Welcome to the Dark House (17 page)

F
RANKIE’S BEEN INSIDE HIS NIGHTMARE
ride for
a while, which tells me that it must be pretty decent. Meanwhile, everybody’s freaking
out, including Parker, who tries to explain why I should give a shit that Taylor called
her own cell phone.

“Seriously?” I ask him. “The only thing I give a shit about where Taylor’s concerned
is the fact that Ivy broke the rules by smuggling Taylor’s cell phone in here. We
better not be penalized for it.” I look out at the park. It’s dark out now and the
glowing lights are mesmerizing.

“I think it’s high time we go look for one of those emergency phones,” Ivy says.

“Except there are no emergency phones.” Natalie blocks her ears, as if she’s concentrating
on what’s being said inside that screwy head of hers. The girl is such a fake. “Harris
says that the Nightmare Elf was lying about the phones.”

“I’ll go check things out.” Parker heads out into the park, donning his invisible
bright red cape and superhero onesie.

“Now what?” Shayla looks down at Taylor’s cell phone, clenched in her hand.

“Now we check out the goods. Any compromising photos loaded on there?” I ask.

She glares at me, like I’m the biggest asshole ever, which comes as a major relief.
I’d rather she think of me as an asshole than as someone who’s all about his feelings.

“Ever think that maybe the phone’s been rigged,” I suggest. “By the mastermind himself.
My money’s on Taylor’s nonexistence. I’ll bet she’s not even real—just a bogus hoax
to get us all worked up.”

“But I met her,” Natalie says. “We were on the same flight. We rode in the same car.
She talked to me.”

“Sure, Scarecrow. Just like your dead brother talks to you too. Nice look, by the
way,” I say, referring to her hood, scarf, and sunglasses. “Do you really think this
crazy act of yours is going to score you more attention from Blake?”

“I’m not looking for extra attention,” she says. “If I could, I’d hide from everyone.”

“Well, I really wish you would,” I tell her.

“Back off,” Ivy says, shooting me a dirty look. Happily, I’ve made another fan.

“Don’t be surprised if the phone miraculously starts working again,” I say. “If so-called
Taylor happens to call us back at some opportune time. Remember in
Nightmare Elf IV
when Eureka’s walkie-talkie only seemed to work when she was alone? It was all so
plotted.”

“Oh, and PS,” Shayla says. “Frankie still isn’t out yet, and it’s been thirty minutes
since he entered the graveyard.”

“Which means that Blake didn’t cheap out on the rides,” I say. “Frankie must be getting
his money’s worth, so to speak.”

Shayla shakes her head at me—the same way my father does when he’s looking at me like
I’m dirt, which is pretty much a daily occurrence.

“If you wanted
Mary Poppins
, then you picked the wrong contest,” I tell them. “You came here to be scared, remember?
You do something stupid—like using the emergency phone to bring the hearse back—and
you risk ruining this whole thing.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” Ivy says.

While she and Shayla head off to the supposed hotspot, and Natalie takes a seat on
the ground, engaged in a full-on conversation with herself, I look back at the graveyard,
jealous that Frankie gets all the fun.

S
HAYLA AND
I
SIT ON THE GROUND
, trying to get Taylor’s phone to work.

“There’s still no reception,” Shayla says, “which is totally BS. I mean, you were
right here when it rang.” She holds the phone up to see if that might help, and then
removes the battery and snaps it back into place two seconds later. “The phone itself
is working fine.”

“Well, maybe Garth was right. Maybe the phone’s been rigged.”

“The last call received was from the nine-five-two area code,” she says, looking at
the phone screen.

“Is that near here?” I ask.

“Do I look like a walking Google search box? Maybe there’s some clue in her pics.”

I gaze over Shayla’s shoulder as she searches Taylor’s photo album. The same girl
keeps appearing in each of the pictures, and so I assume that it’s her. Taylor is
really cute, with tousled blond hair like she just came from the beach, bright blue
eyes, and delicate features. There are photos of her performing in plays, making goofy
faces at the camera, and dancing at various recitals.

“I have to assume that she saw something at the Dark House,” I say, “something that
really freaked her out, because she left so abruptly, mid-unpacking, not even with
her cell phone.”

“So, you don’t
really
think the phone’s been rigged.”

“All I know is that I wasn’t even going to bring the cell phone with me,” I tell her.
“I’d slipped it into my bag, thinking that we might meet up with Taylor at some point.
But the organizers didn’t know that—that I’d bring it with me, that is; that I’d forget
it was in my bag when we were depositing all our cell phones at the gate. They didn’t
even know that I’d find the phone to begin with—that I’d just happen to lie back on
Taylor’s bed and brush my hand against the covers in the right way. Don’t you think
that if they’d wanted us to find her phone, it would’ve been planted in a more obvious
way?”

Shayla looks at her watch. “It’s been forty minutes for Frankie.” She tosses me the
phone and then moves back over to the gate. “One of us needs to go in there,” she
says.

“‘Not I,’ said the fly,” Garth says, between bites of sourdough pretzel.

“I don’t want to go either,” Natalie says, pausing from mumbling to herself.

“Then I’ll go,” Shayla says. “Somebody give me a lift.”

“And what about the movie?” Garth asks her. “Or meeting Justin Blake?”

“I know.” She nods. “But I promised Frankie that after fifteen minutes if he still
hadn’t come out, I’d go looking for him.”

“Looks like you’re twenty-five minutes late. So, why not make it an hour?” Garth laughs.

For once, Shayla doesn’t laugh along with him. “I need to go in there,” she insists.

“For all we know, Frankie’s ride is already over,” Garth says. “If he went underground,
the exit could be anywhere—at any part of the park.”

