The whole class waited for Trevor's reaction.
"Sure, you and Igor can come...but remember, we drink beer, not blood!" The whole class laughed again, and Trevor high-fived Matt.
Just then Mr. Harris blew his whistle, signaling us to hightail it off the bleachers and run like greyhounds around the track.
But Becky and I walked, indifferent to our sweating classmates.
"We can't go to Matt's party," Becky said. "Who knows what they'll do to us?"
"We'll see what they do. Or what we'll do. It's my Sweet Sixteenth, remember? A birthday to never forget!"
Chapter 4 Truth or Scare
The most exciting things to happen in Dullsville in my lifetime, in chronological order:
1. The 3:10 train jumped its tracks, spilling boxes of Tootsie Rolls, which we devoured.
2. A senior flushed a cherry bomb down the toilet, exploding the sewage line, closing school for a week. 3. On my sixteenth birthday a family rumored to be vampires moved into the haunted Mansion on top of Benson Hill!
The legend of the Mansion went like this: It was built by a Romanian baroness who fled her country after a peasant revolt in which her husband and most of his family were killed. The baroness built her new home on Benson Hill to resemble her European estate in every detail, except for the corpses.
She lived with her servants in complete isolation, terrified of strangers and crowds. I was a small child at the time of her death and never met her, although I used to play by her solitary monument in the cemetery. Folks said she would sit by the upstairs window in the evenings staring at the moon, and that even now, when the moon is full, if you look from just the right angle, you can see her ghost sitting in that same window gazing at the sky.
But I never saw her.
The Mansion has been boarded up ever since. Rumor had it there was a witchlike Romanian daughter interested in black magic. In any case, she wasn't interested in Dullsville (smart lady!) and never claimed the place.
The Mansion on Benson Hill was quite gorgeous to me in its Gothic way, but an eyesore to everyone else. It was the biggest house in town-- and the emptiest. My dad says that's because it's in probate. Becky says it's because it's haunted. I think it's because women in this town are afraid of dust.
The Mansion, of course, had always fascinated me. It was my Barbie Dream House, and I climbed the hill many nights hoping to spot a ghost. But I actually went inside only once, when I was twelve. I was hoping I could fix it up and make it my playhouse. I was going to put up a sign that said, NO NERD BOYS ALLOWED. One night I climbed the wrought iron gate and scurried up the winding driveway.
The Mansion was truly magnificent, with vines dripping down its sides like falling tears, chipped paint, shattered roof tiles, and a spooky attic window. The wooden door stood like Godzilla, tall and powerful--and locked. I snuck around the back. All the windows were boarded up with long nails, but I noticed some loose boards hanging over the basement window. I was trying to pull them loose when I heard voices.
I crouched behind some bushes as a gang of high-school seniors stumbled near. Most were drunk and one was scared.
"C'mon, Jack, we've all done it," they lied, pushing a guy wearing a baseball cap toward the Mansion. "Go in and get us a shrunken head!"
I could see Jack Patterson was nervous. He was a handsome crush-worthy guy, the kind who should be spending his time shooting hoops or making girls swoon, not sneaking into haunted houses to win friends.
It was like Jack had already seen a ghost as he approached the Mansion. Suddenly he looked behind the bushes where I was hiding. I gasped and he screamed. I thought we were both going to have a heart attack. I crouched back down, because I heard the gang approaching.
"He's screaming like a little girl and he's not even in yet!" one of them teased.
"Get outta here!" Jack said to the guys. "I'm supposed to do this alone, right?"
He waited for the others to retreat and then nodded to me that it was clear.
"Damn, girl, you scared me! What are you doing here?"
"I live here and lost my keys. I'm just trying to get back in," I joked.
He caught his breath and smiled. "Who are you?" "Raven. I already know who you are. You're Jack Patterson. Your father owns the department store where my mom buys her swank purses. I've seen you working the cash register."
"Yeah, I thought you looked familiar."
"So why are you here?"
"It's a dare. My friends think the place is haunted, and I'm supposed to sneak inside and get a souvenir."
"Like an old couch?"
He smiled that same smile. "Yeah, goofball. But it doesn't matter. There's no way--"
"Yes, there is!" And I showed him the loose boards at the basement window.
"You go in first," he said, prodding me forward with trembling hands. "You're smaller."
I slithered easily through the window.
Inside, it was really dark, even for me. I could barely make out the cobwebs. I loved it! There were stacks of cardboard boxes everywhere, and it smelled like a basement that had been there since the beginning of time.
"C'mon already!" I said.
"I can't move! I'm stuck."
"You have to move. Do you want them to find you with your backside hanging out?"
I yanked and pushed and pulled. Finally Jack came through, to my relief, but not his.
I led the terrified senior through the moldy basement. He held on to my hand so tight I thought he would break my fingers. But it was nice to hold his hand. It was big and strong and masculine. Not like Nerd Boy's, whose tiny hand always felt squishy and smarmy.
"Where are we going?" he whispered in a terrified voice. "I can't see a thing!"
I could make out the shapes of massive chairs and sofas, covered with dusty white cloth, probably once belonging to the old woman who stared at the moon.
"I see some stairs," I said. "Just follow me."
"I'm not going any further! Are you crazy?"
"How about a full-length mirror?" I teased, peeking behind a cloth.
"I'll take one of these empty boxes!"
"That's no good. Your friends will kill you. You'll be a laughingstock the rest of your life. Believe me, I know how it is."
I looked back at him and saw the terror on his face. I wasn't sure if he was scared of his friends outside or of the basement steps that might cave in at the slightest pressure. Or maybe he was afraid of ghosts.
"Okay," I said. "You wait here."
"Like I could go anywhere? I have no idea how to get back!"