The Conclusion (8 page)

“You don't
own
me!” I cried. “You can't say what you'll allow and what you won't allow. Do you really think you can control my life? Do you really think you can control who I see and who I don't see?”

By the time I finished that speech, I was gasping for breath.

Darryl stared back at me calmly. His face revealed
no emotion at all, except for his red cheeks. “I can't let you see this guy,” he said through clenched teeth. “He'll only hurt you, Hope.”

I clenched and unclenched my fists. “Darryl, go away,” I ordered in a trembling voice. “I want you to go away and not come back. I really do.”

He didn't react. Just stared back at me coldly, so coldly I could
feel
the chill.

“Go away, Darryl,” I repeated, shaking my fist. “Go away. And no more murders. Do you hear me? No more. And leave Chris alone. Don't you dare come near him.”

Darryl finally broke his silence. He tossed back his head and laughed, a cold, cruel laugh. “Do you
really
think this guy Chris likes you?” he demanded.

“Yes. I—”

“Have you forgotten Mark?” Darryl cried. “Don't tell me you've forgotten Mark Grazer.”

Of course I hadn't forgotten Mark.

Just hearing his name made all the memories—the bad memories—flood back into my mind.

Mark Grazer . . .

I was so unpopular in high school. Shadyside High. It's in a town called Shadyside, about fifty miles from Ivy State College.

My high school years were so unhappy. I wasn't pretty, and I was so shy and overweight. And Mom never let me forget for a minute what a failure I was.

Then Mark came along. He was the first boy who ever liked me.

At least, I thought he did.

Even after my mother kept me from going to the dance with him, Mark asked me out again. He was so nice to me. He introduced me to all his friends. He said such wonderful things to me.

We went out to a diner with some of his friends. We talked for hours. We laughed and joked. Mark kept his arm around me the whole time.

What a feeling!

I didn't get home till two in the morning. I knew my mother would be angry, but I didn't care. For the first time in my life, I felt normal. Part of a group.

Part of a couple.

I thought my life had changed. I thought I was in love.

Can you imagine how I felt when I found out that Mark had asked me out as a
joke?

The day after our date, someone sent me a note. Unsigned.

It said that I should know the truth. That Mark had lost a bet with his friends. The
loser
of the bet had to ask me out and pretend to like me.

It was all a cruel joke. And the whole school knew about it.

They were all laughing at me behind my back. Everyone.

I locked myself in my room and cried for hours. How could Mark do that to me? How could everyone let him?

I couldn't go back to that school. I couldn't bear the staring eyes, the grinning faces.

Everyone knew. Everyone.

I stayed home the entire next week. I stayed in my room, crying and thinking. Thinking about how much I hated everyone in the world. Especially myself.

Luckily, I had Eden, Jasmine, and Angel. They stayed with me. They talked with me night and day. They were such good friends.

They tried to comfort me. They tried to tell me to be strong, to go back to that high school and pretend that nothing had happened.

But I couldn't do that. My heart was broken. And I felt so . . . stupid and ashamed.

And then Darryl appeared.

Darryl was so wonderful. A boy I could trust.

Darryl really cared about me. He asked me out. He asked me to go driving around with him.

Darryl understood me right from the start. He knew all about Mark's joke. He agreed that Mark was a sick creep.

I felt so good cruising around Shadyside in my car with Darryl at the wheel. So relaxed. So comfortable and happy.

We saw Mark walking on Park Drive, two or three blocks from the high school. Darryl tensed and leaned forward. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

He waited for Mark to start across the street.

Then he jammed his foot down on the gas pedal—and shot the car into Mark.

Mark never knew what hit him.

The front of the car slammed into Mark's side and sent him flying. His arms and legs flew out. He hit
the pavement on his face and stomach. And bounced a couple of times.

I'll never forget the feel of the
bump
under our tires as Darryl drove the car over Mark's body.

First the front tires bounced, then the back.

Then Darryl shot the car into reverse—and backed over Mark.
Bump. Bump.

And then we rolled over Mark again.
Bump. Bump.

Then we backed over him again.
Bump. Bump.

Then we zoomed away, squealing with laughter, laughing till tears rolled down our cheeks.

What a day. What a memory . . .

I blinked a few times, blinking my thoughts away. I gazed around the dark living room of the abandoned sorority house, and realized that Darryl had vanished.

Has he left for good? I wondered.

I didn't think so. Darryl was impossible to control. Impossible.

Melanie and her roommates in Fear Hall said I was crazy, I remembered. That's what they told the police.

But I'm not crazy.

I need my friends. My good friends. Friends who will never leave me, never leave me alone.

I hugged myself tightly, feeling a deep chill. The room seemed to grow darker as my eyes wandered around it.

What will Darryl do now? I wondered.

He was in such a rage. Will he try to hurt Chris? Will he try to
kill
Chris?

“I hope not,” I murmured aloud.

Chris is such a great guy. He doesn't deserve to be murdered by Darryl. He doesn't deserve what happened to the others.

But, of course, I can't control Darryl.

Can I?

W
ill and I had been shooting a few racks at the pool hall on Elm across from the campus. The place was noisy and crowded as usual, and Will and I had a good time.

It helped to take our minds off all the horrible things that had been going down in the past few days. When you have to concentrate on hitting a cue ball straight, you don't have time to think about crazed murderers stalking the campus.

Will and I were becoming pretty good buddies. We hung out together more and more. He was nearly as bad a pool player as me, so the game was close and exciting.

Naturally, I ran into Big Al there. At first, he pretended he didn't know me. His idea of a funny joke. Then he joined Will and me at our table.

He cleared the table before we could pocket a single ball. Big Al has spent a
lot
of time in pool halls.