I look out at the park. A movie plays in the distance. A guy wearing a clown mask
appears on the screen. He’s got a girl cornered. It’s nighttime and raining out. The
girl melts down against a wall, begging him not to hurt her. But he sticks his knife
in anyway. Her eyes bug open in shock, and then go completely vacant as her body falls
limp.

Is that how my parents looked too?

“You’re totally blowing it,” Garth says, talking to Shayla’s back.

Standing on two milk crates, she’s climbed the graveyard gate and has her foot propped
up on the top rung. She teeters there, trying to keep her balance.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask her.

“More than sure.” She jumps over. Her feet hit the ground with a thud, releasing a
dusting of dirt into the air. She heads straight for the shed.

“That’s it,” Garth declares. “I’m done.”

“With what?” I ask.

“With all of you, wasting our time, breaking the rules, and screwing everything up.”

The fog machine has kicked into gear, shrouding Shayla’s torso and feet, making her
appear even farther away. “It’s just hard to know what to believe,” I tell him. “What’s
real versus what’s screwing with our minds.”

“That’s the beauty of Justin Blake’s work. And this is the chance of a lifetime. I
don’t know about any of you, but opportunities like this don’t normally happen in
my world. In
my
world, all anyone ever expects is failure. But Justin Blake sees more to me than
that, so I’m not going to disappoint him.”

I bite my lip, able to hear the angst in his voice. I can tell he really wants this.
But what I want is to go home. I look back out at Shayla. She’s standing just outside
the shed, but I can barely even see her.

“Harris says it’s too late for her,” Natalie mutters, peeking through the bars. “He
says it doesn’t even matter if she turns back now, because she already broke the rules.”

“And what does he think that means?” I ask, still on the fence about her sanity.

“Twenty-six,” she says, confidence in her voice. “Twelve rectangles, four ovals, seven
crosses, and three squares.”

“Excuse me?” I ask her.

Tears drip from the corners of her eyes, mixing with her thick black liner and making
track marks down her cheeks. “Harris says there will soon be twenty-eight. And then
thirty. And probably more. And probably more rectangles. All of them with roses. Except
for two that have been freshly dug out.”

“Okay, you’re not making any sense.”

“No!
” she shouts, but she isn’t talking to me. She covers over her ears, as if lost inside
her head. “That isn’t true,” she continues. “Don’t say those things; it’s all just
lies.”

“This whole Harris act is getting old.” Garth yawns. “And so is all the bullshit drama.
I’m out of here.”

“Where are you going?” I ask.

The graveyard looks eerily vacant now. The fog machine has stopped again. A few residual
clouds hover around the bed and dresser, but there’s no sign of Frankie or Shayla.
And Parker still isn’t back yet.

“You’re a smart girl. You can figure it out.” And with that, Garth turns on his heel,
leaving us in the dust.

FADE IN:


EXT. AMUSEMENT PARK
—
NIGHT


ANGLE ON ME


I pass by a row of carnival games. It’s dark. The park looks nearly vacant. The blinking
game lights, coupled with their binging-ringing sound effects, permeate the stillness.
I’m about halfway around the entrance gate and still haven’t been able to find a phone,
which is really sort of ridiculous considering that they’ve supposedly been placed
for emergency purposes.


I turn a corner, passing by more games. And that’s when I finally see it:


CLOSE ON AN ENGLISH PHONE BOOTH


It’s about eight feet tall and three feet wide. A checkerboard of windows forms the
front door panel.


I grab the handle. Lights start flashing right away, forming a frame around eight
Nightmare Elf heads attached to the back wall.


There is no phone.


All the heads are the same: the Nightmare Elf with his pointed ears, Santa-like hat,
and chubby face. But all the facial expressions are different: one happy, another
sad. There’s also a scowl, a glare, and a puckering pair of lips.


VOICE RECORDING


Ring-a-ling-ding. Throw the ring for a chance to ding-a-ling.


Is “a chance to ding-a-ling” carnival-speak for a chance to use the phone? There’s
a stack of plastic rings at the bottom of the booth. I grab a bunch and stand behind
a designated line on the ground.


I toss a ring at one of the heads. It catches on a hat but then falls to the ground.


VOICE RECORDING


Remember, if at first you don’t succeed, ring, ring again.


I toss another ring. This time it hooks around the Nightmare Elf with the happy smile.
A bell CHIMES, announcing that I’ve won. I wait for something to happen, hoping that
a phone will suddenly appear.


Instead the lights go out. The ride goes quiet. I linger a few more seconds before
chucking the rest of the rings to the ground.


I’m just about to turn away, when I spot it, out of the corner of my eye.


CLOSE ON ELF THAT WAS FROWNING BEFORE


It now has a wild expression. Its eyes are wide; they stare straight out into space.
Its brows are darted, and it’s baring razor-sharp teeth.


I look up at an overhead camera.


ME


(shouting at the camera)


You think this is funny?


The elf doesn’t move, nor does it blink.


I move around to the back of the booth. There’s a metal closet attached to the rear
panel. Someone must be hiding inside that space.


ME


Come out!


I kick at the metal sides and slam my fists into the back panel. When still nothing
happens, I go around to the front again.


The elf’s face remains with its wild expression. I study it a few seconds: its bright
blue eyes, its waxy lips, its stupid rosy cheeks.


PULLBACK TO REVEAL ME


I slam the door
—
so hard that the glass pane BREAKS. I look back up at the camera.


ME


In case you haven’t already figured it out, I don’t give a shit about being in your
stupid film. Cut my role right now. I don’t need this crap. I don’t need to meet you.


I wait for something to happen or someone to come out. When nothing and no one do,
I head back to Frankie’s ride.


CUT TO:
Natalie and Ivy, exterior graveyard dig.