Read Online Blue Is for Nightmares by Laurie Faria Stolarz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laurie Faria Stolarz
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy, Juvenile Fiction, Magic, Fantasy & Magic, Witchcraft & Wicca, Witchcraft, Horror & Ghost Stories, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Schools, Body; Mind & Spirit, stalking, Extrasensory Perception, Bedtime & Dreams
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the fingers squirming and kneading their way upward, toward the window frame, to open it wider.
I lean forward to see the figure below. It looks up at me, almost startled, its face covered by a white hockey mask, and suddenly I feel like I've been plopped onto the set of Friday the 13th and at any minute now a six-inch knife will come plunging through the window.
The hand curls into a fist and knocks against the glass. And then he starts laughing. A dead giveaway. I'd know that
Kermit-the-frog laugh anywhere--head, bobbing; mouth, arched open; and zero sound coming out.
Chad.
He flips the mask off and breathes aloud, Jason-from-Friday-the-13th style. "I can see you, Stacey" he repeats, still laughing.
"I hate you, Chad."
He smooshes his lips against the glass, but he still looks good. Fresh-out-of-bed good--his sandy-blond hair still sticking up in the back, a bedsheet-pattern line against his cheek, tiny points of fresh, golden hair sprouting from his chin. Sexily delicious.
"Where's your sense of humor?"
I start to pull the window shade down to block him out. I don't want to talk to him right now. I look awful. I feel awful. And I despise jokes like this.
"Wait a minute," he says. "I'm sorry, okay?"
It's hard to resist since he looks so scrumptious, standing on tiptoes, a glob of white toothpaste gathered in the corner of his mouth. An imaginary bubble blows out from my head. In it, the two of us have woken up together; he's sneaking out, and this is our secret.
I pop the thought out of my head with a pin of reality and push the window open. "What are you doing here?" "I was actually looking for Drea."
"She's showering. Why?"
"We were supposed to meet for breakfast. I was gonna help her with her psych homework."
"Really? I thought it was the other way around."
79
"I help her, she helps me." He winks. "What's the difference?" He hoists his elbows up on the sill to peer into the room. "You girls are slobs. Worse than us bachelors."
I smooth my hands over my hair and try to subtly pinch my cheeks for color. "I'll tell her you came by."
"What's the matter? You want me to go so soon?" Chad dangles his hand off the sill, inside the room, allowing me to catch a glance of the tiny points of boy-hair on his knuckles. "Can I come in?" he asks.
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? To hang out for a while. To talk. We don't get to talk as much as we did last year."
It's true that we don't. But it hasn't exactly been the same between us since that day when we kissed. I look at him, from his long, curly lashes to the pout in his mouth, and feel a million tiny bottle-rockets go off in my heart, just remembering that kiss.
"Please," he says. "With peanut butter and banana sandwiches on top?"
I feel my cheeks turn warm, like bowls of chowder. He's thinking about it too. It doesn't surprise me that he's thinking about it. What surprises me is that he's admitting that he's thinking about it, and that's something altogether different.
He wants me to know that he's thinking about it.
A part of me wants to let him in. Another part wants to close the window and yank the shade down over his face, once and for all. I swallow both parts down in one bittersweet gulp and say,
"That's probably not a good idea. Madame Discharge usually makes her rounds sometime around now"
He nods, disappointment brimming in those luscious, greeny-blue eyes.
I bite the side of my cheek and search my brain for something to say. Anything. "So, who told you we like horror?"
'A little bird," he says, sticking his chest out. It takes me a moment to notice that he's wearing his old hockey jersey, the one that was tacked up over the broken window.
"Hey, you have your jersey. When did you get it back? Someone took it from our room."
"Sure they did.-
"They did," I say. "We came back late last night and it was missing." I look back at the broken window, at the image of Scooby Doo posing from the beach towel tacked up over the hole--
Amber's
I lean forward to see the figure below. It looks up at me, almost startled, its face covered by a white hockey mask, and suddenly I feel like I've been plopped onto the set of Friday the 13th and at any minute now a six-inch knife will come plunging through the window.
The hand curls into a fist and knocks against the glass. And then he starts laughing. A dead giveaway. I'd know that
Kermit-the-frog laugh anywhere--head, bobbing; mouth, arched open; and zero sound coming out.
Chad.
He flips the mask off and breathes aloud, Jason-from-Friday-the-13th style. "I can see you, Stacey" he repeats, still laughing.
"I hate you, Chad."
He smooshes his lips against the glass, but he still looks good. Fresh-out-of-bed good--his sandy-blond hair still sticking up in the back, a bedsheet-pattern line against his cheek, tiny points of fresh, golden hair sprouting from his chin. Sexily delicious.
"Where's your sense of humor?"
I start to pull the window shade down to block him out. I don't want to talk to him right now. I look awful. I feel awful. And I despise jokes like this.
"Wait a minute," he says. "I'm sorry, okay?"
It's hard to resist since he looks so scrumptious, standing on tiptoes, a glob of white toothpaste gathered in the corner of his mouth. An imaginary bubble blows out from my head. In it, the two of us have woken up together; he's sneaking out, and this is our secret.
I pop the thought out of my head with a pin of reality and push the window open. "What are you doing here?" "I was actually looking for Drea."
"She's showering. Why?"
"We were supposed to meet for breakfast. I was gonna help her with her psych homework."
"Really? I thought it was the other way around."
79
"I help her, she helps me." He winks. "What's the difference?" He hoists his elbows up on the sill to peer into the room. "You girls are slobs. Worse than us bachelors."
I smooth my hands over my hair and try to subtly pinch my cheeks for color. "I'll tell her you came by."
"What's the matter? You want me to go so soon?" Chad dangles his hand off the sill, inside the room, allowing me to catch a glance of the tiny points of boy-hair on his knuckles. "Can I come in?" he asks.
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? To hang out for a while. To talk. We don't get to talk as much as we did last year."
It's true that we don't. But it hasn't exactly been the same between us since that day when we kissed. I look at him, from his long, curly lashes to the pout in his mouth, and feel a million tiny bottle-rockets go off in my heart, just remembering that kiss.
"Please," he says. "With peanut butter and banana sandwiches on top?"
I feel my cheeks turn warm, like bowls of chowder. He's thinking about it too. It doesn't surprise me that he's thinking about it. What surprises me is that he's admitting that he's thinking about it, and that's something altogether different.
He wants me to know that he's thinking about it.
A part of me wants to let him in. Another part wants to close the window and yank the shade down over his face, once and for all. I swallow both parts down in one bittersweet gulp and say,
"That's probably not a good idea. Madame Discharge usually makes her rounds sometime around now"
He nods, disappointment brimming in those luscious, greeny-blue eyes.
I bite the side of my cheek and search my brain for something to say. Anything. "So, who told you we like horror?"
'A little bird," he says, sticking his chest out. It takes me a moment to notice that he's wearing his old hockey jersey, the one that was tacked up over the broken window.
"Hey, you have your jersey. When did you get it back? Someone took it from our room."
"Sure they did.-
"They did," I say. "We came back late last night and it was missing." I look back at the broken window, at the image of Scooby Doo posing from the beach towel tacked up over the hole--
Amber's
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