The First Horror (3 page)

Kody continued to stare down at her plate. “I’m hoping maybe I can find a waitressing job,” she grumbled. “Are you sure you’re twins?” Mr. Frasier demanded, reaching for the cornflakes box. It was a question he asked a lot. “Where’s James?” Cally asked. “Still asleep,” her mother replied, taking her place at the card table. “I think he’s afraid if he comes downstairs, we’ll put him to work unpacking cartons.” “He’ll probably sleep all day!” Cally exclaimed. They ate their plates of cornflakes in silence for a while. “Know what we need in here?” Mrs. Frasier said, putting down her spoon. “This kitchen is so damp and cold. We need some fresh air.” She turned to Kody. “Would you open the window? Let’s see if it helps.” “We’ll cut down that big maple in front of the window,” Mr. Frasier said as Kody walked across the kitchen to the window. “A little sunlight will help a lot.” Cally watched Kody slide the window up. Leaning on the windowsill, Kody peered out into the backyard, taking deep breaths of fresh air. “It’s a pretty day,” she reported. Cally turned back to her cereal. She was spooning cornflakes into her mouth when she heard the loud slam. It sounded like a heavy knife blade slicing into a butcher block. A second later Cally heard her sister’s scream of agony. “My hands! My hands!”

Mrs. Frasier got to the window first. Her husband was right behind her. Kody’s screams were softer now, hoarse whispers of pain. “My hands! My hands!” Mrs. Frasier tugged the window up. Kody stumbled back, holding her arms out stiffly like those of a marionette. Cally had her hands clamped tightly over her mouth. She felt sick. She lowered her eyes, praying that her sister was okay. “Ohhh—my wrists!” Kody moaned, still holding her arms in that strange position, sort of like a begging dog. “My wrists—” Mrs. Frasier hugged Kody. “How awful, how awful,” she murmured. “Try moving your hands,” Mr. Frasier instructed. “See if you can move them. If your wrists are broken—” “No. I can move them,” Kody announced. She winced in pain as she demonstrated, wiggling both hands. “Thank goodness they’re not broken,” her father said, letting out a long whoosh of air. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “We’ll put ice on them,” Mrs. Frasier said. She started to the refrigerator, but stopped. “Oh. We don’t have any ice. We haven’t made any yet.” “I think they’re going to be okay,” Kody said, testing first one wrist, then the other. “I—I mostly was scared. It slammed down so fast. I don’t think my hands are too badly hurt.” She continued bending them, testing the wrists. “How did it happen?” Cally asked, finally finding her voice. “It was so strange,” Kody replied, returning to the card table. “The window was up. No problem. I was leaning on the sill to smell the fresh air. The window suddenly came crashing down—with such force—it was as if someone were pushing it!” Mr. Frasier examined the window. He raised it, then lowered it a few times. “Weird,” he commented. “Seems okay,” He turned back to the others, “When he finishes with the rats, I’ll have Mr.

Hankers take a look at it.” Kody groaned, rubbing her tender wrists. “Well, one good thing,” she murmured to Cally. “The rest of the day has got to be better!”

