friend. I'm your best friend, and I'm
your only friend, aren't I. Becka? Aren't I? Aren't I your best friend?
Aren't
I? Of course I am. I'm your best best friend. And I will never let them know what you did to Bill. Never. Never
never.”

“Thank you, Honey,” Becka whispered gratefully.

 

R.L. Stine invented the teen horror genre with Fear Street, the bestselling teen horror series of all time. He also changed the face of children's publishing with the mega-successful Goosebumps series, which
Guinness World Records
cites as the Best-Selling Children's Book Series ever, and went on to become a worldwide multimedia phenomenon. The first two books in his new series Mostly Ghostly,
Who Let the Ghosts Out?
and
Have You Met My Ghoulfriend?,
are
New York Times
bestsellers. He's thrilled to be writing for teens again in the brand-new Fear Street Nights books.

R.L. Stine has received numerous awards of recognition, including several Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards and Disney Adventures Kids' Choice Awards, and he has been selected by kids as one of their favorite authors in the National Education Association Read Across America. He lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, and their dog, Nadine.

DEAR READERS,

WELCOME TO FEAR STREET—WHERE TOUR WORST NIGHTMARES LIVE! IT'S A TERRIFYING PLACE FOR SHADYSIDE HIGH STUDENTS—AND FOR YOU!

DID YOU KNOW THAT THE SUN NEVER SHINES ON THE OLD MANSIONS OF FEAR STREET? NO BIRDS CHIRP IN THE FEAR STREET WOODS. AND AT NIGHT, EERIE MOANS AND HOWLS RING THROUGH THE TANGLED TREES.

I'VE WRITTEN NEARLY A HUNDRED FEAR STREET NOVELS, AND I AM THRILLED THAT MILLIONS OF READERS HAVE ENJOYED ALL THE FRIGHTS AND CHILLS IN THE BOOKS. WHEREVER I GO, KIOS ASK ME WHEN I'M GOING TO WRITE A NEW FEAR STREET TRILOGY.

WELL, NOW I HAVE SOME EXCITING NEWS. I HAVE WRITTEN A BRAND-NEW FEAR STREET TRHDGY. THE THREE NEW BOOKS ARE CALLED FEAR STREET NIGHTS. THE SAGA OF SIMON AND ANGELICA FEAR AND THE UNSPEAKABLE EVIL THEY CAST OVER THE TEENAGERS OF SHADYSIDE WILL CONTINUE IN THESE NEW BOOKS. YES, SIMON AND ANGELICA FEAR ARE BACK TO BRING TERROR TO THE TEENS OF SHADYSIDE.

FEAR STREET NIGHTS is AVAILABLE NOW. ... DON'T MISS IT. I'M VERY EXCITEO TO RETURN TO FEAR STREET—AND I HOPE YOU WILL BE THERE WITH ME FOR ALL THE GOOD, SCARY FUN!