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Authors: R. L. Stine
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her close to kiss her again. But the front doorbell rang. Meg sighed. “I’ll be right back.” She climbed to her feet and made her way across the living room to the front door. Brandt could see the door from where he sat on the den floor. “Hey, Megster.” Brandt recognized Jinny’s voice. Uh-oh, Brandt thought, straightening his hair with his fingers. He moved from the floor to the couch, hoping that position would seem more— innocent.
Jinny, in dark green jeans and a pale yellow sweater, strode into the house, Meg at her heels. “I just stopped by for a second to—” When she spotted Brandt on the couch, her mouth dropped open in surprise. Her face turned red, but she recovered quickly. “Oh. Hi, Brandt. What are you doing here?” “We’re just studying,” Meg replied for him. “With no books?” Jinny’s voice grew shrill. Her eyes fell on the TV and she added, “While watching a movie?” “Want to join us?” Brandt asked lightly. He patted the couch cushion next to him. “Uh—Meg, could I see you for a minute in the next room?” Jinny demanded. It wasn’t really a question. Meg followed Jinny into the living room. Brandt could hear them whispering sharply, angrily, to each other. “Hey, don’t fight over me, girls!” he called, trying to keep it light. “There’s plenty of me to go around!” They ignored him and kept whispering. A few seconds later Brandt heard the front door slam. Meg returned to the den, her cheeks bright pink. “What’s Jinny’s problem anyway?” she demanded. “She already has a boyfriend!”
Brandt left Meg’s house a short while later. Jinny’s appearance had spoiled the afternoon. Brandt liked the idea of having two girls fight over him. But he was too exhausted and stressed out to be able to deal with it then. His parents were out when he got home. The house sat quiet and dark, mysterious and full of secrets. Brandt hesitated for a second, feeling weary, worn out—and frightened. Taking a deep breath, he walked up the stairs and straight to the attic. He had to see the diary. Would it be where he left it? Would there be any new entries? He stepped onto the attic floor. A dim shaft of light filtered through the attic window, casting a halo of dust around the diary. Brandt knelt beside the book. With trembling fingers he opened the cover. Then he turned to the last page. Was there a new entry? He raised the open diary, read the last page—and gasped in horror.
Chapter 16
I made Jinny bleed. Abbie is next. Brandt, you cannot save Abbie.
“No!” Brandt cried out loud. He slammed the diary shut and squeezed the book in his hand, squeezed it until his hand ached. “Cally Frasier—can you hear me?” he called. Silence. “Are you writing these threats in your diary, Cally?” Brandt demanded in a quivering voice. Silence. “I’m taking your diary away!” he shouted. “I’m taking it and hiding it, Cally! So you can’t make any more threats!”
He moved quickly to the stairs, the diary still clasped tightly in his hand. Have I gone totally crazy? he asked himself. Am I really up here shouting at a ghost? He clamored heavily down the stairs. Into his room. If there is no diary, will the evil still happen? he wondered. Can I save Abbie by hiding the diary? He glanced around the room, desperately searching for a hiding place. The closet? No. He remembered that green glow, the flash of white that had sprung out at him from the closet. The diary wouldn’t be safe there. He pulled open his bottom dresser drawer and tossed the diary under a stack of Tshirts. It would have to do. As he pushed the drawer closed, Brandt heard a voice. “Mom? Dad?” he called. “Are you home?” No answer. He hurried to the window and checked the driveway. No. No sign of his parents. He heard the voice again. Tiny. Far away. “Cally? Is that you? Did you come to find your diary?” he demanded, his eyes searching the room. A muffled voice. Out in the hall. He stepped out
Jinny, in dark green jeans and a pale yellow sweater, strode into the house, Meg at her heels. “I just stopped by for a second to—” When she spotted Brandt on the couch, her mouth dropped open in surprise. Her face turned red, but she recovered quickly. “Oh. Hi, Brandt. What are you doing here?” “We’re just studying,” Meg replied for him. “With no books?” Jinny’s voice grew shrill. Her eyes fell on the TV and she added, “While watching a movie?” “Want to join us?” Brandt asked lightly. He patted the couch cushion next to him. “Uh—Meg, could I see you for a minute in the next room?” Jinny demanded. It wasn’t really a question. Meg followed Jinny into the living room. Brandt could hear them whispering sharply, angrily, to each other. “Hey, don’t fight over me, girls!” he called, trying to keep it light. “There’s plenty of me to go around!” They ignored him and kept whispering. A few seconds later Brandt heard the front door slam. Meg returned to the den, her cheeks bright pink. “What’s Jinny’s problem anyway?” she demanded. “She already has a boyfriend!”
Brandt left Meg’s house a short while later. Jinny’s appearance had spoiled the afternoon. Brandt liked the idea of having two girls fight over him. But he was too exhausted and stressed out to be able to deal with it then. His parents were out when he got home. The house sat quiet and dark, mysterious and full of secrets. Brandt hesitated for a second, feeling weary, worn out—and frightened. Taking a deep breath, he walked up the stairs and straight to the attic. He had to see the diary. Would it be where he left it? Would there be any new entries? He stepped onto the attic floor. A dim shaft of light filtered through the attic window, casting a halo of dust around the diary. Brandt knelt beside the book. With trembling fingers he opened the cover. Then he turned to the last page. Was there a new entry? He raised the open diary, read the last page—and gasped in horror.
Chapter 16
I made Jinny bleed. Abbie is next. Brandt, you cannot save Abbie.
“No!” Brandt cried out loud. He slammed the diary shut and squeezed the book in his hand, squeezed it until his hand ached. “Cally Frasier—can you hear me?” he called. Silence. “Are you writing these threats in your diary, Cally?” Brandt demanded in a quivering voice. Silence. “I’m taking your diary away!” he shouted. “I’m taking it and hiding it, Cally! So you can’t make any more threats!”
He moved quickly to the stairs, the diary still clasped tightly in his hand. Have I gone totally crazy? he asked himself. Am I really up here shouting at a ghost? He clamored heavily down the stairs. Into his room. If there is no diary, will the evil still happen? he wondered. Can I save Abbie by hiding the diary? He glanced around the room, desperately searching for a hiding place. The closet? No. He remembered that green glow, the flash of white that had sprung out at him from the closet. The diary wouldn’t be safe there. He pulled open his bottom dresser drawer and tossed the diary under a stack of Tshirts. It would have to do. As he pushed the drawer closed, Brandt heard a voice. “Mom? Dad?” he called. “Are you home?” No answer. He hurried to the window and checked the driveway. No. No sign of his parents. He heard the voice again. Tiny. Far away. “Cally? Is that you? Did you come to find your diary?” he demanded, his eyes searching the room. A muffled voice. Out in the hall. He stepped out
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