At five that afternoon Cally found the place where she and Kody had agreed to meet. It was a small coffee shop called The Corner, located a few blocks from the high school. Cally stepped inside, breathed in the thick aroma of frying hamburgers and french fry grease, and searched for her sister. Not here yet, she realized, disappointed. She was bursting to tell Kody about her day. She slid into a booth in front of the window and glanced around. The restaurant was empty except for two teenage couples squeezed into the booth against the wall. They were laughing, sliding a salt shaker back and forth across the table as if it were a hockey puck. I wonder if they go to Shadyside High, Cally thought. She was startled to see a boy standing beside her table. He was very good looking, with wavy black hair, dark, friendly eyes that sort of crinkled at the sides, and a nose that looked as if it had been broken at least once. He had a small silver stud in one ear. He wore a grease-stained white apron over faded denim jeans and a blue T-shirt. “How’s it going?” he asked Cally. “Great!” she replied, then immediately felt like a jerk for being so enthusiastic. “You—uh—want something?” he asked, gesturing toward the kitchen behind the counter. “Just a Coke,” Cally told him. “I’m waiting for my sister,” She glanced out the window. No sign of Kody. “Hey, Anthony! Pick up!” a man’s raspy voice shouted from the kitchen. Through the window behind the counter, Cally saw two hands set down plates with hamburgers. “Is your name Anthony?” she asked the boy. “Hey—how’d you guess?” he shot back, grinning. Cally laughed. “I’m psychic.” She gazed up at him playfully. “Guess my name.” Anthony’s dark eyes lit up. “You already told me,” he said. “It’s Psychic. Weird name!” Cally laughed. “I haven’t seen you here before,” he said, fiddling with his apron. “I just moved to Shadyside,” she told him. “My real name is Cally. Cally Frasier.” “Are you going to go to Shadyside High in the fall?” Anthony asked. Cally started to reply. But she was interrupted by the impatient voice from the kitchen. “Anthony! Pick up!” “Okay, okay! Coming!” Anthony shouted. He turned back to Cally. “I’ll get your Coke.” He hurried behind the counter to pick up the plates of hamburgers. Kody arrived a few seconds later, a little bedraggled. She had removed her headband, and her hair was windblown and disheveled. She was rubbing one wrist. “How’d it go?” she asked Cally, sliding into the seat across from her. “Did you get a job?” Cally nodded. A wide grin spread across her face. “I got a pretty good job,” she told her sister. “It’s in a boutique called Two Cute.” “Huh? Two Cute? What’s that mean?” Kody demanded, fiddling with her bangs.

“It’s supposed to be a clothing store for couples. Two. Get it? Two Cute?” Kody stuck her finger down her throat and pretended to puke. “Real cute,” she muttered. Then she added, “I knew you’d find a job.” “How about you?” Cally asked. Kody shook her head. “No luck.” “Well, you’ll probably find one tomorrow,” Cally said quickly. Kody glared across the table at her. “Don’t you ever get tired of trying to cheer me up?” she snapped. Cally opened her mouth to answer. But Anthony leaned over the table, interrupting. “Here’s your Coke, Cally,” he said, setting it down. He turned to Kody. “Hi, Cally’s sister. What can I get you?” “Uh—fries and a Sprite,” Kody replied, her eyes on Cally. As soon as Anthony left, Kody leaned forward and whispered to her sister. “He knows your name? You’ve already met a guy? He knows I’m your sister?” Cally couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across her face. “We were just talking for a minute before you came in,” she told her sister. “He’s kind of cute, don’t you think?” Kody leaned over the booth to study Anthony. “Yeah. Kind of,” she said. She turned back to Cally, frowning. “Why didn’t I get here first?” she grumbled. “Why are you always so lucky?” “It’s not like he asked me out or anything,” Cally replied defensively. “He will,” Kody said glumly, unable to hide her jealousy. “He will.”

The sun was just starting to dip behind the treetops as Cally and Kody returned home. But as soon as they began to make their way up the gravel driveway, Cally noticed that it became dark as night. “We’re home!” Cally called, leading the way into the front entryway. She tossed her bag down on the floor beside the coat closet and started into the dark living room. “We’re in the kitchen!” Mrs. Frasier called. “Any luck?” Cally’s father shouted. “Yeah. Bad luck,” Kody muttered behind Cally. “Why doesn’t anyone turn the lights on in here?” Cally complained. Cally made her way through the dark room. Their old furniture looked small and unfamiliar in the big living room. As Cally hurried toward the kitchen to tell her parents her news, she didn’t see the small, dark creature perched on the arm of the couch. She didn’t see it until it leapt onto her chest.

A lamp flashed on. The creature raised its snout to Cally’s throat. “Down, Cubby!” she heard James shout. “Get down, Cubby!” It’s a puppy! Cally realized, laughing. The little dog licked her neck. Then it dove to the floor and scampered across the room to James. He scooped it up in his arms. “For a moment, I thought …” Cally started to admit. Behind her in the living room entryway, Kody laughed. “You thought it was a rat? It does kind of look like a rat!” “Don’t say that about Cubby!” James said angrily. “Cubby is not a rat. Cubby is a Labrador retriever.” He gave the dog some nose kisses. “Where did you get him?” Cally asked, her heart still racing.

“Dad got him for me at the ASPCA. He’s mine,” James said, hugging the dog tightly. The dog squirmed and struggled to get down to the floor. “He’s cute,” Kody said. “Why did you name him Cubby?” “Because he looks like a Cubby,” James replied. Cally knew better than to question her brother’s logic.

