Your Worst Nightmare (13 page)

For a second, Toby looked startled. Then he arranged his face into a smile. “I'm sure I do,” he said. “Thanks for the reminder. Can I get either of you anything before I go back to work?”

“You already asked me that,” said Gabby's seatmate.

She is
really
rude,
thought Gabby. It seemed as if the best thing she herself could do was not to give Toby any more trouble. “I'm fine,” she told him. “But thanks for listening.”

“My pleasure,” said Toby. Then he leaned over and pointed at the cranky woman's Sudoku.

“That should be a five, not a three,” he said. He winked at Gabby.

As Toby headed up the aisle, Gabby silently vowed that she would sit without moving for the rest of the flight. She wouldn't even use her half of the armrest. She would give her seatmate absolutely nothing to complain about. . . .

Gabby had been up late packing the night before.
Sitting motionless now, she felt her eyes starting to close. She had just one more thought before falling asleep.

I hope I don't end up leaning on that lady's shoulder.

“We're landing. Wake up!”

Once again the woman next to Gabby was making her presence known.

Gabby straightened up, rubbing her eyes. “We're landing?” she echoed in a blurry voice. “I slept for three hours?”

“Yes. You missed the movie. And the snack.”

The woman's eyes rested on Gabby for a second. “I've been to Trouble Slope several times,” she added abruptly. “I'm very well acquainted with that place.”

Still groggy, Gabby struggled to sound polite. “You—you have? I mean, you are?”

“I had family there,” said the woman. “They moved out as soon as they could.”

“Is it a nice place?” Gabby felt stupid the minute the question was out.

“It certainly is not. It's dangerous.”

“
Dangerous?
” Gabby echoed. She was wide awake now.

“That's what I said,” the woman replied curtly. “It's especially dangerous for children. You'd be better off if you turned around and went home right now.”

Before Gabby could answer, the plane touched down on the tarmac and came to a stop. Everyone started bustling around—including the woman next to Gabby, who jumped to her feet and pushed into the aisle ahead of all the other passengers.

Which was just as well, since Gabby hadn't come up with a response to her strange warning.

What a weirdo,
Gabby thought as she reached down for her backpack.

Because come on—how could a tiny town in the middle of nowhere possibly be dangerous?

Aunt Lisa spotted Gabby the minute she stepped into the baggage claim area. “Just look at you!” she marveled after giving her niece a hug. “I swear you've grown three feet since I saw you last. Are you hungry, by any chance? I know we're two hours ahead of California time, but—”

“I'm
starving
,” Gabby interrupted. “I feel like I ate lunch three days ago.” She pulled out her phone to check
the time. Seven o'clock. The plane had been right on schedule. And even though it was only five o'clock back at home, she was dying for supper.

“Let's eat here at the airport, then,” said Aunt Lisa. “There won't be much besides fast food once we're out of Des Moines.”

“It was really nice of you to pick me up, Aunt Lisa,” Gabby remembered to say a few minutes later as she and her aunt studied their menus. They had found an airport restaurant, the Palm Palace, which was doing its best to persuade its customers that they were in sunny California. The tables were made out of surfboards, and a few pairs of flip-flops had been scattered around for realism.

“I was happy to pick you up!” replied her aunt. “I just wish I could see you for a real visit. If I didn't have this stupid work trip the day after tomorrow, I'd keep you for a couple of days. I'm glad it's a two-hour drive to Trouble Slope so we can catch up.”

“Aunt Lisa, have you ever heard anything . . . bad about Trouble Slope?” Gabby asked.

“Bad? What do you mean?”

“Well, this weird lady was sitting next to me on the plane, and she said it was dangerous there.”

“Dangerous?” Aunt Lisa echoed. “A university town miles from any city? I'm guessing it's one of the safest places in the United States. What did this woman say, exactly?”

“Oh, she said a lot of stuff.” Quickly Gabby ran through the story of her unfortunate encounter. “Spilling that juice was the most embarrassing moment of my whole life,” she said.

Aunt Lisa gave a little cluck of irritation, but not because of Gabby. “That woman sounds awful. I'm sorry you had to spend the whole trip next to her.”

Gabby giggled. “She was probably sorry she had to spend the whole trip next to me! Anyway, I'll stop thinking about it. Sydney would tell me there's no use worrying about stuff that's in the past. And I want to get into Sydney-mode before I see her. Oh, I can't wait!”

“Let's order dessert right away, then,” Aunt Lisa suggested.

Gabby thought that would be a good idea.

“And now to remember where I parked my car,” said Aunt Lisa when they had finished their ice cream (raspberry
sorbet for Aunt Lisa, brownie batter for Gabby). “It's not always easy to spot—it's not that big.”

That was an overstatement. Or was it an understatement? Aunt Lisa turned out to have the tiniest car Gabby had ever seen—a green two-seater that looked about three inches tall. There was barely room for the two of them plus Gabby's backpack and suitcase, but after a short struggle, they managed to squeeze everything in. Aunt Lisa dug around in her purse until she found her parking receipt.

“Why bother waiting in line?” Gabby asked as they approached the ticket booth. “You could just drive under the cars ahead of us.”

It was true that Aunt Lisa had to reach way, way up to hand the money to the parking-lot attendant.

“I hope you don't have a long way to go in that lunch box,” he said as he passed back some change and a receipt.

“Just a couple of hours,” said Aunt Lisa. “We're going to a place called Trouble Slope.”

She edged the car forward, waiting for the mechanical arm to lift. “And . . . we're off!” she said to Gabby. “In two hours, you and Sydney will be together again.”

In the story, Kristi and her friends have to confront their own personal worst nightmares. What's your worst nightmare? Draw a picture of it, if you dare!

Do you want to turn your sleepover into a creepover? Telling a spooky story is a great way to set the mood. P. J. Night has written a few sentences to get you started. Fill in the rest of the story and have fun scaring your friends.

You can also collaborate with your friends on this story by taking turns. Have everyone at your sleepover sit in a circle. Pick one person to start. She will add a sentence or two to the story; cover what she wrote with a piece of paper, leaving only the last word or phrase visible; and then pass the story to the next girl. Once everyone has taken a turn, read the scary story you created together aloud!

I never intended to get separated from the rest of the class when we went on a field trip to visit the historic _______ Mansion. But I did, and it was the scariest day of my life! I wandered through the house like I was trapped in a maze. And the last thing I expected to see was what I stumbled upon in the attic. There I saw . . .

THE END

A lifelong night owl,
P. J. NIGHT
often works furiously into the wee hours of the morning, writing down spooky tales and dreaming up new stories of the supernatural and otherworldly. Although P. J.'s whereabouts are unknown at this time, we suspect the author lives in a drafty, old mansion where the floorboards creak when no one is there and the flickering candlelight creates shadows that creep along the walls. We truly wish we could tell you more, but we've been sworn to keep P. J.'s identity a secret . . . and it's a secret we will take to our graves!