“I've got to run, man,” he said, after slapping my back so hard that my eyes nearly popped out. “You guys are no competition.”

“We're just suckering you,” Will joked. “Play one more game, and we'll show you how
really
bad we are!”

“Do you live in Fear Hall too?” Al asked Will.

Will nodded. “Chris and I are roommates.”

Big Al finished his can of beer and let out a ferocious burp. “I'd clear out of there
now
if I was you,” he advised, only half joking. “I think the stories about that place are true. The kids in that dorm are dropping like flies.”

Will and I exchanged glances. We had escaped the fear for a few minutes. But Big Al's remark brought all the horror back.

“Catch you later,” Al said, giving us a two-fingered military salute. We watched him push his way through the crowd to the door.

“Is he always that loud and gross?” Will asked.

“You get used to it,” I replied.

A few minutes later, we finished our game and headed out of the pool hall. It was a cold, cloudy night. No moon or stars in the sky. The air hung heavy and wet, threatening rain or maybe snow.

I pulled the collar of my jacket up and ducked my head into the wind. Will pulled down the black wool ski cap he always wore.

“So what's up with that girl you told me about?”
he asked, hurrying to keep up with me. I walk fast when it's cold.

“You mean Karen?” I asked. I felt a cold raindrop on my forehead.

“Yeah. Karen. You see her again?” Will asked.

I shook my head. “Not since the other night. She's kind of strange.”

Will grinned at me. “How strange?”

“I—I don't really mean strange,” I stammered. “I mean . . . strange!”

He laughed.

We crossed the pool hall parking lot and turned onto the street.

“She's very private,” I explained. “I mean, it's very hard to get any information from her. Hard to get her to tell me anything about herself. She wouldn't even tell me her last name!”

“Maybe she doesn't want to talk,” Will teased. “Maybe she just wants some action!”

I shook my head. “She won't give me her phone number,” I complained. “And she won't tell me where she lives.”

“Weird,” Will muttered. “Hey—it's starting to rain.”

“The other night, I offered to walk her home,” I continued. “And she acted . . . I don't know . . . almost
frightened.”

Will's grin faded. “Maybe she has a boyfriend,” he suggested. “Maybe she's sneaking out with you behind his back. That would explain why she doesn't want you calling or coming around.”

“Hmmm . . . maybe,” I replied, thinking hard
about it. “No—wait.” I stopped walking. “She told me she just broke up with a guy. That's right. The night I met her. She said she broke up with a guy who was really jealous and possessive.”

“Do you think she was telling the truth?” Will asked.

I didn't have a chance to answer.

I saw car headlights flash on.

I heard the squeal of tires.

“Hey—!” I opened my mouth in a startled cry.

The headlights washed over me. The car engine roared.

It's not going to swerve! I realized. Frozen. Helpless.

It's not going to turn.

It's going to crash right into me!

W
ith a terrified scream, I shot out my arms, stretched forward—and dove to the side of the street.

I landed hard on my stomach and hands, and slid about six feet over the wet asphalt.

“Oww!” Gravel sprayed up into my face. The street scraped the skin off my right hand.

I turned in time to see the car squeal to a stop.

I shook my head, trying to shake away the dizziness.

Whose car was it? Who is driving? Why did he or she try to mow us down?

Questions flew through my brain, racing by as fast as my heartbeat.

Will! I thought. Where is Will? Is he okay?

Still on my stomach, I saw Will on the other side
of the car. He was shouting something. Shouting angrily.

I pulled myself to my feet, my hand throbbing with pain, my heart thudding.

Will jerked open the driver's door. He was shouting and cursing.

I stumbled toward him, my legs shaky, heart still racing.

I was nearly to the car when I saw Matt climb out from behind the wheel. He was laughing like a lunatic.

Will grabbed him by the front of his jacket. “You almost
killed
us!” he cried.

Matt shook his head, still laughing. He pulled himself free of Will's grasp. “You should have seen your faces!” he cried. “I could see you saying your prayers!”

“Are you
nuts?”
Will screamed. “Matt—what if Chris and I hadn't dove away? Then what?”

“Roadkill!” Matt laughed. “Mashed road potatoes!”

I leaned on the car hood, catching my breath. I studied my cut hand in the light of the headlight. It wasn't too bad. I pulled a cinder out of the cut. It wasn't as deep as I'd thought.

Will and I narrowed our eyes at Matt.

“Hey, guys—” He raised both hands in the air and backed away. “Don't look at me like that. I would have stopped. Really. I can stop on a dime.”

We didn't reply. We just glared at him angrily.

“Really. I would have stopped,” he insisted, grinning. “I just wanted to give you guys a thrill.”

He started back to the car. “Come on. Get in. I'll give you a lift to the dorm.”

Shaking my head grumpily, I climbed into the backseat. No way I'd ride up front with that lunatic!

“Matt, that was really dangerous.” I sighed.

Of course, I had no idea how much danger I was really in. No idea how frightening my life would become in the next couple of days.

M
elanie is the problem.

Melanie was always the problem.

She was the one who led the police into Hope's dorm room. She was the one who told the police that I didn't exist. That none of Hope's friends are real.

That Hope is crazy.

Hope never liked Melanie.

Melanie is such a stuck-up snob. Always strutting around with her perfect nose in the air. Always dressed so neatly. Such a total preppie. Her dark hair cut so perfectly, always falling where it should. Her lips always perfectly glossed, never dry and chapped. Her clear skin so rosy.

How did she dare say that Hope is crazy? How
could she say something like that about someone she barely knew?

Yes, Melanie is the problem.

But not for long . . .

She is the last girl alive in room 13-A. If I take care of her, Hope will be so grateful. Hope will welcome me back with a smile and a hug.