“Our first dinner in our new home,” Mrs. Frasier said, smiling. She pulled her chair closer to the dining room table. “Isn’t this great?” “It’s starting to feel like home,” Mr. Frasier said, unfolding his napkin. “I can’t believe Cally thought Cubby was a rat,” James announced, rolling his eyes. “Let’s not talk about rats at the table,” their mother replied. “Let’s have a civilized dinner—okay, James?” James burped loudly, then burst into giggles. “That’s not funny,” Cally told him sharply. “It’s pretty funny,” James shot back. “Did Mr. Hankers get rid of the rats in the basement?” Kody asked. “He’s working on it,” Mr. Frasier replied. “He was down there all day.” “Why are we talking about rats?” Mrs. Frasier complained, “I made a beautiful dinner. A big roast beef—your favorite. Let’s have some pleasant conversation.” “Cubby is the cutest dog in the world,” James boasted. “I’m glad you like him,” Mr. Frasier replied, smiling across the table. “We hired a housekeeper today,” Mrs. Frasier told the girls, ignoring James. “Would you believe she popped up on the front steps? Just like Mr. Hankers.” “What’s her name?” Kody asked, spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate. “Her name is Mrs. Nordstrom,” their mother replied. “She’s starting tomorrow morning. She’s kind of stern and sour faced. But I have a hunch she’ll be a really good housekeeper.” Mr. Frasier pulled the roast beef platter closer and picked up the big carving knife. “Hey, I just had an idea,” he said, his eyes on Kody. “Kody, how would you like to have a job right here?” Kody’s eyes opened wide with surprise. She dropped the serving spoon back into the mashed potato bowl. “Huh? What do you mean?” “Well, there’s so much work to be done,” Mr. Frasier said, gesturing with the big black-handled knife. “Way too much for Mr. Hankers and me to do on our own. And you love woodworking and painting and everything.” Kody narrowed her green eyes at her father. “You mean you want me to stay home and work on the house?” Mr. Frasier nodded. “Yeah.” “While Cally gets to dress up and go to town every day and meet people?” Kody demanded. “You know you like fix-it work,” Mrs. Frasier chimed in. “I’ll pay you by the hour,” Mr. Frasier offered “It’ll be like a real job. Lunch hour and everything.” “Well …” Kody’s expression turned thoughtful. “It might be hard to find a job this late in the summer,” she murmured, thinking out loud. “I mean, everyone isn’t as lucky as Cally.” “I’m the lucky one,” James broke in. “I got Cubby. And he’s all mine.” “Okay, Dad. I’ll do it,” Kody decided, smiling for the first time that evening. “Great. Now, carve the roast beef, dear,” Mrs. Frasier said impatiently to her husband.

Mr. Frasier climbed to his feet and bent over the meat platter, fork in one hand, carving knife in the other. “This meat looks perfect,” he said. “It’ll be cold if we don’t eat it soon,” Cally’s mother urged. She raised her eyes to Cally. “Would you do me a favor? I forgot the salt and pepper shakers. They’re in the kitchen.” “Okay.” Cally slid her chair back and started making her way around the table. “Don’t step on Cubby!” James warned. “Where is that puppy anyway?” Mrs. Frasier asked. “Under the table,” James replied. “He’s licking my shoe.” James giggled. “We have to teach that dog not to bother us while we’re eating,” Mr. Frasier said, leaning over to slice the meat. “You can’t let a puppy develop bad habits.” Cally pressed back against the wail to squeeze behind her father’s chair to get to the kitchen. She was nearly past him when she saw him lift the knife to start to carve. But then Mr. Frasier jerked forward as if being shoved. His eyes bulged wide with shock. And the knife blade plunged deep into his side.

“Owww!” Mr. Frasier let out a wail. The carving knife fell and landed heavily on the floor. Cubby went scampering away. “Cally—you pushed me!” Mr. Frasier cried. “No!” Cally exclaimed, raising her hands to her face as she backed away. She watched a bright red circle of blood form on the side of her father’s shirt. “You shoved my arm!” Mr. Frasier accused her, gripping his side. “No! I—I didn’t touch you!” Cally told him. “Really, Daddy. There’s no way I could have shoved the knife into you.” “I know, but …” Mr. Frasier’s voice trailed off. “He’s bleeding!” James announced. “Yuck! Look at it!” Mrs. Frasier was on her feet. She grabbed her husband’s arm. “Stop arguing with Cally. Let’s get you upstairs and get that shirt off. See if you need stitches.” “Stitches?” Mr. Frasier’s eyes were unfocused behind his glasses. He didn’t seem to understand what Mrs. Frasier was telling him. Is he in shock? Cally wondered. She leaned her back against the dining room wall as she stared at the widening circle of blood on her father’s shirt. Why did he accuse me of pushing him? Blood dripped onto the floor as Mrs. Frasier led her husband out of the dining room. Cally turned her gaze on Kody. To her surprise Kody was still in her chair and had a terrified expression on her face. “It was a ghost,” she murmured. “A ghost pushed his arm, I know it.”

“Why did you say it was a ghost?” Cally demanded. “Huh?” Kody narrowed her eyes at her sister. It was later that night, after eleven. Cally had just finished writing her diary entry. Kody had wandered into her room to chat.

Their parents had returned from the emergency room at Shadyside General at about nine. Now they were in their room, asleep. Cally was sprawled on her bed, wearing the long striped nightshirt she liked to sleep in. Kody, still dressed, sat on the windowsill, a light breeze through the open window fluttering her hair. “When Daddy stabbed himself, you said it was a ghost,” Cally reminded her sister. Kody crossed over and sat down on the foot of Cally’s bed. “Poor Daddy—he needed twelve stitches.” Cally pulled herself up higher against the headboard. “Answer my question,” she insisted. “Why did you think it was a ghost?” “Well, you didn’t shove Daddy’s arm. I saw you, Cally. You didn’t even come close to him. So …” Cally groaned. “So that made you automatically think it was a ghost?” Kody’s cheeks darkened to scarlet. “I felt a presence in the room, Cally,” she said, lowering her voice to a solemn whisper. “A cold presence. Mistlike. I felt it float over the table. And then, a second later, I saw the knife plunge—into Daddy,” “Stop it, Kody,” Cally warned. “Please. Just stop it right now. Your ghost talk will only upset everyone.” “What makes you think you know everything?” Kody demanded with sudden passion. She leaned close to her sister, her nostrils flaring angrily. “Stop roiling your eyes, Cally. You don’t know everything! I hate it when you act so smug and superior.” Kody let out a frustrated cry. “Mom and Dad didn’t believe me either.” “Kody— you told them this wild ghost story when they got back from the hospital?” Kody nodded. “It isn’t a wild story. I felt something in the room. I thought they should know.” She sighed. “But they laughed at me too.” “Kody, listen to me,” Cally pleaded. “There are no such things as ghosts. Really. You—” “I’ve read books that say there are ghosts!” Kody shot back. “Books by real scientists.” Cally laughed. Kody jumped to her feet. She balled her hands into fists. “Don’t laugh at me, Cally. I don’t like everyone in this family laughing at me.” “Then don’t be such a jerk,” Cally replied. She shook her head. “Ghosts,” she muttered scornfully. “You really are a pain!” Kody cried. “So are you!” Cally shot back, feeling herself lose control. Kody stomped toward the door. “Hey—if a moaning white sheet comes flying down the hall at you, be sure to duck!” Cally called after her. Kody stormed into the hall, then slammed the door behind her. What is her problem? Cally thought, shaking her head. Sometimes I can’t believe we’re twins. How can a sister of mine believe in ghosts? She clicked off her bedside lamp. Then slid down into the bed and pulled the sheet over her. Through the open window, Cally could hear the whisper of wind through the trees in the backyard. She forced herself not to think about Kody, not to think of the frightening incident at dinner. Instead, she thought about the boutique, about Sally and Gene, the young couple who had hired her to work there. And as she began to relax and feel drowsy, she found herself thinking about Anthony. Maybe I’ll stop at The Corner after work, she thought, smiling. Just to say hi. Maybe I’ll remind him I’m new in town and don’t know anybody. Maybe I’ll ask him to show me around. Thinking these pleasant thoughts, Cally drifted to sleep. Three hours later she woke up, startled by a sound.